#shine on - the forgotten shining location

[greensparty]

New Documentary About The Shining Premieres on YouTube on July 26

Very exciting surprise news today that the Stanley Kubrick Estate certified documentary Shine On - The Forgotten Shining Location will be premiering on the Kubrick YouTube channel on Fri. July 26, 2024! The focus of this doc is about the location scouting and art direction to create the Overlook Hotel featured in Kubrick's legendary 1980 film The Shining.

This news comes after the passing of Shining star Shelley Duvall last week. There have, of course, been other documentaries about Kubrick's film. Kubrick's daughter Vivian did the 1980 documentary Making 'The Shining', which is featured on the DVD. Rodney Ascher's phenomenal Room 237 (which I named my #1 Documentary of the 2010s) looks at the conspiracy theories and interpretations of the film too.

The link above is the article from Indiewire.

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (pt. 2)

—

Tw: N/A

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) - (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was a beautiful morning. Somehow, against all odds, the sun was shining through the thick smog perpetually covering Gotham.

And Danny hated it.

He was in pain, he was exhausted, he was grieving, and all he wanted to do was sleep for at least a week.

In an act of celestial mockery, the sun shone regardless.

After around twenty minutes of tossing and turning in bed, trying to get back to sleep, Danny gave up and pried himself out of bed.

He stumbled through the hallway and into the living room, staring openly at every splash of color he saw in the small apartment. He hadn’t forgotten what color looked like in the time he was in the lab, but it was comforting to see.

Someone cleared their throat. Danny whipped his head around, eyes falling on a scrawny, gangly man sitting down in a worn armchair, hunched over a laptop. He was looking at him with a dull, bored expression.

Right. Scarecrow.

His escape.

The chase.

His mom.

“You look a lot less terrifying without the mask,” Danny blurted out, slapping his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t call my normal appearance frightening,” Scarecrow hummed, focusing his attention back onto the laptop, “that’s what the costume is for, after all.”

“Oh.”

After a brief moment of excruciating silence, Scarecrow spoke.

“You any good with computers, Danny? Hacking, and all that?”

Danny jolted. Scarecrow needed his help with something! This was great! Now, he’d have more of a reason not to get rid of him!

“Oh, uh, yeah! Not as good as my friend Tucker, but I think I’m pretty good.”

“And you’re familiar with the GiW’s systems specifically,” Scarecrow continued, beckoning him over. Danny complied, shuffling over awkwardly. “Right?”

“Well, I guess? My friends and I got into their stuff a couple of times before they…”

“Wonderful,” Scarecrow said, standing up with a stretch. He shoved the laptop into Danny’s hands and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. “Then you can hack into their system and extract whatever files you can find.”

Danny stared at the man like he’d lost his mind. He looked back at him expectantly.

Danny sat down.

“Yeah, I-I can do that. Tuck and I built a back door into their system ages ago,” he said, checking the screen. It was clear that for all the skills that Scarecrow had, hacking was definitely not one of them. “But, uh, don’t you have someone else that usually does this sort of thing for you? Not that I’m complaining!”

Scarecrow scowled, and Danny felt his heart fall into his ass.

“Usually, I do,” Scarecrow huffed, “but I chose to leave my most recent job with the Penguin early, so now there’s no way that he or Eddie will help me with anything until I make it up to them somehow.”

“Oh,” Danny said.

He had no clue whatsoever who Eddie was.

Danny got to work quickly, hoping that if he ignored the gangly man, he would leave him be. Luckily, he did just that, leaving to go work on something in another room.

Danny checked the laptop’s security before continuing Scarecrow’s progress, making sure that the GiW wouldn’t be able to grab their location.

It was…threateningly good. Whoever Eddie was, he had somehow crammed the functionality of a top-of-the-line PC into a tiny, beat-up old laptop. It almost reminded Danny of Tucker and his terrifying competence with his PDA.

Tucker.

Amity park.

Home.

Danny snapped himself out of his thoughts, tabbing back into the application Scarecrow had up and began to work his magic.

He had near full access to the entire GiW database within half an hour.

Mumbling out a quick thank-you to Tucker, he called Scarecrow over to appraise his work.

“Fixed up some food for you while you worked,” the rogue said, handing him a bowl of oatmeal, taking the laptop into his lap as he did so, “didn’t know how well you could eat, considering you’re recovering from… surgery, so I decided to stay on the safe side.”

Danny had no clue what this guy’s deal was.

He definitely did not tear up at the first genuine thoughtfulness he encountered in weeks, and he did not look away as he ate so that Scarecrow couldn’t see his face.

At least Scarecrow was too focused on the laptop to notice or care.

Or, maybe, he was just mercifully ignoring him.

Either way, Danny ate slowly, not wanting to make himself sick. He allowed himself to absentmindedly look around the room for the first time, taking everything in.

It was strangely homey. The space was filled with warm browns and yellows, a few splashes of color on the wall in the form of (obviously gifted) paintings. There was a beat-up bookshelf against the wall, clearly second-hand, filled to the brim with psychology books. On every available surface there was a different colored candle, all at different stages of use, clearly collected over the course of years.

Danny knew that the man next to him was a crazed, murderous criminal, but his home was oddly reminiscent of Jazz.

He was not about to cry.

“Danny,” Scarecrow hummed, snapping him out of his spiraling, “can you explain this to me?”

He looked over. The rogue was pointing to a new report, seemingly posted only a few hours ago.

Nodding, he took the computer into his lap, pouring over the contents.

He read the report again.

And again.

And again.

Danny swore loudly, crumpling like a wet paper bag, head in his hands.

“What?”

“It’s…” he swore again, glancing back at the laptop, “they…since you became liminal from synthetic ectoplasm, when we’re within about 500 meters of one another, our ectoplasm signatures resonate, and they can’t track us with any of their technology.”

“How is that a bad thing?”

“If we’re not that close to each other, they can track us down from anywhere in the world.”

Scarecrow went dead quiet. After what felt like the single longest minute of Danny’s life, he let out a truly exasperated sigh, slumping over in his seat.

“Yeah, me too,” Danny mumbled, utterly miserable.

“…I’ll have to move my plans back a little,” Scarecrow sighed, “I can’t drag an injured child with me when I attack the Gotham GiW base, you’ll just get in the way.”

“Oh come on,” Danny whined, “I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, Batman brings kids with him to do dangerous stuff all the time, and he’s fine!”

“Might I remind you that the second Robin died violently,” Scarecrow snapped, “and that Batman most likely has more traumatic brain injuries than all of the Gotham rogues combined. That really isn’t the winning argument you think it is.”

Danny paused, trying to think up some way to win the argument. Then, he realized what he had ignored before.

“Wait, Scarecrow, you’re gonna attack the GiW?”

“That’s the plan,” he nodded, “and call me Dr. Crane. I’m only Scarecrow when I’m in the mask.”

But,” Danny sputtered, “Sca—uh, Dr. Crane—that’s insane! The weapons they’ve got- they’ll rip you apart!”

“Not my first time,” Crane said, making Danny wince. “Besides, I have plenty of experience avoiding gunfire. I’ll live.”

“You…” Danny was silent for a while, trying to think of something to say, “fine, but you have to take me with you wherever you go. As soon as they see either of us on their radars, they’ll hunt us down.”

Dr. Crane sighed.

“…Fine. I need some time to plan anyways. Now, you’re going to help me download these files, properly format them, and send them out.”

“…Why?”

“Well, some of the other rogues might appreciate the heads up, and I’d quite like them to be indebted to me. Besides, I still need to pay back the Penguin for ditching him, and he loves knowing things that other people don’t.”

Danny paused.

“That’s an awful idea, no offense. If any of the rogues know our weaknesses, they—”

“Danny, we’re censoring everything. The only things they need to know about are the GiW specifically, and any sort of laws surrounding them.”

Danny snorted.

“You care about laws now?”

“Yes, because if we get taken to Arkham, they’ll hand us off to the GiW the moment they ask, and it’ll be completely legal.”

Oh. Danny had honestly forgotten that Arkham was an option.

“…Ok. I’ll help you. Who are we telling?”

“I don’t think you really need to know,” Dr. Crane said, the faintest shadow of an amused look on his face, “but I’ll humor you for now. We’re sending the files out to the Penguin, Riddler, Poison Ivy via Harley Quinn, Two-Face, and Red Hood.”

Danny nodded. He could live with that.

“Alright, then let’s get to work.”

—

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After you and Bradley make a mess and clean it up, your first wedding anniversary is in the books. There are so many changes going on, it's hard to keep track of everything. But some things seem like they will always stay the same, like the love you feel for him.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, cum play, food play, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

The sound of the ocean and the twinkling of the stars in the night sky were the only things Bradley recognized in the dark besides your body. You were on his lap, rolling your hips slowly against him, teasing him with your warmth and your voice as your lips met his ear. 

"You're the best husband, and soon you'll be the best daddy. The Nugget and I decided we're going to keep you around."

Bradley groaned softly as he rubbed his palm along your belly. "Yeah, you ruined that for yourself as soon as you fed me. I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

You laughed softly before pulling your lips away from the side of his neck. "I forgot to ask. What's in the bakery box?"

"Huh?" he grunted in response as you pressed your soft thigh against his erection through his jeans. He thought he was supposed to know what you were talking about. It sounded familiar. A bakery box. But your hand was unzipping his pants now, and he was a lost cause.

"The bakery box, Roo," you whispered, voice laced with amusement. "On the backseat?"

"Oh," he sighed as you stroked him. He couldn't read your expression in the darkness, but he knew you must be smiling. "I got you a cake. A confetti cake for our anniversary."

"You did?" You sounded delighted as you added, "I want to see it."

Bradley let his head tip back against the side of the interior of the Bronco. You already pulled your hand back out of his pants and started crawling away from him. "Sweetheart," he whined. "I thought I was just about to get lucky."

He felt cold where your warmth had just been, and he let himself be annoyed for a few seconds until you softly squealed, "Ouch!"

"Shit, what happened?" he asked, realizing he wasn't sure exactly where you had crawled off to. He put one leg up to block the open tailgate while he dug around in his pocket next to his hard cock for his phone.

As soon as he turned on the flashlight, he realized you were already looking over the back of the seat, digging around under the blanket to find the cake. "I pinched my finger. I'm fine," you muttered. "Let me have your phone."

He handed it to you before he flopped down onto his back. You used the flashlight to locate the dome light as well, and soon that was shining directly into Bradley's eyes as he palmed himself for some relief. "Can't the cake wait until we get home?"

You turned and looked down at him over your shoulder with a little pout on your lips. "But I'm hungry again."

He would never deny you anything you wanted. As he got to his knees and scooted over next to you, he kissed your cheek. "Did you look at it yet?" Bradley reached down onto the seat and carefully opened the box to reveal the pretty, round cake with white icing and rainbow sprinkles. Then you started laughing. Apparently, in his horny state, he'd also forgotten what he had the baker write on it.

Happy First Anniversary. Thanks for marrying me and having awesome tits. I love you.

"Bradley!" you wheezed. "You made someone write that on a cake!"

He grabbed you up without putting too much pressure on your belly and said, "It's all true." He kissed down the side of your neck and back up to your ear as your laughter turned to a soft moan. "Now, can we turn off the lights and get back to where we left off?"

Your stomach growled so loudly as you met his eyes, it was almost comical. "I'm sorry, but I'm just really hungry, and I think Rose the Nugget is, too."

Bradley was absolute putty in your hands as soon as you used her name. He kissed you sweetly and whispered, "Then let me make sure my girls are well fed."

He guided you over the pavement in the darkness and got you buckled into the passenger seat. Then he opened the back door and said, "You know, I never ever let anyone else eat in the Bronco before you. I still don't even eat in here." He cut into the cake and put a slice on one of the paper plates he brought along. "But apparently I have no boundaries when it comes to my wife and my daughter."

When you turned around, he handed the piece of cake and a fork up to you, and you beamed back at him. "Thanks, Daddy."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get his body under control so he could drive home. He closed the back door and walked around the front of the Bronco. You were smiling and licking the frosting from the fork when he climbed in with his pants still unzipped. He was still almost painfully hard, and he was desperately praying there was still hope for some relief on the horizon.

Bradley drove carefully around the orange cones and out onto the road that ran along the main strip of Coronado. The indecent little sounds you were making had him jealous of the cake, and then you held out your fork to him. "This is so good. You need to try it."

"I told you I don't eat in the Bronco," he muttered before opening his mouth wide for you to feed it to him. "Holy hell. Gimme some more."

"Right?!" You fed him another bite and another one. By the time he was parking in the driveway, there was icing in his mustache, and he was still unbearably horny.

Bradley handed you the keys, kissed your lips so hard you gasped, and said, "Go unlock the front door." He watched you scamper up the walkway as he grabbed the bakery box from the backseat before following you inside. "Now get undressed," he said, giving you a firm smack on your ass that left you biting your lip as you looked at him. "I'm serious, Baby Girl. Take it all off and wait for me in the kitchen."

"He's so demanding," you said, either to yourself or to the baby, and regardless he laughed as he pretended to throw a treat out the back door so Tramp would go outside. Then he was right on you with the cake in his hands as you pulled your dress over your head and let it drop to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your little Mrs. Bradshaw panties. 

"Those are some awesome tits," he whispered, setting the cake down and running his hands up the soft swell of your belly and all the way up to stroke your nipples.

"You're obsessed right now," you told him. You weren't wrong. He was about to bring his lips down to play with you, but he narrowed his eyes and reached for the cake instead. "What are you doing?" you gasped as he dunked his fingers into the icing before spreading it all over your breasts.

"I'm still a little hungry, too," he murmured, tracing your nipples slowly with his messy fingertips until you were trying to grind yourself against him. He slipped his thigh between yours, and you moaned his name as he brought his lips down to taste the exquisite icing on your perfect skin. Everything was sweet and warm as he buried his face in there, licking and sucking on you until you were as far gone as he was.

With your arms around his neck and your pussy rubbing against him, you begged for it. "I need you to fuck me. Please!"

He couldn't say no to you on a regular day, but especially not on your anniversary. He spun you around, pulled your satin panties to the side and bent you over a little bit over the counter. He got his cock free, and with a snap of his hips, he thrust himself inside you, and he was rewarded with his name echoing off the kitchen walls.

"Feel good?" he grunted as he slipped one hand in the front of your panties and squeezed your gorgeous breasts with the other. 

"So good," you whispered as he rocked himself into you a little harder. 

He pressed his nose to the back of your neck and inhaled the smell of your skin and the icing which he got everywhere. "I thought we'd have slow and sexy anniversary sex. I didn't know I'd end up fucking you hard over the kitchen counter."

"Blame it on the cake," you whined, reaching for his hand which was on your tits and guiding his sticky fingers up to your lips. Bradley had no idea how he was still going. You'd had him wound up all night. And the way you were circling each digit with your tongue was so fucking hot.

When he pinched your clit, you bucked back against him. When he did it again, he soothed you with some slow circles, and he knew you were getting close. He could feel you starting to clench him a little tighter as your moaning got louder. You sucked on his fingers while your pussy treated his cock to your orgasm.

"God, you feel good," he gasped, fucking you through your highest peak. But he still had some left in the tank. You seemed to be a little surprised as you looked at him over your shoulder, and he was sure his eyes were wild and his face was red. 

You spun to look at him as he stared down at his hard cock, bobbing excitedly and glistening from your wetness. You took his chin in your hand and kissed him on the lips. "Is it my turn to have a little fun?"

Bradley nodded, because he didn't even care what you did right now, he knew he was going to love it. This time you were the one coating up your fingers with icing, and you jerked your hand up and down his length while he gripped the edge of the counter. Just the idea of the confection mixed with the flavor of your pussy had him bucking into your hand. "Let me taste it," he whimpered, and your bright eyes grew a little wider, but you brought your hand up to your own mouth first. "Please," he begged, watching you lick your palm.

"Oh my god," you gasped, eyes drifting closed as you dipped your index finger between your lips. 

"Please," he asked one more time, afraid he might just cum all over your body and the floor. You looked up at him and reached out to part his lips with your thumb, and then you carefully placed your index and middle fingers on his tongue. He sucked at the flavor and swiped his tongue between your fingers. He swallowed it down, convinced that this combination was one of the best things he had ever enjoyed in his life.

He cleaned off your whole hand as you watched in awe, and when you realized he was still hard, you used his help to get yourself kneeling on the floor in front of him. Bradley lasted exactly eight seconds with your tongue circling his cock while you licked at the icing and sucked on him. "Fuck!" he barked, tapping the back of your throat as he came. "Holy shit." Then you had the audacity to show him the mess he made on your tongue before you swallowed him down.

"You taste very good mixed with icing too, Roo."

Bradley was so fucking in love with you and everything you did. He would marry you a hundred times over just to get all of the sweet and filthy moments with you. "Why don't you get back up here and let me try it for myself?"

You were all too happy for him to help you to your feet so he could slip his tongue between your lips. You were absolutely right.

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

When you woke up on Sunday, you were a little sore. Bradley was still sound asleep, and he looked exhausted himself. The Nugget was rolling around on your bladder, and you had to quickly shimmy walk to the bathroom. Your husband did a bit of a number on you in the kitchen with the rough sex. 

You reached for the toilet paper and mumbled to yourself, "Maybe he was right. Maybe anniversary sex is supposed to be a little calmer?"

"Blame it on the cake, Sweetheart." You looked up as Bradley strolled into the bathroom completely naked. His cock even looked impressive when he was soft, and his hair was wild from the way you'd been running your fingers through it before you fell asleep last night. He grunted as he yawned. He was perfect to you.

"I can't believe we've been married for a year," you whispered as he leaned down to kiss your forehead as you sat on the toilet. This was probably peak domesticity right here, and it made you smile.

"How's my Nugget?" Bradley asked before kissing your forehead once more.

"Almost made me wet the bed," you told him as you stood up. "I slept very soundly last night, but she woke me up by thumping on my bladder."

His brown eyes lit up as he put his hands underneath your shirt. "Is she still thumping?" You knew immediately that he was able to feel her as a smile bloomed on his lips. "Hey, Rose. It's Daddy."

"So that's really her name? We're definitely going with that?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, eyes closed as his palm circled your belly button. 

You kissed his cheek and then his temple. "Your excitement always makes me even more excited."

When he patted your belly again, he asked, "Are you going to brunch with Cam and Maria?"

"Yeah, but I don't need to be there for another hour. Do you want me to make you breakfast first?"

Relief filled his features as he turned on the sink and looked in the mirror. "Please. Then I'm going to try to finish up the playset. And don't forget Bradley Ross is coming over after work tomorrow." Bradley Ross. Bradley Ross. The name was familiar, but you couldn't place it. "The contractor? For the attic?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. Bradley Ross," you told him, having completely forgotten that your house was about to become a construction zone. "I hope he can finish it before my parents come out for Christmas."

