#so many things that look fun require more people and the few people i know are either too far away or too busy or both

[hyenasfnafaus]

discovering Gartic Phone from watching youtube, thinking it looks fun, but also knowing no one you know will play it with you, and you're too perpetually terrified to play with people you don't know.

If anyone's played Gartic Phone, I'd love to hear about any fun you had with it! :3

[krazyyyyyy]

Forever Longing Solivan Brugmansia /Reader

Synopsis: A small glimpse into Sol's elementary life, where he abruptly meets the single most important person in his life...You

Warnings: Mentions of violence

Words: 2553

Notes: Don't know how many more of these I'll write, but I'm hoping to get around three more done if not a few more.

Hope you enjoy this short story <3

Children’s happy laughter echoed loudly throughout the playground, as they began to spill out of the school building; marking the beginning of their cherished recess time. Kids ran freely playing around with friends, swinging giddily on the swing sets, and continuously going up and down the slide.

Well, all the kids but one…

A young, small, and quiet Solivan stood far away from the other kids, staring at the ground at his feet, avoiding any eye contact with anybody within the area. He knew he didn’t fit in with the others, given his introverted nature, he was considered an outcast amongst his classmates. People tended to overlook him, barely acknowledging his presence even when they were standing right next to him.

He was used to it, though…. He had his drawing supplies and stuffed animals, the only things that really made him feel anything close to happiness. The stuffed animals would never judge him, and, they’d always be around to listen to him when he needed it, an idiosyncratic concept to him growing up in a loveless household.

A soft tap on his shoulder causes him to lift his amber gaze from the ground and into the familiar brown orbs of his teacher, Mrs. Baker. A woman with a skinny frame and curly auburn hair that just slightly exceeded her shoulders. It took everything within him not to scoff at her arrival. She was keen on pushing him towards being more sociable with the other kids, a goal that would always fail in his favor. So why couldn’t she just leave him alone?

 She crouched down to his height and spoke to him in her usual soft and steady voice, “Solivan, Why don’t you play with the others today? It seems they're playing a little game of freeze tag, doesn’t that sound like fun?” 

Solivan spared a short glance toward where the kids were running wildly at each other, while some others stayed frozen in place, showing signs of annoyance at being frozen; he retracted his gaze back to the ground shaking his head, mumbling a small “No”

Mrs. Baker smiled understandingly at the timid young boy before her, “I know it might seem scary, but give it a chance, you might like it more than you think.” She attempted one last time to try to convince the boy to open up, even if it was just a little.

The boy remained silent, having lost interest in the conversation completely and hoping that his teacher would simply give up and leave him alone for the rest of the recess period.

Thankfully, it seemed fate was on his side, as he heard his teacher sigh next to him before standing up and walking away to a different part of the playground to supervise a group of rather exuberant children. Leaving him alone at last.

The little raven-haired boy sat on the ground, back pressed against the steel fence that separated the playground from the busy streets that lay not far behind. Settling down, Sol pulled out a small sketchpad from his back pocket; a notebook that was filled page to page in his numerous doodles, which he usually did during class time to pass the time.

Pulling out a pencil, Sol began to doodle, head buried in the notebook; heavily embarked on the mini sketches that required his utmost attention. After a while, he finally cranes his head back to admire his work; his sketch was that of a small horse with a small sketched figure of him seated cheerfully on its back.

He beamed at the drawing, proud of his work. While marveling at the sketch, the notepad is quickly ripped from his grasp. Startled and confused, Sol snaps his head up to look at the culprits. Standing above him, were three kids, obviously much older than he was, possibly four grades above him.

Sol was quick to spring up to his feet to try to get the notebook back, but to no avail, as the blond boy who held the item towered over him. He held the sketchbook high above his head, so even if the little boy tried to jump for it, it would prove pointless in the end

“Give it back!” Sol shouted at the kids as he continued to try to reach for what he considered to be one of his only sources of comfort. All three of the boys laughed at him, “Aww, is the little weirdo gonna cry.” a boy with red hair teased, pointing at him.

“You drew yourself riding a horse? What are you, some kind of girl?” The blond boy jokingly flipped through the pages of the book, briefly observing its contents.

“Stop it!” When Sol tried to reach for his sketchbook once again, the blond boy laughed, before tossing the book over to another boy; then that boy proceeded to also flip through the book and laugh before also tossing it to the next boy. Sol found himself playing in this miserable game of monkey in the middle; a game where he could only watch as his book flew through the air above him, out of reach, with no hopes of ever reaching it.

Eventually, Sol got the courage to defend himself from these bullies, and with all the strength he could muster with his tiny form, he tried to shove the bully who had the sketchbook in his possession. But, the shove proved unhelpful, as the bully didn’t even move an inch.

Sol could barely catch his breath before he was harshly shoved to the ground. A sharp pain pulsed through his body as his back was met with the hard ground; Sol opened his eyes to notice that his sketchbook had fallen next to his body, the bully had more than likely dropped it in outrage at Sol’s sudden rebuke. Sol swiftly snatched the book off the ground and held it close to his chest, shielding it from the bullies.

Sol lay on the ground in a fetal position, with his back facing his bullies, arms still tightly wrapped around his sketchbook. There was a sudden sharp pain on his side as a bully directed a fierce kick toward the young boy; another boy directed a kick, of similar intensity, toward his other side, leaving the little boy only to whimper in pain.

The group of bullies continued to relentlessly kick the defenseless boy, not showing any hint of mercy toward him. Tears ran down Sol’s cheeks as he could only endure the endless kicks that the bullies threw at him. He closed his eyes and hoped the boys would soon grow bored with this and walk away, or maybe a teacher would notice this assault and interfere.

It felt like an eternity that the kicking would continue, he almost thought it would never end…

Until a loud voice rang out and suddenly the kick stopped.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” Sol heard the unknown voice shout at the group of boys. He peeked from his position to glance at where the shouting came from; upon opening his eyes, he was met with his saviors back facing him as they spread their arms out wide to shield him away from the sight of the bullies.

“Get outta the way Pipsqueak! Or you're gonna be next!” He heard one of the bullies shout at the person before him. Sol noticed the stranger's visible shakiness as they stayed rooted in their spot in front of him; they were just as scared of these bullies as he was, yet they still chose to throw themselves in the middle just to protect him. He felt a surge of admiration for the stranger; this had been the first and only time someone stood up for him… his heart couldn’t help but skip a beat.

“No! I-I won't l-let you!” The stranger's words came out shuddered and breathy as if they were holding back tears. Luckily, their voice had been loud enough to possibly draw the attention of others nearby.

The twisted grins on the bullies' faces faded at the realization, and they looked around the area to see if anyone had caught the drift of what was happening.

“Shit!”  Was the last thing Sol heard from them, followed by the frantic pattering of feet in the grass as the bullies quickly fled the scene. Leaving behind two frightened kids as a result. 

Sol, who was still lying on the ground, breathed heavily, the fear coursing through his veins still running wild. He flinched when a blurry object suddenly came into his vision. As his vision slowly cleared, he noticed that the object was the outstretched hand of his savior; they looked down at him with a concerned expression, tears still lingering in the corner of their eyes.

Hesitantly, Sol took the hand, which helped pull him to his feet. He stumbled a bit but managed to regain his balance with a bit of effort and help from the person next to him.

“Are you okay?” The stranger asked him, their voice a bit hoarse from all the yelling yet still holding a subtle gentleness to it. Sol looked at them for a second, before shyly shifting his gaze off somewhere else and slightly nodding his head.

They smiled, their gaze landing on the item that Sol continued to hold tightly to his chest. “What’s that?” They pointed out the sketchbook, which, unknowingly to them, had caused the whole ruckus that just happened moments ago.

“... It’s my sketchbook,” Sol murmured under his breath, keeping his gaze away from the person in front of him. He never did well talking to people, never mind kids his age, this person wouldn’t be any different.

Their eyes lit up as he spoke, “You draw?! I wanna see it! Can I see pretty, please?!”

 Sol was taken aback by their sudden interest in his sketchbook, his eyes were blown wide at them; he had never shown anyone his work before, nor had anyone ever asked to see it… this person was achieving a lot of firsts for him. He supposed he could show them, considering they had just saved him from a harsh beating.

“Umm… Okay.” Sol pulled the sketchbook from where it rested on his chest to hold it out between him and the stranger. He slowly navigated through the pages, properly allowing the person next to him to take in each piece of art. They were a bundle of excitement, commenting excitedly on almost every single little doodle in the book; it brought a small smile to Sol’s face, knowing that someone enjoyed his drawings just as much as he did.

“These are so good! You're so talented! Do you think maybe you can draw me something?” Sol felt his cheeks flush with an odd, unfamiliar warmth. They wanted him to draw something for them. Him? Out of all the people they could have asked? They wanted him to draw for them…

He fidgeted with the pages of the notebook in his hands, keeping his eyes glued to the ground, nervously. “Sure–”

“Wait! Before I forget, my name is Y/N!” They cheerfully cut him off, “What’s yours?” They talked a million words per second, which was a bit overwhelming, but Sol still found himself intrigued by them.

“My name is Solivan…” He spoke quietly, but loud enough for their newfound acquaintance to hear. “Solivan?” They tested his name out, “Well, Solivan from this day forward you are now my friend!” Sol stared at them dumbfounded. He never had a friend before, but didn’t think it would ever be this simple, yet here he was.

He didn’t get a chance to respond to their declaration when they continued to speak, “I’m thinking maybe a butterfly–No wait! A gecko… no…” They continued to list through a variety of animals, as Sol would stand and watch them in awe. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt some sort of connection to his new friend, it wasn’t unwelcome, but it was still strange.

“Oh, I got it! How about a dove? Mom says those are her favorite!” 

Sol raises an eyebrow at them.“Like the bird? Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” They cheer.

Sol only nods his head in response, but a smile remains on his face at their jubilation. He sees the opportunity to speak after your moment of triumph and takes it, “I-um… thank you… for helping me. Not many would’ve done the same.”

They shake their head at him with a smile,“ Don’t mention it. You needed help…so I helped!”, the sincerity in their tone set Sol at ease. He wondered if had truly been missing out. If other kids acted just like Y/N, then maybe talking to others wouldn’t be so bad.

A mature voice suddenly rang out through the playground, catching everyone's attention, “Kids, recess is over! Start lining up with your class!”

“Aww man!” The child next to Sol groans, “Just when we were having fun, too!”. If their definition of fun was getting nearly trampled by a couple of older students, then Sol supposes he had the time of his life… Not really, though, but meeting Y/N was a nice surprise.

Children from all around the playground started to depart, moving to their designated class lines. Y/N started to make their way toward their line before they stopped to turn around to look at Sol one more time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Solivan! Can’t wait to see the drawing!” And with that, the energetic second-grader gave him one last wave before running over to their class.

Sol gave them a little wave in return, watching as their figure got further and further away. It wasn’t long before he himself started making his way toward his own class, to continue the rest of his day. Of course, his attention wasn’t drawn toward that of his classwork, but rather that of the little dove drawing he spent the rest of the day drawing for that special someone he met.

~

Sol paid no mind as his art teacher rambled on and on about the importance of elements in art; his focus mainly on the small, worn-out sketch pad that lay open on his desk. He lazily drew his fingers along the delicate pencil marks of his old drawing from way back then.

Out of the drawings he had created during his entire childhood, that little dove that he drew for you in the second grade always held a special place in his heart. He remembers how bright your face lit up when he showed it to you the very next day; you insisted that he kept it in his sketchbook, under the circumstance that you get to view it anytime you want–which you would do on the daily.

He shifted his gaze from the paper to where you sat near the front of the classroom, trying your best not to fall asleep during the lecture. His heart ached for you to look at him the way you did when you were kids, now it was like he was a total stranger to you; another student who simply attended the same art class as you.

But with time, you’d eventually grow aware of his existence, you’d have too.

After all, you were his soulmate, just as he was yours.

[violet-moonstone]

once more defending my love, book!elphaba thropp

reading reviews of wicked and im seeing people say they hate book elphaba because she's "unlikable"

so many people love the feel good vibes of the musical while not seeing that they sound exactly like people who would have shunned elphaba at shiz for not being pleasant enough and making them feel unsettled instead of putting them at ease

I'm saying this because I find that people are often much more charitable towards fictional characters than real people -- and people IRL who have Elphaba's severe, unwavering personality and unwillingness to conform often face the same social stigma she did, no green skin required. Like yes, Elphaba was an outcast because she had green skin, but I don't think the green skin is the point of the novel. I think her being green is a visual manifestation of being so at odds with what you're "supposed" to be that people demonize you for it. Book Elphaba is queer and hinted to be intersex. I read her as neurodivergent, so this all tracks to me, and considering that other forms of oppression and stigmatization are very important themes in the narrative, I think the green-ness simply emphasizes to the other ways in which she's marginalized.

Trying not to go into the Wicked rant that I tend to do every few months but I feel it coming on

I'm all here for critiques of the novel, because it certainly has flaws, and I understand why people don't enjoy it -- but there is something funny to me about people wanting a narrative about looking beneath the surface to find true value but hating the version of that story that requires the most compassion to appreciate. Like the musical is fun and well-made but it does not require any effort to like musical Elphaba because she's conventionally attractive woman who's feisty and kinda quirky...oh and she's also green. And her being green matters more to the other characters than to us. We don't care that she's green (because we already know it would be wrong to judge her based on that) and the musical gives us no other reasons to judge her, so we don't really have to process any complex emotions.

(Sidenote, I think if book Elphaba were still green but more conventionally attractive, bubbly, and less political, she would not have been as much of an outcast -- at least not in her later adolescence. Her green-ness could have been a novelty or spectacle that she used to her advantage if she made up for it by being more palatable in other ways. Of course, she would never do this, because that's simply not Elphaba. She could never twist herself to be anything other than who she is, even out of social self-preservation.)

Book Elphaba is so much more prickly and unpleasant --and hell, so was I at the height of my social ineptitude and feeling like there was something so so wrong with me (because why for the love of God couldn't I just fit in and act the way the cool kids my age did).

Her unpleasantness and seriousness and insistence on talking about important things that make people uncomfortable are her green-ness imo. Those are the things that affect how we as the reader experience her, and we must experience her strangeness as well.

And while I understand that if the moral of the story is essentially "don't judge a book by its cover" then yes, you can tell a thematically sound story about a girl who is actually pretty cool but just happens to be green and talk about how she's ostracized simply because she looks different. That's a perfectly fine story -- but I think it can go much further -- because it's not only wrong to marginalize people who look different, it's also wrong to marginalize those who are internally different. Difference is persecuted whether its visual or behavioural.

Even if Elphaba weren't green, there are inherent aspects of who she is that prevent her from conforming to the ideal, both in her world and ours. And I think valuing her with all of those things in mind is a lot more rewarding than simply liking her despite the fact that she's green.

Anyway I love Elphaba Thropp and I don't think her being more palatable would have made the story better — it simply would have made it more popular, and I think on that at least, fans of both the book and musical should be able to agree is not an inherently better thing.

...

OK one last point, I saw someone saw they prefer the musical because it has more "girl power" meanwhile the book feels "obviously written by a man" and I just...dear god what a surface level take

Yes Gregory Maguire is a man (oh, the horror!), but he wrote the women in Wicked as people, without hand wringing about if they're likeable or pleasant enough. They are flawed and raw and not just there to make the audience feel warm and fuzzy. He writes about sexuality without making women feel like sexual objects -- I suspect because he also writes about the sexuality of his male characters (the women aren't just in the story to turn us on) and he himself is gay, so there may be less male-gaze going on than with a lot of men who write fantasy. Yes, characters are described in sexual ways, but this happens regardless of gender.

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 14 -Shower Sex-Hisoka/Reader

Notes:  k so suspend your disbelief that Hisoka would ever need a roommate, that man is probably rich as hell, but this is my universe and I can do anything I want.

.....

Maybe your decision to get a roommate was a mistake. It had seemed like such a bright idea a few weeks ago, when you had put the last minute listing online. Because you could have a nice, large apartment in a central location and halve the price. And maybe you could make a nice friend out of it. You were even safe, requiring an online form as well as an in person interview. You weren't too worried though, you considered yourself pretty formidable when it came to ability. 

But it was not going as well as you would have liked. You have received plenty of submissions, sure. But each one had something glaringly wrong with it. You shuffle through the forms you had printed out, sighing as each one passes through your vision. These are the better ones, you threw out the worse ones already. Now, only three remain.

The first one is a woman, who after a delightful interview where the two of you got along really well, she had informed you that she had four cats and three dogs, and a cow. And she would expect them to live with her. So she was obviously tossed. The second one had been a rather mousy looking man who had some clear stalker tendencies, and had asked you to compromise on rent. You had told him maybe, and shooed him away. 

The last option was the one you were most hopeful about. It was another man, who was set to arrive any minute now. His answers on the form were promising, of course, but also very general. That was why you had set up the in person interview. To probe people and get their general vibes. 

The doorbell rings, shaking you out of your thoughts. You jump up, straightening your dress and fixing your hair, before moving to the door. This is the last one. You send up a little prayer, begging that this one will be the perfect candidate, and open the door.

The man standing on the other side of the door with his hand on his hip is very hot. It's the first thing you notice, followed very quickly by the odd way he dresses. But have met many a weird dresser in your day so you try not to judge. 

“Are you Mr Morrow?” You question, smiling up at him. He's very tall, looming over you a bit in your own doorway.

“Yes, I was informed you were in desperate need of a roommate,” The man says, offering a hand out in front of him. “You have such a lovely nen, dear.”

You take it, wincing slightly as he shakes it. He's a dramatic one. And probably a pro hunter, given the fact that he noticed your nen. And pointed it out at all. But that doesn't mean anything, not yet at least.  

“I am. Come on in.” You say, yanking your hand out of his tight, cold grip and opening the door wide. The man breezes past you, sauntering into your house with no hint of hesitancy or fear. He shows only blind confidence, accompanied by a smirk tossed over his shoulder. He must be very strong. Or just stupid. You don't know which is better. You sigh, leading him towards the living room where you have your little interview area set up. 

“Alright Mr Morrow, could you tell me why you want a roommate?” You ask, sitting down on the couch of the cozy little living room. He sits down opposite you, in one of the cushy armchairs and crosses one leg over the other. 

“Hisoka is fine,” he says, brushing a hair through his red hair, pushing it back farther. “And it seemed fun!”

You raise an eyebrow. So he's an odd one. 

“Not for a financial need or…” You say, trying to prompt him into a more in depth answer. His smiles, yellow eyes flickering between your face and the rest of the apartment, probably taking it in. It's a nice apartment, and in a central part of Yorknew city. That's partly why you were so desperate for it. 

“Oh no, of course not. I could pay for this entire place if I felt like it.” He laughs lightly, and you chuckle. Probably a bad sign, you muse as he continues. “It's just that the address of my other residence got out and I had the most annoying visitors at all hours of the day.”

You raise your eyebrow high, so high you assume it's going to disappear into your hairline at any moment, and tap your pen. Hisoka shakes his head, pouting slightly and you kick yourself as it occurs to you once again how attractive he really is. 

“It was so inconvenient, I'm sure you know darling. So I had to move.” Hisoka says with a frown, head tilting to the side. “But I soon discovered that I had been put on a no buy list. Like a no fly list? You understand?”

He leans forward, like he's telling some great secret, and you nod with a sigh. This one is a complicated one. No matter how attractive you find his arms as they flex, or his thin waist in that odd outfit he wears, you need to remain rational and not rush such an important decision because you thought this guy was hot as fuck. Hisoka smiles, somehow not disturbing the strange symbols painted on his cheeks. 

“So I figured getting a roomie was the solution to both problems!” He says with a smile, pointing his finger in the air as if he's come up with the solution to a great puzzling problem. “No weak people will figure out my address, as your name will be on the lease. And paying you the rent mitigates the no buy list issue.”

“I see, how interesting.” You say, trying not to sound too amused. He sure is a weird one, alright. “Do you have any pets?”

“Oh no, animals don't like me.” He laughs, passing his hand through his hair again. “I couldn't tell you why, will that be an issue?”

“Oh, no.” You say, a beat of worry ticking at the back of your brain. “I don't have any pets, they make a lot of mess.”

It should probably be a bad sign that animals don't like him, but honestly all you care about is the fact that he doesn't have a pet, not any flags as red as his hair that answer might raise. 

“And you wouldn't object to sharing a bathroom?” You question. The apartment is nice, but it's a two bedroom one bath. You didn't know why, an odd design choice on the part of the former owners. Hisoka chuckles.

“Oh, not at all~” He says silkily, recrossing his legs with a flourish. “I can coexist just fine with someone as lovely as you. I hear that taking showers together conserves water~”

He shoots you a wink, a smirk flashing across his face. You laugh, trying to ignore what he's laying down on the table. It's better not to think of anything like that, lest it urge you closer and closer to just giving up and taking him on as a roommate.

“How environmentally conscious,” You say, appropriately neutral as you continue. “And may I ask what you do for work?”

“Ah work. That's a little complicated, I'm afraid.” Hisoka says, tilting his head to the side with a bit of a frown. “I suppose officially, I would classify as a blacklist hunter.”

Ah, of course. You can't really say you're surprised, but perhaps it's a bad sign for your mental health that his answer doesn't actually put you off as much as it should.

“I see,” you say, noting that down on your little notebook. Hisoka tilts his head, eyes flickering curiously.

“You don't seem at all alarmed.” He questions, yellow eyes staring directly at your face. Not dancing around your face and body, not at the wall behind you. He must be very interested in your reaction.

“It's really none of my business, as long as you don't mess with the apartment,” You explain, running a hand through your hair. “And besides, I'm a hunter as well, and you don't seem to mean any harm to me. Right now anyway.”

Hisoka blinks, letting the silence stretch on for a moment, filling the air of the cozy living room. He seems a bit surprised by your answer, for reasons you can't understand. Maybe he was surprised by your total lack of fear? Or maybe your casual attitude. It was only natural, both your parents were hunters and most of your clientele were as well. You supposed you were a bit dead to what was normal and unusual. You did make specialty weapons for people all over the world. Some of your best clientele were the infamous Zoldyck family. You were kind of used to weirdos dressed in odd costumes who wanted strange things. The only thing you might need to worry about from Hisoka was how attractive you found him. 

Hisoka chuckles. 

“How interesting~” he purrs, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. “What a strikingly brave person you are, doll.”

