#the themes are here...... i just need this one piece to connect it all...........

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Week 9 (Jazz)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 12.3K

👉 Fic Warnings: Sexual tension, mutual pining, angst, so much smut (we get a little dom and sub Dieter, intimacy, use of a sex toy, sex acts in public, spanking...really it's all too much to list here - it's Dieter, use your imagination), spicy language, themes dealing with intimate partner violence (not by Dieter), past alcohol abuse, past drug abuse, and shitty parents. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Cat dad / plant dad Dieter comes with his own warnings.

Chapter Quote: "You’re not trying to fuck me too, are you?”

Kat’s POV

I stood staring at my puffy eyes in the mirror, now all cried out after a sleepless night alone in my own bed. I sighed, wondering if Dieter would even show up for this morning’s scheduled production meeting. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t know what to say to him or if he would even speak to me. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t as I now realized how the things I said must have sounded. I was treating him like everyone else had, by not believing in him and taking his sobriety seriously. That wasn’t my intention. The problem was me, not him. However, I didn’t know how to make him see that without it sounding like I didn’t trust that he had changed. Truth be told, deep down, there may have been some doubt driving it all and I just didn’t want to admit it. 

I puffed air out of my cheeks as I pulled my tank top off, my eyes dropping to the marks left by Dieter’s mouth on my breast. The memory of our Sunday morning exploits filled my thoughts. The way he knew me and my body without me ever having to say a word. How every second we spent together was filled with intimacy unlike anything I had ever experienced. This is why it was hard for me to understand why my mind was telling me that it was superficial and circumstantial. 

I reached for the braid in my hair, pulling out the tie before working my fingers through it to loosen the strands from their confines. Dieter had been doing this for me. It had quickly become one of our morning rituals. My fingers didn’t feel the same as his. He wasn’t standing behind me, catching my gaze in the mirror with a smirk on his lips - and it was my fault. It was then I realized that I had given him everything, body and soul, and he still held those pieces. I knew that I would never get them back and I didn’t know how to handle it. 

I could feel the tears threatening to fall again, but somehow managed to shake them off as I stepped into the shower. I stood there for a time, allowing the hot spray to run down my face and hopefully calm the swelling caused by my emotional state. I felt like a mess, but eventually settled into a hazy numbness that I knew would be needed to get through the day and probably the next four weeks. 

I soon found myself walking toward Television City Studios without even remembering how I got there. The whole morning was a blur. I paused outside the door, allowing my eyes to scan the lot for Dieter’s car but I didn’t see it. I sighed in frustration, realizing I probably needed to have an excuse planned for Stacia and Joe in case he didn’t show up. 

As I sat waiting, my leg bounced incessantly. My eyes shifted between the clock on the wall and the entry door, anxiously awaiting Dieter’s arrival. When one of the young PA’s came to call me back for the meeting, he still hadn���t arrived. I nodded and stood to make my way to the conference room. When I entered, Stacia and Joe eyed me before their eyes trailed toward the door. 

Stacia was the first to speak, “Where’s Dieter?”

I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off before I said anything.

“I’m here,” Dieter called from the doorway as he rushed in to take the seat to my right. “Sorry, I got held up in traffic.” 

I exhaled a shaky breath that I didn’t realize I had been holding. I chanced a glance in his direction. He was staring straight ahead at Stacia and Joe, not even bothering to acknowledge me. He was wearing a hat and sunglasses. I could just make out his creased brows as his jaw tightened. My eyes drifted down, noticing the rise and fall of his chest. His breathing was shallow, like he was having trouble catching a breath, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he kept a stony expression fixed on the two people sitting across the table from us. I noticed he had one hand fisted on his thigh, clenching and unclenching, no doubt leaving fingernail imprints on his palm as he did so. 

I had to force myself to look away, my gaze now settling on Stacia and Joe who seemed to be watching us in silence. They were clearly already sensing the awkward energy between us. Stacia’s head tilted to the side, “What happened to you two last night? You weren’t there for the bottom three announcements.” 

Dieter’s head turned toward me, that stony expression still on his face. I glanced over at him, but I couldn’t read him without seeing his eyes. I found myself wishing he would take those fucking sunglasses off. 

I cleared my throat, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t feeling well. I uhh, got sick.” 

Stacia’s left brow ticked upward, “Are you still feeling ill? Do we need to get someone else to step in this week?” 

I shook my head, “No…No, I’m fine now. I think it was something I ate.” 

Her eyes shifted between us. She definitely didn’t buy that. The tension between us was too obvious. There was no hiding it. 

“Everything still going well between you two?” she asked. 

I rubbed at my temple nervously. I didn’t know how to answer that. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Dieter said. His voice was gruff. Raw. Like he had just woken up, except there was an undertone of something else. Sadness maybe? He didn’t sound very convincing, and it made my chest ache. 

They didn’t question it further, but I knew that they knew something was wrong. I could see it on their faces as they went through the motions of going through this week's routine. We would be doing Jazz, for which I was thankful. It was less intimate and would allow us to have some distance from each other. I didn’t pay any attention to the costume sketches. I stared at the pages without seeing them as I nodded in approval. I couldn’t even remember what the song of the week was as they wrapped up the meeting. 

Dieter inhaled a deep breath and stood, not hesitating to head toward the hallway as Stacia asked me to hang back for a moment. Dieter glanced in my direction, gnawing on the inside of his cheek before he stepped out of the room. I gave Stacia a tight smile as Joe spoke up, “We just wanted to check in and make sure Alec is keeping his distance?”

The question caught me off guard. Alec was the last thing on my mind at the moment. I managed a nod, “Yeah…he’s keeping away. I’ve not had any issues with him.” 

They both gave me tight smiles and nodded. “Good. Let us know if that changes, please,” Joe replied. 

“Yeah, of course,” I agreed before standing. “Anything else?” I asked. 

They shook their heads, and I took that as my cue to leave. As I said my goodbyes, I could feel their eyes on me until I was out of sight. Dieter and I had almost certainly set them into a tailspin with this development. 

When I got to the lobby, I scanned the area for Dieter, but he was nowhere to be found. I knew it was wishful thinking, but he had come to the meeting. Hopefully he would come to rehearsal, too - give me a chance to clarify what I was feeling. I needed him to know that it wasn’t him. I needed to make him understand that much at least. 

I left after that, my eyes still surveying the lot for him as I got into my car. He was long gone. I puffed air out of my cheeks as I decided to go pick up a quick lunch. I settled on fast food, realizing nothing looked appetizing as I stared at the menu board. I ended up with a grilled chicken sandwich that I didn’t really eat. I mostly just picked at it and nibbled on a few fries. I hated wasting food, but I just couldn't stomach it. I felt too disgusted with myself. I threw a handful of fries out for the waiting birds, then threw everything else in the trash. 

After watching the birds devour the fries for a few minutes, I headed toward the dance studio for rehearsal. Dieter wasn’t there. I tried to ignore that twisted feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me he wasn’t coming, but it was hard. That feeling intensified with each passing second. 

After twenty minutes, I decided to pull up our song to keep myself occupied. The song was called One Heart. I lay there on the floor with my eyes closed, thinking through possible choreography for the week while trying not to pay attention to the lyrics about a breakup and all the things left unsaid between two people. The producers really did have an unsettling ability to choose songs to fit the mood of the week. 

Thirty more minutes passed, and Dieter was still a no show. I grabbed my phone to check if I had any messages. Nothing. He was almost an hour late. He wasn’t coming. I fought back tears at the realization. I don’t really know what I expected. I probably would have done the same thing if I were him, but I at least would have told him I wasn’t coming. I opened my messenger app and found his name. 

Me: Are you coming to rehearsal?

I watched as the indicator immediately changed to “Read”. The three bubbles began bouncing indicating he was typing, but then stopped. This happened several more times before his reply finally came through. 

Dieter: I can’t do it today. I’m sorry. I tried, but I can’t. 

The tears that I had been holding in, finally slipped free. He didn’t have to say it. I could read between the lines. He was hurting. Because of me. I sat staring at the wall for a beat, forcing myself to feel the self-inflicted pain that I deserved. I wiped the tears away, then glanced back down at my phone. Hopeful as I typed out a reply. 

Me: It’s ok. We can pick it up tomorrow.  

I waited, watching the bubbles bounce, pause, then start again. 

Dieter: Yeah, maybe. 

Well, it wasn’t a no, and he didn’t tell me to fuck off. So, maybe it was a small win. 

Instead of going home and licking my wounds, I stayed at the studio and worked on our routine. I did still have a job to do after all. It would be better to have something started than nothing at all. 

I damn near had our entire routine planned out as I sunk into bed that evening, worn out and aching from pushing myself to go through it the best I could without a partner. Even though my body was tired, my mind was not. It was another restless night. 

On Wednesday, I awoke feeling like my body was twisted in a knot. Everything hurt, but I persevered - taking a scorching hot shower and loading up on anti-inflammatory pain relievers. It helped enough to make it bearable. I felt almost human as I walked into the empty dance studio. To pass time, I began stretching. The anxious feeling quickly returned to the pit of my stomach, that fear that Dieter wasn’t going to show again. If he didn’t show today, I wasn’t sure if we would make it through this week. 

An hour passed, and I lost hope. I wasn’t about to sit here for the full seven and a half hours if he wasn't planning to come. I took a deep breath as I reached for my phone. 

Me: Just checking in…are you coming to rehearsal today?

It was marked as read almost immediately. I waited at least ten minutes before his response finally came through. 

Dieter: Yes. 

I suddenly felt nauseous. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see him, but I didn’t really have a choice. We still had a job to do. 

Twenty-five more minutes passed, and he still hadn’t shown up. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I walked into the hallway and peered out the windows into the parking lot. I was surprised to see his car sitting in the front row. He was still in the driver's seat with his head leaned back against the headrest, not moving for several minutes. 

Eventually, the door opened, and he stepped out. He stood there, staring toward the building as he raked a hand down his face. He sighed heavily as he leaned against the car and shook his head. Then he turned, sinking back into the driver’s seat. His feet were still planted on the pavement as he placed his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. I knew I shouldn’t be watching him, but I couldn’t help it. Some part of me needed to see this. To see what I was doing to him. 

I wanted to go to him, but I didn’t feel like that would be the right thing to do. I didn’t want to send mixed signals because I still felt like we needed some space so that I could figure my stuff out. It wouldn’t be fair to string him along if I wasn’t sure what I wanted. 

His hands slid upward, pushing his hair away from his brow. He sat with his hands on his head, staring at the pavement for what seemed like forever. He puffed air out of his cheeks, then finally stood. He turned to grab his phone, keys, and water bottle out of the car before walking toward the entrance. I took a deep, calming breath as I headed back to our assigned studio space. 

It was several minutes before he finally entered the room. I assumed he had to give himself one last pep talk beforehand. He didn’t look at me as he walked over to sit his things down on a nearby chair. I could tell he was taking deep, controlled breaths as he turned to face me. He kept his head down, wringing his hands together as he approached. 

Now that I was seeing him up close, without his sunglasses, I could see how tired he looked. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face looked puffy. His hair was a mess, like he had run his fingers through it a million times. His patchy beard was more scruffy than normal, sticking out in all directions. I wanted nothing more than to hug him. 

He finally raised his head, looking everywhere but at my face. That hurt more than I realized it would. 

“Dieter, I…” I started, but he held up his hand to stop me. 

He shook his head, “I don’t wanna talk about it. We have a job to do. That’s what I’m here for. I’ll keep it professional, as requested.” 

My heart was pounding in my ears. I was not expecting him to handle it like this. 

“Can I just…” I began again, but he cut me off. 

“No. If it’s not about the routine, I don’t wanna hear it.” 

I sighed, accepting defeat. I could see the pain in his eyes, and it was killing me. I didn’t know what to say that would take it away. I realized there was nothing I could say to him right now that wouldn’t make it worse. 

“Ok. Let’s go over what I have so far then. We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.” 

We got to work. The undercurrent of tension never ceasing as we went through the motions. Everything between us felt negatively charged. The dancing was different. Our connection fragmented. We no longer moved as one. It was messy, causing frustrations to rise as we both struggled through it. 

When our rehearsal time was up, Dieter didn’t linger. He grabbed his belongings and told me to have a good evening and quickly exited the studio without a second glance in my direction. I was slower to leave, reaching my car about five minutes or so after he had left. I was surprised to find that he was still in the lot. He didn’t move to leave until I was in my car with the door shut. I guessed there were some habits that he wouldn’t be giving up. 

I woke up on Thursday feeling just as shitty as the day before. I wasn’t taking care of myself, and my body wasn’t happy about it. Add that to the loneliness I was feeling and the sadness over Dieter and it made for a bad morning.

Not to mention that it was filming day, and I was absolutely dreading it. After how it had gone the previous day with Dieter, I wasn’t sure how things were going to appear anywhere remotely close to normal. I knew it would be obvious to anyone watching that something was off between us. 

Dieter and I arrived at the dance studio close to the same time. The filming crew was already nearly finished with setup, so we got started with our stretches. There was no helping each other stretch or playful banter between us like there normally was. We were silent and avoided eye contact. It was already setting the stage for the massive blow up to come. 

I could tell from the glances that the crew were shooting at each other that they were picking up on the weird vibes. It wasn’t like they were hard to miss. Things started off cordial between us, much like the previous day. However, it was clear there were lingering frustrations with the routine. Dieter was having a hard time focusing and picking up the steps. It was Jazz, not the typical ballroom stuff, so it did make things a little more complicated. I knew he was better than this though. I knew it was because his mind was on other things. 

Three hours in, we were both still fumbling through the routine. We were completely out of sync and tripping over each other. The more I pointed out his mistakes and tried to correct them, the more frustrated he got. In turn, causing him to make more mistakes. I really wasn’t trying to pick on him, instead trying to stay focused on the choreography since we had cameras on us. 

For the first time ever, we started bickering. The escalating tension was evident and only encouraged the camera crew to stick around longer than they normally would have. We were slowly turning into a ticking time bomb, arguing about everything aside from what we really needed to talk about. 

It all finally came to a head as we practiced a lift. He didn’t lean his head back like he was supposed to as he hoisted me upward, which resulted in him getting knocked in the face by my knee. It wasn’t the first time I had accidentally hit him in some way while dancing, but it was the first time he almost dropped me because of it. 

He scrambled to catch me just before my face smacked the ground, managing to gain control at the last second and set me down carefully as he let out a loud groan. His mic pack came unclipped from his waistband and banged against the floor next to my head as he turned away rubbing at his lower back. I reacted quickly, knocking it away before it swung at me. It was still hanging from the cord, dragging behind Dieter as he walked in a wide circle, pushing through whatever pain he was feeling. 

“Are you ok?” I asked.

His eyes cut toward me, anger flashing in them in a way I had never seen. “No, I’m not fucking OK. I almost dropped you and I think I pulled something.” 

His harsh tone made me flinch, surprising me more than anything. I watched as he turned to continue his pacing, then nearly tripped over the mic pack that was still trailing after him. He was clearly at his limit as he reached for the cord to lift the pack into his hand. Then he shocked us all by yanking the wire loose from his shirt and slung the whole thing toward the wall with enough force that it broke into several pieces. He promptly turned on his heel, muttering obscenities as he walked through the double doors, leaving us all in stunned silence. 

All eyes eventually turned to me. I sucked in a sharp breath, realizing that the whole incident had been caught on camera. Fuck. 

One of the crew asked me what was going on. So, I gave the best lie I could come up with in the moment. I shrugged, “We’ve been going nonstop for nine weeks. We’re tired, we’re old, and everything hurts. It’s just taking its toll.”

I finally stood from where I had been sitting on the floor, “I’ll go check on him.” 

They moved to follow me, but I stopped them, reaching to remove my mic pack. “No. It’s better if you don’t come. Just…lemme talk to him in private, please.” 

They relented, hanging back as I moved out to the hallway. I glanced around, but didn’t see him. His phone was still lying in the studio, so I didn’t think he had left. I decided to check outside, which is where I found him leaning against the side of his car. He had one arm wrapped around his torso, the elbow of the other propped on it as he rubbed at the crease between his brows. His entire body looked tense, coiled tight and waiting to explode. 

I approached him cautiously, not even really sure of what to say because this obviously wasn’t about the rehearsal. I settled on, “Is your back OK?” 

He scoffed, “Yeah…but I can’t do this. I can’t keep doing this. It’s too much for me.”

I sighed, “So, what? You’re just gonna quit?”

He shrugged, “It would be better than torturing myself.”

I felt like he had just knocked the wind out of me. I shook my head, “No, I’ll just ask to have someone replace me. You deserve to finish.”

He was shaking his head now as he stared at the ground, “No. I’m never dancing with anyone else. I can’t.” 

I let out a humorless laugh, “I’m sure it wouldn’t take you long to get over it if you got a new partner. Dancing has a way of doing that.” 

He scoffed, the hint of anger that I saw flash in his eyes earlier was back. “You have no right telling me about my feelings. I know what I’m feeling, and I know it’s real. You’re a hypocrite and a coward for believing otherwise.”