"That's the goal," Bradley muttered as he looked at his hair. "We can throw them upstairs so I can do whatever I want to you in our room all night long. The separation will be key." You snorted as you started to get your toothbrush ready, and then he turned to you and said, "Nat commented on my gray hairs the other day."

He looked perhaps a little bit concerned. "Did she?" One thing you really appreciated about your husband's best friend was the way she picked on him. It was good for him to have a friend who gave him shit. It probably helped build character in him, similar to the way Cam usually gave you a hard time. But you wanted to make sure his feelings weren't hurt, especially not about his. "What did she say?"

He shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "That it's getting a little noticeable. At my temples."

"It's so fucking sexy," you told him, reaching up with your fingers and running them through his hair. "God, Roo. Women eat this shit up."

"They do?" he asked, perplexed.

"Oh, definitely," you promised. "A handsome man with some gray hairs? Jesus, I'm going to have to start keeping a closer eye on you when we go out to the bar."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "You'll have to do nothing of the sort."

"That's right," you whispered with a smile. "Your sexy hair belongs to me, Bradley."

He stood behind you while you brushed your teeth, and he kissed your neck. "I'm afraid you're stuck with all of this."

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

You were sitting in the kitchen after work on Monday, eating a sliced up apple that you were dipping into hot sauce while you talked to your parents over FaceTime.

"We could come out the Tuesday before Christmas," your mom said for the fourth time.

"I already told you, just let me know when you're coming, and we'll pick you up from the airport," you said, also for the fourth time.

Your dad was already in his pajamas since it was three hours later on the east coast, and you could tell your mom was annoying him as much as she was annoying you. "I sincerely hope you eat a real meal besides that," she said, looking at your snack in disgust.

You wanted to roll your eyes. You were about to call Bradley in from the backyard where he was throwing a tennis ball for Tramp so you could make him deal with her for a little bit. "I'll eat a real meal later, mom." Just then, there was a knock at the door and you hopped up. "Oops, that's probably the contractor. I'll talk to you later! Bye, love you!"

Saved by the distraction, you shouted out the back door for your husband to come in. And that's when you met Bradley Ross. He kind of reminded you of your own Bradley, just a little bit older. When the three of you ended up in the attic space, he looked around at it like it was the most beautiful diamond in the rough he'd ever seen, when in reality it looked like a disaster that your husband demolished. 

"Wow," he told you, measuring along each wall. "This is going to come together perfectly. What a beautiful space. I'm sure you'll cherish it."

"Right," your husband told the other Bradley while you tried not to laugh. "Look, having a cherished attic is great and all, but we just really need a space for my wife's parents when they come out to stay, especially after the baby is born."

"You'll have both," he promised.

Your husband rubbed lazy circles on your back as you wrote out a check for the deposit on the kitchen island and listened to Bradley Ross go over the detailed plans. Two more bedrooms and a full bathroom? Part of you couldn't believe there was enough room up there to accommodate all of that, but you would just have to trust this man's life changing vision.

You handed him the check and took his business card. "I'll be back on Wednesday to start the project," he said as you entered his number into your phone.

Once he was gone, you looked up at Bradley and said, "We should probably get a Christmas tree soon. And maybe some lights? I'm used to us going to my parents' house. We never decorated before."

He chuckled. "I haven't decorated for Christmas since my mom died, but if you want to, then I guess I'll get into the holiday spirit."

"You better get used to it," you informed him as he tugged you toward the bedroom across the hallway from yours which would become the nursery. "After Rose is born, you're going to need to go overboard with it."

"I love going overboard," he told you, as if you didn't already know that about him. "Speaking of which... all of the stuff we ordered on Friday got delivered today. Wanna take a look?"

You squealed with excitement as you saw that he had opened up the boxes and set everything on the floor in the empty room. "Roo! The crib bedding is adorable!" When you went to kneel on the floor, he insisted on helping you get down comfortably. That's when you opened the bedding and ran your hand over the pastel airplanes. The fabric was soft, and your eyes got a little misty as you imagined your baby snuggled up on them.

Bradley knelt down next to you and kissed your cheek. "I was thinking your dad and I could put the crib together when they come out in a few weeks? I know how much he likes working on little projects like that."

You threw yourself into his arms so quickly, he grunted in response. "He would love that, Bradley. He would absolutely love that." And now it was too late to try to get your hormones under control again as you started sobbing in his arms. 

He kissed your ear and whispered, "That will give me time to paint in here while you're out of the house. Maybe you and Nat can go see a movie and go shopping or something. I don't want the paint fumes to bother you since this room is so close to our bedroom."

"You're so fucking considerate." You hugged him tighter and straddled his legs, and soon he was on the floor underneath you as you both laughed. "Can we start calling it the nursery? Rosie's nursery?"

"That's music to my ears, Baby Girl. And you know what? I also kind of feel like picking out a Christmas tree now."

"Yeah?" you asked in excitement.

He nodded up at you and let his hand slip down to your belly. "Yeah. How about we go look at paint colors and trees? I want an enormous one that looks like it's covered in snow." He gave you a little shrug and said, "You know, since we're hardy east coast people."

"And we're having a hardy east coast baby."

The two of you ended up at Home Depot until they were closing. Bradley picked out an eight foot tall tree and string lights, and you decided to ask your parents to bring out some of their ornaments with them. You also had approximately fifty little paint samples in your hand while you watched Bradley awkwardly shove the tree into the back of your red Bronco.

"I'm leaning toward this lavender? Or maybe a light gray? Blue could be nice though, so it looks like the sky."

"Let's hang them up in Rosie the Nugget's nursery for a few days before we decide," he crooned as he buckled you in.

You already thought you might melt onto the floor as you ate a little snack while he drove home, and then you realized he would soon have someone else to buckle in. "Bradley," you mumbled around your granola bar. "I can't tell if I'm horny, emotional or just starving again, but the way I need you to install car seats in both Broncos while shirtless is absolutely essential to my wellbeing."

He chuckled and said, "I'm certain I can do that for you."

You crunched through the rest of your granola bar in contentment.

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

The month of December brought about a routine of sorts that Bradley was kind of in love with. You were just about to start your third trimester, and it seemed as though your belly was growing noticeably every day now. You came home from work so horny most days, the two of you ended up sneaking off to your locked bedroom for a quickie while Bradley Ross worked his magic upstairs. Then inevitably there was a more leisurely round of sex before bed where more time could be spent admiring your perfectly round belly and delicious tits. 

"Which day are your parents flying out again?" he asked you as he peeled your underwear slowly down your legs leaving your soaking wet pussy bare for him. 

"The twenty-first," you whimpered as he stroked you and kissed along your tattoo. "Can we talk about something besides my parents while you're down there?"

"Sure," he replied smoothly. "How about you tell me what you want for Christmas?"

"Roo," you whined as he licked your clit to your exact personal preference. "I want a million orgasms."

He smirked with your clit between his lips and said, "Already wrapped and under the tree for you. What else?"

Your hands tangled in his hair as he worked you up. You were babbling incoherently so he intentionally slowed his tongue, and you started to panic. "Everything I want is for the baby or the nursery! But maybe we can go on a little babymoon trip?" 

Your eyes were wild as you were looking at him over your belly, begging him to keep going. But honestly, your idea sounded pretty great, and he was going to look into it. "Anything you want, Sweetheart. You get to have it all." He proved it to you by letting you have one of the million orgasms early.

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

Oof, these two are really enjoying her pregnancy hormones and her cravings. Up next we have a California Christmas with Roo's in-laws, and honestly so much more. Thanks for reading! As always, if there's something you'd like to see in this series, shoot me a message! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 7

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

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@furiousladyking

[ecstarry]

'the one were Regulus reunites with his first kiss' let it be known that this is unrealistically romantic but I love it for them. They deserve it.

The weather was perfect, he tried to remember if the last time he drove around those same streets it was this pleasant. His last visit had been over a decade ago. His parents had said the “demographic had changed,” and it was no longer an area they wanted to be around. His family simply relocated to their other properties for the summer, forgetting all about that home. Regulus, meanwhile, tried to forget all about one boy.

Regulus came back alone. Sirius was tied up with selling another property after their parents passed away. Regulus didn’t explain his particular interest in this location, and Sirius didn’t ask.

He was there to meet with a realtor and to say goodbye to one of his sweetest memories from his youth. When Regulus arrived at the café, he received a message asking to push back the meeting until tomorrow, and he quickly agreed. He knew exactly where he wanted to spend the rest of the day.

The walk from his car to the beach was long, but he was in no rush. Regulus carefully observed the sea. It was winter and nearly sunset; the water wasn’t as bright as the last time he had been there, but it was enough to bring the first rush of memories flooding back.

He was fifteen again, and his brother was introducing him to a handsome boy he had just met. It seemed like the sun had risen that day specifically to make the boy’s eyes shine. He remembered his name and the way their hands felt when they first touched. James. He always regretted not asking for a last name. Regulus closed his eyes and tried to recall the scent. He laughed at himself, knowing it was probably just a mix of sweat, hormones, and sand, but he found it endearing even to this day.

Beautiful hues of red and orange illuminated the sky. Regulus strolled to the pier and watched as the sky painted the same picture it had all those years ago. He took out his wallet and looked at the tiny picture he had kept. It was blurry, probably taken around the same time of day, and showed the silhouette of a boy smiling at him. The sun was behind him, so only the outline of James waving could be seen, but Regulus had never forgotten the exact curve of James’ lips as he took the picture. That summer had been a dream; he had met an angel and tasted heaven with his own lips.

The temperature began to drop, and Regulus took in his last moments at the very spot where he had felt love for the first time. He took out his camera, the same one he had used fifteen years ago, and snapped one last photo, thinking of James again.

He chose a hotel close to the café where he would meet the realtor the next day. It was a small, beautifully preserved place. As he entered, there was only one man ahead of him at the front desk. Tired, Regulus resumed scrolling on his phone when he heard it.

"James is fine."

Wood. The boy he had fallen in love with all those summers ago smelled like sweat, hormones, sand, and wood. Sound and smell held powerful memories, and Regulus learned that firsthand as he tilted his head in what felt like slow motion to look at the back of the boy who was now a man.

"James." The word escaped his lips before he could stop it, just as he had no control over his suddenly racing heartbeat.

The other man turned and dropped his bags. "It's you," he breathed.

"Do you—"

"Regulus," James said, almost as a prayer. "It's you."

James approached him tentatively and smiled. God, that smile—Regulus would’ve recognized it even if another decade had passed. Without a second thought, he took out the photograph he had just looked at and, without worrying about the potential embarrassment, showed it to James.

“It’s you.” James carefully took the picture in his hands, his eyes darting between it and Regulus. After a moment, he handed it back and took a step closer. His hand hovered near Regulus' face, hesitating just before making contact. “May I?”

Regulus nodded.

Just as gently as when they were fifteen, James tucked a single curl behind Regulus' ear.

“It’s been—” Regulus began.

“Fifteen years,” James finished. Their eyes tried to convey everything their lips still couldn’t: I’ve missed you. I never forgot about you. Let me get to know you again.

“Hi,” Regulus said with a quiet chuckle, and James’ eyes softened.

“Can I buy you dinner?”

“I would like nothing more.”

[coolprettyleo]

the black dog - will smith ☆

will smith x reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: breakups. heartbroken. angst. fluff? longing. talks of nudity. lmk if I missed any!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

you stared at your phone for what felt like hours. re-reading the headline over and over again.

will smith signs an entry-level contract with the san jose sharks!

you had a lot of emotions running through your veins right now; and breaking down crying was the one that overcame it all.

of course, you knew this had nothing to do with you, but maybe that's why it made you feel like shit. there used to be a time when that very same boy used to tell you his secrets, his accomplishments, and his thoughts.

you were no different than a stranger, and that's what pierced holes in your heart.

you had met will during a communications lecture when he asked to borrow a pencil. you immediately found him charming and cute, so it didn't take long for you to ask him to get coffee. he liked your forwardness, and one thing led to another; the two of you began to talk.

soon after, he began to call you his girlfriend, and you even met his family as he did yours. you were living the college dream and the cheesy part inside you loved it.

everything was perfect, in your eyes. so imagine the surprise you had when your boyfriend told you he wasn't looking for anything too serious. almost six months into dating you.

the two of you had been cuddled up on top of your twin-size bed as you did what any college couple did. talk about your future. what meant to be playful pillow talk, turned into your worst nightmare.

"I can't wait till our sophomore year. we'll finally have our own rooms," you said, thinking about the fact it was hard to get alone time in bed, due to the fact you both had roommates. knowing sophomore year was when the students upgraded to apartments.

you felt him still, and you looked up to see your boyfriend deeply in thought.

"are you okay?" you asked softly as he looked to be contemplating his next words.

"i've been meaning to talk to you"

"what?" you asked cluelessly as you stared at your boyfriend as he pulled away from your touch. he pulled away as if you were burning him.

"I'm just-- I'm not looking to go into a serious relationship right now. I have a lot of things to deal with right now, and I'm not going to be able to be there for you. you don't deserve a half-ass boyfriend." he told you. you searched his face looking for a single ounce of jokingness. nothing.

"I- I don't get it? are you thinking about signing?" you asked him as he ran his fingers through his face and into his hair.

"no. it's just not a good idea to be focusing on anything other than hockey right now. I'm sorry" he told you after a moment of silence. as you stared at your fingers with glossed eyes, praying to god your tears stayed at bay.

"why did you wait," you said after a long silence.

"what?" he asked cluelessly.

"why would you wait. wait till now to tell me this? wait till I completely fell in love with you? wait till six months to tell me this" you said with a spark of anger shining in your eyes.

he looked away before licking his lips and sighing.

"I'm sorry" was all he said before he reached for his phone and walked out.

you shook the memory off as you continued to read the article. apparently, he had known he was signing since men's worlds. he broke up with you a little after that, meaning he decided against telling you. meaning he lied when he told you 'no'.

there was a time when he used to tell you his secrets.

you wondered if he had made to move to san jose already. you'd never admit it to anyone, but you still looked at his location. he had forgotten to turn it off, and it brought you comfort seeing it.

that comfort you were looking for was nowhere to be seen as you saw his contact walk down a street in boston filled with bars. you stared at the screen as his location walked into some bar called the black dog. you knew it was a bar because you yourself have been there.

you yourself had danced with him there after they beat bu. you were there when he had been so hyped up about winning and chose to kiss you for the very first time that night; you were there and you remembered it. you remembered it all too well.

your eyes filled with tears. thinking about all the scenarios that could be happening right now.

maybe he would meet a girl. who were you kidding? of course, he was meeting a girl; any girl would be lining up to have him. he would jump up at the opportunity of a pickup line when the bar played his favorite song. a song you showed him, but at the end of the day, she'd be too young to even know the song. since the two of you always thought of yourselves as being 'old souls'.

it was no secret you had taken the breakup harder. while the holes he pierced through your heart knocked you down, he seemed to be doing the complete opposite.

why didn't he miss you? why didn't he miss you like you missed him?

that thought lived in your head, and you just hoped that it all at least meant something; something to him at least.

you went back to work, seeing as your break was over, contemplating the idea of whether or not to reach out and congratulate him for signing. you knew he had dreamed about being in the NHL since he was a kid. you longed to jump into his arms and soothe away the nerves you knew he had.

"what if I'm not as good as everyone thinks I am," he said, looking out into the city lights. the two of you had just gone out for a sweet treat, and he took you to a spot his grandpa used to take him and his sister to. the view was breathtaking. you remembered.

you scoffed before looking at your boyfriend. he was truly an electric player, and the fact he even closely believed he wasn't good enough was baffling to you.

"you wouldn't have made it this far if you weren't"

"no-- I mean, what if i get to the NHL and I crumble, it's happened to players before"

"but it won't happen to you. your amazing, and you put in the work every day to be extraordinary, and I promise you, you'll get rewarded for that"

he smiled before leaning over to lean against you

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you," you said softly as you raked your fingers through his hair.

you wondered if he missed that. he always liked it when you ran your fingers through his hair.

there were a lot of things he liked.

he used to like showering with you. you even kept some of your hair products at his place. you wondered if he missed you whenever he showered. he probably threw them away but did the empty void of that area remind him of you?

you shook off the thought as you went back to work with a bland look. a look you've been carrying for a few weeks as you had been someone who was moving through the world with a heartbroken.

you ended the day choosing against the text of congratulations, your longing will stay unspoken and it will continue that way. hoping that one day you'll have the guts to move on.

although that didn't seem plausible to you, due to the fact you didn't know if you could ever open up to anyone the way you had for him.

you remembered telling him everything, every memory, every experience, from best to worst.

you remembered the way he consoled you through your parent's divorce, the way he held you and told you he'd never leave you; like your father had done to your mother.

you wanted to laugh at how well he had played the role of a 'brave man,' so well, until you believed him. It was cruel. so cruel that you wondered if it was all just a scheme. was it hazing so he could get into some fraternity he had secretly pledged to? you laughed knowing damn well, will would rather die than join a frat.

you just didn't understand. you didn't think you ever would.

did he hate you? is that why he did what he did?

even though it had been six weeks since he walked out of your life. six weeks since you started breathing 'clean air' faraway from him, you still missed the smoke more than ever.

you missed the way he held you, the way he kissed you, and stupidly, his hockey jokes that you would never understand. thinking back on it, he might have been making fun of you.

you arrived home after a long day, and looked around your room to see it look normal to the average eye. but to the heartbroken girl within you, all you saw was the ghost of him.

the hole in your wall from the nail of a picture frame of the two of you at the beach. the lego flowers the two of you had built together, the nightstand he helped you assemble, hell, even the shirt you were wearing was one he gifted you.

you wanted to sell everything you owned and set fire to all your clothes.

everything reminded you of him. every corner was haunted by his ghost. you even thought about hiring a priest to come and exorcise the house, but that would be stupid. or would it?

you would die screaming if it meant forgetting him.

a part of you wanted him to hear it, to hear what he did to you, and to know the pain he caused you. maybe then he'll feel bad. maybe then he'd miss you.

you looked back at his location to see him still there.

still there living his life, and you just hoped it was shitty in that damn bar. you hoped he was having a miserable time and stood on the sidelines as he missed you, ultimately deciding to leave with his tail between his legs, humiliated. was that too much for a girl to ask for?

you lied in your bed as you stared at the empty spot where he used to lay.

you fell asleep with one thought.

you still couldn't believe it.

[leilanihours]

LANI'S 1K CELEBRATION MASTERLIST ! ✉️

— a location for all my work posted during this celly

women's college basketball !

# 5 — paige bueckers, the university of connecticut

# THIS IS A TRUTH THAT I CAN'T FIGHT, I LOVE YOU TOO MUCH (wc: 471)

prompt: "come back to bed."

# YOU BE LIKING IT ROUGH, YOUR BODY SOFT AS A FLOWER (wc: 704) *18+

prompt: "you like it when i'm rough?"

# YOU'RE SUCH A DREAM TO ME (wc: 847)

prompt: "i dreamed of you."