“I guess,” You say, shrugging off the pet name he’s already assigned you with a sigh. “Are there any questions you have for me? It's better to settle these things before you move in.”

“Ah, so you’ll have me then?” Hisoka asks, all smiles. You nod, shuffling your papers with a sigh. It seems he really is the best option. 

“Questions, hmm.” Hisoka says, tapping his chin. You wait patiently as he considers, a bit worried. Finally, he speaks. “I have an odd friend. You don't mind him showing up out of nowhere do you?”

You sigh. You've been doing a lot of sighing lately. 

“No, not really. Tell him my bedroom is off limits though.” You say, standing to your feet. You've known your share of weirdos, and as long as this one stays out of your private spaces you're fine. Hisoka smiles, rising smoothly to his feet with a slightly unhinged smile. He held out his hand, yet again. You eye it warily.

“So, we have a deal?” He asks, angling his hand upwards slightly, palm pointing into the ceiling. His nails are a bit long, you notice absentmindedly.

You reach out, taking his hand to shake. 

“Yes, for now.” You say, “But we still need to sign the papers.”

“Yes, of course.” Hisoka supplies, mouth curving into a smile as he grips your hand, bringing it up to his cold lips. You push down a flush, biting your lips as he presses a long kiss to the back of your hand. His yellow eyes flick up, meeting your own and pinning you to the spot. Finally, after what feels like an age, he stands up, gently releasing your hand from his chilly grip. It falls to your side, and you clear your throat.

“Would you like a tour?” You ask, proud of how clear your vocal cords remain. Hisoka chuckles, crossing his arms casually.

“Sure.” He laughs.

You fear for your future self. You’ve certainly found an odd roommate. 

⚀⚀⚀

Hisoka, despite the faults and red flags that constantly run in your vision, isn't actually that terrible of a roomate. He's quite clean, and not very noisy. He does cook at all, but you don't mind cooking for two and leaving leftovers for him as he comes and goes. In return, he cleans the kitchen for you, and often the rest of the house as well. The two of you end up not seeing each other as much as you would like, only meating for meals and the occasional free afternoon of dancing around each other. It's nice, honestly. You can ignore his other faults, like the makeup skin and hair products that are mixing with your own, and the incessant flirting. He flirts so much you assume it's just how he is. Because no matter how much you wanna fuck him, you doubt its returned. Because that's the other problem. You really wanna fuck him, and it can be reliably traced to a combination of a few things. 

One, because of your new roomie, you cant bring men home to fuck anymore. 

Two, He's just insanely attractive and touchy, a hand on your waist here, a brush of your neck there, and you're losing your mind.

And three, the walls are too thin for you to masturbate comfortably. You can only masturbate in the shower now. But that in itself is a problem. You try not to shower for too long because of the water bill and so you can only get yourself off way less than you need.

But it isn't really a big deal, you promise yourself. You don't find yourself spending long bouts of time with Hisoka anyway, so your obvious desire for him isn't on display. You can only hope you can hide it for as long as the two of your remaining roomies. 

⚀⚀⚀

You survey the counters of your bathroom, the white of the countertop slowly being swallowed by skincare. Your own skincare addiction was a beast, but with Hisoka living with you the problem had only worsened. The shelves were covered in various masks and serums, the cabinets taken up by painkillers and mysterious under the counter drugs. The shelves to the side of the counter are laden in your makeup, with a small space devoted to the few products Hisoka used to draw his star and teardrop. 

You shove a couple things aside to grab your hair brush. The mirror is clean, your reflection clear in the glass, a few little sticky notes stuck to one end. You eye them, your messy handwriting noting down the things you were running low on. It was better if you left them in the mirror. You looked at it every morning and night after all when you did your skincare. 

You sigh, running a brush over your scalp in relief. The shower isn't running yet, but you're excited for the opportunity to wash your hair, and of course, to masturbate. Your body is thrumming with pent up energy as you eye yourself in the mirror. Hisoka had been especially annoying this week. It seemed he had nothing to do, so every morning when you left for work you encountered him in the living room, and he was there when you returned. 

Sometimes he was on the couch, watching reality tv in a tank top and sweats, and sometimes he was clearly just coming from the gym with sweat gathering on his arms and face. Each time he was desperately tempting, and much too flirty for your sanity. Be it a wink and a flirty comment, or a brush of your waist and a breath on your neck. He was driving you crazy. 

You sigh, shedding the towel you had been wrapped in and fold it neatly, placing it on the small shelf next to the entrance of the shower. You dig your feet ingo the bathmat, running a hand through your hair with a sigh. And then you see it.

A spider. A nasty, giant spider the size of your palm, sitting directly in the shower. In the path of your feet.

You scream shrilly, jumping backwards dramatically as you run to get as far away from the spider as possible. You hate spiders, more than anything in the world. You scream again, your shrill voice echoing off the bathroom walls.

“Hisoka!” You shriek, hugging your naked waist in fear as the spider moves a few inches closer. “Come here!”

The door slams open, Hisoka moving with a sense of urgency. His face betrays no emotion besides amusement as he takes you in, shivering and naked, glaring at the spider on the shower floor.

“Can I help you doll?” he purrs, moving closer to you across the bathroom floor. You don't even notice, too busy with your worst enemy, the giant spider watching you from the shower. The shower in the bathroom is only covered with a slight wall of glass, leaving about a space wide enough for someone to pass through comfortably into the shower cubby. It's also enough space for the spider to escape and hunt you down relentlessly. 

“Don't you see it?” You hiss, body trembling in the chilly bathroom air. You shiver, holding your arms around your waist. You seem to have forgotten your nakedness. 

Hisoka chuckles, folding his hands across his chest as his yellow eyes scan your body, pausing on all the parts of interest. He licks his lips, moving towards you across the floor. You don't notice, too busy keeping an eye on the spider. 

“Look,” you whisper. “The spider. In the shower.”

“Ah,” Hisoka says, a slight laugh contained in his voice. “Afraid of spiders, are you?”

You roll your eyes, not happy with his sarcasm.

The spider jumps, moving out of the shower cubby and towards you on the floor. You shriek, jumping backwards and into Hisoka’s arms, clinging to his muscled body as you scream.

“Ugh, it's coming this way!” You yell, hiding your face in Hisoka’s chest as your legs clench around his waist. “Just kill it!”

Hisoka laughs, the sound rattling in his chest as you cling close to him. He has his phone in his pocket, poking against your thighs. It's odd, because you don't remember this pair of sweatpants he's wearing having pockets. The spider sits heavy on your mind though, and you grip his muscled shoulders close with a whimper.

“As you wish.” Hisoka laughs, gripping your thighs and holding your body close to him. Faintly, you inhale his scent, a mix of flowers and musk and the unmistakable faint scent of blood. It turns you on as fear runs through your blood. You hid your head in his chest.

“Is it dead?” You whisper, gripping him tightly. Your heart is beating fast against your chest, begging to escape and run away from the stupid spider. 

“Yes, doll.” Hisoka purrs, other hand coming up to stroke your hair gently, an attempt to calm you down. “Your knight in shining armor has rescued you from the great threat lurking in the depths of the shower.”

You roll your eyes. He's making fun of you.

“Did you throw it away?” You question, not loosening your death grip on his shoulders. 

“Yes, I'm delighted to report it’s out of your sight.” Hisoka says, a chuckle in his voice. You pull your head away from his chest cautiously, pearing backwards and scouring the bathroom floor for any remnants of the spider. The floor is empty, only occupied with the fluffy bath mat. You sigh in relief, your chest heavy distractingly against the black tank top Hisoka wears. 

Then you realize exactly where you are. You're clinging to Hisoka like a tree, completely naked and clutching at his body. You shriek again, almost as loud as you did when you saw that damn spider and fly away from him like you've touched fire. Hisoka chuckles.

“Aw, come back.” he coos, running a hand through his hair. “You were so cute, all helpless and scared.”

You frown and bite back a groan at the same time, covering your tits and pussy with your hands as best you can.

“Get out!” You shriek, fighting back the arousal that leaks in as you take him in. 

“How rude!” Hisoka chuckles, pulling his tank top over his head. “No thank you?”

You yank your eyes away from his pale chest, as your pussy twitches with arousal. He toys with the hem of his sweatpants. As he tugs them lower, and you take in the v line pointing lower and lower, you realize he's not wearing boxers. You yank your eyes away, but it's too late. He's seen your wandering eyes. 

“The water bill is getting too high.” You say out of nowhere, body tingling with arousal. 

HIsoka tilts his head, biting back a smirk.

“Is that so?” He smirks, voice lilting seductively. “You know, I've been told showering together conserves water.”

You bite back a smile. A callback to your very first conversation. You let your hands drop, as you move towards the shower. All pretense is gone, just two people who really wanna fuck each others brians out. You giggle.

“What a clever plan.” You say, stepping into the shower and turning on the water with a sigh. Hisoka crowds behind you, smirking like the cat that got the cream. You suppose that's an accurate description for what's happening right now. 

⚀⚀⚀

“How long have you known,” You whimper, boobs and face pressed against the glass divider. Hisoka chuckles, tick chock drilling your insides as you moan loudly. The steam of the shower floats through the air, obscuring his face slightly. His hair is down, dripping with water and plastered to his face, but he doesn't seem to care. You brace your hands against the glass as he grips his hips, hitting the spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Since your eyes first scanned my body,” Hisoka grunts, hands gripping you so tight you’ll bruise. “You aren't exactly subtle, doll.”

“Ah, how embarrassing.” you murmur, hair falling wet and heavy down your back, tangling in your mouth. 

“Don't be too upset about it,” Hisoka murmurs, pressing his back against you as he drills deeper into you. “Your lustful glances were very mutual. You're simply a bit romantically oblivious.”

You whimper, hands scrabbling at the slick glass. The bathroom is filled with steam, the sound of the shower muffling your moans and the slapping of wet skin. You hope your neighbors can't hear you. 

“Am i?” You whimper, head falling back as his steady thrusts bring you closer and closer to completion. “I thought you were just like that.”

“I am,” Hisoka mutters, sinking his teeth into your neck. You clench down on him, body tensing as pleasure and pain erupt from the bite mark, tangling and twisting into a heady cocktail of arousal. 

“Ah, god.” You moan, nipples rubbing against the glass. “We should have done this sooner.”

Hisoka’s clawed hand reaches down, abandoning your bruised hips to rub circles into your clit. Stars burst behind your eyes, the bubbles and steam of the ballroom only adding to the floaty, dream like atmosphere. Hisoka chuckles, body hard and powerful against your own soft, curvy one. 

“I think we'll be doing this a lot from now on.” He half chuckles, half groans, body pressing against yours, pressing you to the glass.

Your lips part as you cum, screaming his name into the abyss of hot steam and powerful muscles. And as the orgasms overwhelm your body, you smile to yourself against the glass.

It seems getting a roommate was shaping up to be the best decision you’d ever made. 

.....

Endnotes: my sister is terrified of spiders. I channeled her fear for the spider bit. I don't like spiders very much, but she's genuinely terrified lol.

Also, guess who finished this before one in the morning, instead of at like three. Im hella proud of myself for that <3

[haikyu-mp4]

Hiya! Can i pls request Right Now with Ushijima? Thank you ❤❤

Now playing... Right Now

word count; 866 – gn!reader, for my 1D x Haikyu event

Ushijima wasn’t sure what made him so restless. Maybe it was because every task he did after coming back from work was halved. He made dinner for one, evening tea for one, and watched whatever he wanted on TV without any input from you. Everything he should be doing with you, he did by himself.

Playing in the Polish league was amazing volleyball-wise. The players were good and generally taller, presenting him and his team with new challenges and advantages. Training and playing was fun. He was also able to catch a few trips to visit Tendo, which he hadn’t been able to do as often before. Now he wasn’t that far away! But nothing could make up for the fact that you were now as far away from him as Tendo used to be. Unfortunately, your job requires you to stay in Japan.

Every night he felt it. Longed for the light snore he had come to associate with home. He felt it every time he was at his new apartment, and even more whenever something particularly new happened, something he would have to get used to or figure out. That’s when he needed his other half.

And right now, as he lay in bed after a long day of struggling with the language barrier and trying a new dish that didn’t quite work out, he wished you were there with him.

Rolling over and accepting that sleep wouldn’t greet him yet, he picked up his phone. He blinked a couple of times to get used to the brightness from the screen, switching the setting so it was more bearable before finally looking at the latest message notification. If he felt any drowsiness before, it was whisked away when he saw it was a message from you.

Call me when you wake up, my love. I have exciting news!

Wakatoshi checked the time back home in Japan before calling you immediately. It rang four times before he finally heard your voice. “Toshi! I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“I couldn’t sleep. What is the exciting news, dearest?”

You giggled on the other end of the line, and the sound quality switched, so he assumed you had put him on speaker while multitasking. He smiled at the ceiling as he listened, closing his eyes and imagining himself there with you. “You know that company I sent you an article about? The one that’s completely home-office based,” you asked him, and he could sense an impatient excitement in your voice.

He hummed in confirmation. “I do. They seem to manage it very well so far, from what I read. It’s interesting, but I’m wondering how much they save on an office if they’re paying for part of the home-office expenses like they said they do.”

“I agree, but that does mean they get to pick and choose the best workers from all over the world!” you said, wiggling your eyebrows as if hinting at something, only to realise he couldn’t even see you.

“There must be a very large number of applications, I’m sure. I can not understand how they have the capacity to go through all of them,” he answered, seeming to get engaged in the topic, which was one of the traits you loved most about Wakatoshi. He always paid attention to the things you brought up.

“I suppose, but there might not be that many if you consider that people are not sure if it’s a reliable workplace yet,” you suggested. The discussion almost made you forget what you needed to tell him, but luckily he was there to get you back on track.

“You are very right. But are the exciting news related to this company? I did not know you were so invested in their growth.”

“Well, I certainly am now. They want me to work for them!” you squealed, and he could just imagine how you would dance around the kitchen.

His lips parted, and he stared into the nothingness of the dark roof as he registered what you said, and then slowly also realised what it might mean. “Congratulations. I did not know you applied.”

“I know, it felt like such a hopeless attempt that I didn’t want to talk about it. But I got through to the last interview and they really liked me,” you told him. Your happiness practically radiated through the phone.

“Of course they did, and they’re lucky to have you,” he said, and you were thrilled on the other end of the line when you heard his soft chuckle, undeniable proof of his joy. “Does this mean…” He dipped his tongue between his lips to wet them as a smile stretched out. “You could move here with me?”

Your steps echoed in the kitchen as you stomped your feet in excitement. “Yes! We can look at that tomorrow if you’d like. I miss you so much, Toshi.”

And Ushijima squeezed the duvet in the hand that wasn’t holding his phone as this immense relief overtook him.

Right now, he wishes you were there with him.

And soon, you will be.

“I miss you too, so much. I can’t wait to have you with me again.”

masterlist

[coca-lastic]

Takami Keigo: 5 Red flags vs 5 Green flags

Characters: Takami Keigo (Hawks).

Mi first lenguage is not English btw

Part 2 with Bakugo?

First of all, a relationship with Keigo can go very well or very badly. His life requires a very specific type of person, although he is not one to judge people and prefers to be optimistic when it comes to anything, it must be admitted that a person who is a little more "egoistic" could not stand the schedules, the dangers and harms that come with the hero's work.

In any case, if you are a person who, although you have flaws that might seem out of place with the style of life that has been imposed on Keigo, but you are still a person who is willing to do better, fight and resist for the relationship, believe me that the he will put the same as you and more.

Probably at the beginning there will be many problems, Keigo is not a man used to his life not being just for him, and perhaps you are not used to living with someone like him, but part of a relationship is learning, step by step and with a lot of time, love can change things if you use it well.

Of course, like any person, he has his good things and bad things.

🟥 Red Flags:

• At first he's a very independent and close person: Being independent can be a very good thing and a good sign, but when it comes to Keigo, it is not the same. His independence is too big to be considered a good thing, he has grown up and lived his entire life believing that he is the one against the world and only he has the right to know what is going through his mind, so it wouldn't be the kind of boyfriend who is asking your approval or telling you about his day. But he knows that that is not right, so I firmly believe that he would correct it to the point of telling you his problems.

• He's sarcastic: Come on guys, you could see this coming from the second this hero appeared on the screen and started making the most annoyed faces a face can make. It's not like he does it in a bad way often, but when arguments start he would get on your nerves with his sarcastic comments, probably minimizing the problems or making you look wrong, even stupid in the worst cases.

• You are the priority, but if people need him, he will leave: This is a very extensive topic and contains many reasons. You are the most important thing in his life, if you leave he would be totally devastated and depressed than anyone else could be, but he simply cannot reject the call, if his phone vibrates and they tell him that they need him he will already be acting the hero suit. It's not that he wants to leave you, it's that he can't stay, it's that he has been educated to always leave.

• He is jealous: Normally it is not something that bothers you, it can even be something that the two of you later make fun of in private, but there are some times that if he seems to be intense about it, he is not attracted to the idea of you leave, that you change him or that you abandon him, so although he always tries to keep himself in line, there are few cases in which he goes too far, when he marks someone as his rival he will forever be "the disgusting guy who wants with you", and he could say offensive things about him, start fights so that you stay away from him and even demonstrate his jealousy without any type of shame.

• "Is not that deep": I don't know why, but I'm very sure that Keigo would say this MANY times, like you may have told him that it's something that bothers you, or something that hurt you, or you're just telling him a story, and he responds with the damn "is not that deep." Partly it's because like I said before he won't tell you something just because it happened to him, so he doesn't understand why you're open about it.

OKAY BUT, he has hes beautiful Green Flags and all that, SO let's goOoOooOOoOOOoo

🟩 Green Flags

• He drives you to achieve and fulfill your own goals: He would be a man who not only asks, he also offers, he would never ask you to support him in his goal of a better and more relaxed world for those who are heroes without first supporting you in any goal that you have worn. You need money? He can give it to you, do you need to improve yourself? Ok, here he is to support you, do you just feel tired of trying? Well he will give you a reason to do it again.

• "Let's see each other even if it's just for 5 minutes?": He leads a busy life but he takes you into account in every second of it, it's true that it's hard for him to tell you about it, it's hard for him to open up, but he loves seeing you, even if he doesn't express it correctly, he loves to be there for you even though he may not tell you that he thinks about it, he loves to give you time even if it means more fatigue for his body.

• Stop having attitudes that make you feel bad: Did you read all the previous red flags? WELL HAWKS TROLL YOU BECAUSE HE CHANGE WHAT YOU ASK HIM TO DO, GIRL!!!! He would make an effort because he doesn't take it lightly, it is difficult and takes a lot of time, but he keeps trying.

• "I saw this and I remembered you": I repeat, Keigo takes you into account every second, even if at first he can't express it correctly. But he is a bird, he will bring you any stuffed animal, bracelet, candy, necklace, clothing or toy that he finds in a store and has a detail as beautiful as you.

• Hella touchy: Bro, if you don't consider this a good thing I'm really sorry but what the hell are you doing reading something about Takami Keigo, Get the fuck out of here! He will never have one hand far from you in moments of rest and time as a couple. A simple hand on your thigh while the two of you are eating or while he is finishing work papers, a few light cuddles on your hair while he is falling asleep, a hand on your cheek before kissing you, a hand on your waist to hug you, and if i keep going, I don't finish the list.

[daenerysstormreborn]

Time to ramble. I’m thinking about the way Arya and Sansa fans seem to get into this debate about who was more lonely and neglected in Winterfell. Which is kind of funny because then the arguments get totally reversed when debating other aspects of the characters. But anyway. The general arguments seem to be:

1. Arya was clearly the neglected outcast. This is clear in the meta narrative because of her connection to Jon and the fact that she doesn’t look like her true born siblings. The more direct evidence comes from the way Sansa and Jeyne teased her, the harshness of Septa Mordane, and Catelyn’s exasperation. It can be inferred that Arya feels a sense of insecurity wrt to her family ties as she wonders if her own mother would want her back after everything that happened. It can be assumed that she was a bit of an outcast based on her disinterest in the things expected of her as a girl, and we see the way many characters look down upon non-conforming women and girls in-universe. Sansa, on the other hand, receives praise from her mother and the septa and has two named close friends in Winterfell. She happily conforms to what is expected of her as a highborn girl and we can assume she would fit in in Winterfell.

2. Sansa was clearly the neglected outcast. This is clear in the meta narrative because she is the only one to lose her direwolf, which is the family symbol. The more direct evidence comes from contrast with Arya, whom Sansa observes can “make friends with anybody,” seemingly in contrast to herself. Ned agreed to kill Lady despite knowing she was innocent and indulged Arya’s interest in swordplay whilst being unenthusiastic about indulging Sansa’s interest in tourneys. Arya is demonstrated to be beloved by Ned’s men in a way we do not observe with Sansa. We can assume that Sansa didn’t feel like she belonged because of her interest in sothron culture, something none of her siblings share. Arya, on the other hand, is extroverted, makes friends easily, is northern in appearance, and has no interest in sothron culture, so we can assume she fit in in Winterfell.

I actually don’t think a lot of the points in the two arguments is mutually exclusive. We also have to remember POV bias. Arya doesn’t reflect on Any friends her age she had at Winterfell (I am not including Mycah because I am under the impression they became friends on the way to King’s Landing), but Arya is not one to reflect and reminisce. Sansa notices that Arya can make friends with anyone, but she doesn’t experience Arya’s inner world. What does Sansa mean by making friends? Does she see Arya having fun and being at ease talking to anyone and feel envy, since she herself feels like is performing, always minding her manners, when she’s socializing with most people? Could it be that Arya is friendly but struggles to find long term close friends like Jeyne and Beth, attributing this disparity to Sansa’s “ladylike” interests? Could it be that being teased by Sansa and her friends and scolded by Catelyn and Mordane has made Arya assume that other girls wouldn’t be interested in close friendship with her, causing her to be friendly but keep a certain distance? (**please note I am not trying to make a case for nlog Arya. I think keeping a distance because you assume you’ll be rejected is different and does not require that she looks down upon other girls, because there is no evidence for that here**)

I don’t have a good conclusion I just think it’s interesting that this is something that gets debated because the truth is probably somewhere in the middle. We can’t know because we get very few flashbacks and the story picks up when their normal lives in Winterfell end. I can’t speak to George’s intentions but if we pretend they’re real people I’d speculate that both would have felt misplaced within Winterfell at times, envying certain traits about the other

[onskepa]

Hey long time no speak, I had an idea for your Stxeli series maybe one with her and Tsu’tey?