It was my turn to scoff, “Excuse me? How the hell am I a hypocrite and coward for trying to be honest with you about where I’m at emotionally?” 

He gave me a deadpan stare, “Are you fucking serious right now? You preach about believing people can change and giving them second chances when you won’t even give me the first one. You’re too fucking scared to even try. Meanwhile you gave that abusive asshole how many chances? And I can’t even get one to prove myself to you. I’m never gonna treat you the way he did. I care about you too much to do that.”

I stood with my mouth agape, not even sure how to respond. He wasn’t wrong, I hadn’t really given him a chance. And deep down, I knew my choices were being driven by fear, but that didn’t mean my worries were any less legitimate. 

“Dieter…it’s not that simple. This is complicated for me…and I just need…”

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out in a rush. 

“time…what?” I was convinced I heard him wrong. 

His dark watery gaze was almost owlish as he stared at me, “I said, I’m in love with you…Kat.”

I felt paralyzed by his words. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I just stood there peering up at him in disbelief. He looked deflated when I didn’t say anything in return, and it crushed me. I wanted to scream the same sentiment from the roof tops, but I was too fucking scared. Admitting to those feelings was giving him too much control. It would mean that I was letting him in. All the way. And I still wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.  

He took a step toward me, his eyes boring into mine as he continued. “You can choose not to believe me if you want…but I need you to know that’s where I’m at. I’ve never said those words to anyone in my life. No one has ever made me feel this way. That’s how I know it’s real. It’s not some bullshit on set hookup. It never was. I knew you were it for me at the beginning of our first rehearsal and that’s never gonna change.” 

I could feel the tears pooling in my eyes. I wanted to close the distance between us, tell him I was sorry and wrong and beg him to forget everything I had said, but I couldn’t. The fear was still holding me back and somehow escalating to crippling levels with his words. 

When I still didn’t respond, any remaining hope he had seemed to fade from his eyes. The crease between his brows was deeper than I had ever seen as his lips set into a tight line with a slight downward turn. He nodded, seeming to take my lack of response as his answer. 

He reached into his pocket for his keys as he turned, opening the car door to get inside. I somehow managed to catch my breath and find my voice, “No, wait. I…just need time, OK? That’s all I’m asking for.”

He paused and sighed, not bothering to look my way as he responded. “If that’s all you can say to me right now, then I think I know where I stand. I just wish you would admit it.” 

I shook my head as the tears fell freely, “Dieter…no. That’s not…”

He didn’t even let me finish before he got into the car, shutting the door and starting the ignition without another glance in my direction. I could see the pain etched on his face as he backed out of the parking space and disappeared from my sight.

Without warning, a sob burst from my chest. I was fucking this up so badly and I didn’t even fully understand why. He was doing everything right. He made me happy. I felt safe with him. We were amazing together. Yet, I was still holding back. His past did worry me, but he hadn’t given me any reason to doubt that he had changed. He couldn’t help that his past behavior lingered in the minds of others who now judged him incorrectly. I knew that, yet I was still letting it warp my feelings about who he was now. I knew most of this confusion and fear was being caused by Alec. I may have removed him from my life, but he was still controlling it - controlling me. I hated myself for allowing it. 

Once I finally pulled myself together the best I could, I had to go back inside and tell the film crew we were done for the day. Internally I was fuming because I knew Stacia and Joe would find out about everything that just happened before I even stepped foot inside my house this evening. 

I didn’t linger, I was packed up and out the door before the film crew. I realized Dieter had indeed left his phone, so I grabbed it to take with me. When I got home, I unlocked it to find Evan’s number so I could let him know that I had it. I was surprised to discover that the wallpaper was a picture of me cuddling Zee. It was one I hadn’t seen. I wasn’t even sure when he had taken it. It had me feeling teary eyed all over again. 

(More good stuff after the images. Click to enlarge.)

I opened his contacts, shocked that he didn’t have many numbers saved. He wasn’t lying when he said he cleaned out his phone. It only took me a second to scroll down to Evan’s name to get his number. 

After firing off a text to Evan, I opened Dieter’s photo app. I knew I shouldn’t, but curiosity got the best of me. He had an album called ‘Things to Remember’ that jumped out at me. It had random screenshots of quotes and recipes. There were also pictures of his Oscar, plants, Zee, and me. So many pictures of me that I didn’t know he had taken. It made me feel warm, causing my heart to race. 

I wondered why he had these specific pictures in this album. Then I realized, aside from the quotes and recipes, it was a collection of moments he wanted to remember as they were - as he saw them. Just quick snaps of time to hold onto, almost like he expected them to disappear. Or like he needed a reminder that they were real. I wondered what he thought about when he looked at them. Did each one stir a specific emotion that he didn’t want to forget? It was the only thing that made sense.

Some of the pictures seemed so random. The first that stood out was me lying snuggled in his bed with my bare back exposed and bathed in sunlight, hair fanned out around my head. There was another of me in the kitchen, wearing nothing but his t-shirt as I made dinner. Another of me deep in concentration as I worked to carefully prune one of his plants. There were so many of me and Zee. I couldn’t help smiling as I looked through them, each one a reminder of how happy he made me. This was what I needed to focus on. Not all the static and noise from everyone else. 

I turned my attention to screenshots of quotes. A couple of them made my heart clench in my chest. Especially the two most recent ones that were dated from the previous day. 

“The sensitive suffer more; but they love more, and dream more.”

“I wanted you to see the mess and still find me worthy of love, to tell me that you could still love me anyway.”

I sighed, wiping away a few stray tears as I locked Dieter’s phone and put it on the table. Of all the ways I could have hurt him, this was the worst one. I wasn’t even sure if I could fix it if I wanted to. 

A short time later, I received a text from Evan saying he would be by to pick up Dieter’s phone and drop off some of my things. The thought of Dieter removing traces of me from his home hurt. I couldn't blame him though. I probably would have done the same if I were him. Especially if he was hurting as badly as I now realized he was. 

When I opened the door, Evan didn’t greet me. Instead, he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. I gave him a nervous smile and motioned for him to come inside. He came halfway into the entryway before spinning on his heel, holding out a tote bag in offering.

“Dieter wanted me to drop this stuff off. He thought you might need it while wallowing in self-pity...” He paused, gasping dramatically before continuing. “I mean…he didn’t say that last part. I did. Except I’m not allowed to talk to you about it.”  

I gave him a tight smile, “I probably deserved that. It’s fine.” 

His eyes surveyed me from head to toe before he finally said, “You look as shitty as he does. I don’t understand what happened…why it’s still happening… Can’t we just apologize to each other and live happily ever after? Because I need happy Dieter back. Sad Dieter is a pain in the ass to deal with.” 

I could see why Dieter liked Evan. He really was no nonsense and had a way with words. I guess you have to when you’ve essentially been Dieter Bravo’s babysitter for half his life. 

I sighed, “I’m sorry you're stuck in the middle of this. This isn’t…It’s not what I intended to happen. I really just wanted to press pause so I could have a minute to think…to process everything that’s happened…to make sure what we’re feeling is real.”

I moved to sit on the couch. Evan trailed behind and joined me. His face was empathetic as he took in my words.

“Dieter isn’t wrong. I’m scared. I’m feeling a lot of things, and I don’t really know how to process it all. A lot of it is new…and after what I’ve been through with my ex, it’s hard…to…I dunno. Let someone else in? I guess? I’m not really sure. I’m still trying to understand it myself.” 

Evan rubbed at the tops of his thighs and sighed, “Well, since I’m not supposed to discuss any of this with you, I definitely didn’t tell you that he’ll forgive you and that he does understand that part. Not that we’ve had in-depth conversations about it or anything…”

I gave him a sad smile. He really was just as ridiculous as Dieter sometimes. 

He paused, pulling his lips back as he sucked air through his teeth. “I’m also not telling you that it’s ok to worry about his sobriety and past behavior. It’s a natural human response, especially with his history. I do it every day. I saw his slow spiral and I’ve seen him at his worst. So, I feel like I can confidently say that he has changed. I see it…this is his best…and I worry less and less about it as time goes on. He’s committed now and he’s been doing so fucking good. I have no doubt that if you continue to be in his life, I’d never have to worry again. I’ve never seen him like this…with anyone. Trust me when I say that man is devoted to you in every way. You won’t have to worry about him sliding back into his old ways.”

The tears were falling again. This really was something I needed to hear. It helped smother my dumpster fire of thoughts just a little bit. I also didn’t feel as guilty for letting those things get to me. 

“Thank you, Evan. That does hold some weight coming from you. I appreciate you not telling me.” 

He smiled, “Can I give you a hug? I feel like you need a hug.”

I laughed, a genuine laugh and nodded. He gave me a real hug. Not a measly lean in and pat on the back. It was firm and warm, the kind that friends share. I was thankful for it. 

When he pulled away, he cleared his throat. “Now, I am supposed to tell you that Dieter will be at rehearsal tomorrow. After a mini meltdown he called Lenny and begged to leave the show, but Lenny won’t let him…Actually, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. Whatever. Anyway, he’ll be at rehearsal. I hope you two can figure this out. Call me if you need anything, yeah? Even if it’s to not talk about any of this.” 

I gave him another sad smile as he picked up Dieter’s phone from the table and stood to leave. It hurt to know that Dieter did try to get out of the show, but at least we still had time to figure things out. 

After all, time was the only thing I was asking for. 

Dieter’s POV

This week had been literal hell for me. I spent Monday night blaming myself. I knew that something was going on with Kat. I could sense her pulling away. I had told myself not to push her and to give her space, only offering support when she needed it. In the past, that had worked. It had been what she wanted. So, I stayed the course this time, trusting that she would talk to me about whatever was bothering her when she was ready. That’s where I had gone wrong. I should have pushed harder. Perhaps if I had, she wouldn’t have spiraled in such an epic way. 

I never would have dreamed that she had reached the point of effectively ending things in this way. She said she needed time, but her reasoning for it was a punch to the gut. It hurt like hell to know that she didn’t believe in me, especially after the bullshit she said about believing in second chances. Sure, I’ve had my fair share of second chances as far as my career, and let’s be real - continuing to be alive. Kat hadn’t even given me the first chance though. Not really. She had decided to nope out of it before I even had a chance to fuck things up. The worst part was, I couldn’t really blame her. I never felt worthy of her. Deep down I knew it was too good to last. 

And just like that, my self-hatred spiral was back in force. After staying up most of the night I decided that I could manage it and push through. Put a pause on things like she asked and go back to being professional for the sake of the show and my career. My resolve was already faltering when I left for our production meeting on Tuesday. I ended up driving in circles around the studio for at least twenty minutes before I dug up the courage to park and go inside. The timing ended up working out, being called to the conference room as soon as I walked in the door. 

If I had come early and been forced to make small talk with Kat beforehand, I wouldn’t have made it through the meeting. I barely made it through as it was. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her without nearly bursting into tears. Having to sit next to her and hear her voice was bad enough. 

When the meeting was over, I exited the room like the building was on fire, but not before catching a quick glimpse of Kat. I realized she looked just as tired and broken as I did. I wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and tell her it would be OK, but I knew that wouldn’t go over well. Truth be told, I didn’t know how to act around her now. I was never going to be able to pick up where we left off before New York. It was impossible. Too much had happened between us for that. Those thoughts only seemed to ramp up my anxiety about the situation and turned me into a wound up, bumbling mess. I knew I couldn’t go to rehearsal like that. I tried, but I couldn’t do it. I felt like such an idiot over the whole thing. 

With great effort, I somehow managed to get it together enough to show up for rehearsal on Wednesday. Though I probably would have been better off not going. Things between Kat and I were tense. Broken. We absolutely could not get on the same page. I knew most of it was my fault because I couldn’t focus. It hurt too much to be near her. I couldn’t even look at her directly without my bottom lip quivering like a fucking child. 

It didn’t take long for the frustration to set in. I was slowly falling apart, and I knew it. The more I tried to get it together the worse things got, and it was pissing me off. That frustration reached a boiling point while we were filming on Thursday. I almost dropped Kat. If I had, she surely would have gotten hurt, which made me hate myself even more for how ridiculous I was being. She almost got hurt, because of me. It was just too much. 

Looking back, I wasn’t proud of how I reacted in that moment. Somehow the old Dieter busted loose from his confines and decided to show his ass for a minute. That’s when I knew that I needed to step away. I was slipping. 

I wish I had just left as soon as I went to the car. I knew Kat would come looking for me. I knew she would confront me. What I hadn’t expected was my sudden outburst telling her how deep my feelings really were. It wasn’t the time for it, but I think part of me thought it would make her realize that I was all in for this. Maybe she would see how ridiculous she was being and say everything was going to be OK, but that’s not what happened. She just stood there staring at me like I had three heads and said nothing. 

I felt like I had made an ass of myself. I regretted it the second the words left my mouth. However, there was some part of me that was happy it was out there now. At least she knew where I stood, and she could do with it as she pleased. The fact that she didn’t seem to reciprocate the sentiment was hitting me hard though. I would have been better off not knowing. 

What happened after that wasn’t my proudest moment. I drove to Evan’s house and essentially had a meltdown on his couch. He did not know how to handle that situation because it was a first. Realizing I had left my phone at the studio, I made him call Lenny so I could beg him to get me off the show. I offered to fake an injury if need be. I wasn’t above it at this point. Lenny’s response was that I needed to put my big boy panties on and that I needed to learn to deal with the consequences of my actions and stop dipping my dick where I work. He wasn’t wrong, but this was different. It was Kat. Not some random hookup. 

Evan followed me home after that and put up with my manic frenzy to gather up Kat’s things so that they were out of sight. I couldn’t handle seeing the traces of her in my house. It hurt too much. I needed a clean slate so I could reset. Otherwise, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do this. 

Kat had apparently texted Evan to let him know she had my phone. I shoved him out the door with a bag of her things and gave explicit instructions not to discuss any of this with her while he was there to get my phone. He looked completely exasperated as I slammed the door in his face. 

I stayed up pretty much the entire night, alternating between snuggling Zee, plant care, and painting. I couldn’t shut my mind off and felt the need to keep busy, so I didn’t turn to darker methods of coping. I finally fell asleep as the sun was rising, but it wasn’t for long because I had rehearsal. 

I slept through my alarm and ended up being an hour late. I was in a bad mood as I made my way into the studio, firing off a quick bullshit response about scheduling conflicts to Dr. Smith’s questions about why I was a no show for my therapy session this week. 

When I entered the studio, Kat looked torn between being pissed and empathetic. I knew I looked like shit. I hadn’t even bothered to wash all the paint off my hands before I left the house. She looked like she was about to say something that I wasn’t really in the mood to hear, so I cut her off before she could get the words out.

“Let’s just stick to the topic of dance, please. I don’t think we really need to discuss anything else at this point.” 

I still couldn’t look at her, not directly. It was torture. Instead, I looked past her, focusing on the wall at the back of the room as she nodded. We got to it after that. I somehow managed to shut my mind off, going completely numb as we worked in mostly silence. The only words shared between us were about the routine. 

Saturday and Sunday rehearsals went pretty much the same way, except I somehow managed to show up on time. Not that I was feeling any better or was able to get any rest. I was just going through the motions. Existing really. Shutting everything off was the only way I could get through this without turning to old habits.

That doesn’t mean that I didn’t feel the distance growing between Kat and me. I felt it every second of the day. I knew she felt it too. I could see it in the way she looked at me in those few instances I managed a quick glance at her face. It was weighing on her, but I reasoned that it was because of how hard I was taking it. Not because she loved me back. 

Monday, I woke up feeling anxious, not knowing how the day was going to go. I knew this show day was going to be different and I was dreading it. I arrived at the studio at my usual time. Kat was there as well, which meant we were first to go through camera blocking. It was obvious that we were still not on the same page, both of us making several mistakes on each run through. When we were finished, she gave me a few pointers. Then she disappeared. I assumed she went to her dressing room or maybe to do her final costume fitting. 

It felt strange not having her by my side. Others seemed to notice her absence as well, giving me odd glances as I passed by. The whispers started when I showed up for hair and makeup alone. No one would ask me directly, but I could hear the hushed murmurs wondering where Kat was. It definitely didn’t help my sour mood and I’m sure the scowl on my face was only fueling it further. It was a ruthless cycle. 

After having a quick costume fitting, I headed to the main ballroom for our dress rehearsal. It was the first time I had seen Kat since camera blocking. We had somehow managed to successfully avoid each other all morning. She looked beautiful as always, wearing some sort of pink fringe thing that looked amazing against her glowing skin. Her face told another story though. She looked tired and sad. I was suddenly worried she hadn’t been taking care of herself like she should. I hated myself all over again for being the reason behind it if that were the case. 

I walked over to stand next to her, waiting for our turn. She briefly glanced up at me before turning her gaze downward toward the floor. I inhaled deeply, trying to keep my composure. Everything about this felt wrong and I hated it. 