# SHE AIN'T NEVER DO THIS BEFORE BUT SHE GOOD AT IT (wc: 359) *18+

prompt: "don't run from it, princess, push back on me."

# SNEAK LINK BUT WE DON'T TELL IT, KISSING, TOUCHING, BREATHING HEAVY (wc: 660) *18+

prompt: "are you not wearing any underwear?"

# I CAN SEE YOU'RE LONELY DOWN THERE, DON'T YOU KNOW THAT I AM RIGHT HERE? (wc: 715)

prompt: "will you stay the night?"

# YOU DO IT SO LOUD, I BET THE NEIGHBORS KNOW MY NAME (wc: 339) *18+

prompt: "i know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that."

# 44 — aubrey griffin, the university of connecticut

# TO LEAVE THE WARMEST BED I'VE EVER KNOWN (wc: 405)

prompt: "come back to bed."

# YOU GOT ME OVERNIGHT, JUST LET ME BE CLOSE TO YOU (wc: 432)

prompt: "you look really good in my shirt."

# 23 — morgan cheli, the university of connecticut

# I DON'T WANNA LOOK AT ANYTHING ELSE NOW THAT I SAW YOU (wc: 613)

prompt: "so...are you just gonna keep staring or are you going to kiss me?"

# LAUGHING 'TILL OUR RIBS GET TOUGH (wc: 603)

prompt: "if you try to tickle me one more time, i swear you will not get another kiss for a week."

# 35 — azzi fudd, the university of connecticut

# TWO HEADLIGHTS SHINE THROUGH A SLEEPLESS NIGHT, AND I WILL GET YOU ALONE (wc: 541)

summary: azzi wants her well-deserved alone time with her girl.

women's national basketball association !

# 1 — nika muhl, the seattle storm

# SHE'S GOT MY ATTENTION, SHE'S CONFIDENT (wc: 812) *18+

prompt: "i like your hand in mine but i think it would look even better if it was wrapped around my throat."

# IT'S CAUSE I LOVE YOU, BABE, IN EVERY KIND OF WAY, JUST A LITTLE TASTE (wc: 470)

prompt: "i brought you dinner."

# THIS LOVE CAME BACK TO ME (wc: 675)

prompt: "i missed you."

# 20 — kate martin, the las vegas aces

# JACKET 'ROUND MY SHOULDERS IS YOURS (wc: 710)

prompt: "here, take my jacket."

# EVERY LOOK, EVERY TOUCH MAKES ME WANNA GIVE YOU MY HEART (wc: 722)

prompt: "i love it when you laugh."

# HOW DO I FEEL YOU ON ME WHEN YOU'RE NOT ON MY SKIN? (wc: 616) *18+

prompt: "fuck, i love the sounds you make."

# I WISH THAT YOU WOULD STAY IN MY MEMORIES (wc: 762)

prompt: "i had finally forgotten about you. i had finally started to live again. and now you decide to come back."

# OCEAN BLUE EYES LOOKING IN MINE (wc: 591)

prompt: "i can't say no to those eyes."

moodboards !

kate martin x surfer!reader

kate martin x singer!reader

[wheresmymilliondollarman]

pls ANYTHING with Aaron Warner. I'm literally living for him and I love your writing.

never go out of style

aaron warner x fem! reader

after a bit of convincing, you decide to let aaron join you and juliette shopping. maybe you should've thought twice on that.

(no specific timeline, but kind of hinted towards after the series ends)

a/n: dw bff i understand ur obsession 🫶ik you guys are waiting for pt 2 of my other aaron work but i'm having some issues with it so i wanted to whip up a quick lil fic for you guys and it also helps with my writing blocks. also in this they all kinda of live together in a base like location still. shorter than my other stuff but hope you enjoy and tysm for supporting my work !!! again i envision hayden as aaron but fancast who u like !!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: clingy aaron, suggestive content, aaron and juliette banter, some grammar errors probably

the sun peaked from the window of your room, shining a light directly toward where you slept peacefully on the bed.

your peace was disrupted by a loud ringing sound coming from your clock on the night stand.

you groaned as you began regaining consciousness from your deep slumber. with your still bleary vision you glanced at the clock, 9 am. you rubbed your eyes and let out a yawn, knowing it was time to get up for the day.

you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, only to be brought back down by a strong arm next to you – face pulled forward into a broad bare chest. for a moment you’d forgotten about your sleeping boyfriend next to you.

“mm, no.” mumbles the man next to you. to make his point cleaer, he slid you closer and nuzzled his face into your neck and naked shoulder comfortably.

both you and aaron rarely ever slept with shirts on. it wasn’t always due to inherently sexual reasons, more-so it’s for aaron’s sake because he’d always make a huge fuss about the fabrics getting in the way of your skins touching directly. aaron is a huge fan of touch, well only your touch. anyone else’s he’d be disgusted by.

much to your bewilderment, he originally wanted to the both of you to slumber bare. much protest came from you for various reasons, including in the case of an emergency everyone needed to evacuate swiftly, the two of you could potentially land in a horribly embarrassing situation.

so, you both settled for a tops off only kind of deal. you were lucky he even let you sleep with your bra on. although, when he was needy or wanted to be a cheeky bastard, he’d take it off in your sleep.

“aaron…” you said in a knowing tone. he was like this almost every morning where you attempted to get out of bed with him. it was really cute, but also really annoying when you had to be somewhere, like right now.

“sorry can’t hear you, very tired. maybe try again in an hour or two.” aaron was very obviously not asleep; but he’s avoiding your pleas of freedom.

you rolled your eyes at his behavior. you couldn’t wait any longer or you’d be late to meet with juliette. so you begun to try and push a hand against aaron’s chest to free yourself of his cuddle prison.

aaron in reaction only squeezed you impossibly tighter. you weren’t weak in strength in any means, but if it’s a competition between you and him; he’ll win everytime.

“c’mon baby, i got places to go.” you tried to coo him into releasing you with a pet name. aaron absolutely loved when you used pet names for him.

“shhh… teddy bears don’t speak.” aaron responds, and puts a finger over your lips for emphasis. man, he was really stubborn this morning.

with the way you are being held hostage, you thought being called a teddy bear wasn’t far off.

that leaves you to your last resort — puppy dog eyes.

you look up at aaron and give him your best pleading eyes, “you know i’d love nothing more than to just stay in bed with you, but please aaron, i really do have to leave.” you plant a quick peck on his lips for extra effect.

aarons eyes soften, you could see he was almost cracking and close into relinquishing his hold on you. so close.

but then the tables turn, he gives you a sad look before saying, “you’re always gone these days doing something with juliette or kenji, is it so bad that i just wish to spend some time with you even if it’s just sleeping in our bed.”

crap, he did a reserve and now pulled puppy dog eyes on you. and worst part is it was working, especially with the sad little voice he was giving.

although, his statement wasn’t all that true, you spend more than enough time with aaron, and barely enough with your friends. but of course in his dramatic mind, any few hours that aren’t spent together felt like a week to him. but you doubt you could even properly compute this argument back to aaron, not while he was looking at you like an injured animal.

juliette was going to kill you for your next words, “how about you come along with me today then.”

aaron face changes tune immediately — a big grin makes it way onto his face. he pulls your face to his and plants various pecks all over your face, making you giggle at his excitement.

it was really hard for you to deny warner at times, he could be really convincing. or maybe you were just easily susceptible to his puppy dog antics.

“well, what are you waiting for, let’s get ready.”

aaron finally releases you and moves to get up from the bed. not even giving you a moment to stretch, he goes on to your side of the mattress and in one movement scoops you you in his arms and walks in the direction to the bathroom.

aaron made quick work of putting you on the counter and getting the water facet to the shower head turned on. he was obviously very eager to join you on whatever you and juliette were going to do.

the two of you showered together. aaron being the clingy man he is, loves when you bith shower together. he likes to wash and scrub your hair for you, lathering it in soap and shampoo. you admit that’s your favorite part because it tends to feel like a nice head massage.

however, showering together can be inconvenient at times because you are sometimes in a rush or just rather be alone. but then he gives you a sad face and you feel bad. even when you try to do it alone while he’s busy, he will manage to worm his way into your space.

aaron helped dry you both off and, ever the fashionista he is, even picked out an outfit for you to wear. he has a habit of doing that, and you can’t deny the pieces he chooses are fabulous.

if you both happen to subtly match, like right now, he’ll claim it was a coincidence — which you do not believe there is any coincidence with that man.

you left to meet up with juliette while aaron finished getting ready, so you could tell her the slight change in your plans for the day.

juliette was longing on her phone in the common place when you saw her. once she noticed you she git up and approached you.

“hey, you ready to go?” julietted asked you as she got her purse from the place she was sitting before.

you chuckled nervously, “uh, you see, about that-“

“so where are we headed off to?” a voice intercepted, wrapping an arm around your shoulder .

your boyfriend had perfect timing as usual.

juliette didn’t let the ‘we’ go unnoticed.

she furrowed her brows, “im, sorry did you just say we?” giving you a quick glance in confirmation.

“oh, y/n didnt tell you i was joining you ladies on whatever it is your doing?” aaron questioned with fame in innocence laced in his voice.

the smug jerk definitely knew you hadn’t got to that yet.

juliette turned her gaze toward you, making a discontented face, “no. it seems she hadn’t informed me of this.”

you winced and gave her a sheepish shrug, trying to say ‘sorry i’m taking my boyfriend along and im springing it up on you right now cus he didn’t even give me a chance to tell you.’

juliette rolled her eyes, "does he even know what we're doing?" she raised a brow in a questioning manner.

aaron once again decided to butt in, looking down in your direction, "yeah, i'd also like to know what it is the three of us are out to do today." putting extra emphasis on the three, likely to annoy juliette further.

oh god. it just dawned on you what juliette and yourself had planned to do today. you realized how much a catastrophe this was a bout to be.

you glanced at juliette, who you deemed also had come to this conclusion.

you turned to face aaron, "we're going shopping."

an hour later.

"nope. absolutely not, change."

you rolled your eyes, you were so close to strangling the beautiful man that was aaron warner. if he spewed out one more opinion on your fashion choices, you were gonna lose your mind.

just as you expected. disaster. you really should've known better than to bring bring along your very honest boyfriend who happens to be obsessed with fashion himself.

in theory, it sounded cute, trying on clothes and showing your best friend and boyfriend all the cute outfits. the avergae boyfriend would say you look great in anything, making you all giddy and happy.

but you didn't have the average boyfriend, you had aaron warner.

to his credit, he had behaved himself on the car ride over (only after stubbornly refusing to drive anything that wasn't his BMW.) he even kept his comments to himself when you entered the store.

the moment you picked up an item of clothing, it was as if the crack in the dam of his mind had finally broken. he started spewing every possible critique that he thought of.

"no, that color will wash you out."

"it's cute you think i'll let you go out like that."

"put that horrendous looking shirt down down and walk away."

"im saying this as a loving boyfriend, are you blind, or do you actually think that's wearable."

juliette was in no way spared from his fashion "advice."

"i'm shooting myself if you pick up another pair of denim blue-jeans."

"i hope your horrible sense of fashion isn't contagious."

both you and juliette ignored him to an extent, she occasionally snarkily replied and then picked something he would hate purposely. aaron eventually gave up on as he put "salvaging the one good percent of juliette's closet" and focused all his attention toward you, much to your misfortune.

you loved aaron's sense of fashion, you really did, but you didn't find it very enjoyable everytime you picked up an item you thought was cute, just for him to snatch it from your grasp

another thing, when it was time to try on your items - aaron refused to wait outside the dressing room, he was very persistent on getting in the dressing rooms with yo he even told the worked in charge of the fitting rooms 'it was nothing he hadn't seen before.'

you gave him smack on the arm for that suggestive remark.

so, now the two of you were cramped into a small dressing room, not that aaron minded - the closer the two of you were, the better.

you did enjoy how he doted on you - zipping up your dressing, helping you put on and remove clothes, planting a small kiss on the top of your shoulder whenever you were dressed.

he would sit down on the small chair in the dressing room and take in your attire, "now give me a little twirl." he teasingly commanded manner.

you shook your head with a grin, then spun around in the flowy fabric of the light pink sundress you were trying on, adorned with small flower embrodiery - it was an "aaron approved" dress on the rack of course.

when you met with his eyes again, he looked as if he were in a trance, hypnotized by your entire being. he was enticed by the clothing that draped you, examining it thoroughly. your face flamed up under his loving gaze.

"well, what do you think?" you asked a bit anxiously, since he hadn't uttered a word since the clothing was put on you.

it was ridiculous to be nervous about your boyfriend's approval, but alas, you couldn't help it when the boyfriend in question is aaron warner.

he was brought back by your soft voice and stared up to you, putting a hand on your hip - bringing you closer to him.

"i think..." he paused, standing up from the small cushion, and cupping your face with his hands, "we should buy it in every color they have."

aaron then started sloppily covering your face in kisses, each one after the next. you attempt to weakly push him away, not putting much force into it.

"aaron you're going to smudge my makeup!" you cooly scolded.

aaron looks down to you, leaning his face closer to yours, "my love, if i always cared about smudging your makeup, i'd never be able to kiss you." he replies smoothly.

little moments like this truly made all of the mayhem of the day worth it. mostly.

"now, love, hurry up and try the next one on. i chose that one myself."

"but juliette hasn't even seen this one yet." you brought up your best friend, who was trying on her on choices a few doors down.

"who cares what juliette's opinion is, her fashion taste is a worn out t-shirt and jeans." aaron sassily retorted.

"i heard that you asshole!" juliette bellowed over to aaron from the inside of her dressing room.

aaron remains unfazed by her disruption, "ignore her, put on the next one."

you give aaron a glare at his behavior to juliette, but comply go to the door in your room to get the piece he keeps referring to.

you gape at the fabric hung before you, doing a double-take to ensure you had seen it correctly. oh you're boyfriend was sly.

you hold the clothing in your hand and turn to face him, "aaron, this is lingerie."

he smirks, "i suppose it is."

heat was beginning to rise from your neck to your cheeks, you played it off with a scoff, "i'm not changing into this unless you turn around."

aaron gives you a disapproving look, as if to say 'seriously?' - "nothing i haven't seen before."

"just turn!" you scolded at him.

"alright love, no need to get so feisty." he teased then finally turn his back to you. you hated when he teased you terribly. you almost gave him a smack on his back for that, but decided against it.

you started removing the clothing on your body, reminding yourself to show juliette the dress later. you grabbed the lingerie aaron picked, it was green colored lace two piece set - the top had lace on the cups, a corset like style for the waist with 3 light green ribbons going down, and a mesh fabric with lace trimming the edges draped from the bottom of your rib area and covered your butt almost fully. the underwear was a simple lace thong the same color as the top.

it was beautiful, and you shouldn't have expected any less since your loving fashion expert boyfriend chose it.

once the lingerie was on, you looked at yourself in the long vertical mirror placed in the center of the room.

you admit you thought you look pretty good in the set. you had a few nightwear pieces, but those looked plain in comparison to the on you had on.

your noticed aaron's back in the mirror and suddenly remembered he was waiting for you to put on the lingerie.

your smooths down the top with your hands, then turned to aaron's direction, "ok, you can turn around now."

aaron mutter a small 'finally' before twisting to see you. the first thing he did was stare at you, his jaw slacking and eyes widening.

he was silent for so long, you started to get insecure if he thought it looked bad on you. you nervously laugh, "do you like it or-"

the question went unfinished because in an instant aaron took one large step towards you, pushed you against the mirror and passionately kissed you. you were thrown so off guard, you stumbled with your feet, stabilizing yourself by placing you hands on aaron's shoulders.

aaron's hands started wandering down your body, leaving goosebumps on your skin. aaron's lips were almost devouring yourself, kissing you with need and eagerness.

you were the first to pull away for air with a grin, aaron's lips followed yours, not ready to end the kiss. you had to gently put a hand on the side of his face to pull him back enough to let you breathe.

the haze that was clouding you for a moment cleared - reminding yourself you still were in the dressing room.

the first thing you did was laugh, then ask, "so i'm gonna assume you like it?"

aaron leans his face towards your, pressing your foreheads together and whispers, "love, if we don't pack up and go pay soon, i'm going to commit some horrible acts to you right here in this dressing room."

later

"well, i can say with full confidence this was the worst shopping trip, in the history of shopping trips to ever exist." juliette announced to the entire car as she drove back to the base.

"maybe next time you shouldn't come along then." aaron retorted from the backseat where the both of you were seated. (aaron was insistent on both of you in the back instead of one in the passenger seat and one in the back seat.)

"you're the one who wasn't even suppose to come! y/n only brought you along because you're a clingy boyfriend."

"i don't know what you mean by that, i'm not clingy." aaron defended, crossing his arms over his chest, like a stubborn child would.

you couldn't help, but let out a small laugh, you tried covering up with a cough. aaron snapped his head in your direction, furrowing his brow, "do you think i'm clingy?"

"no- well, maybe a little.. but it's not a bad thing." you tried to reassure him. your boyfriend's clinginess could be a little much, but honestly the feeling of being loved so much by someone was worth any small inconveniences.

aaron tugs you closer to his seat, wrapping an arm around you. "well, it's not my fault i love you so much" he tells you, giving a small peck on your lips, "if anything i'm reeling in at least half of my clinginess."

you raise a brow at this, not quite believing that, "i can't imagine how you could possibly top your regular behavior."

"oh, i can always be much worse, love" he cockily says leaning his head down closer to yours.

juliette interrupted your shared moment with a comment, reminding you both of her presence in the front seat, "i'm gonna throw up from all this sappiness."

aaron as always was quick to come up with a cynical reply,"not our fault you and kent have the emotional connection of a brick."

"hey!"

[mclalan]

A small estate map of Northeast Wolderness, a wapentake within the County of Humbershire.

Pentascarth Peaks

River Wyn

Bridburn Orchard

Bridburn Abbey

Firley Village

Grinholm Mill

Skunlington Town

Skunlington Castle

Pentascarth Peaks

Pentascarth Peaks is an ancient evergreen woodland that once dominated Wolderness, but centuries of agricultural expansion have driven it back to the five hilltop peaks. Some say that Wyrms slumber within each of the five peaks, while others more accurately claim that the peaks mark the boundary of the Wolderness wapentake.

Both Bridburn Abbey and Skunlington Minster claim rights to the forest, leading to obvious land disputes. But while mortals argue over who owns what, the woods remain home to forgotten, ancient goddesses— though the monastics seem to agree on this being just superstition.

River Wyn

Leading down from Pentascarth Peaks is the River Wyn, cutting through Humbershire on its journey east to the Lyre Estuary. The Wyn boasts giant crabs with some allegedly growing to a formidable fifteen feet. But if you're tempted to go crabbing, beware of the water spirit Catharine Wart, who drags unsuspecting victims beneath the Wyn's currents.