Maybe Mo’at and Neytiri left the clan for the day having something to do with tsahik business so Eytukan took her for the day but something came up that needed his attention so next thing you know Tsu’tey stuck watching her and he has no idea what to do .

And this is just a side note maybe he finds she likes trying to catch the persons tail until she did but she’s teething so she bit him ?

HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Hi! OMGAH THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!! I KNOW JUST HOW TO MAKE THIS!! HOPE YOU ENJOY~!!!

Stxeli series

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

Stxeli: Lack of instructions

It was another wonderful day. The sun rose and the community began to wake up. Mo’at and neytiri woke up extra early as they had to leave for visit a nearby clan. Eytukan glady looked forward to another father daughter day with his sweet baby girl, stxeli. He had a few duties to attend to but none that had to have him away from his child. 

That is until something really did require his utmost attention. And it wasn't something he could take stxeli along for. No, it was risky and with what happened last time, eytukan wasn't so keen on taking his chances. But that left him troubled. Who else can take care of his baby while he is out doing his tasks? Many would gladly volunteer yes but he needs someone he can truly trust. So that only points to one person. 

“ME?!” 

“Yes you tsu’tey”

Tsu’tey, a young na’vi warrior. Training to be the next olo’eyktan. A promising leader for the future that the people can rely on. Respectful and earning his respect as he goes through his early stages of iknimaya. 

Is stuck babysitting a human baby girl. 

And not just any baby girl, no, the daughter of Eytukan and Mo’at. Their little ‘gift’ as they praise so much. Even neytiri seems to be under the child's spell or some sort. As this baby was human, so clearly she stands out. And it bothers tsu’tey a lot. Humans robbed everything from his people. What more can this little thing steal? His heart?

Little wide eyes stare up at the young amber eyes. No words, just stare in slow blinks. Tsu’tey sat in front of stxeli as his tail behind him slowly sways. He carefully observes her, but the little human does nothing. For the moment. Stxeli her name was, odd blubby pink thing she is. Soft and warm to touch and very ticklish. 

Eytukan has given young tsu’tey the task to watch over his daughter as he is currently busy with a problem that cant be cast aside. While tsu’tey was left in confusion and baffled that his olo’eyktan would give him, a young warrior in training, a silly task. Though it was so sudden and not given to the young boy on what to do, tsu’tey so far thinks it is easy. 

Stxeli on the other hand observes the new face. He looks at odds in her eyes. The new face isn't like her mama or dada, or her big sister. Stxeli wonders if he is just as fun playing games as her family does. 

“This looks easy…I think” tsu’tey looks down at stxeli who was hanging awkwardly on the sling he was using to carry her. The poor little limbs were all over the place, her left arm hanging while the other was being held up and her legs, one folded and the other stretched out. This was not a comfortable position for stxeli, none. 

So stxeli releases her cries, making it known she does not like being held like that. 

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” 

Tsu’tey was worried now, this was first! How does he calm her down? 

“Ssshhhh! Its ok, ummm…!! Ok ok here” tsu’tey was rambling as he was quick to remove her from the sling. But her cries didn't stop, stxeli’s little cheeks becoming red and her cries louder. This was not as easy as tsu’tey would have thought. 

To be fair, Eytukan really didn't give much instructions or information on how to take care of his daughter. Just placed the baby on tsu’teys arms and told him to take care of her while he is away. And left. True tsu’tey has some experience with young babies, his little brother Arvok. Cute baby he is, but Arvok is a na’vi baby, stxeli is a human baby so not everything can be the same. 

“Ssshhhh, don't cry” tsu’tey bounces stxeli in his arms, trying to calm her down. Yet she still cries. How do they do it? Maybe she is hungry? He looks around the home to look for anything. He remembers the tsahik feeding stxeli smashed fruit before. Maybe some food will calm her down. Moving a few things around Tsu'tey found some fruits. He quickly peels one and was quick to feed it to stxeli. “Eat and shush” he says as though stxeli will understand what he is saying. 

Thankfully the baby did calm down. And like a hungry little beast, stxeli tries to shove a big piece in her mouth. Grabbing the fruit tightly with her little hands, doing her best to take big mites. This certainly made tsu’tey chuckle a bit. But quickly shook his head. No, he shouldn't be amused by the human. Tsu’tey mentally scolds himself, humans are parasitic. They all are. 

Though, as he watches stxeli eat, he notices something odd about her. 

“You are taking rather big bites…” tsu’tey comments, one thing he knows babies in general is that they should not eat big pieces, feeling a bit worried the little one might choke. So he gently pulls away the fruit, but this makes stxeli whine, making grabby gestures of wanting more. 

“Hold on, just a moment little one” he whispers, carefully putting his finger in her mouth to examine something. Tsu’tey has his suspicions, and surprise surprise, he was correct. . 

“Just as I thought…” 

Stxeli was teething.

Now teething is normal, every baby goes through it. Not surprising that stxeli is no different. Though she may lack the fangs, baby teeth are not something to be taken lightly. Tsu’tey knows it first hand. Few years back with arvok was a baby himself, tsu’tey was often the victim of his brother's teething. Being bitten by tiny teeth is not as funny as he thought first hand. Arvok loved to bite tsu’tey’s tail, it hurts more than biting the ear. 

So Tsu'tey thought of something that might help. 

Soon after stxeli’s fruity lunch, tsu’tey was quick to take her out into the village for some social time while he searched for materials to create a little soft toy. He did this with Arvok during his teething phase, perhaps it will work the same with the little human. According to his mother, a baby should have something soft for them to safely chew on. 

So as tsu’tey was looking through some of the materials the locals were offering, stxeli was happily chewing away the little basket she was being carried in. Wasn't soft but not so hard either. Stxeli had the desire to just bite things, and it is fun!

Yet as stxeli bites down on her little cage, her eyes are locked on every na’vi tail. Mama said something about tails but little stxeli couldn't remember. Doesn't matter, all that matters is her need to bite down on those tails. They look so tempting for some reason. Will they be squishy like her fruit, or hard like the tart neytiri eats? Who knows. 

“Aabaaaa!!” 

Stxeli calls out for the young boy that was carrying her. Demanding his attention. 

“Not now,” tsu’tey replies. As dumb as it may seem but tsu’tey understands the baby language well, so he knows what stxeli wants. And that is to be put down. No way is that happening. She is just in her teething phase, no way will the ‘disappear in one second’ phase will start. 

“AAAHHHH!!” stxeli shouts more. 

“I said not now-OW!!” Tsu'tey hisses in pain as he feels a strong pull of his braids. Hearing the annoying laughter of stxeli, he turns to the child smiling widely like his pain was amusing to her. 

“Cruel thing you are” he sneers at her. But stxeli doesnt care. His eyes are finally on her. Tsu’tey grabbed the materials he needed and headed back to stxeli’s home. Clearly she has enough social exposure for the day. 

“No stop, stxeli stop…!!” tsu’tey feels really lost and annoyed at the same time. The second he places the baby down, was the second she decided to crawl all around him. Like some obstacle course that stxeli had to dominate/ which in a way stxeli was trying to try, new person, new mission. 

Though stxeli isnt familiar with boundaries, so when she climbed to the top of tsu’tey’s head, she pulled his ear rather roughly. 

“Owowowow! STOP!” he hissed at stxeli angrily, his patience dropping by the second. Lifting her up, air jail style, he glares down at her. 

Stxeli on the other hand was scared. The boy made a scary angry face. She didn't want to be near him anymore, so she wobbled her lips, tears threatening to fall once again.

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!” 

She cries out. Again. 

Crap. 

Eytukan had finished his duties and was excited to go home. He knows that mo’at and neytiri would arrive the following morning, so he has some time with stxeli before he will have to fight with his mate and daughter again. Yet as he gets closer, he hears a loud familiar cry. 

Stxeli was crying loudly. 

Quickly he runs closer to his home, opening the flaps he sees stxeli crying, her face red and tears falling non stop. Not far from her was tsu’tey who looked just as ready to cry himself. 

Stxeli sees her papa and quickly crawls towards him, seeking safety and comfort. And eytukan was quick to pick her up. 

“Ssshhh there there ma’ite, I'm here. I'm here” he soothes. Stxeli places her head on his chest hearing his voice vibrate in his chest while clinging onto him for dear life. Slowly her cries stopped, and was quick to pass out from exhaustion. 

“Why did you leave me with her?” tsu’tey asks angrily. Eytukan looked at the young boy with regret. “I'm sorry tsu’tey, where I had to go was urgent, the only person I could think of to take care of her was you. I'm sorry I made you go through all that” eytukan apologizes. For Tsu'tey, a simple apology didn't seem enough. 

“You left me alone with a little human, gave me no clear instructions on how to care for her, practically left me to figure it out. She pulled my hair, constantly wanting attention, always hungry, always screaming, crying, throwing tantrums, biting! Oh and before I forget, she is teething!” Tsu'tey listed all that happened in short words to get his point across. 

“She is a little demon! Everytime I experience something painful she laughs at me! She laughs at others' pain! My mother is right, all stxeli is a par-”

“Tsu’tey that's enough” Eytukan warns. His voice booming with authority and demand. 

And the little boy shut his mouth up. His whole body froze, staring at the olo’eyktan with shock and fear. 

“I know I was in the wrong to leave you without anything to go by, but tsu’tey, never, and I mean NEVER speak ill of my daughter. Stxeli isn't a demon. Don't let your mothers words blind you to what reality truly is' ' Eytukan speaks, his voice strong yet gentle. 

Tsu’tey lowers down his gaze, his ears and tail lowering down too. 

Eytukan sighs and gestures to the boy to come closer. To which the boy does. 

“Tell me, what was arvok like when he was a baby?” Eytukan asks. 

Tsu’tey takes a moment to remember, “my brother was a bit loud, he would laugh at any sound, enjoyed having me attention. He used to eat moss for some reason, and loved playing with anything that moved. Oh, and loved to be showered in love and would pout if nobody was paying attention to him. And was always hungry” he listed. Remembering how his baby brother was like brought a warm smile to his face. 

“And why did arvok do those certain things?” Eytukan asks. Tsu’tey shrugs, “Im not sure, but he was a baby who-ooooohh…”

Tsu’tey understood now. 

“You are catching on, good. Stxeli does things that even I don't understand, but it somehow makes sense to her. Humor is different for everyone, and it changes. Stxeli likes to see others in pain perhaps by the expressions we make. Perhaps she finds them funny. Babies are unpredictable and it is always a surprise to see what they do next. Yes, she cries and can last a long time screaming, but remember. She is still a baby who is learning in her own way. So try not to be so upset with her. Maybe in the future, you can teach her a thing or two”. 

Tsu’tey lets his words settle in his mind. Echoing and embedding. 

A couple of hours later, after a needed nap that both stxeli and tsu’tey needed, they had their little dinner. Tsu’tey was enjoying his food as he and eytukan watch stxeli crawl around and try to bite whatever she finds interesting. 

“I have seen your little project tsu’tey, are you making a soft toy for her?” Eytukan asks, his eyes never leaving stxeli’s. Tsu’tey looks down a bit, “yes, it is not finished but, I figured it would do her good to chew on something soft and not anything that could harm her” he says. 

Eytukan hums in approval. He looks down at the pot to serve himself more food. 

“Tomorrow, if you are not so busy-OW!!!” tsu’tey was interrupted with a sharp pain was felt on his tail. Quickly he turns around and suddenly sees stxeli biting down on his tail. Her little eyes staring up at him like she is innocent of a crime that she is so clearly commiting. 

“Stop it-OW!!” 

Stxeli laughs at his pain. Again. 

Eytukan chuckles, goes over to his daughter to carefully pull her away from the child’s tail. Tsu’tey rubbed the pain away from his tail, “how can her teeth be so small but hurt so much?” he groans. Though not as annoyed as before. 

Eytukan puts stxeli back down to let her crawl again, “similar to smaller predators that have razor sharp teeth. Soon she will have full jaws of teeth. I should add more solids to her diet” he says. 

Tsu’tey nods, “if you plan on-OOOOOOWWW!!” 

Again tsu’tey turns and sees stxeli once again biting down on his tail. But this time, stxeli is locked in. Refusing to let go. 

“OWOWOWOOWWOWOOOOOOOOOOOW!!” Tsu'tey cries out in pain, trying to pull the baby away. Eytukan gently tries to pull stxeli away again, but stxeli was dead set. She will bite the tail if its the last thing she does! 

“Stxeli times to let go now” 

“OOOOOOOOOOW!! SHE IS DIGGING!! STXELI IS-OOOOW!!” 

Tsu’tey plans to finish that toy before he loses his tail to a biting little baby.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand that is it for this one! I like how it turned out, lemme know what you guys think! Until next time! See ya!

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

Taglist: @galactict3a , @tulipatheticee , @moonchildxoxx , @victoria2054 , @alastorhazbin , @vivangothic , @spookymomfriendtm , @thehoneymushroomhealer , @kat-the-kit , @thepotatoislost , @hoodiepandaninja16 , @sugurupookie , @ceylon-morphe286

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 100

One hundred fuckin’ days. God. Actually happened. 

I spent 3/4ths of the year drawing more Junkan art than I think anyone else on the internet ever has. Which might be presumptuous of me, maybe i’m just looking in the wrong places y’know? I’m a solid second place bare minimum.

And like, that’s still pretty funny right? This whole event is something I’m gonna cherish forever, the memories, the art itself, the friends I made because of it. But like, c’mon. I drew 100 fucking pieces, learned new skills like digital painting, animation, all that shit, for a ship that I used to hate, and a ship that for the longest time I thought was gonna get me fuckin banished to the deepest depths of the internet just for drawing a poor sketch of them kissing. This ship has become more deeply entwined into who I am as a person that it’s passed up Tokomaru, the ship that literally made me realize I’m a woman.

It’s gotta be at least a little funny, right?

Ah but enough of that, I can talk more on that subject a bit later. For now I reckon I should focus on our art piece for today! Wouldn’t you agree?

Yeah it’s the Wedding. I’d say even before Day 60 I decided the final pic of the Project would be The Wedding, even before I decided to draw a comic of the proposal. Because like, c’mon, it’s basic but how the fuck else was I supposed to end of the project? With something that ISN’T a wedding????

And very shocking to hear after this entire project has gone by, but I did in fact scale back this pic massively. You wanna know what the original idea was?? 22 images, each one depicting different parts of the wedding and afterparty, including the kiss at the end. And the kiss at the end? I was gonna feature every character from the 3 main classes + Ruruka, Seiko, and Yasuke. Fucking why??? Because Excess is all I know people ITS ALL I KNOW.

However I had decided that I wanted this project finished and ready before October, because I wanted to do the Vampire Fic to coincide with Day 30. And again, say it with me here, “Jem was severely burnt out on the project!” 

So it went from 22 images, to “However many I can get done in time + the big group shot” and then that became “Just the big group shot,” and then finally, i cracked and just drew The Kiss. 

Speaking of which before I divulge some more info about the original plan, i’ll get all the fun things about the actual art I did go through with.

As you can tell I shaded this differently from anything in the project. I normally have two different ways of shading art, I don’t think these are the proper words but I call them Soft Shading and Hard Shading. If you need immediate examples, Day 95 was Soft Shaded, and Day 94 was Hard Shaded. Generally speaking I prefer to do Hard Shading, as I think it works better with the rest of my style, and also just looks better in general. Soft Shading is what I do for pics with like, a very specific tone and energy to them that I can’t really put to words. It’s also significantly easier to do compared to Hard Shading. 

A few months back for a commission of Kaede and Marceline from Adventure Time hanging out (yes this is relevant) I was trying to capture a very specific aesthetic that I’m obsessed with called Frutiger Aero. This mostly was in the background, however when lighting the pic I needed a very specific aesthetic that I didn’t know how to capture with just one of my shading styles. So . . . I fuckin did both. And in my opinion (which is crazy because this requires I compliment myself) it looked fuckin great. That said it was significantly harder.

I think I’ve done it only one other time after this, but I don’t remember what the pic was if it exists at all. But obviously as you can see, I decided that to really commemorate the occasion I’d go all out and do both shading styles again. It was very worth it, but fun fact! Doing this style on Roses is a fucking pain in the ass and if I ever have to do it again I will fucking SCREAM!

Anyway, the pic was definitely a lot harder to work on because of that stylistic choice, but the end result makes up for it by a massive margin. 

Hope ya’ll like the dresses because they were the hardest part of this! Fun fact, Val (She’s back!) did a chapter for her legendary Year of Love and Despair fic where the gals are in wedding dresses. And the designs she came up with are amazing! I still really wanna draw em when I get a chance! However! I woulda felt bad if I just yoinked em for this, so I had to do everything in my power to come up with completely different designs. And given that I am a perfectionist, that was significantly more difficult than it probably shoulda been. But I did it! I really like how Mikan’s dress turned out specifically, I thought giving her a fit that covered up more skin than a normal wedding dress would be fitting for her. Also I really like drawing Mikan’s hair in a bun, I never had a chance to say that so I’mma say that now. 

Wow fuck I just realized there’s probably a lot of random details or thought processes I have on this ship that I just never got an opportunity to talk about, either because I had a different topic to cover on previous posts, or I just forgot, or I just didn’t have a good segway! Crazy right? 

Also yes! Shading Junko’s hair was heavenly~

Okay i’ve run out of words on the art. Time to tell you about everything I cut! Now I’m sad to say but no, I didn’t actually cut 22 planned images. I never got far enough to actually figure out each individual pic. Only a small handful, which I almost speedily sketched out for this post, but I don’t have it in me, especially on my current schedule. So i’ll just do my best to describe what I had in mind!

First piece would have been Mukuro being on Security for the Wedding, because of course. She would have also enlisted the help of Mondo and his entire gang, because that combination in this context sounds funny. Don’t worry though they were well behaved.

Ruruka was gonna handle the Wedding Cake, with Teruteru on the rest of the food. Either Ruruka or Mukuro would have been giving him a death glare during the process of course.

Behind the scenes Mikan would be getting prepped for the Wedding. And by prepped I mean Seiko, Ibuki, and Sayaka would be trying very hard to keep Mikan from crying as a result of how happy and overwhelmed she is (Ruining her makeup). Seiko trying to blow air into her eyes to keep them dry while Sayaka and Ibuki desperately try to find an outlet to plug in a hairdryer in because that would be significantly more efficient.

On the reverse, Junko would be doing all of the work on prepping herself for the wedding, with Ruruka, Yasuke and Tsumugi standing in the background, questioning why they’re even there. Junko would yell at them that they’re morale support in this instance. 

Warriors of Hope would of course be there being scamps of course, Kotoko would be the Flower Girl because I play favorites. Toko and Komaru would probably be there trying to keep them in line.

I didn’t have anything in mind with the afterparty but I more than likely would have drawn the drunkest Junko I possibly could. Maybe even Mikan too!

For the Bouquet Throwing I was gonna have Syo jumping at it like a feral animal, and thinking about it now I’d probably also have Tenko jumping for it with killing intent in her eyes.  

And I think that’s it for ideas I had prior to cutting them. Which means it’s time for me to get sappy about the fact that the project is finally ending! Fuck! Usually when I write these I try to have a decent idea ahead of time of what I’m gonna fucking say, this time however I’m just gonna talk, and i’m gonna keep talking until I’m either struck down by nature or I run out of things to say. Sorry! 

This is going to get silly, sappy, and maybe even a little venty, jump in at your own risk. 

If you told me at the beginning of 2024 that I was going to draw 100 days worth of Junkan related art, including a gif and a music video, 2 comics, and also get back into writing to make gay fanfic, I’d be so god damn confused. Because what the fuck right? And that’s not even counting everything I drew AFTER I fuckin finished! Like hold on a minute i’m gonna count up how many times i’ve drawn these two, including the individual comic pages from the three i’ve made.

204.

Fucking, I. I didn’t even know we passed 200 by this point. 

And that’s not counting the sketches I’ve drawn on paper in my sketchbook. It’s also not counting unfinished pics. It ain’t counting the art I might draw WHILE writing this! It’s not counting the stuff I probably forgot about while searching my files cause I suck at naming the aforementioned files!

AND I’M STILL NOT BURNED OUT EITHER?

I got burned out on the project sure but the moment I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted I fucking IMMEDIATELY drew a Junkan pic for Halloween. And then I kept going, and then I didn’t fucking stop, and I don’t think I CAN stop! I don’t even WANT to stop but you’d think by now I’d be like “Well I don’t have any ideas right now-” NO I HAVE TOO FUCKING MANY IDEAS! I KEEP FUCKING THINKING OF MORE IDEAS, AND THEN I COME UP WITH AN AU AND THAT COULD HAVE LIKE 10,000 MORE IDEAS. JUNKAN IS A MENTAL HYDRA YOU DRAW ONE PIC 2 MORE POP UP IN ITS PLACE!

I can draw these pieces in like a few hours if not shorter, because I don’t have to fucking sketch them properly anymore. I feel like I shouldn’t be able to do that! This ship has done unspeakable things to both my mind and body! And i’ve said it before but i’m not trying to complain here, as you’ll see when I start talking about this ship like it saved me from falling into the grand canyon. But it’s just, so, absurd???

Danganronpa is only like my third favorite piece of media behind Bo-bobo and Fairy Tail and yet I’ve drawn more art of JUST THIS SHIP than I have of just general art of those series! That’s not even counting all the other ship art I’ve done! Like Tokomaru! Remember Tokomaru? The ship that is responsible for me being a woman and being able to find the happiness of being my true self? I think i’ve drawn that and Syomaru a combined like, 20 times across my entire life as a DR fan. ALL OF THIS JUNKAN ART SAY FOR LIKE, 5 OF THEM WERE IN ONE YEAR. 

And bare minimum for 2025, assuming I don’t make ANYTHING ELSE OF THEM (Which I will. You know I will.) I’m gonna draw 21 pics for Junkan Week, because you know I’m gonna just draw EVERY prompt from all three lists. And then 30 more for the Month of Junkan (Will try to have that prompt list up soon btw!). So that’s 51 I’m going to do. That’s over half of what I realistically was supposed to do bare minimum for this project. That’s so fucking much, and I’m gonna do it, because I love this ship, and also it sounds REALLY funny if I did that. 