Minutes later, we were called up to go through our routine. On the first run through, I took a wrong step and nearly tripped over her. They made us start over. The second run through went a little better, but the minor mistakes were still happening. We were both making them. This led to more whispers among the cast as we exited the ballroom. 

We both went back to our respective dressing rooms after that. Kat walked ahead of me, not looking back as she closed the door behind her. I rubbed at my face, puffing air out of my cheeks as I passed her door to go to mine. This really was fucking torture. 

I sat alone in my dressing room after that. I felt lonelier than I ever had, to the point that it was making me sick. This space didn’t feel the same without Kat in it. There was a layer of nervousness there too. I knew this performance would not be one of our best. The competition was down to six couples. It’s not like we had a lot of room to be fucking up at this point. I knew this could be the one that got us voted off the show. Part of me almost welcomed that outcome so that I could get away from the stress of it all. The other part worried it would be the last time I would see Kat and didn’t want it to end. 

Before I knew it, we were being called to the staging area for the show to start. I found a spot to watch the show from, trying not to pay attention to the odd looks as I stood alone. I eventually sensed Kat’s presence. She appeared beside me, arms hugging her body as she watched the opening performance. The air felt charged between us, but not in the same way it usually was. It felt thick and suffocating. It made it hard to catch my breath. For the first time in weeks, I found myself wanting alcohol, just so I could get through this. I hated myself for it. 

We were soon called to take our places as this weeks behind the scenes footage played on the screens. They were definitely playing up the drama I had caused. I hadn’t really considered how that was going to look to the audience or thought of a response if asked about it. It made my anxiety ramp up just a little bit more. For the first time in days, I met Kat’s gaze fully and held it as we took our places. I could see the worry in her eyes. She knew this wasn’t going to go well as much as I did. 

And it didn’t. 

There were no smiles between us as we danced. Just concentration and disappointment as we powered through our screw ups. We had a hard time staying in sync, even getting off rhythm a couple of times. It wasn’t a terrible performance, but it wasn’t a week 9 performance. I looked like a rookie in my first week with messy footwork and bad timing. 

When we finished, all I could do was shake my head and let out a controlled breath as I followed Kat over to the interview area. They of course asked me what was going on this week. I followed Kat’s explanation of being old and tired and tried to laugh it off. The judges were not impressed. They tore the performance apart and expressed their disappointment, making sure to let us know this wasn’t the time to drop the ball because the remaining couples are going to be tough to beat even when we were performing at a high level. My stomach sank, convinced that tonight would be our last night. They gave us two sixes and two sevens, which was higher than I was expecting. However, it was the lowest score of the night. 

Through all of this, Kat stood silently beside me with her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes seemed to be fixed on something in the distance. She looked like she was completely disassociating. After they read off our scores, she crossed in front of me to exit the stage, pinching the bridge of her nose as she went. My chin dropped to my chest as I followed behind her. 

Production Control Room

The production control room was buzzing with activity as the staff worked to certify audience and viewer votes before time to announce the bottom three couples. Stacia and Joe sit impatiently waiting for the results. Both are frustrated by the turn of events with Dieter and Kat. While the drama from rehearsals was definitely setting social media ablaze with speculation, they knew there was a real danger their star couple could be voted off the show after such a lacking performance. When the results are handed over to the two executive producers, they are shocked, but relieved to find that Dieter and Kat placed third in the group of six. 

Stacia sinks back into her seat in relief but is contemplative as she eyes Joe. She begins writing the results down on the card that is to be delivered to the host, but Joe grabs her hand to stop her progress as he gives her a pointed look. “What are you doing? We agreed to never tamper with the results…”

She sighed, “It’s not really tampering. The bottom two will still be the same. I just need to give them a little wakeup call so that they get their shit together. Another week of this and they’re gone…and fucking Alec will still be here. What do you think that’ll do to ratings? Especially if word ever gets out about what he actually did to her...”

Joe pulled his hand back, staring at Stacia in thought before nodding for her to continue. Stacia finishes writing in Dieter and Kat’s name and passes the card off to a production assistant to run the results down to the host. 

Now all they can do is sit back and wait to see if this play has the intended effect. 

Dieter’s POV

When we were called to the stage for the bottom three announcement, I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. I didn’t have a good feeling about this. We ended the night with the lowest score from the judges. The only hope I had left was that the Dieterina Stans voted to keep us around for a little longer, but I wasn’t confident about it. 

As the host began calling off the couples that were safe, I could feel my anxiety going up another notch with each name that wasn’t ours. Before I knew it, they were announcing the names of the bottom three couples - which included Kat and me. Then they cut to commercial break. I had to work double time to keep myself from falling apart. I knew this wouldn’t just be the end of our time together on the show, but maybe even the end of whatever I was trying to work toward. She would have no reason to see me after this. She might not want to. 

In the midst of my internal spiral, I felt a hand slide against my arm. I glanced down to see Kat’s fingers lacing through mine. I peered over at her, she was staring at me with tears in her eyes. I had to look away, or else I was going to lose it. That didn’t stop me from giving her hand a reassuring squeeze as the on air indicator flickered back to life. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but it gave me some hope that maybe this wasn’t over. 

We stood tightly gripping each other's hands as we waited for the next name to be called. I held my breath, damn near passing out before they finally called out our name as being safe. Kat and I both let out a sigh of relief, both of us smiling in each other’s presence for the first time in a week. 

As we exited the stage, Kat seemed to get emotional. I asked her if she was OK, but she waved me off as she exited to the hallway. I raked a hand down my face, unsure of how to proceed after the moment we had just shared on stage. I decided to follow after her, assuming she had gone to her dressing room, but she wasn’t there. 

I sighed, as I looked around the hallway that was slowly filling with cast members. She was nowhere in sight. So, I decided to go to my dressing room and wait. After changing out of my costume, I hung it outside the door for pickup and purposefully left the door open so that Kat would know I was here. 

I was packing up my bag when movement by the door caught my attention. Any excitement that I might have had was quickly deflated when my eyes locked with Anika’s as she came sashaying into the room like a predator ready to pounce on prey. 

I sighed, “Anika, is there something I can help you with?”

Her lips curled upward as she spoke in a sickly sweet voice, “I just wanted to see how you were doing after that. Seems like you had a rough night.” 

My brows furrowed, “I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.” 

She moved to stand in front of me with a look of concern, “Are you sure? You seemed pretty upset out there. I thought maybe we could go grab some dinner and talk about it.”

Fuck. Here we go. I gave her a tight lipped smile, “That’s nice of you to offer, but I’m waiting for Kat.” 

She gasped, seeming shocked. “Really? Well, I saw Kat leave.” 

My face fell. There was no hiding my disappointment. I realized maybe I was an idiot for hoping. The hurt and pain at that realization settled into my chest and squeezed hard. Anika moved in closer, placing her hand on my arm. I stared at it, not really sure how to react. 

“You know, we could just go back to my place and hang out…if you need a distraction.” 

Her hand began to slide up my arm just as I raised my head to meet her gaze, “Huh?” 

She was smiling again as her hand settled on the back of my neck, “You know, something to take your mind off things…off Kat. I can make you dinner…or do other things…” 

There were a few seconds that I actually considered the offer - suddenly craving the rush and distraction I knew it would give me, but I quickly dismissed it because I’m no longer that person. I gave her a crooked smile and laughed nervously, tilting my head back as she suddenly leaned in, her hand pulling my head forward as she crashed her lips against mine. Everything about it felt so wrong. I honestly felt like I was going to be sick as I pushed her away just in time to see Kat’s back walking toward the exit. 

“Fuck,” I huffed out in frustration. “You know what Anika, I’ve tried being nice and letting you down easy…but I’m just gonna say it. I’m not interested. Not now. Not ever. So, I’m going to need you to leave this room and never step foot in it again.” 

She scoffed, “Geez, you don’t have to be such an asshole about it.”

I let out a humorless laugh, “Well, you’ve caught me at a bad time, and you just royally fucked things up for me. So imma need you to go. Now.” 

I watched her stomp out of the room. Once she was gone, I ran toward the exit to find Kat, but she was nowhere in sight. I leaned back against the exterior wall, trying my hardest to keep it together. There was no coming back from this and I knew it. I knew how that had to look. Kat would never believe anything I had to say. 

An hour later, I found myself seated at the bar of a local tavern, staring at a full tumbler sitting between my hands. I was officially at the end of my rope and heading for a spiral if I didn’t pull it together within the next few minutes. As I moved to take a sip from the glass, someone sat down beside me. 

“I really hope I’m not about to witness Dieter Bravo fall off the wagon.” 

I paused just before putting the glass to my lips and turned to find the last person I ever expected sitting beside me. Lana. She had a sly smile on her face as she eyed me. 

“I know you had a bad night, but I promise that shitshow is not worth compromising yourself over.” 

My lips tugged upward as I sat the glass down, I couldn’t help it. “It’s ironic that you’re the one coming to my rescue. You’re not trying to fuck me too, are you?”

She snorted out a laugh, “Absolutely not. What kind of person do you take me for? I’m not a cheater.” 

There was something almost sarcastic in her tone. It took me by surprise. “Speaking of cheaters, where’s Alec? Do I need to be concerned about my safety?”

Her face fell slightly, “No, you don’t need to worry about that. Not tonight. I’m sure he’s off fucking someone else for the evening, which suits me just fine. He’s a shitty lay.” 

I chuckled, “Yeah, I’ve heard. So, all is not well in paradise I take it?”

Lana rolled her eyes, “It was never paradise. I’m just doing the job I was hired to do. As soon as the show’s over, I’m heading to London for filming with hopes of never laying eyes on Alec Balaska again.” 

I never thought it possible, but Lana Thompson officially had my full attention. My drink was forgotten as I turned to face her fully, “What do you mean the job you were hired to do?”

She had a grin on her face that could rival the Cheshire cat, “Dieter, surely you know there are strings being pulled behind the scenes?”

I nodded, “Of course, but I don’t actually know the details…”

The bartender came by, and Lana took a moment to ask for a glass of water, which shocked me. Then she turned to me, leaning in slightly before she spoke.

“Obviously you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone because if Alec finds out…well…I’d rather not be on the receiving end of that. Anyway, there was a last minute scramble with casting when you insisted on being partnered with Kat. The only reason they let it happen was because I agreed to make moves to split Kat and Alec up. They paid me extra for it. I mean…fucking the guy wasn’t part of the deal, but it was the only way I could get any sway over him. I had originally planned the paparazzi pictures out, so he would look like the asshole and not Kat. I hadn’t planned on her seeing what she saw. I do actually feel like shit about that…”

I was stunned by this news. It was completely unexpected. “Why did you need him to look like the asshole?”

She chuckled, “Isn’t it obvious? They wanted to clear the way for you and Kat to get together without any backlash. You two are the fan favorites this season. It was apparent from the first week. They’re giving the audience what they want…a love story where the underdog gets his shit together and gets the girl, along with amazing dancing. The way I see it, I did you two a favor. I was happy to do it too. Kat deserves better than what she had. He was an asshole to her.”  

I stared at her for a beat, trying to process everything she was saying. I should probably be  mad over the lengths Stacia and Joe were going to in order to manipulate us all, but I couldn’t be. The chance to have Kat in my life was a win in my book, but I had totally fucked it up. 

“So, you're OK being labeled a homewrecker then?” I asked. 

She gave me a sad smile, “You know how it is, especially when your career is on the downward slope…even bad press is good press. Besides, if anyone cares to ask me…he told me that he and Kat were over. How was I supposed to know he was lying?”

She shrugged with a mischievous glint in her eye. I laughed, “Ahh, well played then.” 

The bartender set the glass of water down in front of Lana. She took a small sip before turning her attention back to me. “So, what’s going on with you and Kat? From the looks of it after New York, I thought everything was going well.” 

I sighed, “I’m not even really sure. She asked to put a pause on things until the show is over. I guess it was too much, too fast. I mean, we did just kind of jump into it. She sort of insinuated that she’s having a hard time with my past, like maybe…she doesn’t trust that I’ve fully changed. I thought she was the one person who was giving me a fair shot, ya know? It really hurt to hear it from her. So, I guess we’re just trying to sort through our feelings.”

Lana’s lips set into a tight line, “Have you told her how you really feel though? Or are you being the typical idiot male and dancing around the topic of big feelings.”

My brows furrowed, “Excuse me?”

She laughed, “Have you told her you love her?”

I blinked at her a few times, “Who ever said that I’m…”

She rolled her eyes, “Fucking hell. Both of you are idiots. It’s obvious. Everyone can see it. You both do a shit job at hiding it.”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ve been told that a couple of times…But to answer your question…yes. I sort of told her in the middle of my meltdown earlier this week. It wasn’t my best moment. I admit, the delivery could have been better.”

Her perfectly sculpted brow arched, “And? What did she say?”

I laughed humorlessly, “She didn’t really say anything. She just stared at me.” 

She snickered, “You two really are idiots...Look, it probably took her off guard. Stunned her a bit…especially if her head is a mess of emotions. I’ll be honest, I don’t know how bad things got between her and Alec, but I do know she was making him go to therapy, anger management, and AA meetings. Now, he wasn’t actually going because he doesn’t care enough to fix himself…but if she was making him do all that, I know it had to be bad. They were together for a long time. Being with someone like that for that long…it’s a serious mind fuck. It makes you doubt yourself…doubt your worth. I’ve been where she’s at, so I get it. I don’t think it’s so much about you not changing as it is about her feeling like she’s not enough to make you happy. And when addicts aren’t happy…what do they do? Go back to old habits. She’s been made to feel like she’s a burden and unworthy of being loved…like she’s the problem. I don’t really know anything about your past, but given your chosen coping mechanisms, I’d wager that you know a thing or two about that?”

I nodded, letting her words settle in. I hadn’t really considered things from this angle even though I should have given my past. It somehow made the hurt I was feeling less painful because I realized Kat was hurting in her own way too. In a way that I completely understood. After talking with Evan, I realized a lot of this was because of Alec, but I had been missing the most crucial parts. 

“It’s possible that Kat is struggling to understand what she’s feeling. Being abused physically, emotionally…it really warps your sense of self. It’s confusing and it takes some time to work through. I think if you can be strong enough to give her the space to do that, she’ll come around. In the meantime, be there for her. Support her. Show her how you’re really feeling…don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be because at the end of the day…it has nothing to do with you.”

Fuck me. Lana was right. I was handling this completely wrong. I sat staring at the full tumbler in front of me again, suddenly feeling lost and unsure of how to proceed.

Lana took another sip of water before smiling, “You know…you probably don’t remember this. We worked on a movie together many moons ago. I was just starting out…playing a barista for one scene. I remember being completely repulsed by you that day…you were such a fucking ass.”

My gaze shifted back to her, my brows furrowing as I searched my memories. I shook my head, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember this...”

She laughed quietly, “No, I don’t think you would. I’m pretty sure you were stoned out of your mind. You told me to go get you a coffee during a break. I think you called me ‘sugar tits’ somewhere in the middle of that demand too? Then I told you to go fuck yourself. Another crude joke followed. You had completely forgotten about the interaction by the time the film was rolling again.” 

I rubbed at the crease between my brows, “Yeah…I know I was a dick back then. I’m really sorry…”

She cut me off, “I’m not looking for an apology. My point is…I see you. I’ve been on the periphery of your spiral for years…I’ve seen it at parties, at award shows…you’re not that person anymore. Anyone who can’t see that is fucking blind or they just don’t care to. I can tell you’ve turned into a good person. Someone worthy of Kat, so don’t let those doubts get to you, OK?”

I felt a lump forming in my throat. Of all people, Lana fucking Thompson got it. The whole situation. I had to clear the lump before I could speak, “I actually appreciate that. Thank you.” 

She smiled, “Now, Imma need you to go get your girl and fix this. Please. I’m a massive Dieterina Stan and I cannot stand to witness this mess any longer.” 

I barked out a laugh but quickly sobered. “That may be easier said than done. I really fucked up tonight. I doubt she’s ever gonna speak to me again.” 

Her brows knitted together, “What the fuck did you do now?”

I sighed, “Anika invited herself into my dressing room after the show and kissed me. The door was wide open, so I’m pretty sure Kat saw it. After I pushed Anika off, I saw Kat walking away.” 

Lana gasped, “Fucking Anika. I swear she is nothing but trouble.” She shook her head, seeming deep in thought for a moment. “Look, just…do what I said. Kat will come around. I know it. This thing with Anika will sort itself out.” 

I gave a dismissive laugh, “Yeah…I guess we’ll see about that.” 

She gave me a pointed look, “Yeah, we will. Now…you need to get out of this place before it ends up all over TMZ tomorrow. As a matter of fact…”

She reached for the tumbler in front of me, then put it to her lips and took a big gulp of it. She jerked it away from her mouth as her face scrunched up in disgust, “Ugh, what the fuck is that?”

I shrugged as I held in my smile, “Cranberry juice.” 

She gave me an admonishing look, “You could have warned me…and here I was thinking it was some sort of mixed cocktail.”