Bidburn Orchard

Nestled within an oxbow is Bridburn Abbey's apple orchard. The monks began with the principle of ora et labora, or 'pray and labour,' but if it also produces apples so delicious and plentiful that kings from across the seas are willing to pay a pretty sum for them, then who are the Valynites to say no? Whether it's Wyn's blessed waters or the lay brothers' tireless work, the orchard certainly hasn't hindered the abbey's rise to fame and fortune. Just don’t get caught scrumping from it, or the monks will have your hand off.

Bridburn Abbey

Bridburn Abbey houses the Valynite Order, which seems more preoccupied with power and business than strictly worship. With extensive landholdings and significant influence in the region, the abbey functions as the principal rural manor of Wolderness. As a result, it has become the largest and wealthiest abbey in all of Humbershire. But beyond just collecting tithes from the surrounding peasants, the monks are skilled in land management, particularly in assarting the land of trees and marshes.

Firley Village

Firley Village, named after the fir trees that once grew in the area, is an agricultural settlement situated on the glebe of Bridburn Abbey.

A large plot of common land lies to the west of the village, while smaller plots are located south on the opposite bank of the River Wyn. While the villagers grow a rotation of barley and vegetables, they're best known for they're prized oxblood-coloured sheep, whose wool appears black but shines red when catching the light. You'd think the village would grow fat from the wealth of this highly sought-after wool, but as the village falls under the manorial holding of the abbey, it is the abbey that reaps the wealth.

Grinholm Mill

Grinholm Mill, a growing hamlet owned by the Rolleston family, offers a much more reasonable miller's toll compared to the one up by Bridburn Abbey. They've become quite popular amongst the peasants of Wolderness, (well at least by miller standards), as well as wealthy. Although they pay their tithe to the abbey like everyone else on this side of the river, they are perceived to have undermined the abbey’s milling soke monopoly—much to the abbey displeasure.

Skunlington Town

Skunlington is a prominent market town, both wealthy and influential, with a history that stretches back to the First Age. It's located behind a small range of hills that shield it from harsh weather and provides a natural defence, with an added Royal Castle on the highest peak for good measure.

The castle is about the only Royal influence in the town however, as Skunlington holds charters that grant it a degree of autonomy from the Crown. The town is governed by a council of Merchant Guild Aldermen in coalition with the Provost of Skunlington Minster. But despite this apparent independence, the town is practically in the pocket of the Archbishop of Humberthorpe, the capital city of Humbershire.

South of Bridburn Abbey, across the River Wyn, lies the land controlled by Skunlington Minster’s estate (marked in purple on the map). The large tract of empty land between Skunlington and Bridburn Abbey is an ongoing contention, as both estates claim it for their own. The bickering has gone on so long that the land has turned fallow. But the biggest source of contention is how Skunlington controls the river toll for use of its docks, with particularly extortionate prices for Bridburn Abbey. Rumour has it that Bridburn Abbey might just build a whole new town of its own, south of Skunlington, just to avoid paying this toll!

Skunlington Castle was strategically built in the First Age atop the highest hill on Pen-y-Skun for its vantage point overlooking the whole of North Wolderness Dale—crucial in the Woodsy War against the pagans. However, these days it’s the Crown's administrative center for Wolderness, run by the Under-Sheriff. Here, secular law is enforced, tasks such as collecting taxes for the Crown, raising levies, chopping off heads, that sort of thing. There’s a lot of overlap with the ecclesiastical courts however, sometimes resulting in collaboration and other times in clashes.

Skunlington Castle

But it’s not all work. The castle also serves as the hub for the gentry afterall, and they're not exactly know for their hard work. So the castle hosts games, jousts, fairs, that sort of thing, and a bed for when the King comes to visit.

[elyssialumengard]

Alastor x Reader : Fragile Link ( Part 1 )

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Hello/good night ! This is my first post in the Hazbin Hotel universe, please bear with me. I'm French so if I make a mistake, tell me in a socially acceptable way. ^^

Summary : Alastor and Charlie travel to a mysterious location in Hell to get help against threats to the Hazbin Hotel. They are guided by Alastor and meet Taku, a demon who owes him one. Despite encounters with hostile sinners, they manage to approach “y/n”, an important figure whose help is crucial.

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The cobblestone streets of Hell were lit by a perpetual reddish glow.

Wisps of acrid smoke rose from the cracks in the ground in this corner of the Infernal Pentagram, further obscuring the tumultuous sky, bathed in a vivid red hue, creating a painting of macabre beauty. Among the ruined buildings, their decrepit walls decorated with graffiti, stretched a heavy silence, broken only by the distant echoes of sinners.

In the distance, mountains of debris and carcasses could be seen, where some damned souls were condemned to an eternity of futile toil. Others went about their business, their gazes full of lust, malice and despair.

In this inhospitable setting, two figures made their way, one following the other, their footsteps echoing. They were on their way to a mysterious place, a place where one of them hoped to find help in confronting the threats facing the Hazbin Hotel.

One of the two people was none other than Charlie, who was getting carried away by his own inner torment. The revelation of Vaggie's dissimulation, her love, as to her nature as an exterminating angel, had plunged her into an abyss of betrayal and perplexity. She wondered about the reasons that had pushed Vaggie to silence such a crucial truth, finding it paradoxical that the one she had elected to share her noblest ideals could indulge in such omissions. Tortuous thoughts, like poisonous snakes, coiled around his tormented mind, undermining the very foundations of his certainties.

Amidst this turmoil, a glimmer of panic arose from time to time, fueled by the imminent threat posed by Adam and his legions of exterminating angels.

As for the one who orchestrated this macabre dance, it was Alastor, the guide leading the princess to a place known only to him. Indifferent to Charlie's words, he focused exclusively on their destination, and on the powerful overlord he had not seen in seven long years. He knew that their reunion was going to be complex, marked by the shadows of the past, but he hoped to convince the suzerain to lend Charlie a hand in his fight against the angelic forces.

While he had initially planned to visit his friend Rosie in Cannibal Town, he had deliberately postponed this meeting, preferring to try his luck with the other liege. Because he knew that if their enterprise succeeded, it would constitute a more effective bulwark against Adam and his army.

And he secretly wanted to see her again for his personal pleasure.

As they moved deeper and deeper into one of the abandoned and forgotten corners of the Pentagram, where no sinner dared to dwell, Alastor abruptly interrupted the conversation, announcing that they had arrived. However, in front of them, there was only an oppressive void, devoid of the slightest sign of life or habitation.

- What does that mean ? Charlie wondered, a look of confusion and worry in his eyes.

An enigmatic smile appeared on Alastor's lips, a sparkle of excitement shining in his eyes.

- Patience, my dear Charlie. You will soon understand why we are here. He replied in a calm voice.

With one fluid gesture, he conjured a letter into his hand, which he then burned before letting the ashes fall to the ground. Charlie's eyes followed with fascination the strange spectacle unfolding before his eyes. The ashes of the letter, consumed by Alastor's fire, transformed into dancing shadows, swirling before taking the form of a massive door on the ground. A strange feeling of dizziness came over her as she stared at this mysterious door, the palpable magic emanating from it tickling her senses.

Feeling the pressure of Alastor's shoulder, she stepped back slightly, her eyes still fixed on the fascinating scene unfolding before them. The shadow gate suddenly burst out of the ground, solidifying into a towering structure. Charlie's heart raced in her chest as she realized where they were.

This door evoked the legends she had heard whispered, the one leading to an unknown territory, a place different from the Hell she knew, under the sovereignty of one of the most eminent figures of the underworld. She was stunned to find herself facing this legendary door, wondering what trials and revelations awaited them on the other side.

Before she could voice her thoughts, the door burst open, revealing a demon that emerged from the darkness.

The demon was imposing and slender, with slightly gray skin. Her hair is a deep brown, framing her angular face characterized by sharp, defined features. His dark, almost black eyes shine with a piercing light behind round, black-rimmed glasses. He wore a dark suit highlighting his elegant and professional figure.

Seeing who had summoned the opening, the demon frowned and said in a hostile voice :

-Alastor.

-Taku.

Despite Taku's cold reception, Alastor remained imperturbable, not letting the animosity of his interlocutor destabilize him.

- Tell me, my friend, how have you been since our last meeting ? He questioned, a hint of feigned camaraderie peeking through his words.

Facing him, Taku remained imperturbable, his arms crossed on his chest, his face unchanging despite the mischievous sparkle that sparkled in Alastor's eyes.

- It is none of your business. He replied in an icy voice. I thought you were dead. It would surely be better for everyone if that were the case. Or at least you could have stayed hidden in your hole, alone, if death doesn't suit you.

A cynical laugh escaped Alastor's lips, accentuating the tense atmosphere between them.

-Ah ! But that wasn't the case ! He replied in a mocking tone. My absence was just a little break, a parenthesis to savor life and let sinners worry, wondering when I was going to return with my emission.

He approached Taku, his teasing smile widening.

- But indeed, it would surely have been better for you if I had died. He continued in an almost whispered voice, leaving the shadow of a sinister secret lingering. I have no doubt that you would have greatly appreciated it. After all, that would have meant that I would have taken your sword of Damocles with me to the grave, right ?

A shiver of antagonism ran through the space between them as they eyed each other, their feelings of distrust and disdain barely concealed.

Under the influence of the anger which began to rise, Taku's teeth lengthened, accentuating his expression of displeasure. His fists clenched with increasing force as he stared at Alastor with a penetrating, almost murderous gaze.

-What do you want, Alastor ? He spat through clenched teeth.

- We came to see ( y/n ). He said with an indescribable look. This is a matter of the utmost importance.

Taku sighed in annoyance, shaking his head in disapproval.

- I don't want to hear anything about it. He replied dryly. My Lady has no time to waste on unimportant requests like yours. And especially not with someone like you.

Charlie, feeling anxiety rising within her, was about to intervene, to plead their case to Taku. However, Alastor beat her to it with a calm wave of his hand, telling her to stay back for the moment. With a sly smile he said :

- I think you owe me a favor, Taku. And that's why I was able to summon this door.. He announced quietly.

Taku glared at Alastor, his expression hardening even further.

- A favor ? He repeated suspiciously, his tone oscillating between distrust and curiosity.

- Yes. Alastor replied in a detached tone, but with a glint of determination in his eyes. And that's why we're here, thanks to the letter you gave me in exchange for our deal. To get back what you owe me. He announced, a green glow surrounding them.

Charlie watched the scene helplessly, overwhelmed by the events, but slowly realizing the magnitude of the situation. She could feel the tension between Alastor and Taku rising, their gazes challenging each other in a silent game of wills.

- You're playing a dangerous game, Alastor. You might get burned. He growled.

But Alastor didn't flinch, his teasing smile remaining unchanged.

- Oh, let me doubt it, we both know that you are weaker than me. We need to see ( y/n ). He repeated calmly. And I'm sure you can understand the importance of this meeting. Besides, I will hold my tongue regarding the content of our deal and I will no longer be able to force you to let us in, seeing as I burned the letter to do so. Does this suit you ?

Taku hesitated for a moment, seeming to weigh his options. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, he agreed with a slight nod.

- Alright. He whispered. But I don't owe you anything anymore. And know, miss, he said, addressing Charlie, finally considering her since the beginning of the exchange, you are nothing to us. Your rank is nothing where we are going. We are devoted to our Lady and compared to her, you are futile. And all the more so for a crazy person like you, Alastor. He finished, his teeth returning to normal.

Charlie doesn't respond, stunned. With a wave of his hand, Taku opened the door, revealing the darkness that lay on the other side. Alastor gave a mocking smile, ignoring Taku's jab.

- We expected no less from such hospitality in these infernal lands. He replied lightly, before leading Charlie after him towards the open door.

Once on the other side, the transition was instantaneous, almost magical. The oppressive red-tinged sky of Pentagram City dissipated, giving way to a clear blue celestial expanse, enveloping the landscape in a soft, soothing light. A breath of fresh air came to caress their faces, sweeping away the heaviness of Hell.

Charlie contemplated this astonishing change with a mixture of astonishment and perplexity. She felt transported to another world, a realm where torment and suffering seemed to evaporate. A light laugh escaped Alastor's lips, savoring the stark contrast between the two realities.

- Welcome to this less gloomy corner of Hell, my dear. He whispered to Charlie, his eyes shining with a mischievous glint.

Following Taku who walked in the lead, Alastor and Charlie embarked on the winding paths of this enchanting landscape. Charlie couldn't suppress his amazement at the peaceful beauty around him. Green meadows stretched as far as the eye could see, caressed by the soft light of the sun. In the distance, majestic trees swayed gently in the breeze, their foliage dancing in harmony with the birdsong.

Her heart leaped with excitement as she observed the inhabitants of this strange place, for a moment she could almost forget Vaggie's betrayal. Fishermen smiled happily as they brought in their day's catch. No violence, no murder, no blood. It was a stark contrast to the Hell she had always known. Maybe not as sumptuous as Heaven, but to her, it was a glimmer of light in the darkness.

Approaching Alastor, Charlie felt the urgent need to clarify the mysteries that hovered around their presence here, in this strange and enchanting world.

- Alastor, she began in a voice filled with a mixture of fascination and perplexity, how come that you know ( y/n ) ? And what is this place that seems so... Different ?

Alastor gave her a teasing smile, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint.

- Ah, my dear Charlie. He replied in a nonchalant tone. It's a long story, full of twists and turns and mysteries.

He winked at her, knowing he had piqued her curiosity. But before Charlie could ask any more questions, he added :

- As for this place, it's a kind of... Refuge, if you like. A place where time seems to stand still, where the torments of Hell ease a little. But don't let appearances fool you, my dear. Even here, there are secrets and dangers that await us.

Charlie looked at him with admiration mixed with concern. She knew that even in this relative haven of peace, trouble could arise at any moment.

-And why are we here ? She insisted, determined to get a clear answer this time.

Alastor gave him a knowing look, his smile widening slightly.

- Oh, my dear, are we not here to save our dear hotel from the clutches of adversity ? He replied in a cheerful tone, skillfully avoiding directly answering her question.

Charlie rolled her eyes, knowing she probably wouldn't get a more specific answer from Alastor. But despite her exasperation, she couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement at the idea of the adventure that awaited them. As they advanced peacefully, five other armed sinners appeared from the shadows, threatening and ready to do battle.

The leader of this group raised his weapon, pointing contemptuously at Alastor.

- What are you doing here you bastard ? He roared in a deep and menacing voice.

Charlie felt panic rising within her, her gaze turning to Alastor for a solution.

- Alastor, what do we do ?

Alastor smirked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

- Well, this looks like it's getting interesting. He replied with a teasing tone, ready to spring into action.

As the sinners stood before them, their weapons brandished in a threatening gesture, Alastor couldn't help but let out a teasing laugh, his gaze shining with a mischievous glint as he approached one of them. 'them.

- My dear friends, is this how you welcome your guests ? He said in a mocking voice, openly defying their hostility.

The sinners stiffened, their expressions mixing bewilderment and anger at the demon's insolent attitude.

- You have guts to come here, Alastor. One of them spat contemptuously, his tone laced with menace. Do you really think you can come in here at will and wreak havoc ?

A smirk tugged at Alastor's lips, a spark of defiance in his gaze.

- Ah, but that’s precisely what I do best, isn’t it ? He replied with a mischievous wink. Bring a little spice to everyday life, shake things up. Besides, if I wanted to hurt anyone here, it would already be done.

His smile widened as red clock faces replaced his pupils, his face twisting into a demonic expression, his smile no longer able to contain his sharp teeth. Deafening, unpleasant sounds of radio whining surrounded the atmosphere, frightening or disconcerting those around them.

After this moment of theatrical intimidation, Alastor suddenly calmed down, letting out a musical laugh that echoed through the air, as if he had just told a particularly funny joke. His facial expression, once distorted by threat, returned to its usual appearance, although his mischievous look remained.

The sinners, meanwhile, stood stunned, looking at Alastor with a mixture of fear and perplexity. They were used to arrogant and hostile demons, but Alastor's combination of imperturbable confidence and playful mischief completely unsettled them.

- I see that you are having trouble following the dance. Alastor stated in a light tone, as if he was talking to confused children. But don't worry, I'm just passing through. No need to bother you further.

Before they can act, Taku abruptly intervenes, his piercing gaze fixed on the sinners.

- Stop your bickering. Stay calm until I give an order. He ordered in a firm voice, keeping them at a distance from any attempted aggression.

The sinners, disoriented, looked at each other, unable to understand why the right arm of their liege stood thus alongside these intruders, and even closer to Alastor, in particular.

- But Taku, they are foreigners. They are not welcome here ! One of them protested, his weapon still aimed at Alastor. Especially a perfidious being like him, whose sole purpose is to sow pain and destruction! It will only revive the suffering in the heart of our Lady !

The disdain in Taku's gaze was palpable, his icy silence echoing in the halo of tension that enveloped the group.

- I know what I'm doing. Don't intervene. He replied in an authoritative tone, putting an abrupt end to any discussion.

Charlie, silent observer of this scene, felt a mixture of relief and incomprehension at Taku's enigmatic attitude. Her grateful gaze rested on him, knowing that he had played a crucial role in calming the situation. Yet, despite this gratitude, she could not help but wonder about the hidden motivations of the mysterious demon, wondering what this pact constituted.

Alastor, although disappointed by the interruption to what could have been an exciting fight, narrowed his eyes warily, bracing himself for any unforeseen events.

- Where is Lady ( y/n ) ? He asked in a calm but firm voice.

The fishermen exchanged uncertain looks before one of them responded in a hesitant voice :

- She is on the top floor, in her tea room, Mr. Taku. She said no one should come and bother her, except you, of course. She is waiting for you.

Nodding, he resumed walking with a determined step, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

- We should continue so that you can leave as soon as possible. He stated in a calm but commanding voice, prompting Alastor and Charlie to follow him.

The five sinners followed closely behind them, their weapons always ready, keeping a watchful eye on the two strangers. Despite their threatening attitude, Alastor, for his part, still wore his eternal smile, taunting the sinners with undisguised amusement.

Meanwhile, Charlie watched the sinners curiously, noticing how happy they seemed in this environment. However, her thoughts were interrupted when she overheard a conversation between two sinners that made her frown.

- You should smile, you know. One of the sinners whispered to the other, his tone laced with a strange mix of gentleness and menace. We don't want to add to Lady's ( y/n ) suffering.

This remark sent chills down Charlie's spine, and he felt a ball of anxiety forming in his stomach.

Taku moved forward without worrying about the tension that reigned around them.

- We should hurry. He declared in a calm but determined voice, prompting the group to pick up their pace.

After walking through the beautiful garden that led them to a secluded building, Taku opened the door and Charlie and Alastor entered with him, leaving the five sinners outside. They advanced through the corridors, following Taku who seemed to know the way by heart.

They finally found themselves in front of an imposing wooden door, whose solid stature seemed to announce the grandeur of the being who resided behind. Taku, with a measured gesture, knocked gently on the wood, thus announcing his presence.