I think genuinely the only other ships I could fucking do this for are like, Toko/Syomaru or Flarelu. Maybe Togachako if I did a reread of MHA to get me back in the spirit for that series. And even then i’m not sure I physically have it in me to go that distance even for those ships. I certainly want to draw a lot of them, especially Flarelu because that’s a ship so rare that it makes Soft Junkan (before I fucking flooded the tag on tumblr) look like a bustling city.

Speaking of tags, I still think about sometimes how like, the Junkan Tag maybe got like, a post like, a few times every month. The normal amount for a ship of this general Rarity. And now it’s like, for so many pages, just half of it is me. Because I was asked to bring something to eat to the function for the buffet table and I fucking crashed a Food Truck through the wall. I feel bad about it sometimes, sometimes. I’m imagining the scenario in my head where someone who likes Junkan but didn’t check the tag super often because it wasn’t like, a super commonly updated one, and then pressing it for the first time in a year and being like “What the fuck happened here?” You know what still shocks me? Not once have I gotten hate for any of this. I was so fucking scared for like half of this projects creation that I was going to get bombarded with people angry at me for shipping this, and NOTHING. I’m not complaining I’m just confused. I have to at least have had a few people block me right? It’s just so eerily quiet. And it’d be one thing if it’s just a thing of like “Why would people who hate Junkan check the Junkan tag” because yeah, that makes sense. But also I’ve been putting at least one Junkan pic in both characters tags every day for 3 fucking months, there had to be at least one Mikan super fan who is eternally fed up with my antics. Like, awesome that I didn’t get harassed over a ship, that actually gives me a little hope that nature is healing, just. Crazy right???

So like. Fuck.

I guess I’ll get to the sappy shit now?? I think I ran out of things to be confused about in terms of what I did this year because of this ship. So I guess I’ll just start talking about how much it means to me, both the ship, and this project. 

(trigger warning, mentions of abuse, nothing super graphic in my opinion but could be mildly uncomfortable. Either skim ahead or stop here)

2024 kinda, fuckin sucked for me to be honest?? I have like 2 good things I can speak for it in terms of major positive points (Obviously I had other good experiences but if I just said “Oh I read a I Love Amy and it was one of the greatest things ever” it lacks the same impact). Not counting getting this project to like, work, obviously.

I finished the 5 chapters of my webcomic that I wanted prepped so I could actually make a website and start posting (ignore how I didn’t make the fuckin website yet). And I started dating my darling Yves and Rivette. Who I cherish deeply. I made other friends this year, a lot of them in part cause of this ship. And I went through a lot of emotional change. 

But to get that change it required I unpack a lot. And by a lot, I mean one bag that was filled to the brim. Gonna try real hard not to like, talk about this in excessive detail or turn this post into some woe is me bullshit, but I feel like I should at least make mention of it.

At the beginning of the year, I asked Yves (who I wasn’t dating yet) about my previous romantic relationship. And she confirmed to me that, based on everything I had told her about it overtime, that yes, it was abusive.

During 2021-2022 I was in a relationship with a girl I won’t name here, you wouldn’t know her of course, it was a completely different community. It started out as friends, I got a crush, jumped at it because I was still inexperienced with feelings, and it didn’t work out. And that’s the simple way of putting it, and that’s how I viewed it till Yves opened my eyes.

From the getgo it wasn’t healthy. She was manipulative, constantly had outbursts towards me, and yanked me around emotionally constantly. I would later find out that she had a previous history of just, generally being an awful person. Even after we broke up we still stuck around each other, mostly because I felt guilty for breaking up with her, and was also just generally terrified of her. The abuse was all mental of course, it was long distance so she couldn’t hurt me physically at all. 

I of course, didn’t process any of that as me being abused, I even viewed myself as being at fault for a lot of it. The experience was so bad that I identified as Aromantic because just convinced I wasn’t able to feel proper romantic feelings for someone. It wasn’t till much later when I got another crush that I realized that I’m Panromantic, and me being Aro (and very briefly Aegoromantic) was basically just a coping mechanism to write off my trauma. I still feel guilty about that since it feels like I devalued the importance of people who do identify on the Aro spectrum, but that isn’t relevant here.

Point is, a lot of bad shit happened to me because of that woman, and even after a year and a half of us not talking because we both mutually decided it would be better for us to not stay in contact, she still found ways to worm her way back into my life. One conversation we had just by chance, to catch up, that’s all it took and I was thinking of her again. I never talked to her after that, and I have her blocked now, but I didn’t need to for shit to hit the fan.

So I asked Yves that question, she answered, and I now suddenly had to deal with the fact that I was abused, and that I was traumatized as a result. And like, I never really viewed myself as a traumatized person up till that point, I viewed myself as someone who wasn’t very smart but tried her best to do good by people who didn’t have too much baggage beyond some sucky school memories.

When I had to unpack what happened that kind of spiraled into severe Self Confidence Issues and even more Self Hate. I struggled to accept even the slightest compliment if it wasn’t directed at my art. The reason I even quit weed is because I used it almost exclusively to suppress all of the negative emotions I felt. 

I’m in a somewhat better place now, I’m trying to give myself more breaks from artwork, rather than overworking myself constantly just to feel something (and being fully open, I realized near the end of december that I pretty much used Overworking as a form of self harm). I’m gonna really try this year to like, actually let people be nice to me, and in turn try to be nicer to myself. And I have goals to work towards for this year. But I wouldn’t have gotten to this point without two things. One, my girlfriend Yves, who even before we started dating helped me through multiple breakdowns and has helped/allowed me to grow into a (I hope) better, healthier person. And even after I got over most of my feelings related to my Ex, has continued to help me cope with my self hatred. I cherish every moment we share and wouldn’t trade her for anything.

And the other thing, which I know will sound silly right after I talked about my girlfriend, is well. Junkan.

Let me say this, I didn’t get into Junkan to cope with my abuse. I have toyed with the notion in my head before and the idea of it pisses me off to a quite frankly irrational degree. I was into Junkan before I realized my issues. If you want my coping mechanism it’s Alex from Minecraft and no I’m not explaining that right now.

That said, it, like all the yuri ships I like, was a source of comfort for me. Originally I read stuff like Tokomaru fics just to help me reduce stress, back when I dealt with really severe anger issues due to the online spaces I occupied. And to this day reading a nice, fluff fic can calm me down a bit. But now they can serve a much deeper sense of comfort, away from all the bullshit, and obviously, gave me a way to distract/calm myself from the storm of negative emotions and memories that filled the brain.

I see myself in Mikan more than I’d like to personally admit, obviously not to the extreme, but in aspects. So it’s just, nice to see a better timeline for her with Junko, ones where she gets to be happy and maybe even heal as well. It just so happens that I also think there’s a lot of genuinely good potential for the ship from either a canon or non-canon perspective, and Junko’s just a really enjoyable character. 

Working on this project helped too. It gave me a way to dive deeper into my love for this ship, and gave me a sense of purpose and validation that helped me work through the rough. Whether it was the really bad mental health days, or just a shit streak of commission work that tore away at me because my job even if I love drawing can be a real drag at times, and i’m unfortunately a workaholic (Trying to work on it though).

I think i’ve said it before but even something simple as Val showing her excitement over the art pieces I was prepping could genuinely brighten my day even while I was at my lowest.

And then when I really started pursuing this as a project, rather than just a secret stash to satiate myself and one other person minimum, I realized I could do something good here. For the people like me who loved this ship but might have been too nervous about expressing it, the people who were just really craving it, and the people who had already made all of the fics and art that sent me into this spiral of obsessive passion in the first place! A gift to all of them, to make ya’ll happy. 

In hindsight, may not like, the healthiest mindset for setting off this whole project. But hey it all kinda circled around into eventually helping my mental health recover. So like, win?

And i’ve already spoken on how Day 60 allowed me to feel a lot more emotionally free as an artist even if I still have my struggle days. I’ve gotten better just in general as an artist as I improve more at stuff like expressions, posing, linework, etc. And I’ve even managed to make friends with some of the people I used to look up to as idols and can finally just view em as normal people now. (Even if I might still be a bit excessive in my praise, I swear I’m normal about ya’ll besties I just don’t have like, a middleground for showing my appreciation and affection for my friends. It’s maxed out unless I’m tired as shit) 

I find myself comedically terrified of how this ship has affected me over the course of 2024, and how it will likely continue to affect me through 2025 even as I try to move onto other projects not related to Junkan. I wanna show off my love for Fairy Tail on my main blog, and I really think that with a full years time and the first five chapters done I really can get my comic off the ground and focus on that for the foreseeable future.

But hey, 2025 at least we got two whole Junkan Events. And with Junkan Week I’d like to keep that going for as long as I can, unless someone else takes the reins way down the line. So this ol’ blog’ll keep going for a good while I imagine, even if it’s a lot smaller. Maybe I’ll find other ways to keep this place active, I’ve considered just making it a one stop shop for all things Junkan though I don’t think I’m really suited to manage that. Maybe someone’ll read this and try there hand at it down the line, maybe someone’ll do their own 100 Days of Junkan! 

Oh hey did I ever tell ya’ll I was gonna make a comedic video just making a guideline for how one could make their own 100 Days Project. It was gonna be like, pretty obvious points just framed in a very exaggerated and comedic tone. 

Alright anything else I should cover? Fun facts? Deep personal anecdotes? Sappy stuff?

Lemme check my files, maybe i got another dumb joke image- 

. . . 

Oh . . . Well there’s somethin.

Alright, don’t get to excited ya’ll, but just for a bit of fun, how about one last day in the project. I know 101 days doesn’t roll of the tongue as well, but I think this is vaguely interesting enough to make up for that! Tune in tomorrow. Same time, same place. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[campgender]

from Mindfucking Mindfully: A Guide To Mental Manipulation For BDSM And Sadomasochism by Sir Ezra Algos (2021)

Informed – Consent to a mindfuck requires that the person consenting is aware of everything to which they have consented. It may be a shock to you that this is a point of contention for many. I hear things like “If I ask permission, it will ruin the surprise.” However, this is not true. There are strategies like spamming and long-term planning which can be employed while still informing your partner completely. Spamming and other strategies are explained in detail in the Section 5 on page 88.

Specific – Consent to be Mindfucked must be specific. For the same reason I receive resistance in the classroom on the point of informed consent, I have received resistance on this point as well. For those that feel like getting specific consent takes away from the potency of a mindfuck, I will recommend you look at Section 5, specifically negotiating a mindfuck on page 88. In the case of a mindfuck, specific consent means not introducing new activities or escalating mid scene if the activity had not already been agreed to.��An example of this would be if you had agreed on degradation play, it is not appropriate to start humiliating them also just because they are often considered similar activities.

Making Negotiation Sexy

A challenge I see many people face comes from the misconception that negotiation cannot be fun and sexy, when it absolutely can! I personally like to be affectionate and thrive on the tension often present in a negotiation. A good negotiation can take time and some people can become frustrated with excitement. Personally, I am always put at ease by the discomfort of others. I like to let my negotiating partner squirm with anticipation and impatience. It drives me to be more thorough and detailed in my process.

It may be appropriate to give the person a taste of what is to come during the negotiation. If you have an elaborate setting for a scene like a dungeon, consider negotiating at the dungeon. If you and your partner are expecting to do an interrogation scene, you can employ an interrogation style negotiation to tantalize them. These all have to be negotiated ahead of time but it could be as simple as, “how do you feel about doing our negotiation in the dungeon space?” You may get a no and I strongly suggest you take it and move on because your partner might feel that the setting is distracting or is concerned about not having their wits about them. 

Negotiating mindfucks can be tricky if you are counting on some or all of it being a surprise. It is essential that negotiation take place before a mindfucking scene and the F.R.I.E.S. acronym states, among other things, that we must get “Specific and Informed consent.” So how do we get specific and informed consent without ruining the surprises we have in store? It is a question that is invariably asked every time I teach this class in person. There are two solutions which can be used individually or in combination. They are long term planning and spamming. Both of these strategies utilize a feature of memory’s limited ability to our advantage.

Long term planning allows you to negotiate far in advance. Everyone's memory is different but in general if you have a lengthy negotiation a few weeks ahead of time, the bottom will be less able to remember what they consented to. This is even more effective when you use a notebook and take notes. This way what they agreed to can be fresh in your mind and distant in theirs. There should, however, be some negotiation right before the event. Even if the negotiation right before is as simple as “how are you feeling about what we agreed to previously?” or “Are you ready to do the scene we discussed before?” Checking in right before a scene is strongly encouraged because you don’t know what head space your partner is in unless you ask. Maybe what you discussed days before sounded great but today is just a bad day. Perhaps there was a near miss in traffic on the way to the location that left them feeling shaken. We cannot know if their headspace or stance on an activity has changed if we don't ask.

Spamming, on the other hand, can be done right before play.  You can get specific & informed consent and cause your partner to be unable to determine what consent they provided was pertinent. They will be likely to forget almost everything you discussed besides the first, last and most bizarre activities. Spamming can look like the following:

●     Can I spank you?

●     Can I flog you?

●     Can I sit on your lap?

●     Can I use the violet want on you?

●     Can I leave you with bruises?

●     Can I use my taser on you?

●     Can I pull your hair?

●     Can I do knife play?

●     Can my friend Michael join us?

●     Can I conduct an interrogation?

●     Can we do chemical play?

●     Are you open to penetration with toys?

●     Are you open to penetration with my penis?

●     Are you open to fluid exchange?

●     Can we do fire play?

●     Are you open to humiliation?

●     Are you open to degradation?

●     Are you open to sacrilege play?

●     Can I spit in your mouth?

●     Will you wear a rubber mask?

●     Can we record this session?

●     Can I slap you with a fish?

(please note many of these questions would require follow up questions but those were not included for brevity)

Now let’s imagine you get a positive response for every question. Are you going to do all those things in one scene? Probably not. Does the bottom have a clear idea of what you plan to do? Likely not. When I wrote this list of questions, I was imagining an electro-torture interrogation scene. Is that what you had pictured when you read the list of questions? Be sure not to ask the important questions first or last since the bottom is most likely to remember the first and last item in a list.

Because the mind is not able to remember everything, it tends to focus on the last thing mentioned in a list. The mind also may focus on the thing that seems to be different from the rest of the items in the list. This way you can get informed consent without leading your partner to knowing exactly what to expect.

It is important to remind you that we must act ethically and with the best interest of our partner in mind at all times. The two previously mentioned strategies, as with most of the content in the book, have the potential to be used in unethical ways. The point of the spamming and long-term planning strategies is not to take advantage of your partner but to provide something that your partner desires, including surprise and mystery.

[gurugirl]

A Balancing Act | Ch. 4*

Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.

Chapter Summary: Harry brings Y/n with him on his European tour but when Y/n decides she needs a break to figure things out Harry is beside himself. He's sure she's going to break up with him but she's sure he doesn't want the same things she does. When they finally talk will they both be on the same page?

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, dom/sub dynamic, angst, DDlg kink,

Word Count: 12.5k

Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)

A Balancing Act Masterlist

A balancing act requires soft poise and harmonious alignment. The joining of differing needs and wants to acquiesce for a perfect, or nearly perfect outcome. One can’t have more than the other. All sides must be used to make a point. The leveling of opinion and decision coupled with the desire to satisfy the ideal effect.

“Put that down. It doesn’t do any good.”

Y/n looked up at Harry who’d placed his palm over her phone to cover her screen. She was trying not to obsess about the pictures of herself. There were so many. And now that she’d been seeing Harry for a few months and was on tour with him in Europe, the gossip abounded. It was wild how quickly everyone learned her name, her age, the fact that she had been married, where her art pieces were showing, and even what kind of car she drove. It was… a lot.

“I know but they’ve caught me in the worst outfit and angle and these comments-“

“Please don’t do that,” Harry spoke as he sat down next to her and slid the phone from her hands, “You’re a knockout. I’ve never once looked at you and thought otherwise. None of that matters. Okay? It’s us. You and me.”

She nodded as he pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head, “I know. But still. I’m just not used to any attention. Not like this.”

“The best thing you can do is to ignore it and don’t look at the articles.”

But of course, that was easier said than done. Going to Europe with him had been a whirlwind. So many fans and friends and his family, day trips, flights, drivers, shopping, studio sessions, meetings, rushing, concerts, flowers, kissing, late-night talking, falling deeper for the man, and sex. There was a lot of sex.

It was stressful. It was fun, though, too. And she enjoyed spending time with Harry in his world but there was very little time for herself in her own world. She didn’t put paint, or ink on canvas the entire time she was with Harry in Europe. She never found the time, even though she had downtime, her inspiration waned. When Harry was in the studio writing, jamming, and making music she didn’t normally go. In fact, after going with him only twice she realized how awkward it was for her to be there. He was working with his band and his team. She was of no use there with him. She felt like she was just in the way. And she didn’t want to be the kind of girlfriend that followed him around like a puppy everywhere.

So she stayed in the hotel or in the villa or wherever they were staying depending on the leg of the trip. She’d venture out to go to cafes by herself, do some shopping, or just to walk around but it became a game of dodging people on the street who started to recognize her. Pictures and videos were taken without her consent. Later she’d see some of the photos in gossip articles and comments saying how she called the paps on herself because why on earth would anyone want a photo of her?

The hate came quickly. The vitriol for a woman that no one knew. Her social media accounts were stalked, screenshots taken and posted on other social media accounts about her and her art and what kind of person she might be based on old posts she’d long forgotten.

One old post on Instagram was of her out on her bachelorette party before she was married. It was a series of six photos. She was wearing something a little bit skimpy, but nothing too crazy. Most of the pictures showed her with a drink in hand, one of her dancing with some man she didn’t know, and the last one was of her the next morning with mangled hair and smeared makeup, a mimosa raised upward, and the words printed over the photo ‘hair of the dog’.

That one got a lot of attention. She was an alcoholic party girl, too fat to be wearing something so revealing, ugly, a slut (for dancing with a man), and the worst insult was “no wonder her ex divorced her”.

Yes, Harry’s fans learned that she had been married. Some knew that her husband had died (she wasn’t sure how they knew). But most assumed she was divorced because she didn’t post publicly about the tragic loss she endured. It was no one’s business, but for people who didn’t know her to make wild assumptions about what had occurred in her marriage was the most hurtful.

But on the other side of that were the fans that simply refused to believe he could be dating Y/n. Many were convinced Harry was either already in a relationship with an ex-band member from his boyband days or it was all for public relations. That her “team” and his “team” were in on something together for publicity. Because that would be the only explanation. Harry would never stoop so low as to date someone like Y/n. Someone who looked like Y/n. Couldn’t be. The Harry “they knew” would never.

Then of course there were those that thought she was simply using Harry’s fame to boost her own popularity in the art world. She was a leech, a sneak, conniving… It all hurt. She wasn’t sure she could stomach much more. And yes, it was true that interest in her art was boosted. Which she really didn’t like because it was more to the fact that “this is a piece of art painted by Harry Style’s girlfriend” rather than a painting that was pleasing to the eye and worth the price tag.

And Harry’s late nights at the studio and after a concert were tiresome. She had been catapulted into this strange reality with a famous man that she felt herself falling for. But how did she fit in with it all? She couldn’t see herself finding her place with him. It all felt very temporary. And the fact that she’d lost the inspiration to create herself was troublesome. The plan was that she could still paint and travel with him and they’d get to be together. She didn’t have to stay home to paint. It was supposed to be easy. But it wasn’t.

But as awful as all that was, she and Harry got closer. He’d arrive late to their bed, crawling over her and wrapping her up in his arms. Normally she’d wake up and nuzzle into him and sigh as they both fell asleep. Sometimes Harry wasn’t ready to go to sleep and he was very persuasive. If he wanted her, well, he had her. She looked forward to, with impatience, having sex with Harry.

Harry had changed her entire view on sex. It was nothing like she’d ever experienced before. Prior to Harry, sex was just sex. It was usually good. Sometimes she’d orgasm. But with Harry, it wasn’t just sex. It was the joining of two separate beings in an act that was vulnerable, exciting, novel, and made Y/n’s heart thrash about in her chest from nerves and thrill. She hadn’t realized how addicted she’d become to what he did. How he handled her body and her mind.

Usually, though, she and Harry had sex during the day. With the sun in the sky, curtains open, and people milling about. She had always been used to nighttime, lights out, on her marital bed sex. Harry liked to have sex anywhere. And he liked to see it all. All of her bits. He’d kiss and praise and then spank her if she tried to hide herself. They had fun together. Sex hadn’t ever been so fun. And she slowly started to see her body in a different light.

After his last show in Paris, she went to his dressing room, like she always did after a show, and he scooped her into his arms and kissed her broadly on the lips in front of everyone. He was hard.

A small gasp fell from her lips as she craned her neck back to look up at him in surprise. He only winked down at her, swiftly turned her around, and placed his hands on her shoulders. He was literally using her body to block his erection from view of his bandmates and the event staff.

When Mitch and Sarah finally made their way to their shared dressing room Harry told his assistant he didn’t need help and dragged her to his big couch after locking the door.

“Need you to take your panties off right now,” Harry spoke as he unbuttoned his pants and kept his eyes on her.

Y/n was wearing a cute maxi dress that was comfy and easy to dance in. She learned that she needed to wear clothes that were comfortable at Harry’s concerts because there was lots of dancing. But she also wanted to look cute because there was never a shortage of photos of her, no matter how much she hated that part. And if she wasn’t dancing she was a fake, a bad girlfriend, a fat blob. Oh, but of course, even if she did dance then that meant she was trying too hard, making herself look ridiculous, and then there was the odd comment about how she was too large to be attempting to dance at all.

She pushed those thoughts down as she lifted the bottom of her dress upward and slid her panties down her legs as Harry pulled a small belt with a ball at the center out of his bag. His pants were undone but his underwear was bulging at the crotch, his cock pressing outward with strain. He stood over her where she was sat on the couch and took her panties from her hands and then motioned for her to turn around, “Face the wall, get on your knees.”

“Harry what are you-“ her words turned into a yelp as he smacked her bottom.

“Do you fucking never learn?” He leaned in and spoke quietly, his voice deep and dark, “You’ll be getting paddled tonight for that mistake. Address me properly.”

Cursing under her breath she squeezed her eyes closed. She didn’t know what it was that didn’t allow her to so easily fall into just calling him Daddy like he wanted. She needed lots of reminders and her bruised bottom was proof of all of her forgetful little moments.