I snickered, “It wouldn’t have been funny if I told you.” 

She shook her head, “You may be sober, but the chaos demon lives on…”

I couldn’t help it, I cackled over that. “Ehh, I’m more like a mischief maker these days. The chaos demon was my past life.” 

She laughed as I stood from my seat. “Well, Lana, it’s been…an educational evening. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m happy I ran into you. Thank you.”

She gave me a genuine smile, “Anytime. Let me know if I can help with anything.”

I nodded, giving her a small wave as I made my exit. 

I went home after that, feeling slightly better about things. If only the Anika thing hadn't happened. That was my biggest obstacle at the moment. I laid down on the sofa, welcoming Zee for a cuddle as I considered my options. Once she settled on my chest and began dozing off, I grabbed my phone. I had a text from Marc asking if I was doing OK after how things had gone tonight and offered his ear if I needed to talk. I appreciated the sentiment and told him as much, promising to get together to grab lunch or dinner soon so we could chat. It would be nice to have a distraction for a little while. 

Then I opened Instagram. I was expecting the worst, but I actually had a lot of positive and encouraging comments from fans. It definitely helped the bad mood a little. Then I opened my DMs, realizing I had a message request from someone named Lydia Brown. I was intrigued, so I opened it. 

“Hey Dieter, this is Kat’s sister. If you ever tell her I sent this, I will not speak to you again. 

Anyway, I talked to her earlier right after the show aired. She’s kind of a mess right now, but I want you to know that she is in love with you. She told me as much. She just doesn't know how to process everything right now. Please don’t give up on her. She’s getting there.” 

I huffed out a breath, “Yeah, and I bet you didn’t hear about my latest fuck up yet.” 

I tossed my phone on the coffee table and wrapped my arms around Zee, scooting her up closer to my face so I could bury my nose in her fluffy fur. She groaned in protest but rolled over to rub her head against the scruff of my chin before she began purring. 

I squeezed her a little tighter, “Don’t worry baby girl, Imma figure out how to get your momma back.” 

Next: Week 10

✨ Here is a fun little Jazz video to go along with this depressing chapter that really didn’t focus on dancing at all. It was all about the angst this time. Sorry. 😬 

A/N: Good afternoon/evening my lovelies! I hope you are doing well after all the angst. So much happened in this chapter worth discussing. Our sweet Dieter and Kat are struggling, but they are limping along and trying their best. Are we shocked they were even able to rehearse? Are we shocked they had a shitty performance? 

Speaking of the performance, are we mad that Joe let Stacia fudged the bottom three results? Stacia obviously isn’t a fan of Alec…does that get her any brownie points? 😂 

And then we got Evan and Lydia coming in for a save. Do we think they should be getting in the middle of all this? Also, I love Evan. I just needed to say that. 

Now for the elephant in the room…Lana. How do we all feel about her now? Still hate her? Conflicted? Love her? I need to know your thoughts. 

How do we think this is all going to play out? How is Dieter going to get his woman (and Zee’s momma 🥹) back after that whole Anika debacle? 

Come scream at me about it all! I wanna know your thoughts. 

Coming up in the next chapter…

I know the chapter title says it will be the Quickstep, but I may switch it up to the Lambada, just because. We shall see. 

Kat gets scolded by her sister. 

Kat tends to her plants with thoughts of Dieter on her mind. 

Dieter does another Instagram live

Serious conversations are had

We finally find out what the song was that they danced the Viennese Waltz to

Lastly, In case you missed it... new fic in the works. 

That’s all I’ve got for today. 💜Mysty

CP Taglist:

@titlee78 @legendary-pink-dot  @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs  @harriedandharassed

@hisandsnakes  @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing  @runningmom94  @sin-djarin

@cakipy-blog  @missladym1981  @guelyury  @weho2kcmo  @alokaerza  

@girlofchaos  @trulybetty  @bitchwitch1981  @madnessofadaydreamer @pedrostories

@darkheartgatita  @jazzloveslatte  @timpletance  @musings-of-a-rose  @samiamproductions

@myloveistoolittle  @for-a-longlongtime   @copperhalfcent  @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter

@burntheedges  @stevie75  @bunniboo0015  @quicax3  @jackie923

@sherala007  @pastelnap  @angelofsmalldeath-codeine  @jessthebaker  @rebel-held

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@txlady37 @inkmonster21 @sunnytuliptime @jeewrites @fifitheragertot

[moonlitbeth]

the Valleydream Bloom yapping session, hear me out on this one please. share your thoughts, too!

as someone who lives for lore and every little reference, i'm always picking apart each piece of content we get in the game. but tbh, i mostly do it in my head, since my brain's too overwhelmed to turn those thoughts into words. it's basically a cliché detective board with red strings connecting one clue to another (you got that It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia reference).

but i can't stay quiet after finishing Valleydream Bloom. perhaps it's becoming a bad habit to say that each new Sylus' card is better than the last, but honestly? that's a pretty logical conclusion given how their relationship keeps evolving.

after Where Hearts Live, i saw some discourse popping up abt the recent cards starting to feel "repetitive" — flowers, grasslands, them lying in said flowers and grasslands. but here's the thing: when you have one limited myth and one anecdote, with scattered hints and fleeting phrases open to a thousand takes, there's only so much room to work. and yet, Sylus' team keeps delivering and adding new layers to his character, expanding old themes into fresh ones, and leaving more clues for future content. that's top-tier writing and clear devotion to his character, my dears. ppl have gotten used to fast, easy-to-digest content that's stripped of any real depth. a nod to a character’s core topics? that's gold, not just some shiny fluff. and Valleydream Bloom hit me with such raw honesty and bittersweet ache that i needed to reread the story three times through tears.

we got everything we wanted, from the story itself to the kindled part. the main story Sylus is back, delivering this perfect power couple dynamic with MC — playful and so well balanced with the Sylus we see in the beginning of the card, who goes to the movies and puts his beloved's comfort over his own (tho i can't help but laugh imagining this grandpa grumbling abt his knees after).

and the part where he buys the castle after the mission? that detail isn't even abt his absurd wealth, it's abt his long-term intentions and faith that what’s deep-deep inside matters more than what’s outside. that someday, once MC's memories return, they'll both share the true meaning of that castle and the secret spot next to it.

🐉 and now to the main course... (the course is quite chaotic)

Sylus repeatedly cut off parts of himself that defined who he was, but now, he's embraced every piece — the "dragon" parts of his attire, the book of myths, and the undeniable traits of his true nature. but most importantly, the words he says:

"This is the perfect place for dragon tales. Dragons make homes in flower-covered valleys. If a dragon knows it will die soon… It flies to a valley far from its kin and waits alone. In the dragon's final moments… flowers will bloom from its body. Only when the flowers cover every bone does the dragon pass away."

it's not a dragon tale, but his tale, his story. at least the happiest part, wrapped in careful metaphors, told in a place that mirrors his final resting spot, where he died in MC's arms. the valley of the past has become the valley of the present.

and please, this? It flies to a valley far from its kin and waits alone (present) — We fly over the black obsidian chapel and crash into a valley filled with blooming datura (myth).

it hurts. even in their shared dream in Abyssal Blossom, before "justice" was ever served, he showed her this valley, almost as if he knew what was coming. and right before his death, he took MC there again to share the solitude of death with his beloved.

also, the idea of death that gives birth to new life — flowers that bloom from the dragon's body. his body nourished the soil and turned death into beauty. given that, it feels like the whole Blossom Escape event fits Sylus so perfectly (i mean, this man's soul smells like flowers).

this post is getting so long and chaotic that i can't fit all my thoughts in (i did warn you). but i'll say this — the card is a major piece and not a filler banner. huge kudos to the writing and dev teams, they deserve a round of applause, while we deserve a solid pat on our backs, because i can't stop thinking that smth painful and heart-wrenching is coming soon for us, Sylus mains 🐦‍⬛

[slapjacq]

*comes out of the woodwork disheveled, with massive fucking bags under my eyes*

I’ve heard Da Capo five times now (circa April 20th, 2025) and since the intermediary episodes aren’t technically legit episodes for the season, I’m locking in my answers for this finale season.

I will be posting this when Da Capo drops.

Buckle up because we got a lot to cover.

Within the themes of understanding the entire scope of the show, with the episode taking us back to the premise of Malevolent. The fact that the Manager wiped Arthur’s memory, and not the King IS FUCKING MASSIVE. The Manager knew what he was doing, and he hints as to WHY HEAVILY. The Manager wants Kayne gone, I can’t really put my finger as to why, because I don’t think it’s just because Kayne is just a fucking murderous freak. That’s a WHOLE DIFFERENT STORY that we’ll get to, probably at one point mid season.

There are three very important things that we learned:

1. The Manager wiped Jarthur’s memory, and the Waylay is essentially is his domain. He has a SIGNIFICANT amount of power and knowledge at his fingertips.

2. Someone is trailing behind Jarthur, which is obviously presented as an absolute demolition of the 4th wall (I can’t even lie, the Manager talking directly to the patreons and other audience participants scared the piss out of me)

3. Chekovs lighter. the fucking lighter is what has been keeping everything together. This one is glue that holds this entire theory together.

From the top, we need to discuss the function of the bridging episodes thus far. Looking at Coda, Prelude, and Intermezzo all with full, finished seasons following said episodes, I have come to the conclusion that not only do these episodes set a stage for the upcoming season, but also set the theme of the entire season. Which also goes with my theory that season 1-3 is one musical piece, 3-6 being another. Calling it a story would feel like a disservice to the themes set up, especially since discussions of music is so, so common. ESPECIALLY in da capo, but again I digress.

Coda, was a do over between the KIY and Arthur, the signal that Arthur’s character was about to be decimated and built back up all over.

Prelude was an introduction to issues and problems that we would encounter within the next 3 seasons, which specifically supports my theory of s4 being the preliminary season to whatever comes next. A prelude for the uninitiated, is an introductory piece of music, specifically the FIRST piece of music you hear before you get into the meat of everything. It’s where leitmotifs, time signatures, what key the piece will return to at certain points, etc.

Intermezzo, is what connects two pieces in a musical or dramatic piece. It’s usually a solo, too. This is one of the reasons why I think we go through so many characters this season, and why Arthur and John are just bing bonging back and forth between a bajillion things. The season is their first real season where they are on the same page, with the same purpose, which takes president over EVERYTHING ELSE. Arthur being the vehicle, John being the passenger- they and their mission are the only things that actually matter here at the end of the day.

Which brings us to Da Capo. This is going to serve in two different ways. Obviously it’s to reference what happened at the beginning of the show, as Da Capo has given us as a treat. It’s also where, if we stay true to my theory, s4 had left us hanging.

This is where the lighter comes in. NOW HEAR ME OUT.

Who’s lighter was that before it was Arthur’s?

Roland fucking Cummings, father of Amanda Cummings (one of the side plot points of the first season). Who was he connected to that KAYNE LITERALLY CALLED OUT BY NAME? Frank Underhill, Henry McFarland, Eddie Mason, and Jarrett Coombs.

Final question, who is connecting Roland Cummings and the original boys who got this shit started? CHARLIE FUCKING DOWD.

Quick sidetrack before I really start digging up bodies.

Kayne is obviously a version of Nyarlathotep, whose origin is steeped in Egyptian myths (albeit, can get grossly racist thanks to dead resident evil shithead HP Lovecraft). who went to Egypt to unearth some crazy artifacts that folks would kill people for before he disappeared off the face of the fucking earth, before Malevolent?

Say it with me folks: Charlie Dowd.

Now I have relistened to ep 39 where Charlie/Noel explains all of this to Arthur, and I’m currently getting through the COC campaign that Harlan ran a few years back (so we’ll see where that takes me). I have also done a tiny bit of looking into the Lovecraftian (and other’s) mythos. I am regularly doing more and more tidbits of research because I’m fucking insane and also lowkey have wanted to run a COC game for some friends for a while now, blah blah blah this is just more exposition.

So anyway here comes my theory:

We know Lillith was bluffing about having the crimson stone and the gray stone because Kayne got the Graystone in S4. Kayne might as well be the new sheriff in town. What if we get to meet Roland finally in the Dark World, because bro has been dead and presumed missing for a fucking minute at that point (which could very well be a toss up between KIY or Kayne, because technically the King is the mate of Shub, remember that storyline? Also Kayne because well, Kayne). Again I’m getting way off track, BUT my guess is Roland somehow gets a hold of Charlie, who probably has seen Nephren-Ka’s (pharaoh and cult leader of Nyarlathotep, killed a lot of people) tomb and has gotten a fuck ton of information on since since he was with professionals. And my guess probably is that he has the puzzle pieces to help Arthur get rid of Kayne. The manager literally said Arthur is not the first to attempt this. I literally think he’s referring to Charlie and Roland, at the very least.

Now here comes my second theory, specifically on John getting a body:

Lillith is key. Lillith give John the ability to posses people the way she did with Hattie. Boom, pow he’s got a motherfucking body.

Only things I don’t have a theory on is how the flying fuck Arthur is making it out of this shit and who the fuck the manager is talking to if it’s not just a meta move on Harlan’s end. I’ll probably add to this post when I do.

Now I’m sorry this is sounds like a long shot, and ik it looks like I’ve lost my goddamn mind. After the conversation I had with @magnificentbastardanon I’ve had some serious clarity on this. To the point where I’ve been awake at night thinking about it. Don’t worry I’m okay, I have a life outside of this I pinky promise.

I’m also so sorry if this is entirely incoherent.

I will most likely be updating once we hit mid season.

Since tis the season of wagers, I need to make a bet with myself on how I think these next few episodes are going to go. I’ve already heard Ep 52. Da Capo, for Patreons drops not too soon from when I’m writing this, but I need a record of what I think is going to happen. I’ll probably post it once 52 comes out and Da Capo is announced to the masses. After Evrard’s castle, AND after how I predicted the ending of season was going to go, I’m feeling lucky and wanna try and see if I still got it.

Okay so Da Capo:

Da Capo in musical terminology for those who are not knowledgeable in this subject, is a reference to DC al Coda (fully: Da Capo Al Coda). Which is usually the marker on sheet of music that lets you know once the measure ends you must restart either at the beginning of the piece or where the coda is marked. Blah blah blah, sorry if you already knew this.

THIS ALREADY IS FUCKING ME UP BECAUSE WE HAVE AN EPISODE MARKED CODA????

SO WHAT WE DO HERE? Is this a reference to how Arthur is brought back by some miracle? Is a reference to the do over in time that Kayne was talking about? Is it about how theres going to be another whole ass wager behind Kayne’s already massive fucking gamble? Where does Lilith’s finger come into play? ARE WE GETTING PARKER? Is the waylay going to offer us another way to get back BECAUSE THATS STILL A THING. Especially since you know Arthur is a pile of fucking viscera right as of time of writing (circa April 11th, as a Patreon member).

Then there’s also a reference to the fact that Da Capo is also Italian for “the head”. Sometimes people reference to DC Al Coda when directing as “from the head”. now what does that have to do with Arthur and John?

It could mean Arthur, since he no longer has a physical form, takes John’s place as a physical being in the Dark World. It could also mean, and I’m not fully fleshed out on this theory, BUT it in involves Charlie motherfucking Dowd, NOW STICK WITH ME.

KAYNE WENT OUT OF HIS WAY TO SPECIFICALLY SAY THAT “CHARLIE WAS AT THE THRESHOLD” AND THAT HE WAS NEARBY.

Why would Kayne bring up a mortal who he just whisked away to fucking nowhere just because he wanted privacy with his favorite little human and fragment of an eldritch god? There is literally no other reason for him to be brought up in such an extensive manner if Charlie wasn’t an active player in what is happening. I can feel it in my fucking bones. Is Charlie about to be one of the keys to bring this all together, I am telling you. Idk if he’s gonna resurrect Arthur, or pull him from the Waylay, or even make a deal with the King, which could very well be the case?

This is how we get Charlie Dowd back, this is how we get Arthur back, and MOST IMPORTANTLY, this is how we get John his body back.

[madaqueue]

WHILE WINTER HOLDS ITS QUIET BREATH

a visit to childe's home

pairing: childe x gn!reader

themes/content: fluff. mentions of his family, violence, blood, he gets called his birth name, basically just a character study i guess. 18+ MDNI (wk: 3.4k)

a/n: nobody look at me

"Winter collapsed on us that year. It knelt, exhausted, and stayed." - Emily Fridlund, History of Wolves

Ajax smells different in Snezhnaya.

Coming from the shower on your sixth morning in his home, steam fading from his skin, it takes a moment for your mind to register that it’s him standing in the doorway, to connect the neurons and cells that know him, the ones that would recognize his curves and muscles draped in a burgundy towel. In Liyue, you’re used to the heavy scent of metal hanging on him, mingling with spices and clove, musk and sweat. It’s still him, of course, but there’s something else here, something closer to the earth that bore him.