For Charlie, this moment was filled with palpable tension. Her mind repeated the words of her prepared speech, while she mentally prepared herself to face the conundrum that awaited them on the other side. She tried to draw on her determination, ready to defend her beliefs in the face of this mysterious figure.

For his part, Alastor quickly adjusted his outfit and stood up straight, confident, his teasing gaze barely hiding the growing anticipation building within him. He nevertheless approached Charlie, to whisper in his ear with a mixture of seriousness and mischief :

- Be careful of your attitude and your words once inside, my dear. The person we are going to meet is not easily impressed and does not take himself for just anyone.

Charlie nodded silently, appreciating Alastor's caution and advice. Although she felt nervous, she found some comfort in his presence, knowing that he was there to support her in this crucial meeting.

Crossing her fingers that she succeeds.

____________________________________________

Author's note : Here's the first part ! I had to split it in two because otherwise it would have been too long for you, exceeding 7,000 words. Tell me what you think in the comments, see you next time.

[ahoycaptainautumn]

Fell Into You Pt 1

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

Part 2 here

synopsis: Ghost isn’t looking for anything and neither are you. But when a mission goes wrong, throwing you two together, where will things go from here?

content: slow burn, sfw this chapter, nsfw later. Pre-established reader nickname as “Crow”

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“Alright team, the breakdown of the mission is as follows. Team 283 has been compromised infiltrating an enemy hole in the center of Kazan. They are now forced to switch between three different safe houses to stay ahead of the enemy. They are using the old septic tunnel system underground to transport between them. Your job will be for each squadron to enter the safe houses and extract the team. We lost contact roughly 2 hours ago, so time is of the essence and we aren’t sure which safehouse they will be in.” Price finished explaining to the rest of Team 141. Price and Gaz would be a squadron and take on safe house Alpha. Graves and a handful of shadows would take safe house Beta. Ghost and Soap would take the last one, safehouse Charlie.

“How many are left of the team that we are aware of?” Asked Graves.

“As far as we know, two marines, sergeant Echo and Captain Crow.” Price replied. Ghost and Soap exchanged glances at the names. Crow had gained some notoriety amongst the different teams. You were known for being a lethal warrior, recently taking on an enemy exit point on your own without alarming surrounding enemy locations.

“Eh maybe this wins me a date with Crow, savin her arse, huh?“ Soap chuckled. Not many other soldiers had worked with Crow, which meant rumors spread on whether you were hideous or breathtaking. Ghost opted to stay out of it, the last thing he needed was thinking of a female in his line of work. He was sure you felt the same, which is why you chose to stay out of the spotlight.

“You wish mate.” Is all Ghost replied. He followed behind Soap, readying up to take the heli waiting for them.

———-

Kazan, Russia - 2100hr

———-

Soap and Ghost sat within an abandoned garage just south of the mission point. Safehouse Charlie was a torn down church centered in a forgotten town just barely on the outskirts of the major city of Kazan. Soap finished a cig, squashing it beneath his boot.

“My eyes in the sky, how are we lookin?” Soap spoke into the radio. A static replied from the above plane circling the different safe houses.

“No tangoes spotted, you are free to make entry. Make it quiet. Enemies were spotted just east of your position around safehouse A.”

“Got it.” Soap let go of his radio and turned to Ghost grabbing his gun. Ghost gave him a small nod, recognizing this was their chance to move. Ghost tucked in behind Soap, keep his head on a swivel as the made their way to the side entrance of the church. There was an old cellar door on the ground next to the church nearly rusted shut. Ghost put a finger to where his lips would be under the mask and grabbed at the door, quietly opening it. Darkness of the basement greeted them. Turning on their flashlights, the two men made their way through the cellar opening. There was nothing but old church literature and stacks of chairs. No sight of anyone occupying. Ghost waved his finger towards the door to the main ground, Soap nodded back. Once again, darkness swallowed them as the entered into the main floor of the church. The cellar opened to a small room just behind the podium of chapel. Soap put up a fist, point to the ceiling. Just barely, Ghost could hear something creaking upstairs.

“Enemy or friendly?” Soap questioned.

“Let’s find out shall we?” Ghost answered. The quickly made their way from the room to find the decaying steps to go to the attic. Ghost didn’t make it but one set of stairs before he was thrown back onto a wall with a knife near his throat. Staring back at him was your (e/c) eyes, shining behind a masked face.

“Friendly! Friendly!” Soap replied, being held at gunpoint by Echo. Echo relaxed his shoulders, whistling at Crow to do the same. You took one more hard look at Ghost before lowering your knife, not relaxing in the slightest. You had (h/c) hair, loosely put up in a ponytail and tactical gear long forgotten with only the army issued t shirt and cargos on. You looked like you went through hell and back. But Ghost now knew the truth to the rumors, you were stunning.

Echo ushered you all into the attic room, yet another supply room with nothing much but a small candle burning and two bloodied dog tags lying next to it. Ghost cringed at the sight slightly. Crow turned to him, “So what do they call you?”

Before you could get the words completely out a shock rumbled the floor, a second blast bleeding into your eardrums from the left. The floor exploded beneath your left foot and you felt yourself falling back into the empty hole. Russian shouting was heard from the bottom floor with gun shots ringing from your side and theirs. Ghost grabbed your outstretched hand, using his other to wrap around your waist throwing you on top of him and away from the blast site. Ghost landed backwards, with you directly on top of him. Once again, you stared each other in the eyes and your faces were so close you could just barely feel his breath behind his balaclava.

“They call me Ghost” he replied, just as smallest of grins just slightly pulled his eyes up from under his mask. The rumors were definitely false, you were absolutely breathtaking.

[charmilyharmily]

It’s mermay and I unintentionally made a mermaid au for ISaT (somehow during this month, I forgot about mermay)

Regardless, I come bearing a brief synopsis and major design changes (with more to come~)

The name is “Ray of Sif-shine”, which is shortened to RoSS. Cause Sif is a ray mermaid! The world is different to what you’re used to. Vaugarde is an archipelago, the lost country got Atlantised (still forgotten), mermaids follow a H2O style logic, and all people form the island are mermaids in someway shape or form. Which using this as a great Segway we get to the designs.

First is Sif: He’s inspired by classic rays like eagle rays. Mostly solitary before the events leading up to meeting the party, with minimal contact with small villages. He hides the fact he’s a mermaid from the group, which leads to complications…

Next is ever helpful Loop: They’re a guitarfish (a cousin to rays and sharks), and very big. Only found around Dormonts Favor Tree (located on a cliff overlooking the sea), they help Siffrin same as usual. Just so happening to need to lay down instead of sit on the trees roots.

Finally is the King: He’s a coconut crab. Big and intimidating he takes up all space he can with his 6 legs, hiding his go face behind his claws. Embodying everything the Change belief goes against, stagnation, freezing people in time, and CRABS.

[novemberblueskyink]

Our Cathedral is the Wastelands

Summary: Traveling during the night, you find yourself the object of attention for another nocturnal predator.

OR

What happens when the Ghoul takes an interest in you and stalks you through the night.

18+ only, mdni

Explicit content. Content Warnings: dehydration, blisters, radroaches, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap your tool, ya ghoul), (con) noncon elements, light bondage [if I've forgotten any, please leave them in the comments]

A/N this was an idea that just didn't let me go. I hope you enjoy as much as I did writing it!

The tip of your nose had long gone numb from the desert chill, and there were a few choice spots on your feet that were making themselves quite known. You’re still several nights’ walk out from the nearest town, and damn if it didn’t feel like two years instead. The monotony of walking under the stars had quickly set in. But it kept you warm in the frigid nights and meant you could rest and conserve water during the day. 

It was unfortunately all too easy for the boredom to dull your senses and reflexes. A nocturnal carnivore you are not.

The eyeshine of a predator alerts you first to the creature off to your right. You freeze in place, adrenaline turning your heartbeat to a roar in your ears. 

You stare hard back at those two pinpricks of light, trying to confirm its location.

Finally you see a slash of green - a radioactive grin. Fuck. A ghoul at best, a feral at worst.

You stay frozen in place until all three eerie points of light wink out. Then you slowly, fighting every instinct you have to flat out flee, walk away. You use every ounce of discipline to move smoothly, making no noise, breathing shallowly and steady.

The trick with nocturnal predators is to be one yourself. Or at least convince the other creatures stirring under starlight that you are, in fact, one of them. Gotta eliminate those pesky prey instincts.

The next night, the moon is shining out cold and high, so you can make out the vague impressions of a hat and a body belonging to that ocular green gaze and irradiated grin. You can feel the track of his attention for a long time. Until you glance back and are sure he must be out of sight. The shivers down your back continue all the rest of the night.

The third night, you nearly miss the whir and click of spurs, the light crunch of sand under careful footsteps, under the hiss of the wind and the sound of your heartbeat.

You whirl around, your hand on the grip of the gun in your hip holster. 

The figure behind you looms over you, the moonlight behind him, outlining the tatters of his duster, the shape of his broad-brimmed hat, the arc of his arm terminating with a gun, already aimed at you. He cuts a fine, tall figure. Imposing, without a doubt. Sturdy. Threatening. Alluring and dangerous. 

“Now darlin’, hands off that peashooter o’ yers,” the Ghoul demands.

You grit your teeth and flex your fingers on the handle of your weapon. Fuck. Slowly, you peel your fingers away from the grip.

You snap, “You do you want, ghoul? Caps? I don’t have any.” You can hear the click of his teeth snapping. “Well, sure don’t want the pleasure of your company, now do I?”

“I’ve got nothing you want. So if you’re gonna shoot me, just do it already.”

The being opposite you gives you a long appraising look, up and down. He takes a deliberate step forward, adjusting the angle of his gun with his new proximity. “Perhaps, the pleasure of your company will have to do after all.”

You take an uneasy, half step back, but he gestures with his gun, stopping you from moving any further.

“Turn around, sugar. An’ start walkin’.” 

The words send a shiver down your back, but you set your jaw, tense your shoulders, and turn back around the way you were headed. It feels almighty unnatural to turn your back on a predator, but you certainly don’t have a better choice at this moment.

You take slow measured steps, unable to see his weapon, and reluctant to give him a reason to act reflexively.

“What’s takin’ you this way?” he asks.

You feel the expression of surprise take over your face before you blink it away. “Headed to town for supplies.” 

He chuckles, and you can’t help your shoulders creeping up toward your ears. “Thought ya ain’t have any caps. How ya gettin’ supplies without any dinero?” He stretches the strange syllables out in his peculiar accent. 

Dinero? You mutter, rolling the word around your mouth before you think better of allowing a prolonged silence and add hastily, “Got some scrap. Gonna trade that in.” You shift the pack on your back on reflex, and immediately regret the full sound it produces. The adrenaline has made your mouth dry, and you yearn to reach for your meager water supply. Something stays your hand. You don’t want to show any weakness, any need. What if he takes your canteen? Could you survive the trip without water?

Unlikely. You swallow hard, the motion rough in your dry throat.

The Ghoul grunts. After a few steps, he shoves at your left shoulder until you veer to the right and continue on trekking.

“What about you, cowboy?” you ask, hoping to learn anything at all about your captor. You can hear him pacing behind you. The sounds of a human being reach you through the quiet, now that you’re attuned to hearing them, the occasional dry wheeze, the sound of a swallow, the rasp of clothing moving with his strides.

He makes a clicking sound. “What’d ya call me?” His question snaps out at you. 

Okay, clearly you’ve made a mistake. “It-it’s just a . . . a nickname. I grew up watching these movies with . . . with these gunslingers. Deputies and outlaws. Some of them wore hats like yours.” After a long moment of quiet, you mutter, “Sorry.”

He punishes you with a long stretch of silence. The imagined weight of the gun pointed at you presses at your back, driving you forward, long past when you would’ve taken a break, eaten, taken a drink of water, attended to any bodily need, really.

It becomes a relentless march. He must be planning on walking you to death. Each footstep on the unstable sand takes more and more from you, and you’re pretty sure that at least one of your blisters has started to bleed because the inside of your left boot has gotten slick around the heel.

Just as the blackness has lightened to a dusky purple and finally to a sickly gray-green, the scent of ozone, petrichor, and geosmin hits your nose. Oh, fuck.

A radstorm.

Your head jerks up and to the side, catching the dark haze of storm clouds building behind you.

“Head forward, gingersnap,” he says, giving you a shove in the middle of your back for good measure. It makes you stumble, and you bite back a curse.

The urgency of needing shelter dulls the complaints of your body enough that you can pick up the pace.

“Alright, if ya wanna kill me, please just shoot me. I’d rather not walk another step or else die out there in that,” you beg, jerking your thumb over your shoulder at the storm.

The Ghoul hisses. “Ya awful eager to throw away your life. Woulda bet on a fella smart enough to travel at night, would be smart enough to know a plan when they see one.”

A plan? You can only hope. But why would he help you? Why not take your scrap and leave you last night? You shake your head.

But you scan the horizon anyway. There. Just to the right of dead-ahead, there’s a structure. It’s the only interruption on the otherwise flat and blemishless stretch of desert horizon ahead.

Now that you can see it, the distance seems to grow no shorter, but you find yourself digging into your reserves, just to keep going. Just for the promise of respite, now within reach. Probably.

“Don’t want to die,” you pant. “Just not used to the kindness.”

“Ain’t today ya lucky fuckin’ day then.” He chuckles, but it’s wry, soured with sarcasm. “Take a drink of water, gingersnap. Christ alive, you’ve gone all night, haven’t ya?”

You hear the slosh of water in a canteen behind you. You clench your fists, but after another moment, need overtakes any other reservation you might have had. You unscrew the cap shakily and tip it back. It’s like life, right into the very center of you. But it’s not enough, it’s never enough. Thankfully, it is just enough that you feel your headache ease a bit.

“There ya go, gingersnap. Good job.”

You nod and rasp, “Thanks.” For no good reason, your body flushes hot and something twists deep down, between your legs. There’s something thrilling about the threat of the man behind you. Most of life, and most deaths, are nasty, brutish, and have become mundane. Death is one stumble away for most people. But through it all, you’ve gotten good at surviving. Good enough that the brush of death makes you feel alive again. His sudden consideration is intense emotional whiplash. The humanity of it.

His clicking noise interrupts your thoughts. And then it’s silence once more.

The building remains impossibly distant, until all at once, it’s only a few feet in front of you.

And based on the ominous rumble of thunder nearly directly overhead, it’s not a moment too soon.

The door has been piecemeal reinforced with corrugated steel. You shove at it, but after a straight march through the night, your strength has been sapped. The Ghoul muscles his way into your personal space, bodily moving you aside and kicking at the door. With two blows, the door creaks and then gives away, cracking open.

He shoves at, forcing the gap wider. He unholsters his weapon and gestures at you to do the same and to follow.

You ease the 10mm out and take it with both hands, its weight great enough that you’re not confident you can hold it steady in just one. 

He moves forward, stalking into the recesses of the building. You blink at the dark, giving your eyes a moment to adjust. It’s still not very light out yet, but the darkness inside is awfully complete.

As you stand, you calm your breathing and listen to the sounds coming from farther inside.

There’s a skittering sound that could be wind through a window crack disturbing the contents of the room but was far more likely radroaches.

You hear your companion’s gun discharge a few times, and you bring your own gun up, watching for movement.

You see the low scuttle of the creatures darting amongst the dusty remains of cardboard boxes and detritus. You fire several times and are rewarded with the gunky ‘splosions of the carapaces giving way. You take a deep breath of the stale air. There is only a tinge of rot, and you turn your gaze to the ceiling, trying to figure out the most structurally sound area to wait out the poisonous rain.

There are only two spots, both near windows, long since boarded over, that show evidence of water damage. 

Another crash of thunder is dulled by the shelter of the building. You retreat back to the door and wedge it as far shut as you can. It’s not as tightly sealed as it once was, but it would have to be enough to keep most of the water out.

In the shadows of the building, you see the Ghoul rifling through what’s leftover.

“Looks like it used ta be an administration building. Made so many a’ these ugly sons a bitches outta poured concrete. They’re uglier n’ sin and damn near indestructible.” He tuts and tosses some garbage away. 

You look around the structure with a new level of appreciation. It had been repurposed at some point, and the accoutrement of survival is scattered across the floor, all dust-covered and half-broken, in no sensible order or organization. Frankly, the chaos was comforting. It was normal. Whatever you’re feeling, watching this competent creature manhandle furniture around, making a safe place for you, it’s not normal. It makes your chest feel full of air, your body buzzy, that place between your thighs, long neglected, throb.

You set your hands on your hips for a minute before kicking at the boxes in front of you. Most of what remains are plastic flaps, whatever was protected by them, long rotted away, slender plastic tubes the length of your hand. Plastic cups, various shapes of boxes, grids, and some sharp rusted metal shards.

As the rain starts, soft patters accelerating to a dull roar, periodically interrupted by startling pings against the corrugated steel on the outside of the building. It makes you jump the first couple times. Expecting muzzle flash and a bloody end, but realizing what the source of the noise was after a beat.

“Jumpy there, gingersnap?” he asks.

You swallow dryly, taking another swig of water while you can. Your stomach growls, now that you’ve stopped moving, and your hunger reasserts itself with a vengeance. “Maybe,” you reply weakly.

“Go on in there, sugar. Storm’ll be ragin’ a while.” Even through the dimness, you can make out his gesture.

You lead the way into an office, the Ghoul close on your heels. The room opens up to your right. One person sitting against the wall would have line of sight on the door, and as you’re contemplating the contents of the room, he drags the desk over to provide some cover.

Not bad.

You slump down against the wall with an eye on the door, but the Ghoul nudges your thigh. “Slide over.” 

You shoot him a dirty look, just for consistency’s sake, but slide over anyway. Moving gingerly. He drops down in the space you left him, returning your glare.

Digging through your pack, you pull out your night’s rations. You hold out half to the Ghoul.

He picks it over, only taking some of what you offer, the best pieces, with a smirk. You narrow your eyes at him and give him a shitty little look, and he bares his teeth right back at you. You can see their inhuman glow once again.

You take him in from closer as you eat your rations. His eyes are bright, even in their sunken pits, the upside down heart of his exposed nasal passages, just a concave curve from the side where you are, the place where his irradiated, melted facial skin meets the slightly smoother skin of his lips. How full his bottom lip is. Mm, fuck.

“You taking first watch then, cowboy?” you rasp, your voice rough with something else besides dehydration and disuse now.

He just grunts at you, so you draw up your knees and fold your arms, ready to pass out just like that.

He takes a deep breath in. “You gonna take care of that foot first?”

You huff out a sigh. Shit. Both your feet hurt something fierce. “What do you know about it anyway?”

“Can smell it from all the way over here,” he replies sardonically.

“Smell my feet?” you squeak, mortified.

He sniffs again. “No, sugar. The fresh blood.”

You flush and shift your feet to undo your boots. He takes the left one in hand, and you tense reflexively. That’s the one with the worst blister. Although, by now, worst was an academic exercise for the mythical doctors to debate over.