Part of her secretly loved it. Enjoyed the thrill of needing to be corrected and not simply giving in to him all the time.

“Sorry. Daddy. What are you doing?” Her tone clearly sardonic. 

Harry raised his brows and shook his head, ignoring her mouthiness, “I’m going to fuck you against the couch and gag you so no one hears you. Now, turn around pretty girl.”

She pulled herself to her knees and turned so her palms were clutching the leather at the top of the couch and immediately felt Harry’s hands pulling her dress up so her bum was fully exposed and issued another sharp swat to her left side. She jolted in shock before turning to watch Harry behind her.

Harry brought his hands up, her panties in hand, and swiftly pulled the material over her eyes, tying the sides to the back of her head to keep it in place.

“Uh, those are expensive! You’ll stretch them!” She countered as the material hung over her sight.

Harry chuckled darkly and she felt his lips at her ear, “Who bought them for you, baby? I’ll buy you more. Don’t worry about it. Now, keep that mouth open.”

She opened her mouth quickly and felt the silicon ball take its place in her mouth, as he adjusted the buckle to the back of her head. She was unable to see or speak as she was pushed forward, her chest being pressed into the couch. Her bottom was still uncovered and she felt the cool air of the dressing room on her skin as Harry gently caressed her flesh down to where her legs were bent at her knees and over the backs of her calves and ankles before spreading her legs further apart.

“Keep your hands on the wall behind the couch, like this,” Harry moved his palms over her arms until he reached her wrists and pulled her arms out so she kept her hands flat on the wall, causing her back to arch the slightest.

“Good girl. So hot. Unbelievable baby. Daddy’s gonna have a taste now.”

She couldn’t see much or speak at all but she could certainly hear and feel. And the moment Harry’s tongue licked up through her crease her mind shifted into another gear. Harry had eaten her out in this position before. Behind her, his nose at her bum. At first, it gave her a lot of hesitancy, worried she smelled or tasted odd. But he always insisted she was delicious and he could eat her for dinner every night for the rest of his life. His reassurances had her at ease, but it still always gave her pause.

Harry moaned into her pussy as he licked and kissed. His hands were on her ass, spreading her apart as he softly licked, licked, licked… wet and hot from clit to ass, from clit to ass, clit to ass… He spat over her and stuffed two fingers into her cunt and she squealed into the gag, the sound hardly heard in the room. Harry chuffed a laugh at her muffled noises.

Soon she was soppy and achy. Harry noticed how she was pushing herself back into him. That’s where he liked to get her. To the point she was seeking her own pleasure. Where she was so worked up she wanted more.

Harry sat back and stood from the couch and pulled his cock out from his underwear. He pressed his hips into her bottom and brushed his hands over her waist, pushing her dress higher, “Daddy needs his cock milked now. So fucking horny for you, sweet girl.”

She grunted in relief when he pushed into her. It was always a welcome moment. To have his dick inside of her, parting her insides and nudging into her cervix. He was curved in such a way that his wide cock pushed into her front wall on each stroke anytime she was in this position while he was fucking into her.

She kept her hands on the wall as he pounded into her and she steadied herself the best she could but Harry was strong and he always went in with such force that it caused her a good jolt forward on each snap of his hips. Delicious.

When his long fingers wrapped around the front of her neck he squeezed the sides and slowed his plunges, “Wish everyone could hear us. Could hear how filthy your pussy gets when I fuck it. How creamy you are. Wish they could hear how it sounds to have my cock slipping deep into your wet hole.”

Y/n felt her cheeks burn and her head get foggy under the pressure of his fingers on her throat. His thrusts increased again and the couch rocked under them into the paper-thin wall Y/n used to keep herself held up.

A knock at the door and a muffled voice from behind had Harry slowing down but never stopping, “M’busy! Be out in a bit!”

She couldn’t hear whatever was said from behind the door because her ears were ringing. Harry’s cock inside of her gave her tunnel vision. She almost didn’t care if anyone heard at that point. Her body felt so good, her pussy being worked open and split down the middle, her guts rearranged, her ass smacked, throat choked.

“Fans want me out there, but I needed you first didn’t I baby?” Harry’s thrusts were sloppy and harsh as he panted his words, “Daddy wants to fuck his come into you so you’ll be out there with everyone while my sperm drips out of your pussy and down your legs. My dirty little come hole. But that’s what Daddy’s little girl likes, isn’t it? Fuck…” Harry looked down at where he was being gripped by Y/n. Her tight little pussy working its magic on him.

Y/n’s telltale signs were beginning to show. Her thighs were shaking and her back was arching and she was grinding herself onto him each time he’d pull back. She was going to come.

Harry choked out a loud groan into the room, “Fuck! I’m gonna come!”

He reached down to rub her clit just as he began to pour into her pussy. He clenched his teeth and moaned into her ear. With the angle he needed to reach her clit his chest was pressed into her back, his stiff and sharp movements were forceful into her and she felt her own orgasm follow moments later. Thanks to his long fingers that knew just what to do and where to press to get her off.

Drool slid down her chin and to her clavicle as she came. The noise of the couch still creaking under her knees as Harry continued pushing into her increased in sound.

Harry hissed and moaned and kissed the back of her neck as he kept himself stuffed inside of her as she spasmed around him, squeezing his cock of all he had and letting it drain into her. A beautiful symphony of sex in the dressing room.

Harry laughed as he removed the gag and the panties from her face. She had small marks that dug into her skin from the fabric of the panties and the leather of the belt.

“God you’re gorgeous. Gonna go out there with me to meet the fans with my come slipping out of your cunt all night? Hmm?” Harry teased as she straightened her dress out and caught her breath.

And of course, that’s exactly what happened. She walked around and met some fans. Most didn’t know who she was. Some knew her as the girl that had been spending time with Harry. Others joked that she was following him around and that he didn’t want her there.

One pretty young thing, probably still in college, went from having her picture taken with Harry to making a snide remark to Y/n, “I love how you don’t care how you look when you dance.”

To which Y/n replied, “I’m just having fun out there like everyone else,” as she shook her hand (which she hadn’t yet washed after being fucked into oblivion) and felt Harry’s orgasm dripping down her thigh.

There was something so poetic about that moment. The secret that she and Harry shared. The reason why he was 20 minutes late to greeting his fans backstage. And Y/n was the bearer of said secret. Literally, since his come was still inside of her.

And that was just one of many times Harry fucked her in his dressing room. It became a regular thing. He’d gag her to keep her quiet but anyone who stood close enough to the door could hear him moaning and the sounds of skin smacking together and couches rocking. But no one ever said anything. It was Harry’s show after all.

There was one time when they went to an event. The lovely space was packed with people and the table they sat at was mostly Harry’s crew. Jeff and Tom were there and some others. All were people Y/n had gotten to know on some level.

And as per usual, Harry was horny. Y/n had gotten used to his extremely high libido and surprised herself even when she matched him in it. She hadn’t realized she was this way until Harry came along.

She was wearing a custom dress. Nothing like she’d ever had the chance to wear before. She’d worn lovely dresses and her wedding dress, she thought, would have been the nicest article of clothing she’d ever wear. But this dress… this dress was absolutely superior to anything she’d ever laid on her body. She loved it. It fit her so well and flattered her curves and made her feel pretty.

“Want to bend you over this table and spank you so hard right now. Tear this dress off you and make you ride my cock right here at the table,” Harry spoke into her ear as their plates of food were being placed in front of them.

Y/n just smiled and nodded as she listened to him tell her what he wanted to do. That was something she also had started to get used to. He’d do things like this in public and it startled her at first, but after some time she started to enjoy it.

When everyone began eating Harry lowered his hand to her thigh and pulled her dress up. No one could see what he was doing from under the table but Y/n felt it. The material of the dress was slowly lifted until he’d pushed the fabric up enough that he could smooth his palm up between her plush thighs and tickle her pussy with the tips of his fingers.

Y/n let out a gasped laugh and leaned forward before turning to look at Harry in surprise. He only smirked back at her and lifted his brows, “You okay, my dear?”

And Harry usually got his way. If he wanted something he could pretty much always get it. Just like how he wanted her to spread her legs wider so he could have access, she gave it to him. Just like how he wanted to slide two fingers into her cunt, she let him.

To everyone at the table, Harry was holding her thigh. Nothing more. He continued to chat and make jokes as he softly fucked his fingers into Y/n’s pussy.

And the thing about this was that he couldn’t apply much pressure, if any, to her clit, so he fingered her for nearly the entire duration of their dinner. His hand was wet between her legs as he continued slow, meaningful thrusts of his fingers into her.

She was on edge. So absolutely wrecked and worked up that Sarah interrupted the conversation at the table, “Y/n. Are you okay?”

Her chest was rising and falling fast. Harry paused his movements and looked over at his lover and realized, she was indeed a mess. Had barely touched her food when everyone else had just about finished and was panting and sweating. He smiled.

“Oh! Yeah. I… probably should,” she paused to hold back her gasp as Harry pushed his thumb over her clit, “go to the bathroom. Real quick! I’ll be right back!”

Harry was forced to remove his hand from between her thighs and she pushed her skirt down and quickly walked to the hallway where she knew the restrooms were.

Harry excused himself from the table with the excuse to check on her.

Y/n was already rubbing at her clit to make herself come in the stall when Harry barged into the bathroom, “Y/n. Come out, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Her eyes widened and she was quick to walk out of the stall. She needed him badly, “Please, your cock, Daddy,” she said as she lifted her dress and Harry pushed her to lean over the sink and pulled his cock out on her request. He was already hard. Fingering her and feeling her clench around him as she grew wetter and wetter each minute had done him in.

Her panties were ruined. He pushed the drenched material to the side and plunged into her softly as they both moaned, “Rub that pretty little clit for Daddy, baby. Get yourself off.”

It was probably the quickest fuck they’d ever had. Four minutes tops. Y/n was already on fire as her orgasm burst from her core and Harry held her cheeks apart so he could watch his cock, covered in her arousal, slip in and out, in and out until she was coming and shaking and gasping.

White gobs of her come stuck at his base as he continued fucking into her deep and he finally came, filling her to the brim with his come. He pulled out to watch himself drip from her pussy and then pushed himself back in to keep his sperm inside of her where it belonged, “Holy fuck, baby. Your pussy is incredible. Just taking my come like it’s nourishment. Fucking Jesus Christ.”

It felt so good to have Harry inside of her after nearly a half hour of slow, sensual torture with his fingers.

And as they both enjoyed, Y/n dripped of him when they went back to the table to join their friends. No one knew but Harry and Y/n and that was half the fun.

So, yeah, sex with Harry was incredible. Exciting. He never let her feel like she was lacking. He loved using tools on her. Tying her up, clamping her tits and her skin, toys, spanking, spreader bars, cuffs… She’d gotten a taste of what he liked and she loved it all.

And she was pretty sure she loved Harry too. He was the sweetest man. Very attentive and gentle, thoughtful, funny, and honest. But of course, when they were in bed he was dominant and loved to put her in her place but that only added to how much she really liked him. The duality of his nature was exciting to her. And she began to feel more comfortable with her body around him. He never once made her feel bad about her size. He clearly loved every bit of her chub.

So after their whirlwind European trip she was back in Illinois at home and trying to paint while Harry was in LA in the studio working on music and other business endeavors he’d started. They talked every night. She thought the distance would be good for her to focus on her work again but it was like she was blank. Her thoughts were only filled with Harry and what he was doing and the articles with her pictures and comments…

One evening, though, she did have a spark of inspiration. She began sketching out her canvas and mixing colors and finally, after nearly a two-month dry spell, put her brush against the canvas and began to paint. It felt good. She was suddenly struck with the need to create. Hours of building a piece with color and space and lines felt like things had felt before she met Harry.

Her fingers were green and her overalls were splattered and soiled from linseed oil and various hues she’d used on her work when her phone rang. Looking up at the clock she realized it was already 9 pm. Which was the time Harry normally called her every night before he went to the studio (it was 7 pm in LA).

She wiped her hands down her clothes and cursed as she rushed to grab the phone before the call went to voicemail.

It was a Facetime call because of course it was.

“Hello?” She rang out and adjusted the screen so she could see Harry and he could see her. She tried smoothing out her hair and wiping the smudges from her face but there was little she could do to repair her current appearance.

“Hi, baby. I miss you! How are you today?” Harry spoke, his face very close to the phone, and then as he stilled himself and the screen became clear she realized he wasn’t at home. A club perhaps. Maybe someone’s house. Definitely not the studio.

“I’m good. Was just painting a bit. Finally got a spark of creativity tonight. How are you? What are you up to right now?”

Harry sighed and grinned widely, she could tell he seemed a tiny bit tipsy, “I’m at a party and I’ve been telling everyone about you. Wish you were here so you could meet everyone. We’re just chilling, had a couple drinks, then I’m going into the studio in about an hour. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

Y/n nodded and smiled. She wasn’t surprised by any of this. He normally got into the studio late and stayed until 3 or 4 am. He was most creative at that time he told her once.

“Sounds fun. Wish I was there too.”

Just then a young woman nudged into Harry’s shoulder and came in to view on the screen, “Y/n!! It’s you! I’ve heard so much about you!”

She was clearly also tipsy. And just as she was about to respond to the mystery woman she watched as the girl threw her arm over Harry’s shoulder and licked her pink tongue up his neck before kissing it. And it wasn’t just a peck of a kiss. It was quite sensual in fact. As if she were trying to give him a hickey.

Harry laughed and pushed at the girl, prying her arm from him and the girl waved her hand at the video just before moving elsewhere.

“Sorry, Jess is clingy tonight,” Harry smiled and licked his lips.

“Oh is she? Has she been trying to give you a hickey all night then?” Y/n couldn’t help the bit of jealousy that coursed through her. She figured at that point she could trust him. He was a big flirt and she knew this about him. He gave off the wrong impression to people all the time. She’d seen women trying to shoot their shot and he would eventually have them back off but many of them never assumed he was in a relationship. She’d even overhead some women (when she was backstage after concerts) bragging about how they kissed Harry or how they thought they had a shot because he'd been staring at them, which turned out to not be true of course. But it didn’t make the sting feel better.

“No. No, of course not, baby. I wouldn’t let her do that. Only you’re allowed to mark me up.”

“But she’s allowed to lick you and kiss you?”

Harry paused and suddenly the screen was blurry as he appeared to moving through the space to somewhere different.

“Wait, hold on, Y/n.” The screen went dark but she could hear shuffling and some voices until the video showed his handsome face again but now he was outside.

“Please, baby. That was not… she’s been flirting with me a little but it’s all in fun. She’s just a friend. I would never do anything to ruin what you and I have. You know that. God, I wish you were closer so I could tell you in person and see you after the studio. Wake up to you, make love to you…” he trailed off as he spoke but kept his eyes on the screen, his face set in defeat.

“I know how you are, Harry. So I get it. But doing that right in front of me? Kind of tacky. Was she trying to make me jealous? If so, I’d say she’s not a friend.”

Harry groaned and leaned his back to a bench and nodded, “I’ll stay away from Jess. She’s just been finding me all night. I mean, I’ve known her for years so… but you’re right. Sorry.”

Y/n nodded and flattened her lips together. She really hated this. Hated feeling jealous when she figured it wasn’t necessary, hated not being with him, hated how famous he was and how everyone wanted him…

After his call with Y/n, he was careful to dodge Jess. And he hadn’t really been paying much mind to her to be quite honest. Yes, she’d been kind of all over him but he was used to that. Except now he needed to think about his girlfriend and what she might think and how it could be perceived in public. Not that any of the photos from this particular party would come out to the public – it was exclusive and contracts were signed promising privacy and respect of others.

Jess was a friend of Tommy’s and she was often invited to the parties like this and so Harry had gotten to know her over the years. She was always flirty but the question that Y/n brought up was valid. Was Jess trying to make Y/n jealous? It was inappropriate for her to kiss his neck like that when he thought about it with a clear head. Even if he wasn’t on the phone with his girlfriend, that was too intimate of a gesture to be innocent. He couldn’t allow things like that anymore. Not if he wanted to keep Y/n happy. And he didn’t want those kinds of intimate touches from anyone else these days. He missed his girlfriend.

His studio session was productive. He got a lot of writing done and set some vocals down for recording too. But he was still thinking about Y/n. Thinking about how they got off the phone and he’d apologized and she said she was fine but he knew she might not really be. They were too far apart and the distance was a problem. Harry was used to some distance in relationships. It was part of the package that he came with. But he hated it with Y/n more than ever.

He was in love with her. Deeply and madly. In fact many of the songs he started to write after meeting her had something to do with her in one way or another. He couldn’t get her off his mind. He’d dated around and had a couple of serious relationships in the past, but no one left a mark on his heart like Y/n had.

.           .           .

“I’m feeling like I need her with me all the time. But when I offered to fly her out and have her stay here with me in LA she said she thought the distance would be good. I’m going crazy, Pat. I don’t know if she is starting to think about breaking up with me or what. I don’t want her to leave me. But she’s been so aloof lately.”

Pat shifted her leg to cross over her opposite and listened. The man wouldn’t stop talking about Y/n. Every one of their sessions had been dominated by discussions about his new relationship. Harry was sensitive deep down. He had his shit together and he was many times nonchalant about dating and matters of the heart in public, but Pat knew the truth. He was sweet and his heart was delicate.

“Just let her sus everything, Harry. You can’t push her and you know that. She’s probably going through some growing pains with you. You’re uber-famous and everyone loves you and to her, it probably feels like she’s just your girlfriend who gets a lot of mean things printed about her. It’s very likely overwhelming. Maybe she’s trying to get her head on straight and figure out what’s best for her.”

“But what if she learns that she’s better off without me?”

Pat chuckled, “What if she does? Would you still want to force her to be with you?”

Harry sighed deeply and frowned, “I guess I wouldn’t want to make her do anything she didn’t like. But that’s the thing. I know she and I have something special. When we’re together it’s like everything just makes sense. I don’t want her to let all the awful things people make up about her be how she makes her decision. Because what she and I have is incredible.”

“But you’re seeing this from your point of view. Not hers. Give her space if she needs it. Keep open communication but let her decide what she can handle.”

He didn’t like the idea that Y/n would decide he wasn’t worth it. He’d finally found the one he thought was his soulmate. The one he loved and wanted to be with for the rest of time, but now she was stepping back. Putting more space between them than he liked.

And when he offered to come to her she declined that suggestion as well. Stating it would be better to be apart for a bit. Which indicated to Harry she was done or at least considering that idea. But he couldn’t understand it! How could she be done with him? He was so far from done with her. He’d never want to be “done” with her. He wanted to marry her, have babies with her, take her with him everywhere, curl into her body, and let his skin sink into hers for all eternity.

He partly blamed the night he talked to her when Jess made her unfortunate appearance and partly the fans. Harry loved his fans. He enjoyed interacting with them most of the time. He loved the attention and the enthusiasm they gave him. He loved creating for them. But they were the ultimate cock block if there ever was one. Every relationship he’d tried to maintain while being famous had, in the end, been affected deeply by his fans. Social media was brutal as it was, but when fans got ahold of the articles and posted pictures and got “involved” it only led to awful things. Many times social media stirred the pot but the fans kept the lies and the assumptions (conspiracy theories even) flying and going on for longer than it was necessary. But it’s not like he could just drop his fans. They were what his empire was built on. He wouldn’t be doing what he was doing without them. It was all a balancing act.

“I think I’m gonna go see her. Just to talk face-to-face. I can’t go on not knowing what’s really happening and doing it over the phone is not giving me the whole picture.”

“Harry… I think it would be wise to keep her wishes in mind. You are a convincing and charismatic man and so for you to go to her in person could interrupt her rational critique. You could just be doing more harm to the relationship this way. It would be a hindrance more than anything. You might just be prolonging the inevitable and don’t you think it’s better to let things take their course naturally? You don’t always have to make all the moves and sway the outcome. This isn’t a business. This is love and relationship stuff. It doesn’t follow the same rules.”

.           .           .

Y/n had been feeling pretty good. Her mind was clear and her inspiration was at an all-time high. It had been a month since she’d seen Harry in person but they still spoke almost every night. She still loved him. She missed him, but the time apart felt necessary. Felt like she could grasp reality again.

But one thing was certain with the distance. It was that she couldn’t take not seeing him and touching him. She was thriving, but she was beginning to miss him more than she thought she would. Instead of getting easier, it got harder. Her nights would be spent thinking of him, what it would be like living with him, kissing him, marriage, babies… But she wasn’t sure if he was feeling like they were headed in that direction. Because if he didn’t feel like any of that was in their future then the relationship should be stopped. It couldn’t continue to jog along on the same path that it had been. They needed to progress and she needed to know he was committed to her and that he felt the same way. But as it was, their relationship was very good, it just wasn’t the kind of relationship that felt like it could move beyond what it was. She needed to tell him and be honest about what she wanted. Marriage, babies, 100% commitment… But what would happen once she told him all of this? Would he run for the hills? It could very well be the end of them.

.           .           .

She had insisted that he not come to the gallery where her work was displayed. It was in New York City and he begged to come. He told her he would take some time off before the next leg of his tour began. Told her that he had a beautiful spot he always stayed at and she could be with him and he’d take her out to his favorite restaurant in the city… but she said no. And Pat told him to listen to her.

Which was hard for him. Harry didn’t like being told no, and normally, no didn’t matter much (of course depending on the situation). Normally, he’d just go anyway and surprise her and dote on her, and in his mind, she’d be so happy and they’d have amazing sex and things would go back to how they were before she pushed for distance. But that’s not how it went.

Instead, she had a weekend in New York City without him. They spoke every night and she told him everything and he pleaded with her some more to let him come to her but she still said no.

On Sunday when they got off the phone Harry was beside himself. She had been too busy to really talk. She was getting on a flight to go back home so he understood why but that didn’t mean he was okay. He cried. He felt his heart drop and felt her slip away. She didn’t want to see him, she didn’t want his support, and she wouldn’t go to see him either… so what was left?

He’d been good and paying attention to, heeding Pat’s advice. He knew she was right. He knew he couldn’t force her hand in this. But God did it hurt. If only she’d let him visit her she’d see how good they were together. Nothing else mattered.

But he needed to know what she wanted. Because it didn’t feel like she wanted the same thing. They needed to talk, face-to-face, and he needed her to be direct. To rip off the band-aid once and for all. Then he could begin to heal and try to get over her.