He doesn’t notice the way your thoughts stall, already rambling about what his mother is planning to cook for dinner, where Teucer wants to go in town today. His steps fall the same, though, as he moves through his childhood bedroom, the floorboards barely creaking under his familiar weight. This house seems to remember him, although it’s only ever known this version of him, the one who smells like pine and rosemary, who loves to ice fish and hike and laugh, the one whose shoulders rise easily, whose eyes crinkle and flutter when snowflakes land on them.

Truthfully, the thought of asking you to join him on his journey home made his stomach ache. When it finally came time to make the request, he had returned only a few hours ago from some far-off city you’d barely remembered the name of, one with too many vowels in it, you think, one that took him away from you for too long again, his freshest scars already beginning to heal.

“My mother wants to meet you,” he hummed, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Tonia, too.”

Your heart lurched in your chest, and you were just as glad his eyes had strayed from yours to hide the way warmth began creeping up your neck. “They know about me?”

“Of course they do, silly” he pulled away, grinning. With a pinch of your cheek, he rubbed his nose against yours. “Who do you think I write all those letters to?”

When you didn’t respond, he hid his face back in the den of your shoulder.

“Would you come with me when I go back to Snezhnaya? To meet them? Just for a week.” Tightly, he closed his eyes, afraid of what your eyebrows or the corners of your mouth might say, things he didn’t want to hear. The journey is too long or I’m needed at work or I don’t love you, Ajax. But the words never came.

“Of course I’ll go,” you whispered instead, sweet like the honeyed wine you served with dinner. The waves crashed softly outside the open window, carried by the other sounds of the harbor, ones of labor and ships and travel.

In the haven of your skin, his lips curled into a smile.

The first day you arrived, his family greeted you behind the thick wooden door. Teucer lugged your bags upstairs, each thud as they collided with the old wood came with a giggle. His mother hugged you, and she smelled like cinnamon.

“Is that the only coat you brought?” she asked, rubbing the worn leather that draped your shoulders.

Before you could respond, she was already turning away, rummaging through the closet. Inside, you caught glimpses of old brooms and half-patched stockings before she thrusted a piece of cloth into your arms.

“Here! It’s not perfect, and it’s certainly not new, but this should treat you much better.”

She smiled with her teeth, like the grin that slips from Ajax on nights when the two of you sat outside and counted the stars. Devoid of second meanings, of control or deceit.

Unfurling the item, warm wool rubbed against your fingertips in the shape of a soft grey outer-jacket. The buttons held on by single threads, and the pockets had holes, and you pulled it into your chest.

“Thank you,” you said, and you hugged her.

Later that evening, his father showed you where they stored wood for the fire as Ajax swung a rusted axe, each crack echoing against the silent trees.

“It gets cold here at night, so make yourselves comfortable,” was all he said before ducking back inside. You slept in Ajax’s childhood bed under three layers of blankets, his limbs intertwined with your own.

On your second day in Snezhnaya, Tonia insisted on going into town.

“You’ll love it,” she promised, dragging Ajax by the wrist out the door. “You have to see it.”

He huffed some retort, but his eyes glimmered when he looked to you, reflecting the sky that seemed almost too blue here, unsoiled by humidity and sweat.

The city itself was busy, or at least, busier than you expected for a place known for its unforgiving climate. The worn-down cobblestone lended itself to easy steps, the sound of chatter bouncing off the brick buildings. Everyone moved easily past one another, like salmon in the harbor, all traveling back to the depths of the sea.

Suddenly, Ajax turned to you. “I have to run some errands. Don't get into any trouble, you two,” he winked, glancing down at Tonia who only giggled in response.

“We won’t!” she reassured; as he faded into the crowd, she looked up at you. “Now, I can show you the really cool stuff.”

With her hand clasped firmly in yours, she led you through narrow alleyways until you emerged under the bright, cold sun. Tall glass panels greeted you, lining the storefronts. Behind each one, layers of gold and jewels were carefully displayed, reflecting spots of light onto the marble like small fish eyes watching your every move.

“That one’s my favorite,” she stated, pointing through the window that fogged under her breath. An icy sapphire sat in the center of the arrangement, nestled into rich black velvet.

Just as you opened your mouth, a firm hand landed on your shoulder. “Now, don’t tell me you’ve taken a liking to these, or do you want me to go broke?” Ajax chuckled from behind you, his sudden presence making Tonia squeal in delight.

As the three of you made your way home, Tonia clinging onto his back and resting her head in the fluff around his coat, a light snow began falling, and without wind, it hung in the air. Ajax stuck out his tongue, pink and warm, to catch them; Tonia followed, opening her jaw as wide as a child could to capture the melting crystals.

That night, around the fire, Ajax quietly pulled something from his pocket: a small, black velvet pouch. Without a word, he handed it to Tonia. Her eyes widened, and with careful fingers, she pulled a bright blue gem from inside. She screamed and leapt towards him, rosy cheeks pushed high.

“Now, don’t you go losing that, okay?” he said, pulling her into his chest.

“It’s perfect, it’s perfect, it’s perfect!” she exclaimed, encircling his neck in thin arms and knobby elbows.

In bed that night, wrapped in blankets, he held his hands to you. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. Gently, he placed something cool in your palm, metal. “And, open.”

A silver ring nestled itself into your skin, glowing under the flickering candlelight, a wire-wrapped opal held in the center that sparkled like the moon.

“It’s beautiful,” you finally got to say.

“It reminded me of you.” Like the sun and the clouds and the stars and anything that shares the pleasure of orbiting you, he thought.

His lips are warm and soft when you kiss him, like melted snowflakes, and the ring fits perfectly around your finger.

His hair falls differently in Snezhnaya, too, you realize. It dries lighter after being dampened by wind-carried flurries, less heavy than the unfiltered city water of your home, where the shower always ran red as it circled the drain. Even the sea would leave its own mark when he swam in the harbor, salt and brine adding crisp edges.

But here, he’s all fluff, and you wonder if he ever feels like he’ll get blown away with a strong enough gust. Maybe that’s why his parents said he seemed too mature for his age - when his hair lets him stand two inches taller, it’s easy to say he must be older, larger, wiser.

By your second day, you noticed he never lets Teucer go into the woods alone, in spite of his little brother’s incessant begging, in spite of how he stepped through the front door just moments ago and his fingertips ached from the walk back from town. He always redressed, pulling on his jacket and buckling his boots. He always put Teucer’s hat on for him, too.

On the third day, a blizzard tore through the woods and blinded everything in white. The children played upstairs with their father, and the wind howled through the window panes, a whistling and lonely sound. There was no sun, so instead, candles were lit in every corner, the warmth of the fireplace beckoning you to its hearth. Bottles of firewater made their way through you, poured with a heavy hand into ceramic cups, ones with paintings of trees and a child’s handprint.

“You know, when Ajax was four, he tried to fight a bear,” his mother began from the silence.

Ajax, in turn, groaned, rolling onto his side and resting his head in your lap. “Mama, not this story again.”

“Hush, hush,” she giggled, taking another drink from her mug. “He was out by the lake, and his father had gone back to the house with the fish. He heard something in the trees, and so he grabbed this tiny little fishing knife.” With her free hand, her fingers drew out a three-inch space in the air. “Just as his father returned, he saw his little boy facing the woods. ‘Papa, run!’ he called. ‘There’s a bear!’ But what kind of father would he be to let his son face that danger alone? So, just as he began to run towards him, this-” she laughed, liquid nearly spilling from over the top lip of her cup, “-this teeny bunny hops into the clearing! The terrifying bear Ajax was ready to fight was just a little rabbit!”

Burying his face in his hands, Ajax once again groaned. “It was scary for a kid!”

“I know, I know,” she hummed, wrinkled hands patting his shoulders. “And you were very brave for a kid, too.”

The fourth morning you awoke in Snezhnaya, the bed was cold. Your muscles shivered and you reached for him, but found only empty sheets and blankets bundled around your shoulders.

The stairs still creaked under your weight, not yet used to the way your feet landed on them, stepping on tired and aching bones. In the kitchen, his mother greeted you with a soft, “Good morning.”

Without another word, a warm mug was placed before you, its steam rising into the wooden rafters.

“I hope it wasn’t too cold in that old room last night,” she began - words seemed to flow easily from her, some motherly instinct to comfort, to keep out the silence. “Yesterday was one of the chillier days we’ve had. I’m glad you two didn’t have to go anywhere.” She sipped from her own cup - tea, you presume from the bergamot hanging in the air. “Have you been sleeping well? I can bring up some more quilts if you need.”

You took a drink, letting the liquid scald your tongue, and stifled a wince (the burn isn’t too bad after this long in the snow, you suppose). “Yes, we’re sleeping very well, thank you.” Your fingers tapped on the wooden countertop. “Have you seen Ajax?”

“Oh, yes! I think he’s out by the lake.”

Grateful, you hummed into your hands, letting them be warmed through the ceramic.

“May I ask you something?” she suddenly spoke. It was so unplanned, no hint of the trickery or underhandedness you were accustomed to - when someone in Liyue asks a question of this sort, one must think on it, must contemplate their intentions and how to use it against them - you couldn’t help but nod. She blurted, “Does Ajax seem happy?”

Her gaze fell to the table, tracing its familiar knots and veins. “It’s just…” her thumbs twirled around the handle, nails clinking, “you see him more than me. I mean, at this point, you certainly know him better than me.”

The only thing you could think to do was reach your hand to hers. It was warmer than your own, more wrinkled and crooked, a tree with a life well-lived. “I do. I do think he’s happy.”

That morning, you buttoned your coat yourself, careful not to rip the remaining buttons from their threads. It was a slow task, one that required more precision than you were used to, but it got done all the same.

The walk itself was pleasant, the wind having settled and only dusting the occasional batch of flurries from the trees that danced under the morning sun like birds. You wondered if there were many nests here, if the fledglings could survive these winters. Beneath your boots the fresh snow shifted, and at the edge of the whitened path, a small flock of red flowers poked through the frost.

The lake was still beneath the ice. Ajax sat with his back towards the trail, but didn’t flinch as you approached. He didn’t speak, either.

Instead, he let you sit beside him on the old tree stump, his fingers clutching the fishing rod as its invisible string delved into the icy abyss below.

“Have you caught anything?” you asked.

”Not yet.” He didn’t look at you, he didn’t move a centimeter, not even to breathe. “You know, after so long doing this, you’d think I’d be better at it by now.”

”Is fishing something you can really get better at?”

His lips parted in a grin. “I suppose not. It’s mostly waiting.”

“Are you good at that?”

“No,” he laughed.

“Do you like it?” You leaned onto his shoulder, letting your hair spill over the fur of his coat. It used to smell of salt - now, it was all smoke and wool.

“You aren’t wearing a hat,” he observed.

“I must have forgotten.”

He nodded, a leather-clad hand reaching up to cover your ears. In the wind, the branches shook, and his lure left the water’s surface as smooth as glass.

“Do you think my family is alright?” he finally asked, to no one in particular - perhaps the trees would have answered if they could. But in their stead, you’d have to do.

In the distance, a bird called out its tune, a lilting whistle, and the snow danced in time. “I think they are.”

Beneath your weight, his shoulders relaxed.

“Your mother loves you,” you continued. “Tonia and Teucer, too. They all do.”

Silently, he reeled in the line before placing the rod upright in the snow. When he looked to you, he was smiling. “Let’s go back home.”

The longer you stay, the softer his skin seems to get, in spite of the way the frigid air digs cracks into your own. With each move of your wrist a new crevice makes its way to the surface, rubbed raw and dry. And yet, his fingers still trail lightly over them, soft lips ghosting over bloodied ravines.

“The cold never really bothered me,” he told you years ago, and you thought it strange, but here’s proof: warm, smooth hands, unfrozen. Each joint moves freely, each blood vessel pumps easily, as though they were made for this. He fidgets less here - maybe he always ran hot in Liyue. The heat makes people jumpy, you know.

Yesterday, on your fifth day in Snezhnaya, the snow crunched below your feet as he led you through the woods. You had asked to see the trails that led around the house, and although silently, he nonetheless helped button the grey coat his mother loaned you, tugging a hat over your ears.

He spoke too much while you walked, the sounds bouncing off the frail and peeling bark. “And there are animals out here, if you know where to look,” he rambled. “Rabbits, and bears, you know, and deer, too. You can trace them by their footprints, and it’ll lead you to their dens. Sometimes you have to seek them out, but it’s easy once you know what to look for.” His eyes closed, and you realized his boots left no indentations in the hardening snow. “Some people think the animals are dangerous, but they won’t hurt you, not while you have me here.”

Off in the distance, a branch cracked. Ajax flinched.

Wide eyes scanned the horizon, frenzied. A gloved hand reached for yours, and he pulled you behind him.

The air in his lungs burned cold, and he held it there for three seconds.

“Oh, must just be an old tree,” he laughed, and he took a few steps to hide the way it shook in the wind. “The snow is heavy, especially this time of year. It gets wet and icy, like a hard shell. Sometimes the older trees can’t take it anymore, and they fall.”

You hummed, the breath in front of your lips foggy. The walk continued, and he spoke and spoke and spoke, and the trees listened. You tried to listen half as attentively.

The questions began to stick in the back of your throat, ones you wanted to spit out, ones that tasted thick and bitter and burned your esophagus, ones about the abyss: if it was dark, if the moon shone down there, if he could see the stars or feel the snow. If he remembers where he fell, where the earth opened beneath him and swallowed him whole. If he’d been back there (he hadn’t), if he’s still afraid (he’d tell you he’s not).

He knew the woods well, even though he was only a child in them. 

When you returned home, his cheeks were pink, and he smiled as you unbuttoned the coat bunched up around your neck. In the kitchen, meats and vegetables stewed over the stove, their scents drifting as his mother stirred with her wooden spoon. The logs in the fireplace shifted, sending sparks into the air. His shoulders relaxed, and he hung his own scarf next to yours. It was harder to pick out his freckles through wind-reddened skin, but they’re always there, of course: you know where to look.

You wondered if this is how he carried himself, how he felt, how he smelled, when he was young. If the fourteen-year-old boy who went into the woods was chased because the wolves could smell the smoke and spices and fear lingering on him.

He sounds different here, too.

You’ve rarely heard him speak his native tongue: “It’s a rough language,” he always said; and yet, each consonant that falls from his lips is soft like wool; “You wouldn’t even understand anything I say,” and yet, when he turns to his mother and says “спасибо,” as she hands him his morning tea, the love it carries is enough.

She always smiles and pulls him into a hug, and he always laughs, bright like the crackling flames in the fireplace. She never calls him Tartaglia or Childe; here, he’s always ‘Ajax’ or ‘my son’ or ‘my precious boy’ (he says he hates that one, but he lets her preen his hair, and fidget with his coat, and tell him he looks too serious for his age, too angry).

Here, he has no titles, no violence or conflict or nobility to stare over his shoulder. Here, he’s not a Harbinger, he’s not a killer, he’s just Ajax: a kind boy who wears knit scarves and catches snowflakes and likes to ice fish.

Today, on your sixth day, the mattress shifts under his weight, and his warmth spreads across the bedding as he blankets you, still damp and smelling like the earth, like the trees and the herbs and his childhood. Fresh from the shower, one where the water ran clear instead of red, where there were no crimes or sin to wash away. Droplets land on your cheeks and he giggles as you try to shoo him away with a gentle shove to his shoulders; he lets you push him back onto the quilt his mother made for his tenth birthday, one with images of heroes and swords and the sun. There’s snow falling outside the frosted window and landing heavy on the trees, the ones that don’t mind holding it. Soft hands cradle your skin, and he whispers “I love you,” and his breath is warm, and he smells like pine and rosemary.

[fishnapple]

The purpose of your life, why you're here

This reading is about finding the purpose of your life, why you're here, your current reincarnation (if you believe in reincarnation), or your soul, what you're born into this world to experience. All 6 groups share a similar theme of reaching your highest potential and having the focus on connections.

A similar reading was also done by @claudiafrankie, you can check out their reading here

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

ROSE QUARTZ

Keywords: inspiration, leading, expansion, mastery, mental power, innovation, connection to the psyche

I see the theme of big vs small, how we define our life, give meaning to it. Are we just a tiny entity that exists in the sea of existence, or are we the whole universe, embracing everything?

In your life, you will encounter many instances where you're asked to step forward, step outside, go out of your comfort zone. You will be put into experiences that tell you how knotted your life has been and how much it could unravel into something more spontaneous. There's a fight between wanting to focus on the physical plane, doing daily tasks perfectly, concern yourself with details, with what is happening around you and the need to do something bigger, having more impact and influence, to make a change to the world, to live the life you dream about. Confinement vs freedom.

You have a lot to tell, so much to share, so much to experience. At your core, you're an adventurer, a nomad, life is a journey that you need to keep moving. You want to achieve great things, leave a mark in this world and receive adoration from people. But the first step in your journey will be facing your wounds. They are the door that stands between you and the freedom outside. Are you ready to turn the doorknob and push that door? In the past, in your past lives, you might have experienced confinement, mentally, physically, spiritually. You kept standing there and facing the door but didn't decide what to do. So in this life, you're given a choice to choose again.