He handles you with surprising tenderness, undoing the laces and easing it off. He peels off the blood-sticky sock next. You groan at the sight. It’s both better and worse than you expect. It certainly feels like the entirety of your foot is battered, bruised, and about ready to fall off. It looks like two or three blisters started bleeding.

He sets your boot down so you can dangle your foot off the end, and you get started undoing the right. It does look a little better. Only one bloody blister.

You dig through your pack and sigh. You don’t really want to use a stimpak, but your feet will take too many days to heal. You don’t want to waste valuable travel time on sitting around some abandoned building. 

You use it and sit there while the effects cascade through you. You stretch out and feel a jolt as the motion brings attention to the other bodily need you’re neglecting. Fuck.

You decide instead to stand up and stagger over to the other side of the office, lying down with the wall to your back.

You really do try your best to fall asleep, but between your thoughts keep you restless, tending toward what activities could be done between two consenting adults in a dark room with a lot of time on your hands.

“Are you finally gonna tell me why you’re headed to town?” you ask, to distract yourself.

You hear him shift, taking off his hat. “Just headed that way, ‘suppose.”

“And you just happened to want the pleasure of my company?” you interrogated him again, sardonically.

“Thought that was obvious,” he scoffs. “Could smell the radstorm, knew you were ‘bout to get caught in it.”

“And you figured you’d . . . what, rescue me?” You push yourself up to sitting.

“Somethin’ like that,” he snaps. He turns toward you, clearly pissed. “Why, angry I saved your sorry ass?”

You blink hard at him, taken aback, but also relieved that at least there’s some honesty in your exchange.

“Well, mister, you could’ve just used your slick tongue to explain what was happening, instead of threatening me at gunpoint!”

He lunges at you, coming up to kneeling on one knee before restraining himself. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it, gingersnap. I know you’d like me to use my slick tongue on ya.” 

You bare your teeth at him. “What, can ya smell that too, ghoul? You sniffin’ around like some pervert?”

He does come at you then, so fast, so smooth, lifting you up by the throat. “Matter a’ fact, I can. Sugar.” He draws out the word, breathing in deep, mouth parted, taking you in through his nostrils and over his tongue. “Bet ya my both a’ my guns, you’re wetter n’ a slip n’ slide.” He wedges a knee between your legs.

Your mouth drops open in shock. What the fuck is a slip and slide? Fuck. You’re so fucked. 

“You asshole,” you hiss. He plants his other hand to the side of your head, the thud making you gasp.

His fingers flex around your neck, the leather soft and warm from his hands. He licks from your chin over your lips to your cheek. 

You struggle against him, ineffectively batting at him. “You’re such an asshole! Don’t fucking lick me! And stop smelling me.”

“Can’t help that, sugar. You smell deeelicious.” He pants in your face. “‘m gettin’ really sick of your talkin’ though-”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” You shove at him, furious, kicking out at him with your feet.

He hisses through his teeth, pulling back and giving you a hard look. “Oh, I can think of many ways to shut you up right now. Do ya need me ta teach ya a lesson in courtesy?” 

You pull at his hand, but his thick fingers squeeze a little tighter in warning. 

“Fuck you,” you growl.

He brings his mouth close to yours, taking your lower lip between his teeth, tugging, a threat of a kiss. “I will, gladly.”

His free hand comes off the wall, and he raises it to his mouth. He bites down on the leather and pulls the glove off, letting it fall to the floor. He plucks at your worn clothing, following a line down your sternum to the front of your pants. 

His fingers curve between your legs. Your head tips back with a thunk against the wall, your mouth dropping open with the fireworks the friction is causing in your brain.

He leans in again, pressing his mouth to yours, murmuring, “I win.” Then he kisses you properly, slotting his lips against yours, licking and nipping. His fingers slowly rub at you, your swollen, slick parts needy for his touch. 

His hand around your neck loosens. You fist your hands in his torn clothing, opening your mouth for him. His tongue slides into you, and you suck at it. You’re loathe to admit it to him, but you’d do almost anything to keep his dexterous fingers working between your thighs. Fuck him for it, but you can’t lie to yourself.

The hand around your throat disappears, there’s the soft fwump of the glove hitting the floor, and then his bare hand is trailing over your chest, grabbing a handful of breast. It’s just the right amount of rough for you, and you can’t help grinding your hips down into his hand. 

His middle finger wedges itself between your labia, and the hot length of his finger, his large knuckle rubbing directly on your clit, it’s all so much. You moan, and he swallows it down. He pinches and works at a nipple through your tattered shirt.

He mutters against your mouth, “Don’t ya dare cum yet, gingersnap. Enough about you anyway.”

He pulls his hand back from where you need it most and starts undoing his pants. 

Once the Ghoul’s cock is freed, he puts his hands on your shoulders and urges you down, down to your knees.

It’s dark, you’re hardly able to see him, but your hands meet his throbbing length, his flesh smooth in places, webby or ropy in others. You can’t wait any longer to feel what it’s like inside you, so you tongue at his tip until he curses and fists a hand in your hair. Then you slide as much of his dick into your mouth as you can manage. Fuck, the size of him makes your jaw start to ache, but the way he fucks you like this is obscene and good. He takes his pleasure from you, using his hand in your hair and the wall behind you to keep you in place, where he wants you, where he needs you. Your saliva coats your chin and his cock, and you can’t stop the moans that his thrusts interrupt.

He grunts and smacks the wall, pulling you as far down on his dick as you can go, making his cock and your need to breathe your whole world for as long as he wants.

He lets you go suddenly, and you come away gasping, still licking at his tip anyway.

He pushes you down on the ground, belly down, and you try to get up, to crawl away, anything. He crouches down, gripping the nape of your neck.

“Gatdamn, gingersnap, don’t you know what’s good for you? Stay still.” He frees your bedroll from your pack and uses the back of your pants to lift you up so he can put it beneath you. After he positions it where he wants it, he uses the space to undo your buttons and work your clothes off. He growls as he works off your jacket, and you’re afraid that if he’s too rough he’ll ruin it. He leaves your shirt around your wrists, twisting it up and working it around them again so your hands are secured.

The Ghoul turns and gives your bare ass a slap, watching the muscle and fat jiggle. You bite back a whimper.

“Please,” you say. You aren’t sure what you’re begging for, but it’s more, more of him, more of a break, more punishment, more pleasure.

He grips your waist, his fingers digging in and leaving bruises. “Make ya mind up, gingersnap. Not that you’ll much change my mind now.”

You moan as his thumbs dig in to the place where your thighs meet your ass and expose your throbbing holes, glistening with the evidence of your desire. For him. There are a few long, quiet moments as he just looks at you.

Then a jolt goes through you as the tip of his finger teases your cunthole, assessing your wetness. He slides in up to the first knuckle and eases it in and out until you take his big finger entirely. Methodically, he repeats the same process with a second in addition to the first. He strokes at your insides, angling his fingers until they rub against that certain spot inside you that makes you buck and cry out.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” you grit out.

He sucks his teeth. “Now hush, darlin’. Don’t want anyone or anything to hear ya. Ferals or worse.”

You bite down on your lip but a glove is presented to you instead, and you let him push it past your lips and bite down on the worn leather.

The Ghoul removes his fingers from your pussy, and your cheeks heat at the salacious, wet noise. You clench around the nothing inside you, and your cunt throbs.

He doesn’t neglect you for long, and he squeezes the head of his cock into your entrance. He puts a hand back on your nape, and you know his control is immense because his fingers are trembling, but he restrains himself. He’s giving you the same careful treatment as before. His girth stretching you feels so good, tinged with a little bit of pain.

Your cunt pulses around him, your helplessly needing more, more of him in you.

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder at the sensation, his body arched over you, connected to you in the ways that he can offer. Your inner muscles clench around the length of him he’s worked inside you. Pleasure sparks and blooms in your body, you’re so wet.

His teeth and his fingers flex, and he sheaths himself entirely inside you.

“Fuck!” you cry out, your teeth still locked around the glove. It comes out garbled and just on this side of a scream. It’s so much, he’s so much.

He stays inside you for one long moment, and then his restraint crumbles under the onslaught of your pleading noises, your hot, engulfing center, his own needs.

He sets a thorough pace, fucking into you deeply, the edges of it burnt with lust, ragged at the limit of his urge to rut into you with abandon.

Every time he bottoms out in your cunt, it winds your body tighter, the pleasure molten in your veins. It thickens, becoming a promise, and you lift your hips up to meet him. 

His pace picks up, losing the steadiness and sureness. Your mouth drops open at the change, and the glove drops to the floor.

You babble, “I- I’m . . . oh yes, yes! I’m gonna cum, oh fuck, gonna cum.”

He turns you over, pulls you into his lap, and seats you again, letting your restrained arms go over his head. He bits at your collarbones, letting you work yourself on his length, use him for your own pleasure. He slips a hand between your bodies, putting his thumb against your clit. You shudder, your arousal a wildfire, devouring you.

“Oh, gingersnap. That’s it. Eyes on me,” he demands. You blink your eyes open, meeting his own, the color of raging flames, even here in the dark, and shiver, bouncing up and down in an erratic rhythm, just trying to get there again. “You want it? Admit ya wanna ghoul, admit you want me.”

You swallow down a moan to say, “I w-want you in every way, every p-possible . . . way. Please, oh fuck. I need you.” Your eyes flutter, but you force yourself to keep them open, keep them on his, connected.

Every thrust brings your clit into contact with his thumb, the long, slick slide of it sending fireworks up in your mind. Every thrust pushing you closer to orgasm.

The Ghoul grits out rough sounds of pleasure. “C’mon now, gingersnap. Give it up f’me.”

You keen and wring your pleasure from him, his cock, his hand. It bursts in you, sparking all along your nerves, the pressure expanding out from your core, subsuming you. You collapse against him, burying your face in his neck, breathing in the ozone and sandalwood scent of him, the desert air still caught in his clothes.

He takes your hips and uses you for his own now, your arms locked around his neck keeping you in place for him, just a hot, wet place for him to fuck into. And he does, hissing and grunting, deep, hard thrusts, until he gasps your name and pulls you down sharp, flush against him, and cums into you.

You can feel the heat of it, deep inside, and he moves his thumb on your clitoris, coaxing more pulsing from your cunt, making you milk him, drawing out sweet noises from you.

He holds you just like that for a long time, stroking all your favorite places, your jaw, your shoulders, your lower back. You lift your arms, and he tugs off your shirt, now even more hopelessly distressed.

“Y’alright, darlin’?” he murmurs low, near your ear. “Ya need water. You shoulda drank somethin’.”

You grope for your water, taking a deep swallow, passing to him, and he does too.

“Hey Coop,” you rasp. “You owe me new socks. Next time ya wanna play catch me up, gimme a little warning before walkin’ me half to death.”

“Next time,” he answers. “Don’t be such a smartass,’n I’ll think about it.”

[still-fatemeh]

失 しっ 敗 ぱい (shippai)

Dark era! dazai X prostitute! reader

[The reader has a name, again. Because I don't like putting the word y/n into the fic, but this isn't really an oc, you can read your name instead of the character's. Tsuneko was the name of the bartender yozo commits double suicide in No Longer Human, that results in his survival and tsuneko's death. I've written this a long time ago, its ooc and full of mistakes but bare with me I'm writing another one that's better. Dazai acts younger than his dark era counterpart but he's addressed as an executive, his age something between sixteen to seventeen. But I wrote this with fifteen dazai in mind, which makes the age of the girl a bit too messed up, so I abandoned it. She's a year younger. And yes, I stole one too many parts from the light novels 'cause my english wasn't that good at the time. Enjoy (^3^)/]

It was a dumping ground-a place long forgotten by all. Beneath the stormy sky of the night lay haphazard piles of shipping containers, one on top of the other like dead bodies. Toxic substances illegally dumped in the area seeped into the open soil. Even field mice knew to stay away.

The sound of high heels clicking on the ground and dazai's soundless dress shoes was the only thing that could be heard at such hour at night. The figure in red dress was a guest, stepping hesitantly behind dazai. Tsuneko had been doubting her decision one too many times now, but was following him meekly nonetheless.

Not located on any map, this was the loneliest place in Yokohama. And near its center lived Dazai.

Dazai didn't live in a house, though. He lived inside one of the thrown-away shipping containers originally used for exporting cars to foreign countries.

As soon as dazai stopped walking, tsuneko questioned.

"Where's this, dazai-san?"

Dazai turned and looked right at her with a sheepish smile as he put his hands in his pockets.

"It's a good hideout for you tonight."

He turned back to face the front once again and took two more steps forward before stopping.

"The reason I'm taking you here is because you need a place to stay for tonight, as simple as that. And this is as far away and secluded as a place can get in the city. There's no better hiding spot for someone. Don't worry. I won't kill you."

He said with a soft and carefree laugh that made a shiver run down tsuneko's spine.

She entered the container after dazai did, as quiet as a mouse. After dazai turned on the only light, she observed the inside with a confused look.

Inside the large container was a refrigerator, an exhausted fan, a desk and chair, a bed, and a small and a naked light bulb.

"Is this where you live?"

She asked with a skeptical tone of voice.

"Unfortunately, yes."

He turned and faced her as he folded his arms behind his back.

"The organisation I work for could supply me with a house but I don't care for that kinda thing. This place is enough for me."

He tilted his head ever so slightly and stared at the ceiling for a moment as a thoughtful look came across his face.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"No, not at all... Go ahead."

Tsuneko answered as she kicked off her heels. She wasn't as tense as before. She didn't even seem uncomfortable because of the oddity that was the shipping as a home. Dazai assumed she'd seen worse, so that wasn't a big deal for her.

"What's it like living at the brothel?"

He turned and looked directly at her with a solemn expression, he then walked over to the light switch and turned it off, leaving only the gentle glow of the outside night sky shining into the container from the gaps in between the metal walls. He then took a seat back on the bed and motioned towards her.

"Sit with me."

"It's... nothing pleasant."

She finally spoke with a hint of disdain in her voice though she managed to flash him a faint smile of gratitude for sheltering her tonight as she slowly walked towards him, the sound of unsure feet stepping on the metal flooring cutting through the silence.

"Why do you wanna know?"

Tsuneko sat on the bed, giving him a glance from the corner of her eyes. Baby blue, and glassy like porcelain, shining in the dark.

"Just curious."

He smiled with his gaze still locked onto her pale, azure stare. He could understand her cautiousness and uncertainty. She had been living on the run, and she was right to be afraid of him. However, in this specific case, she had no reason to be wary. As weird as it sounds, right now dazai's intentions were pure.

"Does he hurt you a lot? The owner I mean."

Her eyes darted to the ground, looking somewhere in the darkness with a solemn face.

"He raised me, I have no right to complain. And now he wants the money he spent on me back."

She sighed, shaking her head, trying to forget the stinging wounds and the screaming, especially the night that never fades in her memory.

"But it was too much money in a really short time..."

Dazai let out a breath and looked down at the bed in a melancholy expression as he listened to her.

"So how many years of your pay go to him, then?"

His voice was soft and gentle, but his eyes were cold in an unsettling way as he waited for her reply. It was something he knew, but wanted her to say it herself.

"Two years of my pay 'til now, the filthy money that I made since I was fifteen. He wants the rest of it whole, and I have no such way of getting all that much money all of a sudden."

Her eyes were empty, they reminded him of his own when he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

She went silent a few minutes, before speaking again.

...

"I've always wondered dazai-san, is there a reason you wear bandages on the right side of your face, is there an injury?"

There wasn't an injury.

A random question, to distract herself from the demons of her past.

A slight chuckle and a grin crossed his face as he looked at her.

"There's no injury. It's purely cosmetic. I do it because it looks neat! That's pretty much it."

He then paused in thought, looking into the shadows with his one visible eye.

She merely cocked a brow at his response, her eyes glimmering in that darkness with something akin to amusement.

"I've never seen anyone use bandages as cosmetics, it's weird honestly. Are you trying to make your soul look more pretty and beautiful? Because your appearance only looks more frail and sickly with them on."

She teased, a quiet chuckle escaped her lips.

"Heh, you sure have a way with words."

He tilted his head in amusement as she teased.

"So basically you're saying I look ugly with the bandages and even more ugly without them?"

She snickered lightheartedly at his response.

"No, you're quite a handsome guy, in my opinion..."

She praised him with a giggle, it felt like a mother praising her little son in a new outfit. It didn't sound flirtatious at all.

Dazai blinked, a perplexed look flashed over him for a few moments as tsuneko praised him in a motherly way. He wasn't sure how to take it. It wasn't unpleasant just a bit strange.

"Tell you what. I'm feeling generous tonight. How about, for tonight only, you can call me dazai, just dazai. Not dazai-san. There's no need for such 'honorifics'."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He wanted to keep himself detached but that little smile gave away his hidden emotions.

She tilted her head to the side, looking at him with a surprised expression.

"I'm aware you don't like me asking personal questions about you but, what do you do for a living, dazai?"

He just tilted his head in a more thoughtful manner.

"You know the Port Mafia, right? Well... I'm a member of this group. Specifically an executive."

He explained it with the most casual and relaxed tone of voice possible.

She snickered even louder.

"Yeah, also, I'm not a whore, I'm an actress playing roles in hollywood!"

Tsuneko joked in an exggrated manner, not taking his statement of being a port mafia executive seriously. She thought he said it as a joke.

Port mafia was a terrifying organisation, there's no way this lump of bandages could be working there. You needed to be an inhumane monster to be able to do such dirty work and also, the money was probably filthier than the money she made.

"Where do you actually work? Or are you just loafing around in a shipping container living off unemployment benefits from the government?"

Dazai just stared at her for a moment as she spoke. Then, out of the blue, he just started laughing. And when he started laughing, he continued laughing louder and louder. At first it was just a light chuckle, but soon it turned into a hysterical laughter. He held his right arm across his chest as the left gripped his sides.

His body started shaking from the laughter as his mouth formed a wide grin.

"Why? Why do you think so hard about me being an executive of the Port Mafia? Is it impossible for you to believe?"

His hysterical laughter made tsuneko gulp hard, trying to make sense of dazai's behaviour.

He was a bit nuts, that was for sure.

"But, my guy... People like mafia executives are filthy rich, they don't live in shipping containers or go to dingy brothels for a night of fun. They are important people with loads of money, a number that you and I can't even dream of, at least I can't."

Tsuneko was just a girl. Compared to him, she was as innocent as a lamb.

She just tapped her index finger on her bottom lip in an overdramatic display of thoughtfulness.

"To me, you seem to be from a rich background. You are intelligent, educated and well-spoken and your clothes look quite expensive. Maybe just the fact that you weren't raised properly. Something happened and you aren't with your family anymore. Did they disown you or something?"

The girl's assumptions were based on her logic and proofs but only this time, she was dead wrong.

To an outsider, seeing the title of Mafia executive on a guy who could easily be mistaken for some kid would be a hilarious joke. But they wouldn't be laughing if they saw Dazai's list of achievements, a dark and bloody list.