When she called him the following day it was unexpected because it was much earlier than they usually had their calls and it was just a call, not a Facetime chat.

“Hi. How are you?”

Harry had had a lump in his throat for the last few days with his thoughts about her. About how she was going to end it. About how she didn’t really want to put in the effort to be with him. That he wasn’t worth it. That his fame and his fans were too much.

“I’m good. You’re calling a bit early. What’s going on?”

“I just had some really good news! A curator bought ten of my paintings and will be hosting an exhibit at David Kordansky and I’ve been invited to go as a guest of honor of sorts, amongst the other artists! It’s going to be all these big names. Oh my god, I’m so excited!”

Harry smiled widely, “Baby, I’m so proud of you. When is the exhibit?”

“It’s next weekend! And you know David Kordansky, right?”

“Uh… no. Sorry. Should I?”

Y/n giggled into the phone, “Oh… it’s just one of the biggest and most popular galleries in Los Angeles.”

Harry’s eyes went wide, “Here? You’re coming here?”

“Yes! God, I’m so excited! You’re the first person I’ve told and I just got the news right before calling you. So, I’m still processing it all. But yeah! And a bonus is that maybe you can come! If you want. If you can!”

“Absolutely. I’ll tell everyone I’m booked next weekend. Spending it with my girl.”

She sighed into the receiver with a big grin on her face, “I can’t wait to see you, Harry.”

.           .           .

Y/n was properly nervous. She had been trying to keep her distance from Harry but it had sort of backfired. She wanted to feel out the situation without his influencing nature and his hot body, and those pink lips pecking at her, his deep voice luring her to see it his way. The longer she was away the more she realized that she could barely breathe without him. She was so far gone for the guy that the distance only made her ache. Yes, she got a bit of her creative spark back, but she felt like that was more of an internal issue than it was to do with Harry.

But her nerves weren’t because she was going to see him after over a month. The nerves were because she needed to confront him with her real feelings and find out if he was on the same page. She had to know once and for all what he wanted. And if any of her ideas of where the relationship should head weren’t on Harry’s radar, well, it had to be over. They couldn’t continue like they were. It was perpetual limbo. Purgatory. She loved him and if she were younger with more time to spare she’d enjoy traveling with Harry and just having fun without expectation of where their final destination would land them. But as it was, she wanted to start having babies in the next few years. And if Harry didn’t then she’d need to start over and begin dating around. And that takes time. So she needed to get a move on. Find someone that wanted the same things she did. If that wasn’t Harry.

She had planned for the worst. All the scenarios in her mind led to them breaking up. She couldn’t imagine that Harry would be willing to settle down with her. He had the whole world at his fingertips. And she was just a girl from the Midwest. She really didn’t imagine that they had much more left to pick at. The pages stopped turning. The well had run dry. It was fun while it lasted.

Harry had his driver take him to the airport to pick her up. She told Harry she could just take a taxi but he didn’t want to miss a single moment with her. Wanted to see her the second she arrived in LA. And he was there. Waiting for her just as he said he would.

He scooped her into his arms and felt tears prick at his eyes, “Oh my god. Y/n… I missed you so much.”

She felt her heart swell and lurch with his arms around her and his lips on her forehead. Right in front of everyone in the airport. Photos were snapped and Harry didn’t care. He looked down at her and she noticed his eyes were glossy, “Harry…” she thumbed at his cheek, “Are you okay?”

Harry sniffed and the tip of his nose was red as he nodded, “I am now.”

She’d been to his house before they went away to Europe. They spent two days having sex and just staying in enjoying one another. Those two days were her favorite memories with Harry. Not that she hadn’t absolutely enjoyed everything else they’d done together and where they spent their time but there was something really special about being in his lovely home doing nothing with him and eating some of the best food she’d ever had (a combination of Harry’s cooking, delivery from some of the best restaurants in LA, and leftovers from a fancy catered party that Harry skipped but had requested two large bags full of yummies dropped off for them).

And the moment Harry had her in his house this time around, they were tearing clothes off and making love on his big bed. Harry didn’t bother with the clamps or ties or the belt this time. He just wanted her. Wanted to show her himself and how much he loved her. In fact, he planned on telling her he loved her soon. He needed her to know how he felt.

And the irony of it all was that Y/n was thinking the same thing. She wanted to tell him how she felt. He needed to know the truth and she needed to know where he stood. But they were both hesitating and it didn’t come out quite the way they intended.

“I think we should talk a little, Harry. I’ve had something on my mind for a bit. It’s… kind of important.”

They were both still naked lying on his bed when she blurted it out. Harry felt his stomach drop. He’d been constantly on edge that she was going to break up with him and he didn’t know if his heart could handle it.

So instead of talking he sat up quickly and got off the bed, “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s talk. Um, I need to take a shower first… and then uh… we can talk. Yeah.”

Harry cried in the shower. Preparing himself for the worst. Trying to get his emotions out and let his body soak in the warm water and calming scent of his shampoo. He was a mess. And he assumed it was over.

And to Y/n, him hopping out of bed like that and running off when she said they should talk, that move was his answer. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to hear her truth. He had no intention of being committed or serious with her. He only wanted sex and fun. And that was great, but she was closing in on 30 and it was time to settle down and find love. And it was clear to her now, that Harry didn’t want that. Or at least not in the way she did.

She paced in his bedroom for a bit after dressing herself but when he was still showering, twenty minutes later she went downstairs and paced in his living room. She saw a bouquet of flowers near the front door at the table with a card in it and she automatically plucked the card out to read. It hadn’t occurred to her that she would be reading anything that could upset her. But she was caught off guard by the message.

“Let’s get dinner tonight, H. I miss you endlessly. Love – O”

She flipped the card over and there was nothing on the back except the name of the florist. No date anywhere. She didn’t know when these were delivered or if he’d had dinner with his ex. Her heart sank and her stomach felt heavy.

She slowly made her way back up the stairs and realized the shower was off. Harry was done. She found him standing on his balcony looking out over his garden. He hadn’t even bothered to find her. To see what she wanted to talk about that she said was important. He clearly didn’t care.

He took a 35-minute shower and then went out to chill on his balcony.

She considered just leaving without a word. Just calling an Uber and leaving for good. Getting a hotel room and forgetting about it all.

But now she was pissed.

She opened the balcony door and Harry was startled when he heard her approaching.

She laughed as she shook her head, “Forget I was even here huh?”

Harry scrunched his brows and shook his head but before he could respond she continued, “That’s okay. I get it. You and I aren’t on the same page. You’re having fun and you’re free and getting invited out to dinner with your ex, and-“

“Wait! What? I don’t-“

Y/n put her hand up, “You heard me. It’s okay. We never made any sort of promises or real commitments. Never said we’d wind up married or together in the end. You’re at your best and you deserve fame and fun and freedom. I’m only holding you back.”

Harry put his hands on her shoulders and shook his head, “No. Y/n… this was what I was worried about that you were-”

“That I want a real relationship? I’m almost 30. I can’t be playing around and traveling the world when I don’t know what you even want. And you just made it clear how disinterested in my concerns you really are-“

“Y/n. Please. What are you-“

“Stop. All you do is tell me what I should think and what I should do. You’re too… you pressure me to see things your way and you never listen. So now you listen to me.” She swallowed to gain her composure and looked up at him squarely so he understood how serious she was, “I can see now clearly, you have no interest in making a family with me. In being with me. You’re just having some fun. And that’s okay. But our fun has come to an end. I can’t go on like this anymore. I need to find someone who wants what I want. Someone who isn’t stuck on their ex and someone who will tell the whole world about me and not pretend that I’m just someone you hang out with.”

Harry shifted on his feet. He hadn’t expected this. In all the scenarios he ran in his mind she was breaking up with him and she didn’t want to be with him and he wasn’t worth it. But she was saying she wanted commitment. He smiled and opened his mouth but Y/n scoffed.

“See? You’re not even taking this seriously! Here I am telling you I’m breaking up with you and you’re smiling! You couldn’t give a shit!”

Harry’s smile fell from his face, “No I was… You’re breaking up with me? Y/n please-“

She pushed him off of her and backed away, “Go and enjoy dinner with Olivia or whoever. I’m out of here.”

Harry ran after her, “No! You can’t leave me! Please that’s not what happened. I didn’t even see her. And if you’d just listen-“

Y/n stomped her foot and turned to face the tall man. She pointed her finger at this chest, “I’m done listening. We’re done. You broke my heart.”

Harry shook his head and followed behind Y/n the whole way to the front door, pleading with her to stop so they could talk but she continued to cut him off.

“Stop! You don’t get to push me into making a decision anymore. It’s over.”

She gathered up her bags and shakily pulled her phone out to bring up her Uber app to call for a car. She was thankful all of her bags were still near the front door.

She rushed out of the house and Harry felt like he was going mad. She wouldn’t let him talk and explain and tell her that he wanted what she wanted. Every time his mouth opened she yelled for him to stop. Screamed even. Had he been so insufferable that this was how she reacted to him?

So he watched with tears in his eyes and his heart in his hands as she loaded her things into the Uber and left him standing at his gate.

He didn’t know what he would do. What could he do? He needed to let her cool off and then he’d go to her and have a conversation. He’d make her see that they’d been on the same page all along.

He called Mitch to get advice.

Mitch asked him why he hadn’t called Pat instead but Harry insisted his best friend would give him the best and most brutal advice, while also supporting him and wishing him luck. Which is actually what happened.

“Go and surprise her at the gallery. Do something ridiculously dramatic and then declare your love for her to everyone in the room. Something like that. I don’t know man. I think you two will work it out. You’re so good together. I think she just needed some time, ya know.”

Harry sighed, “Pat’s going to hate that. But I’ve got to do it, though, right? Do something absolutely nuts to get her to listen to me.”

.           .           .

Y/n had the worst, absolutely the most horrible, awful evening. She bawled her eyes out and barely slept. Harry hadn’t even tried reaching out to her. Not that she really wanted that. She half expected it. But it only solidified everything to her. She imagined he probably slept like a baby.

The following day was the exhibit. She was not prepared. Not mentally anyway. Her tears had barely dried by the time she was entering the gallery. She put on a happy face and forced herself to talk and smile. But she only felt the dread of what had happened the day before.

The curator greeted her, bringing a glass of champagne for her to sip, “I’m amazed by your work. I think your collection fits in so nicely here. But you know I’m holding on to all your pieces until one day someone offers me a million each for them,” he laughed and Y/n smiled. She doubted that would ever happen.

The evening should have been amazing. She was meant to have Harry with her and it was supposed to be a big night for her. Something that could potentially change the trajectory of her career. But Y/n wasn’t happy. Her exciting moment was clouded by thoughts of Harry and how she loved him but now it was over.

Through the doorway opposite the entrance was a small bar area. Guests could go get their drinks and then head back into the gallery. But there were a few bar tables and some stools. Y/n had been eyeing it all night. A moment to get away and sit by herself for a while.

The room was darker and quieter, even though it was open to the main gallery. The small high-top tables had four tall, cushioned stools around each. The only person in the bar was the bartender.

“Hi. Can I have a glass of chardonnay?” Y/n leaned into the bar and her eyes settled over the array of colorful bottles lined up behind the young lady who stood at the bar.

The young woman smiled, “Sure. Anything in particular? Would you like to see what I’ve got?”

“Not really. This is going to sound so bad, but just the cheapest one.”

Y/n dug into her small clutch to pull out her phone card and then waited as the young lady poured a glass of Y/n’s cheap glass of wine.

“Your art is excellent. I’m a big fan.” The woman looked over her shoulder as she plumbed the top of the bottle with the cork and placed it back into the small fridge below the counter.

“You know my work?” It was not expected. She didn’t think the bartender would know the artists by their faces alone.

“Yes! Of course. I usually get to know who the artists are that have their pieces here. Yours is outstanding.”

She felt her face get warm from the odd feeling she always got when someone loved her work and recognized her. She still hadn’t gotten used to that feeling yet but she enjoyed it nonetheless.

When she took the glass she thanked the lady for the wine, “And, thank you for the kind words too. That means a lot to me.”

She took a deep breath and sipped her wine in the empty space as she attempted to let her bad mood dissolve. She knew it was impossible to let it go completely. Her wound was so fresh. She’d just gotten her heart broken and that would take some time to grapple with. But she knew she could be okay because she’d dealt with and come through the worst kind of tragic loss anyone can imagine. Losing Robert devastated her. For a very long time. She’d only gotten to a place where she felt she was ready to find love again. And her short time with Harry was nothing in comparison to what she’d suffered. So yeah, she’d been through far worse. She’d be okay.

The music that played in the small space was slow and the tune sounded a lot like an old Foo Fighters song. But it was all instrumental and she couldn’t be sure. She pulled out her cell phone and decided to text her sister. Catch up a bit. Feel something sweet and nostalgic to get her mind off of her sorrows.

She smiled when her sister texted back with a picture of the kids.

She looked up and paused to listen closely to the music playing again. Yeah. It was an instrumental version - definitely Foo Fighters. Everlong. That was the song! She snapped her fingers and smiled again as he looked back at the picture of her nieces.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Y/n. This is for you.” The bartender laid an envelope down on the table. It had her name written on it.

This felt very reminiscent of-

She looked around the room and out into the gallery, where people fitted in lovely outfits and amazing hairstyles milled about, in search of the one person that might have had something to do with this.

She looked back down at the envelope and toward the young lady who had already gone back behind the bar, “Who gave this to you?” She was hesitant to open it.

“Ms. Adams. The gallery’s director. She said it was from a very special guest.”

A very special guest.

She wasted no more time in ripping the top of the envelope open knowing already who it was from.

She braced herself for what she might read on the folded paper inside. Her heart walloped in her chest and she felt her throat go dry as she carefully pulled the paper out and unfolded it.

I’m sorry for the way things happened yesterday. I wanted to tell you so much more. I need you in my life, Y/n. Take a drink in the director’s office with me? Please? - H

She swallowed thickly and placed the paper down on the lacquered wood. The words stared up at her. Very reminiscent of that night. Their first night together.

She decided to take a moment. Finish her glass of wine and find her resolve. She’d see him. Because of course, she would. She’d fallen for the guy and perhaps closure would be good. For both of them. She tried not to get her hopes up.

But even with the idea that she wouldn’t get her hopes up, from the very base of her spine, small bursts of hope began spreading over her back, warming her up and causing the edge of her lip to flick upward the tiniest bit.

She had to stop. She couldn’t allow the butterflies and the warmth to cover her chest. This wasn’t an olive branch. This wasn’t hope. But that was what her body was feeling, the way it reacted after reading his words.

Stop.

She read the note again and the right side of her mouth quirked but she stifled the smile that tried breaking out over her features.

“Uh, hi!” She scooted off her stool and waved at the bartender, “Do you know where the director’s office is by chance?” The young woman smiled, “Follow me, Ms. Y/n.”

Y/n followed behind the young woman to a doorway at the far end of the room and into a hallway. Framed prints were hung along the wall and the floor was dark wood while the walls were a light cream. A few doors were passed, the bathrooms, a numbered room, until finally, they reached the director’s office.

The woman knocked before turning the knob to open the door and stood back, “Here you are.” She gestured at the open door.

“Thank you.” Y/n wavered in her movements wondering if this was the right thing. Should she entertain this idea? Of course, she was going to entertain this idea, but part of her wanted to keep her tough exterior and remain firm in her decision.

Slowly pushing the door further open, she stepped into the threshold and was met with a quaint office-sized room. The same dark wood floors sprawled below her feet, but the very first thing her eyes landed on was that of Harry holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a soft smile.  

She closed the door behind her and stepped in a couple of feet. He was in a well-fitted navy suit and he looked tired. But he was handsome.

The thought quickly hit her. How did he get in here? Who let him use the director’s office? But then, as he ran his ringed fingers through his hair and she saw remnants of chipped nail polish she was reminded of who he was. Not just her lover or her ex. But he was Harry. Everyone knew him or knew of him. Of course, he was allowed in the director’s office.

“Hi, Y/n,” Harry spoke reticently as he held out the bouquet to her.

He wasn’t sure she’d come to him or that she’d want to even talk to him. And he thought about making a grand gesture. Take over the audio system and declare his love publicly before everyone as he walked out into the crowd toward her. Make a scene. Make her listen. Have everyone rooting for them. Rooting for him.

But that wasn’t right. That would have been too pushy. Not fair. This night was about her. If he’d gone about it the way he wanted it would have had all eyes on him.

He knew, though, that he needed to be here with her. To tell her how he really felt and what he wanted and then if she still wanted that with him, still wanted to be with him, they could end the night the way it was meant to be ended. Together.

“Hi, Harry,” Y/n spoke softly, keeping her eyes on his eyes as she took the lovely bouquet full of pink peonies and soft cream roses.

Harry gestured toward the brown Midcentury style couch, “Will you sit with me? I won’t take up much of your time if you don’t want. I just wanted to say some things.”

The couch was large enough for just two people. Harry was glad she had to sit so close to him. He wanted to eat her up she looked so pretty and so sweet. And just the fact that she’d come to him to entertain a conversation had him soaring.

Placing the bouquet down on the glass coffee table, Y/n noticed the bottle of wine and two glasses as he pointed, “Would you like a glass?”

Nodding her head, Harry pulled the cork out and poured her a bit of the red wine. She felt like she should say no just for the fact that she’d only just finished a glass of white wine and surely it would make the red wine taste odd. But ultimately she figured she could use another glass of wine.

“Yesterday I was working up the courage to tell you how I want to be with you for good,” Harry said as he leaned his back into the cushion behind him with his own glass of wine, “Wanted to tell you how serious I am about you. But I thought you were planning on breaking up with me so I needed a minute to figure out how I was going to convince you to stay.”

Y/n’s eyes bounced over his features as she cinched her brows inward. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had he wanted the same thing she did the whole time?

“And I’m so sorry that it seemed to you like I was putting off a serious conversation with you. That’s my fault. I should have stayed there with you in bed and listened to you right off. Even if it meant potentially having you break up with me,” he licked his lips and sighed, “Instead, I did what I normally do and tried and figure out a way to make something work in my favor. So I paused that moment hoping you’d change your mind, or that I could come up with something. Prolonging it for the sake of just holding on to you a little longer.

“It’s because I’m selfish and I like to control the narrative. But that’s never been fair to you. So, I understand if my apology is no good anymore. I just felt like maybe I can tell you what was really happening in my head yesterday. Because that part, you did have wrong.”

Y/n blinked her eyes and nodded, “Well, then… I guess I’m sorry too. Because it sounds like I might have jumped to conclusions. I just didn’t think you’d want something serious. Long term. But there’s more to it than just that you know?”

Harry frowned and shook his head, “What do you mean?”

Y/n could see how timid Harry had been since the moment she walked into the room with him. She felt the need to help assuage him so she turned her body toward his and pulled his hands into hers before speaking, “I mean that I’m getting older and I think it’s time for me to really settle down. For good. I mean…” she breathed out a nervous laugh, “like, babies, marriage… death. All that. That’s what I mean.”

Harry nodded and raised his brows, “Yeah?”

Y/n grinned as Harry’s thumbs ran along the sides of her hands. The corner of his mouth pulled upward. She could see his swagger return in almost an instant. His eye contact was solid and his dimples carved into his cheeks.

“Well, yeah,” she started to feel flustered by his proximity, the way she could see his pupils roaming over her face and watching her mouth, “I’m not saying we need to get married but like,” she swallowed, “I’d like for us to be serious enough to know that we’d be headed that direction if things are good. And I know you’re super famous and that’s why yesterday I just…”

“I want to be with you. I want it all with you.” Harry bowed his head, finally breaking eye contact and his hands tightened around hers, “I thought you were done with me. I thought you were going to break up with me and that I wasn’t going to be worth all the trouble for you. Because I know this is a lot.”

“No. I just thought you wouldn’t want what I wanted and the way you reacted to me telling you I wanted to talk and how you didn’t come to find me after you were done showering… I felt like you were trying to figure out the best way to break it to me- either that or you were trying to avoid me. I just… Thought the worst.”

She couldn’t have described the way her insides were pulsing and expanding and churning. She’d spent the better half of the day reeling over losing him. Over knowing she might not get to look into his eyes in this way again. Might not see the small freckles on his face again and the way he blushed despite being so sure of himself. But here she was sitting with Harry and in under three minutes everything had changed. If she had just listened yesterday. If he had just listened.

“But so did I. That’s why we’re in this mess. I thought you were breaking up with me and so my behavior made you think the worst.”

Y/n smiled and allowed herself to indulge in his eyes and in the grin he was holding back and the way his fingers felt on hers… Was she just dreaming? Was she just about to wake up and realize it had all been a dream?

“Is it okay if I… ?” He pulled at her gently and slowly wrapped his arms around her and she smelled his familiar cologne. She loved how this felt. Hugging him. Feeling his solid body against hers. She eased into his hold and wrapped her own arms around him.

Harry whispered into her ear, “I should have told you everything yesterday. Let you talk and then we wouldn’t have gotten in this mess. It’s me and you, Y/n. Okay? Me and you. That’s what I want.”

Tears of relief and elated joy broke from her waterline and Harry pulled her in tighter, kissing her temple, “I thought you were done with me. I thought you wanted to break up with me,” the anguish in his voice was not missed. He’d been hurting too.

Harry brushed his palm up and down on her back slowly and pressed his lips to the top of her head, “God I was so worried this was it for us. Fuck. I’m not letting you leave me again like you did. I can’t be away from you like that, Y/n.”

Pulling her head back to look up at him she did see the glisten in his eyes from the start of tears. She knew hers matched. It all felt like a dream. But just in case it was real she needed to speak the words. Sliding her hands upward and cupping his face she was nearly trembling from relief and excitement, “I love you, Harry.”

Harry closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into hers, clutching her lovely dress tightly, “God, I love you, Y/n.”

.           .           .

Stepping into the gallery with all the other people in the room and having Harry by her side felt surreal. Everyone was watching them. She was okay to share this night with him. There was no way around it that people wouldn’t be interested in her because of her boyfriend. She figured that would be something she’d just have to get used to.

Harry squeezed her hand tight and she looked up at him. He looked proud. So important with a big, pleased smile on his lips as he looked down at her.

“You realize you’re coming back home with me after this. Right? And I’m never letting you leave me again.”