You might think the components to your success in life are outward actions, ambitions, and material achievements, showing how capable you are. Your mind is buzzing with ideas, with the future, always looking for a new way to do things better, to perfect what you're focusing on, like a windshield wipers working tirelessly on a stormy day. The next piece of information, the exciting new discoveries, the buzzing trends, they busy your mind until it becomes fatigued and obsessed.

Your purpose of this lifetime is to learn how to rest, when to stop, and how to use the information and resources you have gathered to build yourself up effectively. What defines you is not how much you have, how good you are at certain jobs, but how you master yourself and become the highest aspiration of yourself.

To do that takes patience and understanding of yourself. Turning inward, curbing the restless mind and impulses. You might be someone who is quite impatient or impulsive, wanting to execute right away the idea you have in mind, what you think of should be what you have, expecting results and excellence quickly, if things don't go well from the first try, you want to give up and change direction, change the method without giving the old ones enough time to develop. If you are this person, then life will give you many opportunities or challenges to slow you down, the more you try to act, to fix things, tossing ideas everywhere, going around in many directions at once, the more likely you are to be confined and forced to make a clear choice and commit to it. And you will have to choose wisely. How do you do it? By facing that door, those wounds, see how they are projected into your surroundings, your relationships with people, how you go around, anywhere, just to avoid them.

You're given a good pair of eyes (figuratively, or can be literally) to truly see, amidst all those busy movements, a path for yourself. A wide, unexplored path. Pushing the door, stepping out is scary, but you're brave and you will inspire many others to do the same.

LABRADORITE

Keywords: growth, healing, comfort, peace, helping, courage, accepting changes

I see the image of a sword or a cross. Your energy feels young and soft yet resilient and brave. Life gives you many challenges that would forge a sharp and strong blade inside you. The sword here is not for harming or conquest but for protection and striking the lock, through layers of fears that have been imprisoning you for a long time.

Your life is divided or, rather, balanced by two opposing forces and choices. One is the past, the habit, the way you chose to protect your safety. You might have a tendency to go along with other people's wishes or try to avoid direct confrontation for fear of disrupting the peace. This might be one of your defence mechanisms when dealing with life in general. You want to live in peace, quietly go about your way without obstruction and intrusion from outside. This creates a demure aura, in some way, a little submissive or malleable energy. You don't act this way because you want to gain something from other people. You just don't find it necessary to engage in confrontations that lead to dead-end.

The other side is something you're called to embrace more of in this lifetime. Your energy is soft and flowy, like water, but it needs a little solidifying into something more sturdy. It's the hardening of the core self. Hardening here does not have a negative connotation, it's not about building walls around yourself, closing your heart and spirit, acting cold and tough, it's not like that. It's about being more sure of yourself, giving yourself a sturdy and durable foundation, like how a pliable sprout would grow into a robust tree, standing tall and firm on the ground.

Work and career, material achievements will be the ground where you will see yourself grow the most in this lifetime. There will be opportunities and chances for you to break out of your nest and explore. The work environment will be dynamic and full of pleasant surprises. You will find support through the people you work with. A family member might be a crucial figure in your process of becoming the best version of yourself.

I feel a very giving nature, you have so much in yourself, so much to share, that inner abundance, with people, with life. But only when you release the attachments that keep you rooted in constricted safety. There might be hesitancy when trying to think about bigger aspirations, about your life dreams. You might think that those dreams are unrealistic or too far away. Your mind and your heart are going in the opposite direction. Your heart wants to look forward, to the distant, unexplored horizon, while your mind is occupied by anxiety and uncertainty. It's the root of the great divide between your past and your future.

But I think in this lifetime, things will change. Your life is in a great transition period. Events might happen quickly, surprises come more often. What you've been believing in, what you've been doing habitually might suddenly become strange and feel foreign to you. These changes are necessary, you might feel uncomfortable having to depart from what you've been attached to. But if you can muster enough courage to go against the usual, it will be a personal victory for you. You will successfully break the earth above you and shoot up, out of dormancy, to begin a new adventure.

RED JASPER

Keywords: manifestation, beauty, to connect, freedom, commitment, wish vs reality

It feels like you have a starter kit of manifesting love but you haven't learnt how to use them fully yet. Love and other connections will be the focal point of this lifetime for you.

You have a unique power of manifestation. Have you ever had some thoughts and then a few days or some time later, they came true?. Everything could manifest instantly that you might even be scared of your own thoughts, afraid that any "wrong" thought will result in a bad future. If you haven't realised this about yourself, be more mindful and observe how things work around you. Life will feel a lot more magical for you.

One of the reasons why your thoughts are so powerful is because you're given full reign, full freedom to experience this world. It's not something that you can easily realise and put into practise. There's no particular script nor strict rules for you to follow, you just need to experience as many things as possible. The best gift you have in this lifetime is freedom. I think this gift is something hard-earned from countless trials and hardships. The memories of distant pains might still linger somewhere deep inside you, keeping you from fully being free to dream. But no more rules and burdens. This life is meant to be savoured in its vastness. You're a born rebel. Carving your own path, going your own way, never settling, never being fully at ease with the present, always on the lookout for a different future.

And that's where relationships come in. One of the best ways to do that is through relationships and interacting with others. I see a tendency to be hasty or quick to move on when it comes to bonds with other people. With your manifesting ability, combine with your natural charms, you have no problem with meeting and building the connection with someone. But something about commitment might scare you. You might not want to commit because of the fear that your freedom will be lost, or because you put a heavy importance on a commitment that you don't want to step into one too lightly. You might jump, too quickly, into conclusions about some connections. Maybe you would try to find a plausible reason to stop the connection, in the name of practicality and logic, ready to find flaws in the other person, or, on the opposite end, you decide too quickly that this is it, this person is the one and then try to commit, prematurely. It's like you are given something because you wished for it, but then you don't exactly know what to do with it. This will be one of your biggest lessons in this lifetime. To follow through with what you wish for, to commit to something fully and wisely. It's not just romantic relationships but also other relationships, colleagues, friends, families, etc.

There would be two types of people in your life who can guide or lead you into two different directions. They will appear in the form of mentors, someone older or more experienced than you, someone whom you feel you can learn something significant from. One type will encourage you to find your calling, your path. Who will constantly touch your deepest feelings without even trying. They may trigger you, for good or for bad, you would feel their choices of words and actions are dubious and questionable, but there is something undeniably inspiring about them, they push you to be more bold and get in touch with your needs and wishes. While the other type would be someone wanting to dictate every move in your life under the guise of knowing what's good for you. They are powerful, they can make your wishes come true but only if you come under their wings and stay there. You would feel like a child being well taken care of, but your wings will be clipped. Which direction to take is ultimately your choice, you choose whatever to experience, because that's your freedom in this lifetime.

CITRINE

Keywords: uncharted water, discovery, exploration, crossing, in between, balanced, transition

I see your path in this life is going to the unknown, something that you haven't experienced before. You are standing at a gate, a bridge in between two lands. Or, in the vertical sense, you are standing on the dark ground, looking up at the sun, shining bright from above. There are lots of movements, both mentally and physically. In this lifetime, you will constantly move between the two worlds. The inner, dark and cold sea of your private world and the bright, warm air of the outside world. No world is better than other, they need to be their for your life to be in balance, staying in one world for too long and neglecting other will likely result in some events taking place to pull you back into balance.

These two worlds are parallel to each other. The inner world is led chiefly by your mind, they are well organised, block by block, neatly like a library, while the outer world is more dynamic, led by passion and actions. They affect each other in every way, more than you realise. Chaos in the inner thought will likely result in confusion and, in some extreme cases, destruction of the known path. You will stumble upon many paths that are considered strange and out of the norm, but I think you're geared towards them, even unknowingly, your mind has a knack of seeing the unique structure of things, noticing the pattern and the likely outcomes of situations that not many people can. This will help you see more alternatives in life and choose a path that can bring satisfaction to you, in all senses, materially, spiritually, emotionally. This path will likely be an uncharted water, something that not many people have done, there will be many unexplored areas for you to bring in your unique takes.

Another way the two worlds interact with each other is what your inner world needs, the outer world will provide. If you feel anxious and doubtful, haunted by past memories, then you will likely encounter something or someone new who can give you fresh perspectives and encouragement to be brave. If you feel your life is lacking security, you feel low in your self esteem, there will be moments of transformation that bring you closer to what you desire, you will be given opportunities to venture into new territory, meeting new people, getting the support you need to start something. The universe hears your every call and answers back with opportunities, emphasis on the word "opportunities", you won't be given a whole cooked dish, you will be given ingredients to make the dish.

There's an element of settlement. Instead of jumping from place to place, in this lifetime, you need to hold onto something, to make something uniquely yours, something that will be by your side everywhere you go. It could be a legacy, a creation, a lesson, something that lasts. But it's not about stubbornly holding on to something, it has to be integrated into your core being. Throughout life, you will face with many events that will change your perspective drastically, you're not meant to hold on to old beliefs, withered branches that can no longer hold the weight of the birds standing on them. You will constantly meet new people, those that will open your eyes. Foreign people and cultures might fascinate you, somewhere with lots of sunlight, warm hospitality, beautiful scenery and architecture, lots of mountains and flowers. Especially if you're someone who's from a land near the sea, windy and cold, lots of rain and stormy weather. You are a traveller at heart, don't limit yourself to any particular place.

AMETHYST

Keywords: opinion, communication, conflict, to uphold, straightforward, honesty, truth

I don't know why, but upon seeing your spread, the phrase "human comedy" just sprang up in my mind. This life of yours will go through so many ups and downs in regards to connections and relationships. You will experience the full spectrum of them, every facet, every emotion.

You might encounter many situations where you're misunderstood greatly, those will create a very interesting dynamic between you and the world. Interesting might not be the right word, even my choice of word in this reading is muddled up, you might have the tendency to use words that make your intentions seem questionable or odd to people, and they do the same to you. It's like people from different lands from all around the world gathered for a meeting but there's no common language and no one to translate.

Communication will be the point of focus for you. You might struggle to find the right expression, the right words for the things you want to say. Thoughts seem a lot more clear and articulated in your head, but when they are uttered, there's this fog around you that tends to twist and blur the words, making them shift and fuddle. You will need to find a way to clear this fog, to deliver your words in the most direct and straightforward way as much as possible, even at the risk of being blunt and offensive. This might create an obsession or anxiety when communicating. Maybe you want to find the perfect expression, the details, you do notice the tendency of people misunderstanding you so you try so hard to elaborate, which can create the impression of being long winded, rambling or argumentative.

Ideas jump around in your head, constantly born and spread, demand to get out, to be expressed, this forms a rushing energy, impatient tongue. But even with all these misunderstandings, you don't actually offence people. They may perceive you as nitpicking, blunt, or argumentative, but they don't necessarily hate you for it. On the contrary, some even find it amusing and endearing, these people might even intentionally tease or poke at you, it's not malicious, but then again, you also don't read people's intentions too clearly and might perceive these acts of teasing as personal attack. Your reactions would rile those people up even more. Hence, the endless cycles of poking and reacting. The purpose of all of these is to train your resilience of the mind and heart. You should take all of these with good spirit, laugh them off, keep your truth and speak honestly, there's nothing more attractive than that.

On a more serious note, you're reminded to stand firm in your thoughts. I sense that you have so many wisdom to share with the world. Teaching might be a calling for you. Even without actually be in the education field, people can still learn from you, through your unshakable conviction in yourself and the way you speak your truth. It might be intense, it might be difficult to swallow, it might seem strange and outlandish, but nevertheless, it captivates the world through its sincerity.

AVENTURINE

Keywords: artist, bridge, the call, emotional landscape, go with the flow, sensitivity

"Young poet of the moon", "The poet of the soul", those two just appeared in my head upon seeing your spread, so I wanted to write them down. I think those words portrayed you pretty well. Your inner artist heart is beating every moment, it's a force that you can't hide or be ushered into oblivion by some circumstances.

This world needs a lot of people who have a sensitive heart, like you, someone who has the "eyes" to see the beauty in this world, the "ears" to hear its cry and whisper, the "lips" to court it with sweet sweet words. You're here to make people see the world in its naked beauty, helping them realise the small details of living and in the process, elevate their souls.

You offer this world a cup filled with creativity. The way your mind and heart tremble and come alive with all the senses can create striking new creations. The passion for sensuality is there, for the bursting love of life. Sensuality here encompasses a vast spectrum of things, from the aromas of delicious food, the cool and smooth feeling of water lapping over you, the swirling colours of leaves dancing under the sun, the warm and rough feel of someone's hands, ... they are all the materials for you to marvel at, to create, to give back to the world your interpretation of it.

Why did I say "poet" in the beginning? Because you have the gift of gab, your words resonate with people's hearts, because they are spoken from the realm of the unknown inside all of us, we can only be able to catch a glimpse of it here and there, when we allow ourselves to relax and float. You have the ability to connect to that realm , to catch sights of it more often and crystallise those sights into words or messages conveyed by other means. But I sense written words strongly. Even if you do something that isn't related to creativity or the art (but is there anything that truly be detached from creativity?), this gift will still assist you in every endeavour you're in, negotiating, mediating, persuading, counselling, anything that needs these kinds of skills.

Love will play an important role in your life, you're here to experience love in all of its forms, experience all the feelings it can create within us. It won't be an easy journey, heartaches are there, but so is the deepest devotion. You might face delays in love or intense connections that leave lasting marks on your soul. You're not the same person you once were before a connection. These will transform you, plunging you into greater depth and strange waters. But don't be afraid,if you allow yourself to savour the journey, you will arrive at a treasure that many people have been struggling to find. This inexhaustible treasure will provide richness to your life. Also, don't let yourself drowned either, emerge out of the water and share with the world what you've seen. So many people need their hearts touched by a soul such as yours.

[antoncore]

a thousand poems | l.at

word count: 1k

contains: (almost) tooth-rotting fluff, reader is a bit of a valentines hater, university au, literature student!anton

synopsis: you never saw the point in valentines, dreading it every year. that was until anton, a sweet literature student came along and changed your perspective…

anton lee was genuinely one of the sweetest boys you’d ever met if not the sweetest. he was a literature student that you started talking to on one of your regular library trips. the two of you had gotten so close that he’d shown you his “secret spot” — an empty hallway hidden in the corner of the top floor of the building. he offered a sense of calm between all your stressful deadlines and overwhelming classes. whenever you’d have your hangouts, he’d either have a snack that you mentioned you liked, a song to recommend you, a book that reminded him of things you’d talked about or a new poem he’d scribbled down before leaving for classes that morning.

it was now a few days before valentines and it was all that consumed your campus life — heart decorations in the student union, posters for speed dating events plastered on every noticeboard you laid your eyes upon and an overwhelming amount of emails from various societies advertising themed events. you hadn’t given much thought to the day, being too preoccupied with upcoming deadlines. you walked up the stairs, your bag heavy with the books you needed for one of your upcoming assignments.

as you turned the corner, you saw anton already waiting, cross-legged on the floor with an open book on his lap. his glasses had slid slightly down his nose, and he tapped his pen against the page, deep in thought about what to annotate it with next. “you’re here,” he teased, looking up to smile at you. his smile was soft and warm, making your heart race and settle all at once — something that nobody else had been able to do. “of course,” you replied, dropping your bag beside him with a sigh. “although i had to battle my way through a sea of valentines decorations to get here.” he laughed at your dramatic tone, shaking his head as he put his pen down.

“looks like i’ll be your escape,” he said with a grin, making space for you to sit. “i can tell you need a break.” you flopped down beside him, your exhaustion from the day’s classes suddenly feeling a bit lighter. anton’s smile softened as he spoke gently, “come on, let me read something to distract you.” “you always know exactly how to comfort me,” you said, your voice quieter than usual. he started to read from the book in his lap, his voice gentler than ever. you recognised the words from one of his favourite books, a romance novel he’d spoken about often. you rested your head on his broad shoulder as you continued to listen to him read.

the way he read every word felt intentional, like they held a deeper meaning that only he could understand. anton paused to look at you and smiled softly, only for your eyes to unintentionally meet his for a brief moment. if either of you were unsure of your feelings before, that brief moment made everything clear. there was a tenderness in the way he acted now and it spoke volumes, unspoken yet understood.