Around half of the Port Mafia's profits those past year were all thanks to him. A little girl like her couldn't even fathom just how much money that was, nor how many lives were lost as a result.

Dazai's laughter continued as he placed his hands on his knees and hunched over in delight. His hair fell over his eyes as his voice was muffled from all the laughter.

"Oh, tsuneko-chan! What a silly little girl you are."

He looked up at the shocked and to an extent concerned girl with a wide grin.

"You're right about one thing, I came from a wealthy family. And no, I was not disowned by them. I left of my own will. Why? I was bored. The answer's simple like that. I just got bored."

She flashed him a semi-worried expression and her brow shot up in confusion upon hearing his intense laughter.

:"Are you okay, my guy? Like... are you fine? How much did you drink at that bar?"

She shook her head with faux disappointment.

"I'm completely fine."

The corners of his mouth curled up into a faint grin as he stared down at the girl.

:"You left your family, because you merely got bored?"

She asked, a little perplexed by that apathy.

:"I don't know why... But that's completely up your alley, dazai."

Tsuneko's tone shifted to a more serious one as she said that.

"Yes, it is exactly something I would do. It's not that hard to understand."

Dazai took a moment to calm himself as a more serious expression crossed his face.

"You know, you're awfully curious, tsuneko-chan. You've asked me quite a few questions."

He raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked down at her.

She gives him an unconvinced expression, her brows knitted together in confusion but she eventually just sighs softly.

"I get that a guy like you might get bored of his own family, It sounds like something you would do because, yeah, that's totally up your alley. But... But... Do you not miss them? Did you not love them? Didn't you want any of that inheritance money?"

She asked, with sincerity in her eyes. Despite the fact that her mother died in a brothel, she'd still give up her life to see her just one more time.

He stayed silent for a moment as he considered her question.

"Miss them? Love them?"

Dazai's eyes narrowed as he looked into the dark void once more.

"Of course I miss them. That kind of attachment does not disappear in a few months. And as for love...."

He closed his eyes and chuckled.

"I've heard of it before, but what exactly is love? What is 'missing' someone? I may be a simple-minded individual, but I have not yet learned any of these things."

She takes it back, he is more than a little nuts, indeed.

"Love is an attachment, an attachment to life."

Tsuneko answered, her eyes and expression blank though her tone was slightly grim.

"You wanna cherish the one that you love. That type of attachment leads to sacrifice... It's when you put someone else before yourself."

She spoke with a far off look on her face.

The word 'love'. Did it have any meaning? Love was filth for people like her.

"You know... I think I figured why you want to kill yourself so bad. We accept the love we think we deserve, you think you don't deserve any. You view yourself as a stranger, dazai."

She gently touched his hand, as a form of reassurance.

"Do you think I need someone telling me that?"

He stared down at her her hand as the corners of his lips curved upwards into a light smile. Something about the gesture was quite touching.

"But thank you, the way you spoke about love sounds beautiful. I haven't seen much love and attachment in this cruel world thus far. It is quite nice."

He remained silent for a moment, lost in thought.

"Hmm, am I a stranger to myself? I suppose you could be right. I never really thought about that."

A faint frown grew on his face as he looked up at tsuneko again.

"It looks as if you are."

She just commented with a soft sigh.

But she wasn't looking at him, it seemed that she was somewhere far away, truly deep into her memories. With the far off and grim look on her face, dazai could guess that they were far from good memories.

She intertwined their fingers and brought it to her lips, pecking his hand oh so gently.

He flinched from the sudden action and turned to look at tsuneko, his left eyebrow raised.

"Hmm?"

He looked down at their intertwined fingers as they were brought to her lips. A light blush spread across his cheeks and his dark brown eyes widened as he looked at her in surprise.

He didn't know what he was feeling in this moment—was it pleasure, discomfort, or maybe something else entirely? The words 'love' and 'attachment' still sounded new to him.

"Tsuneko-chan, what exactly was that just now?"

He chirped with a lighthearted tone, his face not at all in sync with what was going on in his head.

Was she flirting? Was it a form of comfort? Or was it something entirely different—a gesture of gratitude for giving her shelter here tonight?

He had no idea, but he certainly felt something.

"Old habits die hard."

She spoke, seemingly nonchalant as she let go of his hand.

"What I mean is... I owe you one, I'd have to repay you one way or another... However you'd want me to."

The girl was speaking with a lopsided grin, as if unbothered by all that happened.

Dazai's face was stained by a bright shade of red. He was stunned, completely speechless as he stared at her with his eyes widened in sheer disbelief.

Did she actually just…

Did she really just offer to—

Oh.

That's exactly what she did.

He didn't know what to say. So much was happening all at once that his brain felt like it was moving in slow motion.

"Red suits you."

Tsuneko's lips absent-mindedly twitched into a pleased smile, as she said that. Her tone a bit teasing.

"I've never seen you flustered before..."

She mused, suppressing the urge to giggle.

This guy was a mystery to his core, unravelling him has to be like unravelling bandages... layer by layer. Dazai was willing to get to know her... It wasn't everyday that people wanted a whore's opinion on questions like whether or not life is worth living. He listened to what she had to say, and that was enough for her to consider his company a bliss.

Dazai's cheeks were on fire by this point. Everything she said was pushing his nerves to the very edge. She even said red suits him—his cheeks were burning up—and he didn't have any logical explanations for this whatsoever. Something about hearing these words come out of her mouth just threw him off.

"You certainly have a strange way of showing gratitude."

"Do I now?"

She said, cocking a brow in amusement.

"It's the only way I know."

The next words however, left her mouth quietly, with a sarcastic edge to them.

Umi curled up more comfortably on the bed they were sitting on, hugging her knees with a sigh.

"But all jokes aside, thank you for getting me out of the brothel without any pressure for doing... stuff, even for one night. I was really going crazy there, tomorrow when the owner wanted his money, I didn't have any chance to pay him back but now at least I can buy some time... I really owe you for tonight."

She said with a subtle smile.

"It seems that I really have a talent for getting myself into debt, hm?"

Dazai nodded at her and a faint smile spread across his face.

"You really do have a talent for that, tsuneko-chan."

He paused for a moment, his mind going over every word she said. Why did he offer to help in the first place? What was even going through his mind at this rate? As he thought, he shifted his focus of on her and raised a eyebrow.

"You're really that deep in debt, huh?"

"For... A lot of people the amount I owe the owner isn't considered much, but for me it's quite a lot of money."

She mumbled with a quiet voice, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She still remembered very well the last time she told the owner she didn't have the money, even the thought of it made her body hurt.

After a few minutes of silence, she broke it with a whisper of his name.

"Dazai..."

She looked at the ceiling with a blank expression on her face.

"Were you actually telling the truth when you said you worked in the port mafia for a living, as an executive? You weren't joking?"

He remained quite for a moment. His silence hung in the air as he stared down at the girl with an almost eerie seriousness. He wanted to say "yes" but his mouth wouldn't form the words. It was almost as if his throat was filled with concrete. His dark eyes darted away from her as his body language seemed much more timid than before. He looked away and finally muttered something.

"Yes..I was telling the truth."

Tsuneko let out a loud groan and rolled over in his bed. Her back facing him, she was internally cursing herself for... she couldn't even say for what, but her options were quite a lot.

"So that must real the real deal then?"

She said aimlessly, her hand pointed to the direction of the coat hanger, a silver pistol's handle sticking out of the pocket of his one of coats. It was one of his subordinates' that he'd Probably forgotten to return. Probably the reason she'd asked the question in the first place. She didn't look scared while pointing that out, her expression was solemn, her eyes clouded over with something unrecognizable.

There was a moment of intense silence in the air. Tsuneko was pointing her finger to and the outline of the gun in the pocket of his coat and he had already noticed her staring at it. He looked back down at his coat and then back up at her again. When he finally opened his mouth, his voice sounded strangely stern.

"Yes..It is the real deal."

The man in front of her probably was the thing he said he was, an executive of the port mafia. He could've easily be mistaken for some boy. Too young to be taken seriously. That sparked the same question again, why did he lived in a shipping container? If he was really an executive, he would've been filthy rich.

Of all the questions she could've asked, the most uselessly obvious one found its way to her lips.

"Have you ever... killed someone?"

The girl speaks with a slightly stretched out voice.

There was a slight hesitation, but he eventually answered.

"More times than I can count. The first time was when I was 14."

He answered simply, his face void of emotions despite what he was saying. His dark eyes showed nothing. He sat there as if he were narrating a story from a book instead of an admission of guilt. Yet his words held a certain weight to them. The weight of all his past deeds.

Tsuneko gulped.

She'd fucked up.

She'd fucked up so bad.

She'd trusted a guy who'd killed more people than he could count... but that was exactly it. She didn't regret her decision. A port mafia executive, an actual executive of the port mafia... If he really was from Port Mafia, she would have to be careful even about lifting or lowering a spoon in front of him. When it comes to the Port Mafia, the synonym of darkness and violence, there's no assurance that if she does something he doesn't like she wouldn't be murdered. That'd definitely hurt more than the owner's beating.

"Aren't you gonna sleep?"

Tsuneko asked dryly, the back of her head still facing dazai.

"No, not really. When I close my eyes and try to sleep, I always end up having the same nightmare."

He leaned back against the bed, putting his hands behind his head. His dark brown eyes fixed in on the ceiling for a few moments, before he looked at her.

Umi sat up on the bed and her eyes silently scanned his face, a curious expression shining on her features.

"A nightmare? Is it the same one every night?"

What it would take for a nightmare to keep a person like you awake at nights?

He remained silent for a moment. The dark brown of his single visible eye flashed with a slight spark of sympathy as he saw the sad expression on her face. She seemed so innocent yet she was stuck here. A life of pain and agony. He had to look away from her for a moment before finally speaking again.

"And... Yes, it's the same nightmare every time."

"What is that nightmare of yours that manages to keep you awake at nights?"

It was more or less a rhetorical question, she knew he wasn't going to answer him.

"The only thing I can imagine you fearing, is not being able to die."

She said that with a subtle smile.

"Maybe it's a warning of some sort."

A soft, bitter smile spread across his lips. But his eyes remained filled with sorrow and his words carried the faint feeling of shame.

"It is a warning of sorts. Not being able to die. But there is also another part of this nightmare that keeps me up at night."

His voice felt hoarse as the next words had a certain difficulty in coming out of his mouth. As he spoke, he kept his eyes trained on the ceiling. He couldn't bring himself to even look at the girl sitting in front of him.

"You really think that I would just snap and kill you for a random ass reason..? Don't you think that's a bit of a stretch?"

"Common sense commands me to be scared of the person with a loaded gun."

She whispered softly under her breath.

"Ah, I see. I'd imagine you would've met quite a lot of shady characters, working in a brothel."

"Yeah, I know. I've met lots of port mafia members, they're far from friendly if they don't get what they want. Working in a place like I do, you will see this kind of people a lot. People who are used to getting their way, one way or another."

She says that with a distant gaze and he just nods his head.

"You're funny."

Tsuneko suddenly said with a calm smile.

:"That's the first thing that struck my thoughts when you first spoke about how excited you were to finally off yourself, explaining and comparing different methods of suicide like you were comparing different games you wanted to play. Any normal person fears death, but you seem to be driven towards it, hoping for a kind of excitement. Something to cure you boredom but man..."

She spoke with a mindless snicker, albeit a little bit bitter.

"But... I bet you know better... Bein' mafia and stuff... But death isn't anything exciting. No one around me has died with dignity, they've all died like street mice stuck in a glue trap. Died in fear, in pain, in filth, in blood. So to think that you want to die so bad, really annoys me. Because death isn't anything precious to begin with."

His eyebrows narrowed as he heard her words. Was she mocking him? Was she scolding him? His mouth contorted into a grimace at the way she talked about life and death as if it was something simple. His voice was barely a whisper as he whispered back to her.

"Then why haven't you died yet? If the world is so full of pain and suffering for you, why do you bother to breathe each day? Why did you crawl out of the drainage ditch instead of just lying there and dying?"

"The less you have to lose, the more you cling to life. Hoping for something that will never come..."

She says, her smile not faltering. But it was certainly bitter now. Her gaze was as sticky as mud.

"There's also something else..."

She leaned closer to whisper into his ear.

"I'm scared of the fact that when I die, there wouldn't be anyone there to bury my corpse, no one to mourn for me. Dying in a cold dark alley, left there to rot for god know how much time."

Her pale blue eyes rivalled his chocolate ones, in terms of how much they were depraved of light.

"Let me tell you something, my guy. Death wouldn't be anything out of your expectations, nothing beyond what you would expect will appear. Death isn't the sweet release, it's just another step in life that you have to take."

He finally turned his eyes back at her. They were darker and sadder than before, void of all light. His mouth was set into a soft frown. With a weak voice, full of resignation, and perhaps acceptance, he whispered at her, his tone strangely empty.

"Why... Why didn't you just let the owner kill you back there? If the world is so pointless, and people suffer so greatly... why do you cling so desperately to life? There's nothing here for you, especially not for someone like you. Just let go already."

"I... don't want to die like a sewer rat, dazai."

Tsuneko's words came out as a desperate plea for life.

Then it hit dazai, she wasn't like him.

"My mother wanted me to become someone who she could be proud of. A person of value. I'm not going to let her down, not when she sacrificed everything so I could live."

She had nothing to lose, it doesn't matter how many times life kicks her down, she'd still stand up.

Dazai could see the determination in her eyes, the intent to survive.

"As long your heart is beating, you shouldn't waste it, not a lot of people have that privilege. "

"...The human spirit. It never ceases to amaze me."

Dazai mumbled those words under a quiet breath. His words were full of both admiration as well as some contempt. Admiration for the sheer strength she had. Contempt for the fact that she was so naive at the same time.

"Your mother must be a good person if her last wish for you was for you to live a meaningful life."

A smile found it's way to her lips, a wide, beaming smile like a little girl who'd just been gifted a precious doll. her eyes crinkled with her smile.

:"I loved her so much... and I still do. I would give up on the world just to see her smile one more time."

She mumbled, looking at dazai with glimmering pupils, dilated with childlike joy. A total contrast from her eyes a few moments ago.

"Do you want to know what my mom did when I woke up crying because of a nightmare? How she lulled me back to sleep?"

She asked with a wide grin.

"What did she do?"

Dazai asked quietly, not missing the sudden, stark contrast in her expression. There was a certain warmth that suddenly appeared in her eyes. Almost as if she were a different person.

"Why don't I show you?"

She giggled, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Tsuneko brushed a hand through her hair, gesturing him to lay his head on her lap so she could stroke his hair. The smile lingered on her lips, it was enduring in a way.

There was a moment of doubt, a moment where he considered whether accepting her invitation or refusing it, before he finally did. He slowly placed his head on her lap, looking up at her with a somewhat puzzled expression.

Her hands began to stroke his hair as she mumbled some old melody under her breath. Her touch was soft and gentle and there was something comforting and nostalgic about it. As if he'd felt it before. But despite the comforting nature of her gesture, dazai's nose was still scrunched up uncomfortably.

"Is what I'm doing right now, perhaps... bothering you?"

She asked him with a sly grin.

"No."

Dazai replied in a soft, almost monotonous voice. But there was no mistaking that the touch of her hand was soothing to him. However, he wasn't going to tell her that. There was something a little bit embarrassing about it. Still, he decided not to move or resist against her. He just let his hair be stroked and his eyes be fixed on her.

She couldn't help the smile creeping up her face, as she saw his face. Dazai looked like an awe-struck boy.

"You like it, don't you?"

She teased him in a playful manner as she ran her fingers through his chocolate locks gently.

:"Your hair is so fluffy~"

She said in a baby voice, giggling as she messed his hair. Dazai was surprised at how much it came naturally to her, being this affectionate. Tsuneko has never had anyone to shower with her affection, now that he wasn't resisting it, she continued. Just like a little girl playing with a doll, showering it with with care and affection.

For an executive of the Port Mafia this was something beyond embarrassing for him. He was being treated like a little kid again. He thought of how this would look to people if they knew the fearsome Port Mafia executive that dazai was, was laying down in the lap of a prostitute with his eyes half-closed in pleasure. But the only thing he could really do was enjoy the moment as he lay there. It felt a little bit shameful, how much this affected him. He even felt his stomach flutter as her fingers ran through his hair and she spoke in that soft baby voice.

Dazai couldn't help but consider that she had an ulterior motive from all this, that she was putting up an act to deceive him. But the thing that scared him even further, was that he couldn't find any proof for his assumptions.

The smile on her face seemed so genuine, so sincere... like she was showing him a glimpse of her conscious, how it feels when she loves somebody.

While he was looking for a sign to tell that she was acting, he noticed her smile. Her smile was soft and gentle, full of fondness. As childish as it was, her smile was beautiful. It was so enduring the way her cheeks had a red hue to them, when she looked at him like that. It was a rare moment of vulnerability on both sides.

He kept staring at her. He let everything sink in. He took in all the beauty of her smile, of her blush, of her eyes. This simple, silly little gesture was causing him to feel so much. He couldn't get enough of her eyes. He could have stayed like this forever- just staring up at her, as she stared down at him. It was something unexpected, but also not unwelcome. He felt like, for the first time in such a long time, he wasn't a cold-hearted outsider. He was feeling human again.

Tsuneko leaned closer to his ear.

"I promise... Tonight, there wouldn't be any nightmares..."

She whispered, her voice filled with a sincere certainty, she knew that tonight he wouldn't be seeing any nightmares. Before muttering something else under her breath, which he couldn't quite grasp what it was, perhaps, 'good night'?

That was the last thing he heard before he fell asleep...

[ape-apocalypse]

Road To The Kingdom - Firestorm Tie-In Novel

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes: Firestorm is a prequel novel written by Greg Keyes for the second movie in the reboot trilogy. It takes place soon after the end of the first film, about a week after the apes escaped into the redwood forest beyond San Francisco and the Simian Flu began to cut through the human race. This novel is a fantastic bridge between Rise and Dawn, giving us more insight into characters we met in the first movie who will feature in the next, as well as fleshing out the fall of society. 

The book does very well juggling between the two massive plots of Caesar's apes avoiding their human hunters and the Simian Flu tearing through the city. Though we don't see Will or any other humans we met in Rise, they give us many new human characters: a reporter trying to make the connection between the escaped apes and the new virus, an emergency room doctor dealing hands on with outbreak casualties, and an ape researcher and a former hunter who have been brought in by Gen-Sys to capture Caesar's group. While I thought I wouldn't care about the humans because the apes are always my favorite characters, all these humans in different locations and with different stories keep the story from dragging; I ended up enjoying the final days of humanity almost as much as Caesar's story. The book also gives us the first introduction to a human character who will become important in Dawn: Dreyfus, the leader of the human colony played by Gary Oldman. Going into the movie, his backstory isn't very clear other than he was in some position of power before the end and he lost his wife and children. But the book goes really deep into his story of a former police chief running for mayor and wanting to protect humans. Rereading the book in 2024, the parallels of the Simian Flu with the Covid outbreak definitely rings true (much like the YouTube shorts).