Harry had grown a lot as an individual. He still had moments where he could be pushy and use his charm to get the things he wanted, but he figured some things just couldn’t be totally trained out of him. He allowed Y/n to make her own choices. He gave her space when she needed but she came back to him in the end. He wanted her to be his and everything they’d done that had gotten them to where they were currently had worked out. So Harry had no regrets about coming to her on this night.

“Of course, I’m coming home with you. I’d be offended if you assumed otherwise,” she smirked happily. “And I wouldn’t dream of leaving you again.”

Harry couldn’t wait to get her home and make love to her. Seal it all together in finality. He knew that tonight was just the beginning for them.

And as if they could both read one another’s minds they smiled and paused together in time. Everything had finally come together for them. At last.

A/N: This is the last part of this series! Would love your feedback!

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[mumms-the-word]

A Crow's Work is Never Done

Characters: Lucanis Dellamorte x Rook (Phyrra Mercar) Summary: Post-DATV, Lucanis and Rook attend a masked ball together. But Lucanis has some business he needs to take care of first before he can have any fun. Spite thinks he should just dance with Rook instead. A/N: This is kind of a spiritual successor/sequel to @cheerysmores' fic Unfinished Business (with a hint of vibes pulled from her excellent smut Yours. Mine. Ours. too!) so definitely check those out!! Friend, I hope I have done your Rook and Lucanis (and Spite!!) justice! Happy birthday!!

It had been some time since Lucanis attended a masked ball. He didn’t frequent Orlais much and Antiva had its own brand of extravagance that rarely required—or even desired— the anonymity of masks. The goal of a typical Antivan gala was to be seen and recognized. Be seen talking with the right (or sometimes wrong) people, be seen flaunting the latest fashions, be seen holding the finest glass of wine, be seen disappearing for a tryst that could entail anything from romance to business to murder. You had to be seen before you could be missed.

But Antiva had their masked events, too. A sense of carnivale was always the order of the day, a time of festive chaos where identities could be hidden for a few hours simply for the sake of shaking things up and keeping things interesting. While the Orlesians loved their masks, Antivans loved their theatre. The irony of the long-nosed trickster Zanni linking arms with the straight-laced Capitano braggart was part of the fun. If one didn’t see a gold-tressed Andraste (her hair always a wig) slipping away with an elegant Shartan (his elven ears sometimes fake) then it was a waste of a good masque. For a few short hours, you could become someone else for a change, acting the role of your new persona with all the zealous enthusiasm Antiva was known for.

Events like these were where the Crows thrived. Any given crowd of bird-masked figures could be hiding a genuine Crow in their midst. That, too, was part of the excitement. The man on your arm could be a wealthy merchant in a black-feathered mask, or he could be a sinister assassin, there to kill you. Do you risk the dance, the drink, the tryst? Are you any safer in the arms of a person dressed intentionally like a Crow? The only way to know was to take the chance.

Antivans did love a gamble.

It was no different tonight at this gala. Lucanis watched guests mingle, dance, and drink from his spot on a balcony overseeing the main ballroom. Though he had entered this villa as a guest, he was more comfortable watching from a distance, preferably somewhere up high and out of sight. Not so tonight. Tonight he needed to be seen…at least for a moment.

He adjusted the mask on his face, a black half-mask with a sharp beak curving down over his nose, a crown of eight blue-black feathers lining the edge. The Mask of the First House. It gave away his identity immediately—only one Crow family was ever allowed to wear this mask—but only to those in the know. Unfortunately for him, “those in the know” probably made up half of this crowd.

Treviso had too many Crows.

And this party had too many guests. Lucanis tapped his fingers idly on the railing of the balcony, conscious of every eye that swept up and over to look at him. It went against all his training to stand there out in the open, rather than slinking through the shadows. This was Illario’s realm, the kind of atmosphere his cousin had always thrived in, flirting and sweet-talking his way through crowds of men and women alike. In fact it wasn’t all that long ago that Lucanis watched from the roof as Illario navigated a Tevinter party to seduce some keys off a guard captain. That was before Zara, though. Before Spite.

Before Phyrra.

Where is she? Spite hissed in his ear. Lucanis cast a side-eyed look at the purple figure that materialized next to him. Spite walked restlessly along the edge of the balcony, keeping behind the banister as if it were a cage. He leaned over to look down at the ballroom below, as if Phyrra might be tucked directly underneath them, and then straightened again. Where?

“I left her with Teia and Viago,” Lucanis said. “They’ll keep her busy in another room while we work.” Or so they promised. Phyrra might have other ideas.

Work. Disdain and disgust dripped from the word when Spite said it. You said we could dance with Rook!

“And we will,” he said. “After the work is done.”

He looked across at another balcony directly opposite his, where a familiar dark-clad figure stood, half-obscured by a curtain. Their gazes locked across the space, an understanding born of years of work and training together crossing the distance easily and silently. Lucanis gave a single nod and the figure disappeared.

Him again, Spite spat. I want—

“No.”

Spite growled and paced again, but to Lucanis’ surprise, didn’t argue. The two of them could be of one mind about Phyrra, but Illario would always have them at odds. Lucanis was trying to keep forgiveness and redemption as an open option, no matter how much anger simmered beneath the surface whenever he thought of Illario’s betrayals. His opinion of Illario shifted by the moment, tangled up with years of memories and fresh hurts. Spite was much simpler. He saw Illario, and simply wanted blood.

Lucanis couldn’t blame him. Some days he was even jealous that Spite could be so direct with his feelings.

It wasn’t as though he wanted to work with his cousin. But ever since Illario had delivered that rogue Crow to his cellar and presented him with that serrated blade, the same one that had marred Phyrra’s back in an attack that never should have happened, Lucanis had agreed begrudgingly to let him assist in tracing the contract back from one piss-poor assassin to whatever mastermind was behind the contract. A single Crow could be dealt with easily, but a contract was forever, until the mark was dead.

Or until the contract itself was destroyed.

Next to him, Spite stiffened and then leaned over the banister again, craning his neck out toward the ballroom floor like a bloodhound on alert.

Rook!

Lucanis couldn’t help himself. He followed Spite’s gaze down among the crowd of masked guests, a churning sea of color and movement. His eyes fell on her immediately.

She looked stunning, her dark dress hugging every curve of her body, every line of her form sensual and lush. He’d loved that dress the moment she had put it on, back at the Dellamorte estate, loved the feel of it beneath his palm as he escorted her out of the carriage and into the ball with his hand at her waist, loved the thought of pulling it slowly and patiently from her body when they returned back to their room tonight. The fabric of the dress was a black, slightly iridescent material, the light of the candles and magelights reflecting subtle shades of blue, green, and pink like oil on dark water. The darker tones brought out the porcelain softness of her pale skin, while the occasional flash of rainbow made her magenta hair seem as natural as her perfect, ready smile.

She was, in a word, breathtaking.

She had always looked good in night tones—darkened sapphire and velvet black, midnight blue and rich indigo. Lucanis had once joked that she was made for a Crow’s color palette, that perhaps she ought to think about a change in factions, and she had laughed and said her hair would always give her away.

None of you are quite so colorful as me, she’d said, fluffing her pink curls.

It had made Lucanis smile. She always made him smile. And that is why I love you.

She wore a feathered mask of her own tonight. A gift from House Dellamorte, from Catarina herself, a more delicate replica of the Mask of the First House to match his. Every Crow here would recognize what it meant, and the power it gave her. Even if any of them dared to strike, they wouldn’t be able to plead ignorance.

She was a Dellamorte in all but name and she had entered on the arm of the First Talon. Anyone foolish enough to strike against her would find their names on a contract within moments, with all the might of House Dellamorte and its allies bearing down upon them. It should have guaranteed her safety, but instead…

Lucanis glanced back at the balcony where Illario had given him the signal. Clearly, despite all the ample warning his and Phyrra’s attire and appearance had given their audience, some fool was bold enough to make a move anyway. And now said fool was caught in a trap.

It would be rude to keep them waiting much longer.

Spite interrupted his thoughts with a strange sound, something between an irritated growl and a forlorn whine. She. Is. Looking!

Lucanis glanced down, heart in his throat, but Phyrra hadn’t seen him yet. She was enjoying a glass of wine with Teia and Viago, standing in one corner near the refreshment tables, but her eyes were not idle. She scanned the crowd, curious, but with a hint of disappointment. Looking for him, without a doubt.

He had disappeared from her side a few moments earlier with an excuse, one that only gave him twenty minutes of leeway at best. But Phyrra was sharp and at times wonderfully unpredictable. Those traits had served her well during their fight against the ancient elven gods. It could spell disaster tonight.

When her gaze swept up to the balconies, he stepped back, into the shadows. Spite, unseen by anyone but him, stayed by the railing, curling his fingers into the polished wood.

Us! She wants us!

“I’m aware. Come,” Lucanis said, needlessly because Spite couldn’t exactly get left behind. “The sooner we find out who this mastermind of ours is, the sooner we can return to Rook.”

The thought seemed to invigorate Spite. His sudden shift in excitement crashed through Lucanis’s mind like a gangly young pup. Yes! They hurt Rook!

Lucanis clenched his jaw, the image of that blade, stained with cheap poison, coming once again to his mind. If that poison had been successful (a pitifully low chance, but still a chance), it would have meant a slow death for Phyrra. A clumsy death. Dishonorable, agonizing, unskilled, and offensive to the very name of the Crows.

But the Crow who had attacked her was dead already. Whoever had sent him was not.

As if reading his mind, Spite was at his side in an instant, grinning wide. I want them dead!

Lucanis nodded. “As do I. Let’s go.”

—————

Lucanis returned over an hour later, weaving through the swaying crowds with ease and fixing the buttons on his sleeve as he went. That had taken longer than he liked. Illario was supposed to have everything contained to one room so that Lucanis could slip inside, carve a few answers out of the bastard, and then finish him off with speed.

Instead, the bastard had put up a fight.

It hadn’t been pretty and Illario had complained bitterly afterward about the bloodstains on his coat, but at least they had left with a few more names. They were getting closer to finding out whoever was behind the contract on Phyrra’s life. That had to count for something.

If his time as part of the Veilguard had taught Lucanis anything, it was that every victory mattered, no matter how small. Names were good. Progress was good. And, most importantly, no one would be ruining the rest of his night with Phyrra.

That was the biggest victory of them all.

Spite flickered in and out of view, appearing in gaps between people and looking high and low for Phyrra as Lucanis moved through the ballroom. At one point, Lucanis even caught him standing on a chandelier, holding onto the chain for purchase like a sailor in the rigging of a ship. Lucanis shot him an exasperated look, though it wasn’t as though anyone else could see Spite or that the chandelier was in danger from his being there. He hoped.

There! Rook! Spite pointed to the second level balcony, not far from where Lucanis had waited for his signal from Illario. Lucanis adjusted his gloves and made for the stairs, Spite disappearing from view but practically buzzing with excitement within his mind.

They found her leaning back against the balustrade, a half-empty glass of wine cradled in her hand. Teia and Viago stood nearby, chatting with her, but she seemed to only half listen to them, her face turned to keep most of the ballroom in sight in the corner of her eye. She looked up the moment that Lucanis drew near, as if sensing his approach.

“Lucanis,” she said, straightening and smiling at him. Even with the mask on her face, her smile brightened her whole expression, radiating out as if with tangible light. “Where have you been?

“Yes, my friend,” Viago drawled, looking, as usual, slightly annoyed and unimpressed. “Tell us what you’ve been up to that has been taking so long.”

Teia elbowed him hard in the side and then took his arm. “Ignore him, Lucanis. He’s just upset he missed all the action.” Viago made a noncommittal hmph but didn’t deny her accusation.

Phyrra cast a glance at Lucanis that was at first curious, then suspicious. “Action?”

Lucanis cleared his throat delicately. “Something came up.”

Lies, Spite hissed in his ear. Tell the truth! Tell her who we KILLED! Tell her how we did it! I want her to know!

“What happened?” Phyrra asked, instantly on alert. She set aside her wine glass and stepped closer, scanning his face and body for clues. “Did someone attack you? Do we have enemies here?”

Viago laughed. “You have enemies everywhere, Rook, least of all here. You should know better than to lead with such a question.”

“Stop teasing her, Vi,” Teia chided, pinching his arm now. She turned to Lucanis with a smile. “We’d better get back to the party. We have business of our own to attend to. Don’t we, Viago?” She gave him another nudge.

“Mm, yes, something to that effect,” he said, sharing a smile with her. It was the kind of smile he tended to save only for Teia, one that meant their business could just as easily be one of romantic passion as it could the business of the Crows. Lucanis didn’t dare ask which it would be tonight. He truly didn’t want to know.

Viago gave him a nod and then escorted Teia away. “Don’t wait up for us, First Talon. Enjoy your night.”

Phyrra watched them walk away, waiting until they had drawn far enough out of earshot before stepping close and lowering her voice to a whisper. “Business, Lucanis? I thought we were here for some fun. Wine, games, silly masks, that sort of thing. That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“It was—it is,” he said, quickly correcting himself, while Spite looked smug just out of his periphery. Spite always looked smug when Phyrra was on his side, whether she knew she was or not. “But—”

“But what? But you had a contract?”

He shifted, uncomfortable, while Spite looked at him for his answer, his expression not unlike a clever cat eyeing a cornered mouse. “Think of this one more as a precaution.”

That didn’t convince her. “Lucanis.”

“It doesn’t matter now. It has been dealt with.”

“By yourself?” Phyrra took his arm, squeezing gently. “I could have helped you.”

Yes! Spite grabbed his other arm, his fingers digging in with pressure only Lucanis could feel. Next time, bring Rook. Not him. Rook is better.

Lucanis ignored him. “It wasn’t a simple contract, Phyrra. I needed…specific answers. If you were there…”

Spite sneered. Excuses. Tell her.

“What are you so worried about?” Phyrra asked. “That they would have hurt me? Or that I’d somehow look differently at you, seeing you get your answers?” She let go of him, frowning. “I’m no stranger to interrogation, Lucanis. You don’t have to coddle me.”

Lucanis groaned. “No, it’s not that, it’s—look.” He took her by the arms, facing her directly. “I thought it would take only a moment to deal with, and I thought if you were in the room the target wouldn’t talk. If they attacked on sight and we killed them in defense, we’d get no more clues for a while. It was all meant to take only ten, maybe twenty minutes.”

Phyrra pouted, doubt written plainly on her face, even with the mask. Then a dry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “But it went sideways, didn’t it?”

Lucanis smiled too. “It usually does.” He sighed and pulled her into a hug, resting his chin briefly on her shoulder. “Forgive me, mi amor. I should have told you before we left, but I didn’t want to alert the target that something was amiss. I needed them to think you could be caught unaware.”

“Oh, so I am bait now?”

He winced, starting to draw back. “No, that’s not what I—”

She locked her arms around him, giving him no chance to escape. “I know,” she said lightly with a little sigh. “You’re forgiven. For now. But next time…”

“Next time I will certainly have you with me.”

He sensed her smile, even as she turned her head to rest it on his shoulder, careful not to poke him with the little beak of her mask. “You’d better.”

“You have my word,” he murmured. She relaxed at last, all tension and irritation forgotten.

He closed his eyes, letting himself linger in her embrace. He cherished the warmth of her against him, the press of her supple form against his carefully honed muscle. He wanted nothing more than to whisk her away, back to the Dellamorte estate, and lock the two of them in a room until dawn. These days, his time with her was so precious. He couldn’t afford to waste a single moment.

He wanted to kill that arrogant Crow all over again, just for taking too much of his time.

But you couldn’t kill people twice (usually) and he had promised Phyrra a fun night at a party, so they ought to stay for a little while longer. Besides, people had already seen them in attendance. Even now, he knew their place on this balcony didn’t totally hide them from the eyes that may be watching. There would be plenty of talk about seeing the First Talon in a cozy embrace with Rook, the savior of the world. Talk was inevitable.

Talk was also dangerous. In Antiva, among the Crows especially, his name carried as much weight as the king’s, more so in some people’s view, but the name wouldn’t always protect him. It was the same for Phyrra. The name Rook was on everybody’s lips, but for every person wanting to reward or praise her there was another who wanted to exploit or kill her. There would be no escaping the gossip or plots against them unless they somehow retreated again to the Lighthouse, that dizzying, fragmented space where they had first kindled this romance.

He didn’t want to retreat. Despite it all, he would rather be here, where the sky made sense and the ground was solid and the air was filled with the familiar scents of home—spices and dried herbs, leather and salt, rich dark coffee and refined tobacco smoke. He wanted Treviso to be her home too. That’s what all of this was for. Eliminating the dangers so that one day, perhaps soon, she could settle here.

But was that what she wanted? A life with him would never be quiet or calm. Not in Antiva, not anywhere else. And Minrathous still needed to be rebuilt. As long as any rubble or ruin remained there, it would always call to her like a song, plucking her heartstrings, each note a sigh of guilt and grief. She loved him, he knew that, but she would always have one foot in Minrathous until that guilt was assuaged.

Perhaps he was merely standing in the way of that.

“Phyrra,” he said quietly. “Do you regret this road you have taken with me?”

She shook her head slightly, tightening her hold on him. “Of course not.”

“Even though it means a target on your back?” He pulled away to look at her again, his fingers lightly brushing her cheek. “Whether here or in Minrathous, you know that being with me will only…”

Stop! Spite snapped. He could sense the train of Lucanis’ thoughts, the destination that he was too hesitant to speak aloud. No! Rook is ours!

“I’ve got a target on my back no matter where I am or who I’m with,” she reminded him. She pressed a hand to his chest, right over his heart, searching for his heartbeat beneath the fabric. “Just because we have a new Archon doesn’t mean I’m safe in Minrathous either. But I…we can handle it. And it won’t be for forever.”

Right?

She didn’t say the word, but Lucanis could sense it hovering in the air between them. A silent plea for reassurance, her pride just enough that she would never say it, but her eyes searching his for an answer regardless.

At their side, Spite was staring at him too, an uncharacteristic look of worry on his face. He voiced the question she seemed unwilling to say.

Not forever. Right?

Lucanis released a slow breath. “Of course not.”

The tension in her shoulders relaxed. Carefully, slowly, he untied the strings of her mask, pulling it away from her face and leaving her gazing up steadily at him, her bare expression open and waiting. He leaned in, careful of the edges and points of his mask, and slipped his hand into her rich curls, guiding her into a slow, luxurious kiss. Patient, steadfast, reassuring. A kiss that whispered I’m here. A kiss that promised I’ll stay.

At the back of his mind, Spite settled into something like a low purr, all restlessness forgotten.

“Not forever,” Lucanis breathed against her lips. He drew back to meet her gaze again, cradling her face in his palms. “Nothing in Thedas can keep us apart forever. Neither gods nor tyrants nor the seas between us can do that.”

“Promise?” she whispered.

“I swear it.”

He kissed her again, letting her taste the oath on his tongue.

He knew she would go back to Minrathous soon. She had unfinished business there, just as he had unfinished business with whomever among the Crows wanted to kill her. But for now, for tonight, they were together. And one day they would be together for good.

“Lucanis,” she whispered in between kisses.

“Mm?”

“Dance with me.”

He drew back, a little surprised at first, but Spite’s voice filled his head before he could answer.

YES! Spite appeared behind her, spirit-fire eyes blazing with glee. Dance with Rook! Dance with Rook! He practically bounced on the balls of his feet.

Lucanis allowed himself a dry smile. “Would you like Spite’s answer, or mine?”

Phyrra hummed thoughtfully, playfully. “Both.”

Lucanis chuckled and shifted his hold on her until they were in a proper dance position, his hand on her waist. “Very well. We accept.”

[thewulf]

Iris || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Fem!reader is a pilot and with the Dagger Squad best friend(maybe they are AU and always stationed permanently at the base together). To keep it short: Jake and her are very close (friends to lovers trope) but neither had it admit yet... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ugh, I just love this man. He's so much fun to write. Thanks for all the requests!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 3.6k +

“Way to go, Seresin.” Smiling sweetly at the just shot down pilot you sat down next to him as he started his punishment pushups, “Mav got your ass again?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He laughed just knowing you came over to give him shit. You were one of the few people he enjoyed taking shit from. You were never mean only funny. He’d grown to look forward to it as he got to know you over the last few weeks. The banter between the two of you coming so effortlessly, “I don’t want to hear it, Iris.” He paused, looked up to you and shot you a wink before continuing.

Iris. Your callsign. You’d gotten after a rather rowdy night out with the girls in your class, all three of them. You managed to black out on your first night at Top Gun, oops. You’d garnered the callsign because you seemed sweet as a flower but required intense supervision. I Require Intense Supervision. IRIS. Iris. You loved it, leaning into it whenever you could.

Leaning back on your hands you silently watched him. Knowing you should say something but coming up utterly short as you watched his muscles work while he continued his pushups. You’d be a dirty liar if you didn’t say you liked what you saw because you did. You loved it. He was so attractive it made it hard to pay attention sometimes. But you’d never admit it to his face. Not unless he confessed his feelings first.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Jake laughed taking a glance back at you. He loved teasing you right on back as much as you seemed to tease him. He knew you could take it. Just one of the many things he’d grown to adore about you. You could dish it and you could take it. A rare woman.

Very thankful that you put on foundation this morning you knew you had a nice little blush on your cheeks from getting caught staring right at him, “Get off your high horse Seresin, I was just thinking.” You failed to stop the smile that spread across your face as you watched him. You’d also be lying if you said you didn’t have a massive crush on him. You’d admired everything about him. From the way he flew to the way he handled himself. But what you loved most was the way he treated you. Like you were everything in the world to him and maybe even a little bit more. He knew when he could push you and when he needed to take a step back. He could get a read on you so easily. Not many people had been able to do that before you met him. But he continuously surprised you.

“About me?” He continued his push-ups with that signature Jake smirk adorning his lips. One you grew to quickly find so utterly attractive it made you weak at the knees. Thank God you were sitting as he toyed with your head right on back.

“In your dreams.” You wanted to roll your eyes but in reality your cheeks were burning from the big smile that crossed yours. Jake became a fast friend once you were sent on permanent orders to Miramar. You’d been selected with a few other pilots to train as the next Top Gun instructors. These were coveted spots that few people were able to land in their careers and you couldn’t quite believe you’d been selected. It was like being fast tracked. This spot would make or break your career in the Navy.

“You know what? You’re absolutely right about that sweetheart.” He finished up his set after not even breaking a sweat. How was that fair? He sat up next to you in one swift motion.