“i-i umm… actually wanted to read something else to you. i know you’re tired of everything to do with valentine’s but… i’ve been working on a poem for a while now, and… i wanted your opinion,” anton admitted, trying his best to avoid eye contact. “a poem?” you repeated, your head tilting to look at him. he nodded, fiddling with the corner of the page. “yeah, it’s… nothing special, honestly,” he whispered, but the way his fingers trembled slightly as he unfolded the piece of paper told you otherwise. you waited patiently, just like he always had for you.

finally, he cleared his throat and began reading the poem, his voice a little shaky at first. as his voice grew steadier at each line, the words sank deeper into your heart, realising every word resonated with the connection you’d come to share. you could feel the warmheartedness behind them, the vulnerability in how he expressed what was so often left unsaid. before you knew it, he had finished the poem and looked up, his cheeks flushed, unsure as to how you’d respond. you stayed silent, reflecting on what he’d said, unsure whether you could find the words to express how you felt. you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

“anton… that was so… beautiful,” you breathed out, the weight of the words still sinking in, your cheeks just as flushed as his. “it was perfect.” his lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something but instead he gently traced the edge of the paper with his fingers, his eyes searching yours. “you really think so?” he questioned, his confidence lacking in the moment. “i was so nervous to read that to you.” you smiled reassuringly as you studied his face fondly. “why? you know i love everything that you share with me.” “because this was different, y/n,” he admitted, lifting his head up fully. “this was… for you.”

the air between you shifted as you swallowed, your fingers slightly shaky. “anton…” he hesitated for a second before reaching for your hand, his touch warm and grounding. “i meant every word,” he confessed, his thumb softly brushing your knuckles. “every single one.” your breath caught in your throat. the touch of his gentle hands, his sound of his calm voice along with the way he was looking at you — like you were something precious, irreplaceable — was almost overwhelming.

you were speechless and it was impossible to deny that everything inside you pulled you towards him, as if you were connected. slowly, you leaned in, closing the space between the two of you. anton’s breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly before they fluttered shut. your lips met in a soft kiss, one filled with all the words you couldn’t say right now. his hand moved to cup your cheek, his touch featherlight, as if he were afraid this moment would end too soon. the way you melted into each other felt natural, as if this was always meant to happen. his fingers held you for just a second longer before you both pulled away breathless, his glasses slightly askew and his cheeks even more flushed than before, matching your own.

“so y/n… can i—” he paused, his eyes asking for your reassurance. “can i be your valentine?” his question hung in the air, soft yet filled with so much meaning. you smiled, heart fluttering at the sincerity in his eyes. you cupped his face gently, bringing him closer as you whispered, “of course.” anton’s eyes brightened and before you knew it, he was kissing you again, more tenderly than before.

“i’d write a thousand poems just to show you how much you mean to me.”

cee’s taglist ☾⋆⁺ : @sshwaa @seokiebin @gacktsa @nlovesbjh @atzhrts @yuzuksi

[bbydoll18xx]

I’ve Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Part 2)

You give Paige some guidance when it comes to self-pleasure.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Part 1

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4k

Themes: mentions of sex, sex toys, and some ~self-pleasure~

A/N: hiii guys!!! I honestly cannot get over the love for part 1. That was probably one of my favorite things I’ve written since I’ve been here on tumblr, and I’m so glad you guys shared the love 💜😚

I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint!!

Here we go!!

~

“You shoulda seen the way she was blushing! I’ve never seen her act that way!” KK roars to the rest of UConn’s women’s basketball team, the girls leaning forward in extreme interest as KK recounts how Paige had turned into a bumbling mess in your presence the day prior. 

“God, KK, shut up. I did not,” Paige whines, her face growing warm with humiliation. 

“There she goes again,” Jana teases, and the girls erupt into another round of laughter. 

“Y’all suck,” Paige pouts, walking off the basketball court and heading towards the locker room for a much needed reprieve. 

The taunting had yet to stop since she had stepped foot in the sex shop a week prior. KK and Ice had hunted down valuable information that a certain someone had worked there, and they had forced Paige to come inside, knowing you were standing behind the counter.

Paiges’ thoughts drift back to that day, as they had nearly a million times the past week, and she muses over the way your hair had flowed over your shoulders and your lips glistened pink.

Her crush on you was unwavering, the same way the ocean waves continuously kissed the shoreline. 

And despite what nearly everyone had perceived about Paige Bueckers, she was absolutely terrified when it came to expressing her feelings. Especially about you. So she bottled them up, settling for watching you from afar with a hope that maybe she’d muster up the courage to talk to you.

That was until her teammates had made the decision to do so for her. 

She really couldn't be all that mad at them.

Her crush on you had started three years ago. The two of you had shared a fondness for studying in the same area of the library, where it was quiet and away from the loudness of your respective roommates. Paige’s grades had always been good, but the daily motivation of seeing you, tongue occasionally peaking out in concentration and your body nestled in large, comfy-looking sweatshirts had Paige securing her place on the Dean’s List semester after semester. 

And with everything Paige did, she completely lacked subtlety when it came to you, and it only took a few longing glances in your direction for Ice and KK to connect the dots. 

~

“Oh, c’mon you can’t be mad at me,” KK whines, running into the locker room after Paige. 

Paige rolls her eyes. “Well, you ain’t gotta put me on blast.” She sits on the bench, putting her head in her hands.

“You’re being way too dramatic. She offered to show you how to use the damn toy,” KK stresses, and Paige’s face goes pink again.

“Soo,” she drags out the word with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Just take her up on the offer and boom you can have sex and then live happily ever after!” 

Paige’s eyes widen as KK, in the midst of her rambling, doesn’t see Coach Geno walk in behind her. 

Based on the look on his face, he had definitely heard KK, and he clears his throat, causing KK to whip around, her hand flying over her mouth as she pieces the situation together.

“Shit,” she mumbles under her breath, sending a weak smile over to Geno, who just waves her away, a disgusted grimace on his face.

But as Geno rambles on about how the practice went, Paige’s thoughts drift back to the way you suggested to help her. 

Would you really want to? Paige was navigating something completely new, and it was stressing her the fuck out.

If only there was a way to get rid of the pent up anxiety.

~

On the other side of campus, you were having a similar dilemma. You had been trying to work out what had come over you yesterday when you had boldly and uncharacteristically offered to teach Paige Bueckers how to use a vibrator.

The interaction plays in your mind for the millionth time, and you slap a palm across your forehead in frustration.

“I am so fucking stupid,” you groan, catching the attention of your roommate who was working on a paper at the seat across from you at your most favorite spot in the library.

“What’d you do now?” She asks, and you divulge her in yesterday's interaction with Paige, and her eyes widen.

“Dude, you have been drooling over her for the past three years, and you’re telling me you’re not going to wife her up?” She asks in a hushed whisper.

“I think she was just being polite,” you sigh. “We exchanged numbers, but I’ve been too scared to do anything.”

Charlotte shakes her head in mock derision, “I raised you better than that.”

You sit there a moment, contemplating. 

“Fuck. Okay, I’m gonna do it.” 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up Paige’s contact information, your fingers shaking slightly as they ghost over the keypad. 

“Hi, still need some help? If not, no big deal. Just thought I couldn’t leave a pretty girl stranded,” you read out to Charlotte as you compose the text, and she claps loudly in approval.

“God I hope she doesn't think I'm some sort of sex addict,” you moan, looking at the delivered sign under the text. 

~

Back in the locker room, Paige nearly chokes on a swig of water as your text appears on her screen. Aubrey, who is sitting next to her, slaps her on the back a few times, before leaning over to take a good look at what was causing the reaction.

Aubrey hoots loudly as she reads the text and promptly snatches Paige’s phone out of her hands to show it to KK, who had proudly deemed herself the captain of yours and Paige’s ship.

“FINALLY!” KK yells, fist pumping the air with great enthusiasm, and the whole locker room erupts into laughter again. 

Paige rereads the text. And then again. Your words were flirty and sure, just as they had been yesterday, and Paige is once again reduced to a blushing, simpering mess. 

She looks around the room, eyes wide and a shy grin on her face. “What do I say?” And the girls erupt again.

“Tell her you wanna fu—” KK starts eagerly before Azzi, who was sitting next to the younger girl, covers her mouth with a sharp look on her face. KK moves Azzi’s hand away, pouting and muttering to herself about how she’s “just tryna help Paige get some pussy.”

With pink cheeks and a pounding heart, Paige composes a reply, hiding her phone from the curious eyes of her teammates, hoping it seemed way more confident than she felt. You had a strange effect on her, reducing her assured ways into a bumbling mess, teetering on the edge of falling into madness.

And it was just the beginning. 

After all, you had yet to even touch her. 

~

That night you stand in front of Paige’s door with a pounding heart, determined to keep up the facade you had attached to your being, and as she appears on the other side, it is cemented. 

There was just something about seeing a bashful Paige Bueckers that makes your confidence soar, and you send her a cheeky smile, reveling in her mannerisms.

Paige leads you into her bedroom, and you immediately spot the purple vibrator laying atop of the comforter. 

You break the ice. “So what’s stopping you from finishing?” You ask, looking her in the eyes.

An embarrassed chuckle leaves those pink lips, and she rubs a hand over the back of her neck. “I guess I just keep gettin’ distracted,” she mumbles, and you nod in understanding.

“I like to think about someone,” you say boldly and pointedly. “If you close your eyes and immerse yourself into a fantasy, it’s almost like they’re there with you.” 

You watch as she takes a deep breath, like she’s mentally preparing for what she says next.

“Can I try again? And you can walk me through it?” 

The air leaves your lungs, surprised by her suggestion, and you agree before any other thought could cross your mind. 

The situation was something out of a filthy romance book, and as Paige undresses down to her boxers and her sports bra, you thank every star you had wished on the last three years for letting this happen. 

Paige settles onto her pillows, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, and with shaky hands, grabs the vibrator.

“P,” you say softly, and her eyes fly back open, meeting yours. “Use your hands first. Tease yourself, and let the arousal build up,” you suggest kindly, and she nods, putting the toy back down.

She runs her hands across her toned stomach, causing your own to lurch with want. Her hair was sprawled out on the pillows, and her bottom lip was red and plump from biting it, and despite just getting started, she looked completely fucked out. 

You secretly hope the image never leaves your memory.

Paige continues to tease herself, her fingers delicately dancing across the fabric of her boxers, and a quiet moan leaves her mouth. Her eyes are still closed in concentration, and you wished you could peer into her thoughts, hoping you were the object of her most intimate fantasies. 

And as if she could read your thoughts, your name leaves her mouth in a broken whimper that has you wanting to jump her bones and connect that sinful mouth with yours.

She’s panting now. Her eyes open, those crystal clear baby blues pleading for more. The unspoken words spoken between the two of you bridged a formidable bond, and you know at that point that this would lead to a whole lot more than offering friendly tips on masterbation. 

“Need more,” she whispers, her lithe body squirming on the bed hinting at her growing arousal. 

“Okay, baby, now take the vibrator and start at your tits and run it down your stomach,” you instruct, your voice nearly trembling. 

The quiet buzz fills the room before it’s cut with Paige’s whimpers as she runs the toy over her now exposed breasts. The pointed, pink peaks of her nipples make your own strain against the lace of your bra, and you shift uncomfortably in the gaming chair you are sitting in. 

The toy gets dragged over her belly, going lower and lower until it grazes the waistband of her underwear, and with a frustrated sigh, she lifts her butt to rip off the offending fabric. 

And now she was laid out bare in front of you, occasionally peeking at you, making sure you were still watching. 

You could not look away, and your body subconsciously leans forward toward the blonde girl. 

She places the buzzing toy on her clit, her back arching off the bed in response, moaning in pleasure. Her hips jump, grinding against the vibrator, desperately seeking an orgasm that had been denied from her several times over the past week. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” you whisper, enthralled with the display in front of you, and Paige opens her eyes once more at your praise, sending you a needy look and a pout. 

“Keep going,” you encourage, and she adjusts the vibration, a higher pitched buzz ringing through the small room. 

Paige’s skin glows with a subtle sheen of sweat and arousal that you want to meticulously lick, and her whimpers grow louder as she squirms, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“Fuck, gonna cum,” she groans, and you bite your lip, her noises effecting every fiber of your being. 

And with a loud moan, your name leaves her mouth, along with a long string of expletives, as her back arches off the comforter again. Her chest heaves as the orgasm rips through her, and her eyes roll back in overwhelming pleasure.

Your gaze rakes over her, taking in the gorgeous woman laid out before you, watching as she slowly comes down from the high. 

“Oh my god,” Paige breathes heavily, suddenly feeling exposed and shy again. 

“That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you admit, your own cheeks flushed with arousal, and Paige’s eyes trail to your peaked nipples straining against the fabric of your shirt. 

“I was thinkin’ of you the whole time. And that was the best fuckin’ orgasm I have ever had,” she responds, putting her underwear back on, much to your displeasure. 

“Thank you,” she adds shyly.

You shrug, moving to sit next to her on the bed, you run your hand across the flesh of her thigh, goosebumps erupting in its wake.

And before you can even make your own move, Paige connects your lips in an impassioned kiss that adds fuel to the fire that was raging in your core. The kiss was messy with unrestrained want and need, swapping unsaid words that had been brewing in both of your heads over the last three years.

The two of you had unknowingly fallen in love with the thought of each other, and now, here you were, falling right into each other. 

And it wasn’t going to stop there. 

~

The next afternoon, you are back at work, your mind continuously going back to the delicious display of Paige’s naked body. You had been on the edge all day, dying to get home to rub one out. Or four, if you were being completely honest with yourself. 

Sitting in the back room in front of the fan, desperately needing a cool off, you hear the familiar jingle of the bell on the front door, alerting you that someone had entered the shop. You take a few deep breaths, trying to compose yourself. 

It was hard to be cordial when you were surrounded by sex toys.

You walk out of the back room, your eyes immediately trained on Paige who was now standing at the front counter with a huge smirk on her face. 

Blushing you walk up to her, pressing your lips to hers, the taste of her mouth sending your body up in flames once more.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask breathily.

Paige gestures towards the package she had set on the counter with a wide smile. “Figured I’d add to the collection. Wanted to buy something for your pleasure,” she adds casually.

Your belly lurches as your eyes land on the strap on, a deep purple and six inches of thick rubber.

“Fuck me,” you breathe, feeling yourself drip with excitement at the thought.

“Oh, I plan to,” Paige grins, and she pulls you in for another kiss.

Things were just getting started.

~

This was a blast to write!! Also I am obsessed with shy, blushy Paige

xoxo katy

~

You can now read part 3 here

[psychhound]

im musing on bleed & the types of character-player relationships between my pcs and npcs

for a quick primer, bleed is the exchange of thoughts and emotions between player and character (great article about bleed here). for a lot of people, bleed leads to more immersion in the character, which can mean a more emotionally resonant and rewarding experience. some people try to play for bleed and some try to avoid it, but a lot of the time its not controllable. and some people tend to experience high bleed generally while others rarely have bleed with their characters

i was pondering why i, broadly speaking, tend to have higher bleed with my npcs than i do with my pcs, because i assume that is the opposite of a lot of people. especially coming off of a changeling the lost arc with @theresattrpgforthat that was intended to be high bleed (& succeeded!!) which is not an experience i get with pcs a ton, especially so quickly

and i think what i landed on is that i almost always create pcs and npcs with different relationships to myself according to bowman's 9 types of character-player relationships

for my npcs, i have to put pieces of myself into them intentionally from the get go because im inhabiting a lot of different people and have to have some sort of connection point to jump into these different minds in unpredictable situations as quickly and smoothly as i can. sometimes an augmented self, sometimes a regressed self, sometimes an idealized self. i take all the Me and then i hit it with a pickaxe and put the fragmented pieces into all these guys so i have tethers to the whole cast

and then of course i have to take all these fragments of myself and figure out their role in an overall story and figure out what their personas are going to be ... then they get a character sheet, if they get one at all, if the game calls for them to have one

whereas almost all of my pcs start as experimental selves. depending on the game, theyre either mechanics-forward because i want to try a funky build, or i have one Concept i want to play with that i build a whole character around. a recently divorced wolf dad guardian in wanderhome. an former-hivemind-member insectoid cult leader in starfinder. a bard/paladin who works at medieval knights orlando in 5e. sometimes i end up finding a new relationship with these characters that invites some bleed and sometimes i dont. sometimes they just stay me doing mad science with the game mechanics

which is really interesting to me as someone who really enjoys bleed and immersion, when it goes well. i didnt realize this pattern at all until i was like okay. mint asked me to make a high bleed character, why did it actually work

i definitely think there are ttrpgs that invite bleed more than others. when done intentionally, these are called 'bleed designs'. im aiming for a bleed design with spiritkeep since thats kind of the whole point. of the ttrpgs ive played (i need to count, but maybe around 17 now? multiplayer games at least), i think the two that come to mind are apocalypse keys and changeling the lost, especially in character creation. maybe thats too telling about me, though! theyre both games that very intentionally play with themes of trauma and thats a big bleed factor for me

idk ... curious to hear what yall think!! adding a poll cause why not :)

[callsigns-haze]

You knew? Part 1 of 3

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader! Callsign Ace

Chapter Summary: In a clever setup orchestrated by Hangman and Phoenix, Rooster and Ace, two colleagues with a tense relationship, unknowingly begin exchanging flirtatious emails under anonymous identities. As they bond over shared work frustrations, they eventually realize they’ve been emailing each other all along. The discovery leads to frustration and anger, particularly from Ace, who feels betrayed by Hangman’s manipulation. The revelation complicates their already strained relationship.