But no matter how good the human characters are, what I enjoyed most about this book was seeing Caesar and his escaped apes start to adapt to life in the wild. Even while they're being hounded by the humans chasing them, they have to figure out how to care for sick/injured apes and where to get food without humans to feed them. A great moment for Caesar is when he thinks to himself that he never thought beyond escaping from the human city; his realization that there is more to figure out than just dodging humans shows how he goes from accidental ringleader from the sanctuary to the wise authoritative leader of the apes of the next two films.

Though surprisingly, the true star of this book isn't Caesar; it's Koba. We get numerous detailed flashbacks of Koba's life before ending up in the Gen-Sys lab and receiving the brain enhancing drugs. From the death of his mother to being an abused TV star to arriving at the labs as a test ape. In the films, Koba's hatred of humans shines through and is unquestionable; you don't need the backstory to understand why he carries a grudge against all humanity. But reading the details really did break my heart. And getting his backstory revealed as he learns to work with other apes, as he proves his loyalty to Caesar by rescuing injured apes rather than wrecking vengeance on humans, you actually have hope that he could be happy now that he was free with other apes. 

Another great part of the book is getting to see the very beginning of Caesar and Cornelia's courtship. Since one of my disappointments with the films are the forgotten female characters, I was glad to see Cornelia here, challenging Caesar's orders when it came to taking care of injured apes. Though her role is still small, I liked seeing her get a little time to flesh out her character.

Firestorm is officially labeled as a prequel (which is why I have it listed first as I'm trying to go in chronological storyline order), but I actually enjoyed reading it after seeing Dawn. While I think it can still be appreciated in any order, I liked getting to meet Koba in the movie and seeing him as a great complicated villain, before then learning his backstory and growing your sympathy for him, while also thinking about how tragic it is that he couldn't let go of his hate. Whatever order you decide to read them in, Firestorm by Greg Keyes is a wonderful expansion on the movies that I would label as required reading for fans for the expansive and enjoyable story it shares.

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[emanation-aura]

So we've got Meetings in the Outrealm: Series V (for those of you who've forgotten, it's the "beat a boss in co-op" set of the achievements) now, and I think it's a good time to look back on the five Outrealm achievement namecards we've got and their connections to lore.

(Long post warning. Go grab a snack and some water, like I forgot to do when writing this post)

Achievement: Reunion - We shall meet again someday.

Released in Version 1.0. Pointedly, predates Chapter I Act IV: We Will Be Reunited (Version 1.4), but carries the exact same theming— the Traveler twins will meet again.

So we'll meet again. Though we need not rush, (brother/sister). I have more than enough time to wait for you.

It's my belief that, from this point forward, all the "Meetings of the Outrealm" achievements foreshadow, or at least echo, the themes of the Traveler Archon Quests, as well as other relevant Traveler lore we learn.

2. Achievement: Gate - What encounters lie on the other side of this door?

Admittedly, this one immediately breaks my presumption because it bears very little resemblance to anything I can remember of Chapter II Act IV: Requiem of Echoing Depths. The door depicted in the namecard (released Version 2.0) is obviously the loading screen door, which is located in the same sky-heaven area (suspected to be Celestia but we're not sure) in which the twins encountered the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles by trying to leave Teyvat.

There is one crucial difference between the two depictions, which is the four-pointed star/primogem present on top of the door in the namecard. It's not present on the loading screen (I know the screenshot above is night-time which makes it hard to see, but I'm pretty sure the symbol is different). The symbol is obviously so well-known and thematic everywhere in Genshin that I'm not surprised it's here; notably instances of its use, apart from in primogems and Khaenri'ahn eyes/neck, includes: the "eye" in the Traveler's original wings, the logo of WWBR (representing each twin) and on the front of Lumine's dress/back of Aether's cape.

The fact that the same symbol now hangs over the door that brings us into the world of Teyvat raises several questions and possible ideas that aren't within the scope of what I want to say. In this context where the Outrealm achievements are very clearly Traveler lore-themed, I'll just suggest that the door to Teyvat with the four-pointed star represents that the purpose of our journey, at least in Teyvat initially, is to search for our sibling (this becomes less relevant later on, but is still generally true).

Also, Rudolf Koch's Book of Signs suggests that the four-pointed star "is a phenomenon carrying a grave and solemn warning", so there's also a more sinister outlook to the door in the namecard.

I think the link with Requiem of Echoing Depths might be loosely based on "encounters on the other side of the door" theme. Dainsleif emerges from a portal (a more metaphysical 'door') at the beginning of the quest, just as our twin disappeared into one at the end of WWBR. The door is a symbol and gateway of both the unattainability of our twin, and the regular encounters we have on our journey in Teyvat.

And, if you want to stretch it a bit further into the future, the door to Khaenri'ah in Hangeh Afrasiyab, released in Version 3.6, carries on this theme of doorways and encounters— you cannot enter it at the moment of writing, but the existence of such a door is a reminder of Khaenri'ah. What sort of encounters did your sibling have behind this door, in the kingdom underneath the ground? You don't know, and that's part of the mystery that separates the two of you, and why in Requiem, you two share such differing beliefs on why or why not the purification device should be activated.

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3. Achievement: Fated Encounter - One day, our encounter at this moment shall shine like a star of reminiscence in our hearts.

4. Achievement: Orbits - "O Almighty Sovereign, the Universitas Magistrorum has provided the predictions you requested: The two stars have been captured by the world's gravity… After a lengthy orbital period, today their paths shall intertwine once more."

I'm putting these two together (released in Version 3.0 and 4.0 respectively) because I think the corresponding Traveler acts, Caribert (Version 3.5) and Bedtime Story (Version 4.7), correlate inversely with the release dates of these namecards.

For example, Orbits and 3.X lore:

In Version 3.3's Archon Quest Interlude Inversion of Genesis, we indirectly hear the words of Pierro (a Khaenri'ahn) on the topic of our sibling, retold to us through Scaramouche.

The reason why there are records about your (‍sister/brother‍) in Irminsul… It might have something to do with Khaenri'ah. Apparently, Khaenri'ah was (‍her/his‍) first destination when (‍she/he‍) arrived in this world. Plus, (‍she/he‍) only came to this world because the heavens responded to the summoning.

Later on in Caribert, Chlothar Alberich, Khaenri'ahn and founder of the Abyss Order, tells us:

We once believed that you [the Traveler's sibling] would bring new strength and hope to Khaenri'ah. To us, you were the Abyss... A wondrous mystery far beyond our imagination and comprehension...

Setting aside debates on what the Abyss actually is, all of the above dovetails with Achievement: Orbits, which clearly depicts two primo-stars representing the twins in 'orbit', and the Khaenri'ahn organisation Universitas Magistrorum talking about them, suggesting they are somehow scrying the fates of the two who have been 'captured by the world's gravity'. Given that it is all but directly stated that Khaenri'ah summoned the twins (or, perhaps, just the sibling depending on how you look at it), the namecard is basically the Khaenri'ahn perspective of everything we learn in Version 3.X.

Perinheri (a book released in 4.5) also tells us that Khaenri'ah awaited the arrival of beings who could transcend the gods, and this dovetails nicely with Orbits and Chlothar's statement to support the hypothesis that the twins were summoned, or at least, scried on and waited for. The implication that the 'Almighty Sovereign' (explicitly, a royal, likely the king, in CN) requested this scrying almost confirms it.

While the text obviously means that this hypothetical comment must have been made when Khaenri'ah still, well, existed, it also thematically resonates with all quests where the Traveler does reunite with their sibling in some form, most prominently in WWBR, but also Requiem of Echoing Depths (via mirage), Caribert (via memory and shattered mirror), and Bedtime Story (via Caribert's realm, and subsequently forgotten).

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Meanwhile, Achievement: Fated Encounter ironically suits the themes of Version 4.X Traveler lore better.

Let's get the big one out of the way first. Chapter IV Act VI: Bedtime Story is a cruel, cruel subversion of the namecard's theme— because no. Your reunion will not shine like a star of reminiscence in your heart. You will not remember it at all. Narratively, I find it neat that 13 versions after Rukkhadevata's wiping from Irminsul, the audience is now thrust into the same position as the Traveler: as the only one who 'remembers'. As the witness to something wiped from history. (Can you tell this makes me emotional?) As an audience member, this moment is for you, you will remember it, and nobody else. Even the phrasing of "one day..." suggests that only at some nebulous point in the future will this reunion become remembered.

Hell, the namecard is two hands hovering over a four-pointed star. Given the symbolism of the primo-star as representative of both "your twin" and "warnings of an encounter" (roughly), it is basically a perfect set-up for Bedtime Story; not withstanding that the symbolism also suits the events of Caribert, where we're jumpscared with our twin in a shattered mirror, suiting the portend of an omen (the first and last quests in Caribert are named Destined Encounter and Portended Fate, neatly tying this together as well).

Of course, Fated Encounter's text harkens back to WWBR itself, as both the 'fated encounter' and becoming the moment upon which we reminisce.

The reason I think it fits better with 4.X Traveler content is because of where else we get moments of reminiscence of the Traveler and their twin: notably, in Wriothesley's SQ, Reborn in the Land of Grievances, and Xianyun's SQ, A Thousand Moonlit Miles.

For context, recall that Wriothesley's SQ is about a 'fear gem', which the villain is using to control a society of people to do his bidding by injecting them with liquid fear. Traveler and Wriothesley pick up the gem containing this liquid at the beginning of this quest, and touching it causes unpleasant flashbacks of, essentially, moments that create fear. For the Traveler, these four images are shown when they touch the gem:

Top left is vs Sustainer from the opening of the game when their twin is taken away. Top right is from Caribert, where Traveler realises they have been experiencing a memory from the perspective of their twin. Bottom two are images from the Defiled Statue room in WWBR, including the dead Grand Thief.

It is almost self-explanatory why these are a record of moments when Traveler felt 'fear'. I think this works particularly well as a thematic reflection of Achievement: Fated Encounter because this is a negative-context reminiscence of said 'fated encounters'. Here, Traveler is recalling these moments with a very strong negative association due to fear.

Compare and contrast with Grus Serena Act I's ending cutscene, where due to Xianyun's 'positive dream' Suspensus Somnium Mechanism, we get this lovely scene with the Traveler dreaming of reuniting with their twin:

Now, this is explicitly a dream, which isn't real and hasn't happened. I would argue, however, that regardless of whether this is real, this is the second important Traveler scene in Version 4.X before the release of Bedtime Story, serving to both set the emotional stakes, and as the positive counterpoint to the theme of reminiscence touched on in Wriothesley's Story Quest.

Thematically, this is the other side of the 'star of reminiscence' in Achievement: Fated Encounters. While the scene in Xianyun's SQ is a bittersweet dream, ending up with the Traveler waking up in tears and thus is not a straightforward positive happiness, this melancholic nostalgia for a more innocent existence in Grus Serena Act I still contrasts with the sharp burst of fear we're served with the images of our past experiences Cerberus Act I. They are two sides of the same coin and a reflection of the conflicting myriad of feelings the Traveler has about their twin— longing, heartbreak, fear, confusion— exploring what the memory of their twin means to them. Shine like a star of reminiscence in our hearts much?

Also, you encounter the gem of negative reminiscence at the beginning of Wriothesley's SQ, and the dream of positive reminiscence at the end of Xianyun's SQ. You could possibly stretch this to reflect the journey as a whole— which begins with fear, loss, and confusion, and ends with bittersweet happiness. Wait, shit, does that mean one of the twins is going to die—

Essentially, it's all about memory. Which also echoes Bedtime Story and how Caribert attempts to connect with others, however briefly, through his incomplete Loom of Fate, trying to 'live' like a real person even though he cannot exist as anything but a memory in people's minds— I would make a slight tie with Nara Varuna (the twin, as referred to by the Aranara), but I'm running out of short-term memory storage to load Aranyaka lore, so I'll try again later.

(Cheekily, the four-pointed star in Achievement: Fated Encounter is actually part of the co-op mode symbol, which is the star plus radiating waves resembling a WiFi symbol. You could point to this just being an acknowledgement of the fact this namecard is obtained from playing in co-op mode, but apart from what I've discussed, I can add a suitably unhinged suggestion that the co-op mode icon contains lore. It's a modification of a WiFi icon, which popularly depicts a dot as a broadcast origin, and concentric waves surrounding it as the signal broadcasting from it. Simple, but Genshin replaces the dot of broadcast origin with a four-pointed star, ostensibly just representing the game's version of connectivity. And yet, the four-pointed star broadcasting a signal outwards can also use the symbolism of the Traveler/the Twin as the point of origin as a reach for 'connection', both reaching for their sibling, and as a general harkening back to the theme of the Traveler being a 'connector' of people's wills, a la Liyue finale, Inazuma finale, Sumeru finale— wait, I'm sensing a pattern here...)

Of course, let me not forget to mention that Achievement: Orbits is also relevant to Bedtime Story and some of 4.X. That quest is where Dainsleif casually drops the Five Sinners of Khaenri'ah on us, so it ties in with the disembodied quote we get about Khaenri'ah addressing the twins. We also learn about the Universitas Magistrorum from the Narzissenkreuz WQ series beginning from 4.0, where it is stated that they 'inverted the alchemical stages' (likely referring to how, in real life, the alchemical stages of Magnum Opus, the process of creating the philosopher's stone, were Nigredo -> Albedo -> Citrinitas -> Rubedo, whereas from Albedo's ascension voicelines, we know his Art of Khemia, originating from Khaenri'ah, inverts Citrinitas and Rubedo, suggesting that the irl Magnum Opus is actually the lore-accurate method as opposed to what the Art of Khemia says about Rubedo -> Citrinitas. But that's a story for another time). While unrelated to twins lore specifically, the gradual addition of Universitas Magistrorum lore might serve a purpose like the continual drip-feeding of Qiaoying Village pre-4.4, as well as Dornman Port and Blackcliff Forge now, building up to eventual relevancy. For now, there's no way of knowing.

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...wait, why did I make this post again?

(nervously checks notes) ah right, to dissect the Outrealm achievement series. So, let's look at what we have for 5.0.

While I won't suggest we can predict the plot of the next Traveler Chapter through this namecard alone, we can go through the themes and plot points brought up by this namecard, and see where it gets us.

Obviously we are tying back with Bedtime Story here. That is where we first learn that the "Sea of Flowers at the End" is a real place (and not just Travail's artistic concoction of the finale of the game)— both the title of Achievement: Endpoint and the depiction of Inteyvats reinforces that this is where our journey will end.

You: Why... Why can't we continue our journey together? Sibling: At the end of my journey, I arrived at a place known as "The Sea of Flowers at the End." Do you remember? A long time ago, when we traveled between worlds together... You told me… You wanted to find a place in the universe where that one flower was in full bloom. To have a place like that suddenly appear before me…  Well, would you think of that as a coincidence?

It is all but outright stated the reason our sibling cannot move on from Teyvat and travel with us is (aside from the war with the Heavenly Principles) because Teyvat contains the true endpoint of their journey, not just the journey through the land itself but their journey through the cosmos at large— the Sea of Flowers, which is the location we will reach at the end of the game.

The Sea of Flowers is a field of seemingly-endless Inteyvats and, contrary to my belief before 4.7, an actual physical (or at least metaphysical) location. Achievement: Endpoint says of this place "a sea of blossom awaits the return of a single flower, anticipating the day when both hearts and petals shall become soft and tender".

Breaking this down, we can identify that the return of a single flower should refer to Lumine, regardless of whether she is your Traveler or your twin, since she wears the Inteyvats in her hair. This creates two completely different narratives about the game depending on who you picked, which seems mostly antithetical to how Genshin has written the siblings thus far. (Well, she wears Inteyvats plural on her hair, so the single flower thing shouldn't apply.)

So let's skip that and contextualise the rest. If the Sea of Flowers is waiting for an Inteyvat to 'become soft and tender', then there is a condition we need to fulfill. Recall Dainsleif's words in Requiem of Echoing Depths about the Inteyvat:

But if you were to pluck one and take it out of Khaenri'ah, the petals would stop growing and turn hard. Only when it finally returned to its home soil would the petals grow soft once more, and finally turn to dust... So the Inteyvat is a symbol for a wanderer far from home, signifying the tenderness of the homeland.

The symbolism is incredibly blatant. The Sea of Flowers awaits the day when the return of a single Inteyvat, because only when the flower returns to its homeland will it grow soft.

Here's where we resolve the Lumine problem. The name of this flower is the Inteyvat. Prefix in-, which English borrows from Latinate words, where the prefix was used in a variety of ways but in our case, to mean "not-". Therefore Inteyvat, as in "not-Teyvat", or more fancifully, "not of Teyvatian origin".

If the returning flower is an Inteyvat, it is not actually about who carries the flower, but what the name of the flower represents: "not-Teyvat". Which means it should be your chosen Traveler, regardless of gender, because your twin has become "part of this world" for a reason unknown to us, and no longer counts as an external being, or Descender— we learn as such from Inversion of Genesis.

Nahida: Irminsul does not keep records on the Descenders. Anyone who comes from beyond this world is not counted as part of Teyvat. Scaramouche: The reason why there are records about your (‍sister/brother‍) in Irminsul… It might have something to do with Khaenri'ah. Apparently, Khaenri'ah was (‍her/his‍) first destination when (‍she/he‍) arrived in this world.

Essentially, this is a giant lore teaser for: you're going to the Sea of Flowers at the end, and everyone will be happy again...

Or, not?

Because Endpoint tells us that it awaits the day when both hearts and petals shall grow soft and tender. This is a yearning for the softness and happiness of reuniting without anything standing in the siblings' way, except... Dainsleif explicitly tells us that after the flower returns, it doesn't just go soft— it turns to dust.

This is why, earlier, I suggested that theory about the emotional overtones of our journey, as derived from Wriothesley and Xianyun's SQs. Without the supporting evidence of the Inteyvat's dissolution implied at the end, it's just crack; but now, I think it's going to compose the bittersweetness of the reunion or ending we're promised, like Xianyun's SQ depicts.

(I want to be clear that this isn't a prediction of Traveler or twin dying. While it certainly isn't outside the realm of possibility, I wouldn't lock in the Inteyvat dissolution symbolism into that event alone; it's also possible, for instance, that one or both of them lose their memories, etc, or they lose something else dear to them. We can't even be sure the story will end on such a note anyway, so this is purely extrapolation on extremely limited connections.)

As a mini-prediction: we could either get more Sea of Flowers lore in Natlan's Traveler Chapter (unlikely, doesn't seem Hoyo's style to follow-up so soon, we still don't understand the Defiled Statue etc.), or we could follow the emotional beats implied by the namecard description. Or, like Achievement: Gates and Requiem, it could have loose or no connections at all.

This post is mostly an excuse for me to talk about my favourite lore in the game. I'm going to bed