“You absolute flirt, Jake Seresin.” You wanted to scoot away from him, but you just couldn’t seem to. He drew you in so swiftly, so easily without almost any effort on his part.

He shrugged, “Only for you.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

This time you rolled your eyes, “Were you not trying to pick up that girl at the bar that first night we all met here?” Raising your eyebrows, you needed to challenge him. So far, everything about the man had been perfect. Too perfect. He was so beyond thoughtful when it came to you. You’d never had a man do this simple things so effortlessly for you before you’d met him. He’d raised your standards and he didn’t even know it. Hell, you didn’t even know it.

He nodded, “Yes I was. But that was before I met you, Y/N.” He then raised his eyebrows. Not mocking you. But challenging you all the same. He got you there. You couldn’t recall a time in between then that he openly flirted with anybody, at least not in front of you.

“Alright.” You looked away from him quickly. He made you nervous. The good kind of nervous. But nervous, nonetheless.

“Has anyone ever told you how fucking pretty you are?” He sat back observing your face for the reaction. One of the other things he’d grown to adore about you was how expressive you were. If somebody made a dumbass comment you weren’t afraid to give them an equally grossed out look back at them. You weren’t afraid to laugh or smile when a nice comment was thrown. And your laugh? Oh, he fell in love with it instantly. The way your eyes scrunched up and the absolute joy that crossed your face was enough for him to know he was going to fall in love with you.

He'd been in love before. He always knew those were bound to end before they were even starting. He was so good at that. Picking the person he knew there was no future with. Until he met you. You effortless nature drew him in so quickly. You contrasted him in the best ways possible. His cockiness was matched by your humbleness. You were nearly as good as Jake in the skies, ruthless when needed. But you’d never admit it down on the ground. You were simply good, as you’d tell everybody else. His loud nature was masked by your quiet one. Busy Saturday mornings were replaced by quiet lazy ones as he spent more time with you. He had only known you for a month, but he knew. He knew that if he allowed himself he’d be confessing within only another. You had him whipped and he was afraid he loved it.

“Yeah,” You smiled shaking your head at him, “You, literally yesterday.”

“Mmm,” He nodded his head looking at you with amusement in his eyes, “That’s right. And I’ll tell you every damn day until you believe it.”

Continuing to shake your head you stood quickly ignoring that comment. If you thought too much about it you’d become unraveled right then and there, “Come on, we’re the last ones for the day. Mav’s gotta to tell us how bad we are before we leave for the day.” You offered your hand which he took in an instant. He’d craved your touch since the first time he’d been offered your hand weeks ago. He’d take any chance he could take, that was when you offered it.

You pulled him up slightly. Jake really did most of the work, “I didn’t do that bad today.” He laughed seeing your skeptical expression.

“I did. He got me within a minute.” You’d frowned taking the lead on walking back to the classroom. You hated days like today. They got you down. You were a good pilot. Even great. And everybody had days like today that were just shitty. You’d been up three times and been shot down three times within minutes during each exercise.

He shrugged trying to get you to shake it off, “You win some, you lose some.”

“Not on real missions…” You trailed off.

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re training and not on a mission then, yeah?” He squeezed your shoulder as he matched his pace with yours. He had to slow his stride down a bit so he didn’t overcome yours.

“Yeah.” You nodded your head knowing what he was trying to do. Trying to get you to stop thinking about it. He knew how much of an overthinker you were. Not exactly the greatest trait for a Naval Aviator. But you pushed through it.

He opened the door for you into the classroom. The other six pilots turned their head in curiosity at who was coming through. Not seeing Mav, they turned back to what they were doing. You took a seat at the back of the classroom where Jake follows behind and sits down next to you.

He leaned over knowing how to distract you, “Coming to the Hard Deck tonight?”

You thought for a moment. Did you even want to go? It’d be a good way to take your mind off the shit day, “Haven’t thought about it.”

“You should come.” He nudged your shoulder, “I’ll miss you too bad if you don’t.” Eyes lowering, he gave you his best pleading expression. That was really all it took before you gave in.

“Sure. Fine. Yeah I’ll come.” You didn’t really want to, but you really couldn’t say no with a look like that.

“You’ll have a great time. I’ll make sure of it.” He winked at you before Mav entered the room indeed ready to tell the group how piss poor they did that day.

You, in fact, were not having the best time. Turns out two more pilots were hired into the new group of instructor trainee’s. You didn’t think anything of it until you saw the sheer shock outlining Jake’s face when the woman, Lacey, stood up to introduce herself. He brushed you off when you gave him that look of curiosity. He let you know that he’d tell you later.

You’d come to find out she was one of Jakes numerous ex-girlfriends that he’d left behind in the dust. He was sure he’d never see her again. Not because she was a woman but because she wasn’t that good of a pilot when he left his original station years ago. He ended things when he was sent off to Miramar. It wasn’t like things were broken off in bad terms, Jake was just indifferent about the whole thing. Lacey, however, was heartbroken about the whole thing. She didn’t get why he left her, let alone so easily. 

He'd been gone awhile leaving you with pilots you’d been acquaintances with. It wasn’t like you didn’t like them. You just didn’t have anything in common with the four men sitting in front of you. So, you silently sat there listening to the conversation hoping that he’d make his return.

You didn’t realize he was with Lacey until he made it back around to the group with her in tow. He handed you a plate with some fries on it. You eyed him curiously but took it nonetheless, “I know you’re probably hungry.” He knew you were a regular snacker and this pit stop probably threw you out of you original plans.

You smiled ignoring the glances from the other pilots. He was always thinking of you. Even when he was with another woman who so desperately wanted his attention. The other pilots sure had ideas in their head after witnessing the kind gesture from a usually unkind man, to them, never to you.

“No shellfish?” You asked.

He nodded quickly, “You think I’m trying to kill ya’ darlin?” He smirked leaning onto the high top you were sitting at with the other guys.

“Nope,” You grinned snagging one of the fries from the plate, “Just checking.”

Lacey stepped up next to Jake, “Can’t eat shellfish?” She asked looking you over more closely this time. Sizing you up that was for certain. Jake didn’t like the look, but he was letting you handle it on your own, for now. He knew you could handle it.

“No, I’m allergic unfortunately.”

She nodded looking you over once more, “Oh, that’s too bad. Shrimp is great.” She half smiled at you before looking back to Jake.

Nodding your head you continued, “So I’ve heard. This one doesn’t shut up about it.” You nudged Jake getting a smile out of him as he nervously watched the two of you interact. He didn’t have any feelings toward his ex. She was pretty, always was. But she wasn’t you. Nobody would be you. Truth be told it made him incredibly nervous how quickly he’d come to feel these things about you. He wasn’t one the catch feelings like that so suddenly. At least not before you came along and fucked his head on up.

“I’m just trying to educate you on all things. It’d be a shame for you not to know how damn tasty some buttered scallops are.” He threw you a wink. Lacey noticed and she didn’t look too thrilled. She quickly picked up on something going on between the two of you. It’s not like Jake was hers but she didn’t like it. She didn’t like how he looked at you. He looked at you so differently than anything she’d ever gotten. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you. Even when she pulled him away from the group he was distracted by you.

You grinned right back at him. The other guys had gotten used to the constant flirting between the two of you. Most of them assumed you were already together the way the two of you acted. Jake had a fierce protective nature over you to boot. He wouldn’t let any of the other guys give you shit or talk shit about you. He was smitten with you. Whether you were together or not.

Lacey looked a little disgusted as she tried to drag him off once again. Jake wasn’t having any of it as he pulled up a chair by you and started talking to you. Turning his attention all the way to you. It pissed her off more than you or him would’ve ever have guessed. She must’ve had enough of it as she disappeared off into the crowd leaving you and Jake almost alone. Not like the other guys gave a shit about what the two of you were talking about. Often lost in your own little world together.

You’d continued picking off the plate of food for the next hour while talking to him not paying much attention. You’d notice her drop by seeing if Jake would pay her any attention. When he wouldn’t she went on her merry way. That’d gone on a few times before she seemed to give up completely.

You were fine until you weren’t. You’d ignored the first symptoms because you were too wrapped up in talking to him. Absolutely enamored by him. It wasn’t until you were feeling a bit dizzy that you realized you were having a reaction. It’d been years, decades even since you had one and it was just as horrifying as you remember.

Looking down at the plate you didn’t know if you were seeing things quite right, “Jake…” You interrupted him sounding a little off. Your throat was closing up and you knew it.

“Yeah?” He looked concerned seeing your expression of panic.

“When did that shrimp get there?” You pointed to the lone shrimp sitting next to the fries you’d polished off. If you allergy wasn’t severe it could’ve been just fine. But you allergy was severe. Foods simply touching shellfish could get you to react. And you’d just eaten an almost full plate of fried that could’ve been touching the damn thing.

His eyes widened as he looked between you and the plate. He’d only now noticed the sweat breaking out on your face and the hives covering one of your arms, “Oh shit.” He jumped into action not taking a second to go through your bag, “EpiPen?”  He asked opening it wide to look through.

You shook your head in a little panic. Jakes sudden movement brought the guys out of their conversation watching the two of you again, “I don’t think I have it. Shit.” You knew panicking was the worst thing you could do right now, but you really couldn’t recall where you put the thing after you’d moved onto base.

“It’s alright.” Jake stood up knowing exactly what you were thinking, “We’ll go get it from your room. It’s not too far away.”

You nodded closing your eyes knowing you fucked up, “I don’t remember where I put it Jake. I know I should know but I can’t remember.”

He took your hand, “Come on. You’re fine Y/N.” He reassured you pulling you up from your seat while watching you intently, making sure you could walk to the car, “Come on sweetheart. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” You asked in fear. Fear of the unknown. You felt so damn stupid. How could you not only forget it but completely space on where it was?

Not wanting to make a big scene for your sake he leaned in whispering to you, “Just a short drive to the hospital. They’ll have and EpiPen ready to go.”

You nodded letting him pull you right out of the bar. Penny would understand the unclosed tab, he’d just have to talk to her tomorrow. You were really thankful for him in this moment. He seemed to know exactly what to do to keep you steady and levelheaded.

He leaned over to buckle your seat belt knowing you were in a dazed state trying to keep your breathing even, “Hey,” He touched your face, “It’s alright. We’ll be there in three minutes.” You nodded your head not allowing the tears to drop down your cheeks. You’d be lying if you didn’t say you were terrified. Terrified that your throat would close all the way up in between now and the hospital.

“Thanks Jake.” You mumbled out careful not to extend to much of your steady breathing in the process. He was careful but quick. Driving with a purpose. Lucky for you Jake took control. The second he pulled into a spot he picked you right on up out of your seat. You knew you weren’t terribly coherent at this point, but it was rather crazy how fast he was moving now.

You didn’t see how bad you were starting to look. Your normally tanned skin had turned pale and clammy as your body tried to fight of the toxin it didn’t like. The hives had spread down both your arms and was creeping down your leg now.

He didn’t wait as he walked you quickly into the emergency room holding you tight. Everything turned to a blur as your body seemingly decided to give up as you knew you were in safe hands now. You felt Jakes eyes on you as the white coats of the doctors turned to blackness.

“Hey pretty girl, you’re awake.” You felt a hand squeeze your own as your eyes adjusted to the bright hospital lights.

If it was anybody but Jake you’d probably have flipped him off. Your head was pounding, your mouth and throat were incredibly dry, and you just felt weird, “Mhmm.” You hummed closing your eyes letting your head adjust to the change.

“How are ya feeling?” He scooted his chair closer to your bedside looking you over. Your color had returned to a more normal looking state, reassuring him slightly.

“Like shit.” Sighing you opened your eyes taking him in this time. His amused expression wasn’t missed.

“You look it too.” Tossing you a wink to let you know he was only kidding.

You weren’t expecting to laugh but man did it feel good. Jake had a knack for that. Making you feel the best in any situation you found yourself in. When your laugh hit his ears it relaxed him instantly. He hadn’t realized how wound up her had gotten waiting on you to open your eyes again. He knew you were fine, but it still sucked waiting. Even if it were only a few hours.

“Fuck off, Seresin.” You grinned at him, “How rude to make fun of me in my time of sickness.”

He rolled his eyes playfully at you, “Time of recovery darling.”

“Semantics.” You challenged him.

Nodding his head he was giving you that one, “Are you alright thought?” He really needed to know now. As calm as he seemed on the outside he was terrified through the entire ordeal. You’d made it very clear to the group just how allergic you were from the get-go. It terrified him seeing your body shut down right in front of his eyes.

“I’m okay, Jake.” You nodded letting him grab your hand.

“You scared me back there.” He admitted not looking up to you. It wasn’t always the easiest for him to get emotional. But he wanted to for you. He wanted it all for you. He didn’t really care anymore. How you’d managed this in just the mere month of knowing him was beyond his wildest dreams. But he was ready to take it. He wanted you and only you.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know how…” He shook his head signaling for you to stop.

“You shouldn’t be apologizing Y/N.” He paused brushing your hair out of your face, “I think it was Lacey… I’m going to talk to Mav about it. You just rest, okay?”

You shook your head no, “Please don’t go. You can tell him later. Can you stay?”

He nodded his head, “Sure darling. You know what?” He asked scooting his chair right next to yours not dropping your hand.

“What’s that Mr. Seresin?”

He smirked giving your hand a tight squeeze, “You really do require intense supervision.” Kissing your hand, you could only giggle causing Jake to erupt in a fit of laughter. Oh, how your life was going to change here shortly. And only for the better.

Taglist: @hellobroadwaydreamer @zbeez-outlet @bibissparkles @genius2050

[ingravinoveritas]

Just saw a post as well as a thread on Twitter about an incident that occurred at the stage door of Nye tonight and I am so sad and sickened to hear about this "fan's" behavior, both toward Michael and toward other fans. I've done many stage doors in the past (the most recent was going to see Ink on Broadway just before the pandemic) and seen a lot of entitled/unruly behavior from fans, but this woman and her mother barging into the bar, demanding a meet and greet, and then coming out and being horrific to other fans really takes the cake.

Michael works his ass off for endless hours to put on an amazing show every day/night. He gives 110% to every line, every step, every note in that musical number. Nye is a physically demanding play/role, and to get a show of that caliber from someone who is a master of his craft is more than anyone could ask for. Stage door--as lovely as it is, as fun as it can be--is not something he is required to do, especially when he's already feeling exhausted or under the weather. One thing the last several months have made clear is that Michael loves meeting fans--taking pictures, giving hugs, signing stuff, and just connecting with people. But the fact that this is not even the first time we've heard about fans going into the bar to bug him should be more than enough to give us all pause.

No one is entitled to Michael's time or attention. This particularly reminds me of an incident on Twitter a few years ago where one fan and their friends would not stop tagging Michael and demanding that he say something they wanted him to say. He'd been so incredibly giving and generous of his time with fans up until that point...and yet the second he drew a boundary, that fan and some others turned on him. Amazingly, that alone didn't put him off of engaging with the fandom entirely, but I have been in enough fandoms in my life to know that it is exactly behavior like this that will ruin things for everyone.

It also seems that Michael did come out following this incident tonight but had to leave, and he actually apologized to the nice fans who were still waiting (while apparently looking visibly upset himself). I know he apologized once before as well after a different fan went into the bar to get him, but we're beyond absurdity at this point. That Michael feels compelled to apologize for something that was not even his fault and especially after what that fan did absolutely breaks my heart, and is something that just should not be happening.

The run of Nye at the NT is nearly over, and I hope this won't put him off of doing stage door in the future (either for the remainder of this run or when it transfers to Cardiff), but I honestly would not blame him one bit if it did. What a loss it would be, though, both for the fans and for Michael...

[khattikeri]

(for the ask game) liu qingge, 8, 12, 15? im a curious man

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Why just something? I'll give you Several things, I'm itching to talk about Liu Qingge 24/7. Let's go:

They really, really, really fucking dumb him down. He's not a stupid meathead, folks, he's just bad at talking. Like really. Dare we forget he immediately pinned down the fact that Shen Yuan wasn't Shen Jiu, and told him that to his face, but simply lacked evidence to prove that was the truth? This is also the person who knows when he's bound to lose a fight. He doesn't rush Luo Binghe after Shen Qingqiu self-detonates. He tells the disciples calmly that they won't be able to defeat him-- verbally disarming them from attacking. He then continues to lightly say he can't defeat Luo Binghe either. He's called the war god for a reason. He doesn't say much, and is far from the most eloquent character, but he has a brain and uses it well given what little info he has.

Similarly, viewing him as entitled. I tend to see this with some of the more BingQiu Only types, but like... stop and think for a minute just how little information Liu Qingge has, and especially how BingQiu's relationship looks to every single person in-universe who ISN'T a transmigrator. There are so many layers there between teacher-student, human-demon, the simple age gap itself, the transmigrator-protag dynamics... Anyway, Liu Qingge is not "entitled" about Shen Qingqiu, he's justifiably concerned for his peer who saved his life. Yeah he's bitchy about their relationship later and yeah he says questionable shit when irritated ("He's dead!") but he ultimately leaves them alone and accepts their relationship even if he hates it. He's not out there pompously demanding they break up or that Shen Qingqiu get with someone else (much less himself) instead.

Turning him into someone with intense wanderlust, because he "only likes fighting". He has a very strong sense of duty and morals (rich noble-blooded cultivator alert) and wouldn't abandon his post, even if he doesn't really do much traditional teaching. This is the guy who got worried about Shen Qingqiu leaving his peak for over a month without warning while Binghe was in the abyss. If he spends a lot of time away that's for important things like missions (i.e. someone told him to) or literally secluded cultivation. He's not an "abandon your Peak Lord duties" guy.

Making him suave or flirtatious or otherwise excessively teasing. I see this most often in LiuJiu fics (maybe because it's one of the few ships where people tend to have Liu Qingge actually top...) and it pisses me off so badddd. idk what else to even say man that is NOT Liu Qingge he would NOT fucking say or do any of that oh my god. Make an OC. Christ alive.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

You should read my super duper extra special self-indulgent porno postcanon fic on ao3 for that (login required to view)

15. What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

LiuShen but heavily in the sense of his canonical one-sided feelings; BingLiuShen and LiuJiu and QiLiuJiu as well. I have a very very specific postcanon QiLiu AU churning in my brain too. And let's not forget the terrible modern AU where Mu Qingfang and Wei Qingwei both pursue him and they end up in a poly-- [they are dragged off stage]

I don't mind shipping Liu Qingge with most characters tbh, he's very versatile and fun. Although I have to admit I like him individually more than his ships, and thus enjoy self-shipping most of all ^-^

[mandoriana]

Just some headcanon I have about Edwin Payne.

Edwin had two younger sisters, one called Elvira Payne and the other called Edith Payne, both were twins and were six years old when Edwin died.

(Elvira and Edith Payne)

He also had an older brother named Enrique Foster Payne, who no longer lived with the family.

(Enrique Payne)

Edwin was not close to his older brother, the two were only a few years apart, but Enrique disliked Edwin for being "too fem" or "too beautiful".

Enrique studied at the same boarding school as Edwin and, a year before finishing school, he told the older boys that his brother was a mary ann and that he loved playing with dolls with his sisters.

Neither of Edwin's parents really showed interest in what he did, but his father always praised his intelligence and his mother always praised his politeness, both of which are things that Edwin strived to maintain even after years in hell.

Edwin didn't like people or animals, but there was an orange cat that roamed his house and appeared every night at his window, Edwin fed and looked after the feline, the name he gave the cat was Tom, unfortunately he never saw the animal after he was sent to boarding school.

(Cat Tom)

His mother was called Arabella and his father was called Edgar.

(Arabella and Edgar Payne)

Edwin is autistic, but as he is already dead, some more physical aspects no longer affect him, for example, being sensitive to bright lights or loud noises, feeling discomfort with certain textures…

Edwin admired his mother and sisters' clothes, and always felt embarrassed about it.

Before his sisters were born, Edwin and his mother were closer, they painted pictures together, practiced the piano, went shopping together, even gardened, she treated him as if he were a daughter, as she always wanted to have girls.

Edwin is gay and gender fluid.

His favorite flowers are Forget-Me-Nots, they were his sisters' favorites too.

The only people who suffered from Edwin's death were Elvira and Edith, twins did not understand why his disappearance was an "act of god".

Edwin said terrible things before learning to live in a society completely different from his own. Really bad things that sometimes made Charles stop and look at his friend in horror before explaining how bad what Edwin said was.

Once Edwin understood how evil and prejudiced he to be, he would spend the next few days ashamed of himself and apologizing to any minority he offended with his words.

All the slang he knows is thanks to Charles.

"Handjob", "Manage" and any other current word that refers to sex or libidinous acts are always strange to Edwin, not because he is innocent, just because his only companion for 30 years was Charles and Charles is a defender of the honor of his friend, so he would never say such vulgar obscenities in front of Edwin, mainly because he knows he will be questioned and will have to explain it to him.

Edwin was considered rare and valuable in hell, many demons wanted his soul because he didn't belong there, and this led to Edwin being used as a bargaining chip several times before ending up in the "Doll house".

His notebook was something he took from one of the rooms in the "Doll house" so the pages never run out, and he can always use the notebook even after almost 100 years with it.

His soul is very strong thanks to the amount of pain he suffered in hell, things that would hurt normal ghosts have done nothing to Edwin unless it is a much greater amount.

He is one of the few ghosts capable of using magic, as spells cause a lot of pain since they require excess spiritual energy.

In 1990 Charles got a record player, Edwin taught Charles dance moves and Charles taught him some. When they weren't playing board games for fun, they were dancing.

Explaining to Edwin how Michael Jackson turned white was the hardest thing Charles did in all his afterlife years.

Edwin allowed himself to wear a dress once, then Niko offered to wear a suit, they didn't most it to anyone, but they had fun together in a small parade.

Although they didn't get along well at first, Edwin and Crystal are friends, whenever she has a female problem, like menstrual cramps, he offers to get her cocaine. (She loves it!)

Only Crystal can speak ill of Edwin, she will destroy heaven and earth if anyone says anything about him.

Crystal, Edwin and Niko always have an all-girls party, sometimes Edwin uses his "Niko's Aunt" disguise to pretend to be the mother of one of the girls when they need it, for example, he once used this disguise to talk to a Crystal's teacher who claimed that she was cheating (she was), although he himself didn't approve of Crystal's cheating he made a big show of stating that he would bring down the whole school if the teacher didn't apologize to Crystal and admit that she deserved the A+.