Warning: This story includes themes of manipulation and workplace tension, leading to conflicts and personal revelations.

The sun beat down on NAS North Island as jets roared across the sky, the rhythmic hum of engines echoing throughout the base. Inside the hangar, pilots and crew members moved with practiced ease, their chatter blending with the distant sound of drills.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw sat on a bench in the locker room, his flight suit unzipped to his waist. He absentmindedly ran a hand through his tousled hair, his thoughts far from the noise around him. Lately, a gnawing sense of loneliness had settled in, one he couldn't quite shake.

Just as he was lost in thought, the door swung open with a bang. Natasha "Phoenix" Trace rushed in, her boots skidding slightly on the polished floor. There was a determined look in her eyes, one Rooster knew all too well—she was on a mission.

"Rooster, got a minute?" she asked, barely giving him time to respond before thrusting a crumpled piece of paper into his hand.

He frowned, unfolding the note to reveal an email address scrawled in neat handwriting. Confusion crossed his face as he looked up at Phoenix. "What's this?"

"An email address," Phoenix replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I know you can be slow sometimes, but I didn’t think I’d have to explain that part."

Rooster rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. "I can see that. But whose?"

Phoenix crossed her arms, her expression turning serious. "Listen, I’ve seen you moping around here, and frankly, it’s pathetic. You're my best friend, and I hate seeing you like this. So, I talked to a friend of mine—a good one—and got her email for you. The only rule is, you can’t ask her name. And she won’t ask for yours either."

Rooster blinked, taken aback. "You’re setting me up? Since when did you become a matchmaker?"

"Since you started acting like a lovesick puppy," Phoenix shot back, her tone teasing but her eyes sincere. "Look, just email her. No expectations, no pressure. Just talk. See where it goes."

Rooster glanced down at the email again, something about the mystery of it intriguing him. He’d never done anything like this before, and maybe that was exactly why he should give it a try.

"Alright," he finally said, tucking the paper into his pocket. "I’ll do it. But if this turns out to be some weird prank, I’m coming after you."

Phoenix laughed, the tension easing between them. "Trust me, Rooster. You might actually thank me for this one. Just don’t try to figure out who she is. Let it happen."

As Rooster watched her leave, he felt a strange mix of anticipation and curiosity. Maybe this was what he needed after all—a chance to connect with someone new, without the weight of the past hanging over him.

Across the base, in another part of the hangar, Y/N Y/L/N, known by her call sign "Ace," was finishing up a maintenance check on her jet. She wiped the sweat from her brow, satisfied with the day's work, when Jake "Hangman" Seresin approached her, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"Hey, Ace," he called out, waving a folded piece of paper in the air as he jogged over.

She raised an eyebrow, instantly suspicious. "What’s with the look, Seresin?"

He handed her the paper with a flourish, like he was presenting her with a winning lottery ticket. "Just a little something I thought you might appreciate. It’s an email address."

Ace unfolded the paper, eyeing the email address written there. "Whose is it?"

"That’s the fun part," Hangman replied, leaning against the jet with a smirk. "I know you’ve been keeping to yourself lately, and I figured you could use a distraction. So, I talked to a buddy of mine and got you this. The only rule is, you can’t ask him who he is, and he can’t ask about you. Just email him. See what happens."

Ace looked at the email address again, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "You’re serious?"

"Dead serious," Hangman said, his voice uncharacteristically sincere. "No games, no strings. Just an honest chance to connect with someone. What do you say?"

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, folding the paper and slipping it into her pocket. "Alright, I’ll give it a shot. But if this is your idea of a joke, Seresin, I’m not going to be happy."

Hangman laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Scout’s honour, Ace. I think you’ll like this one."

As he walked away, Ace couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement. The anonymity of it, the chance to talk to someone without the usual baggage—it was intriguing. Maybe, just maybe, this was the kind of surprise she needed.

---

The day was winding down as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the base. The roar of jet engines had softened, leaving a quieter hum in the air.

Ace, tired but satisfied with the day’s work, was making her way out of the hangar. She was eager to get home, her mind already turning over what she might say in that first email to the mysterious address Hangman had given her.

As she rounded a corner, focused more on her thoughts than on where she was going, she collided hard with someone coming the other way. The impact jolted her back to reality, and she instinctively gripped her helmet tighter to avoid dropping it.

"Watch where you’re going!" she snapped, the words flying out before she even registered who she’d bumped into.

Rooster, equally caught off guard, scowled as he steadied himself. "Maybe you should try not walking around with your head in the clouds," he shot back, his tone sharp.

Ace narrowed her eyes at him, irritation bubbling up immediately. Rooster was the last person she wanted to deal with right now. Their relationship had always been rocky—too much ego and too many unresolved tensions.

"You’re one to talk," she muttered, brushing past him. "I’m surprised you didn’t trip over your own ego on the way here."

Rooster rolled his eyes, not willing to let it slide. "Yeah, well, at least I don’t need to be constantly reminded which way is up."

They glared at each other for a moment longer before Ace turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Rooster behind with a bitter taste in his mouth. As she walked away, she could feel the tension still crackling in the air, but she refused to let it ruin her evening.

From across the hangar, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Jake "Hangman" Seresin watched the interaction unfold, exchanging worried glances. They had been casually chatting when they noticed their two targets—Ace and Rooster—heading straight for each other. Now, as they observed the icy exchange, Phoenix let out a sigh.

"Well, that went about as well as a mid-air collision," she murmured, shaking her head.

Hangman chuckled nervously, though his usual confidence was tinged with doubt. "Yeah, I’m starting to think this might have been a bad idea. They can barely be in the same room without biting each other’s heads off."

Phoenix crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Maybe… or maybe this is exactly what they need. You know how it is—sometimes the people who push each other’s buttons the most are the ones who end up surprising you."

Hangman shrugged, though he still looked uncertain. "I hope you’re right, because if this backfires, we’re both going to hear about it for the rest of our lives."

Phoenix smirked, her confidence returning. "Trust me, Hangman. We’ve seen stranger things happen around here."

-

Ace slid into the driver’s seat of her car, tossing her helmet onto the passenger seat with a frustrated huff. The encounter with Rooster still lingered in her mind, but she wasn’t going to let it bother her. Not tonight.

She pulled out the crumpled piece of paper with the email address, staring at it for a moment before finally unlocking her phone. With a deep breath, she opened a new message and began typing, her fingers moving more quickly as she decided what to say.

Hey there, she started, keeping it simple. I’m not sure how this whole thing is supposed to work, but I guess we’re both in the same boat. So, here’s to whatever comes next.

She hesitated for a moment, then hit send before she could second-guess herself. Leaning back in her seat, she let out a slow breath, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nerves.

-

Back at his apartment, Rooster had just kicked off his boots and was settling in when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when he saw a new email notification.

Curious, he opened it and read the message, a grin slowly spreading across his face. The casual tone, the uncertainty—it was refreshing. Whoever this person was, they weren’t overthinking it, and he liked that.

Hey yourself, he typed back, his mood lightening as he responded. I’m not sure how this is supposed to go either, but I’m game to find out. Let’s see where this takes us.

He hit send, feeling a flicker of excitement. There was something fun about the anonymity of it all—no names, no faces, just two people connecting through words.

As he leaned back, waiting to see if they’d reply, he had no idea that the person on the other end was the very same pilot he’d just butted heads with. And for now, maybe that was for the best.

-

ACE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Ace sat on her couch, feet tucked underneath her as she scrolled through her emails. The mystery contact had quickly become the highlight of her evening, a welcome distraction from the routine of her day. She opened his latest email with a sense of anticipation.

Hey yourself, it began. I’m not sure how this is supposed to go either, but I’m game to find out. Let’s see where this takes us.

She couldn’t help but smile. There was something refreshing about this—no expectations, no judgments, just a conversation. She quickly typed a response.

Well, I guess we’re both in uncharted territory here. So, let’s start simple—how was your day?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Rooster kicked back on his couch, his phone in hand. The quiet of his apartment felt more bearable with the company of his mystery emailer. When her reply came through, he read it with a growing interest.

Pretty standard—flew a few maneuvers, avoided crashing into anyone, and had a less-than-pleasant encounter with someone who seems to think they own the sky. You?

He chuckled to himself before typing back.

Sounds like a typical day in our line of work. As for me, I spent most of my day fixing things up and trying not to lose my patience with a certain someone who seems to thrive on pushing my buttons.

ACE’S APARTMENT - SAME NIGHT

Ace read his email and felt a spark of curiosity. The way he talked about his day sounded oddly familiar, like they might have more in common than she’d initially thought. She responded with a hint of playfulness.

Fixing things up? Sounds like we might work in the same field. My day involved some pretty similar frustrations—mostly with equipment, though a few people came close. What’s the most interesting part of your job?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - SAME NIGHT

Rooster raised an eyebrow as he read her reply. Was it possible they worked in the same industry? The thought intrigued him, but he decided to keep it vague.

The most interesting part? Probably the high-stakes situations. There’s nothing quite like the rush you get when everything’s on the line. What about you?

ACE’S APARTMENT - LATER THAT NIGHT

Ace’s curiosity deepened. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they might be closer in their professional lives than either of them realized. She replied with a smile.

I’d have to agree with that. There’s something addictive about the adrenaline, the way you have to think on your feet. It’s not for everyone, but it definitely keeps things interesting. Ever have a moment where you thought, ‘This is it, this is why I do this’?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - LATER THAT NIGHT

Rooster felt a connection growing with this mystery person. The way she described the job, the adrenaline—it all resonated with him.

Definitely. There’ve been a few moments where it all comes together, and you remember why you signed up in the first place. It’s those moments that make the tough days worth it. Sounds like you know exactly what I mean.

ACE’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

Ace smiled at the screen. There was an undeniable connection between them, something that went beyond the surface.

I do. It’s the reason we keep coming back, isn’t it? The rush, the challenge. So, what’s your favorite part of the day—when you’re up there, or when you’re down here figuring it all out?

She hit send, the thrill of the conversation growing with each exchange.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

Rooster read her email, feeling that same thrill. It was like they were dancing around the details, both aware they were probably in the same line of work, but neither willing to say too much.

Honestly? It’s a bit of both. I love the freedom and the rush of being up there, but there’s something satisfying about the process of figuring things out down here too. You?

ACE’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Ace’s heart raced as she typed her response, the anonymity of their conversation adding to the excitement.

Same here. There’s a balance to it that I love. The thrill of being in the thick of it, and the quiet satisfaction of making sure everything runs smoothly when it’s all over. I guess you could say it’s a perfect mix of chaos and control.

She sent the message, feeling more connected to this stranger than she had to anyone in a long time.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Rooster read her reply, a grin spreading across his face. There was no denying it now—they were definitely in the same field. He wondered if they’d ever crossed paths without even knowing it.

Couldn’t have said it better myself. There’s something about that mix that’s just right. Maybe one day we’ll get the chance to compare notes in person—who knows?

He sent the email, his curiosity about her growing with every word.

ACE’S APARTMENT - EARLY MORNING

Ace’s pulse quickened as she read his last message. The thought of meeting him, of finding out who he was, sent a thrill through her.

Maybe we will. It’s a small world, after all. In the meantime, I’m enjoying getting to know you through these little windows into each other’s lives. Who knew this would turn out to be so fun?

She sent the message, already eager to see what he’d say next.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EARLY MORNING

Rooster leaned back, thinking about how surreal this all was. There was something almost magical about connecting with someone this way, without even knowing their name.

I have to admit, I’m enjoying it too. There’s something about the mystery that makes it all the more interesting. Who knows where this might lead?

He sent the message, his mind racing with possibilities. The night had turned out far better than he could have imagined.

---

The sun had barely risen over the base, casting a soft, golden light across the tarmac. Jets stood in neat rows, their sleek forms gleaming under the morning sun. The day was just beginning, but already there was a sense of energy in the air—a mix of anticipation and routine that every pilot knew well.

Ace arrived at the hangar, her steps quick and determined. She wasn’t in the mood for small talk, especially not after the strange, unexpected thrill of the email exchange last night. She had stayed up far too late, caught up in the banter with her mystery contact, and now she was paying for it. Her mind was still partially back in that conversation, trying to piece together who the person on the other end might be.

But her focus snapped back to the present the moment she saw him.

Bradshaw was already there, leaning casually against one of the jets with that familiar, infuriating smirk on his face. He was chatting with a couple of other pilots, his easy laughter carrying across the hangar. As soon as he noticed her, the smirk widened.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up," Rooster called out, his voice dripping with mock surprise.

Ace rolled her eyes, her irritation flaring instantly. "Some of us don’t need to parade around like peacocks just to get attention, Rooster."

He pushed off from the jet and strolled toward her, his hands in his pockets. "Oh, I don’t know, Ace. A little flair never hurt anyone. But I guess subtlety isn’t really your style, is it?"

She glared at him, crossing her arms. "You wouldn’t know subtlety if it flew up and hit you in the face."

Rooster chuckled, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Maybe not, but at least I don’t go around with a permanent chip on my shoulder. Lighten up, Ace. Not everything has to be a competition."

She stepped closer, refusing to back down. "When you’re around, everything is a competition. Or maybe you just don’t like losing."

Rooster’s eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and challenge. "You think I’m losing? That’s cute. Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night."

Ace’s jaw clenched, her irritation now fully transformed into a burning anger. "You know what, Rooster? One of these days, that ego of yours is going to get you in trouble."

He shrugged, unbothered by her words. "Maybe. But at least I won’t be the one who’s bitter and alone because I’m too stubborn to let anything slide."

Before Ace could fire back, the sound of a nearby jet engine roared to life, signalling that it was time to get to work. She shot him one last glare before turning on her heel and heading toward her plane. Rooster watched her go, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

The pilots gathered in the briefing room, a large, sterile space lined with chairs facing a wall of screens. The air was thick with the usual blend of tension and focus that accompanied every pre-flight briefing. Ace took a seat near the front, determined to focus on the mission and ignore Rooster, who had taken a seat a few rows behind her.

Phoenix stood at the front, leading the briefing with her usual no-nonsense attitude. She outlined the day’s manoeuvres and objectives, her voice calm and authoritative. But even as she spoke, she couldn’t help but notice the occasional, heated glances exchanged between Ace and Rooster.

It didn’t take long for the tension to bubble over.

Phoenix was in the middle of explaining a particularly complex manoeuverer when Rooster leaned back in his chair and spoke up, his tone casual but clearly intended to provoke.

"Some of us might need a refresher on this one. Don’t want anyone getting lost up there."

Ace stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she turned to look at him. "If you’re worried about keeping up, Rooster, maybe you should take notes."

A few of the other pilots exchanged glances, sensing the tension and doing their best to stay out of it. Phoenix sighed internally, knowing that once Ace and Rooster started, it was almost impossible to get them to stop.

"Alright, knock it off, you two," Phoenix said, her tone firm. "We’re here to work as a team, not to see who can throw the best insults. Save it for after the mission."

Ace bit back a retort, forcing herself to focus on the briefing instead of the urge to wipe that smug look off Rooster’s face. Rooster, for his part, simply leaned back and smirked, satisfied that he had gotten under her skin once again.

The day’s exercises were intense, a series of high-speed manoeuvres designed to push the pilots to their limits. Ace was in her element, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she focused on every turn, every dive. But no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t completely block out the presence of Rooster’s jet nearby.

Every time she checked her radar or adjusted her position, there he was—always close, always just a little too close. It felt like he was deliberately shadowing her, testing her, trying to outmanoeuvre her at every opportunity.

"Stay in your lane, Rooster," Ace muttered under her breath, though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

But it was clear from his manoeuvres that he was trying to show her up. Every roll, every dive was executed with precision, as if he was daring her to do better.

Ace grit her teeth and pushed her jet harder, determined not to let him get the upper hand. She mirrored his moves, staying right on his tail as they looped and rolled through the sky. The rivalry between them burned hotter with each passing moment, the tension building until it was almost unbearable.

But no matter how hard she pushed, Rooster was right there, matching her move for move. The frustration built up inside her until she could hardly see straight, her focus narrowing to just one thing: beating him.

When the exercises finally ended and the jets returned to base, Ace felt a wave of both relief and exhaustion. She landed her jet with a bit more force than necessary, her frustration still simmering just beneath the surface.

Back on the ground, the pilots gathered in the hangar to debrief and cool down. Ace was in the middle of checking her jet when Rooster walked by, a smug grin on his face.

"Looks like you were struggling a bit up there," he said, his tone infuriatingly casual.

Ace straightened up, fixing him with a cold stare. "I wasn’t struggling. But it’s cute that you think so."

Rooster shrugged, clearly unfazed. "If you say so. Maybe next time you’ll actually keep up."

Ace stepped closer, her frustration boiling over. "I don’t need to keep up with you, Rooster. If anything, you’re the one who’s slowing me down."

His grin widened, as if her anger was just what he’d been hoping for. "Slowing you down? Maybe you’re just not as fast as you think."

The two stood toe to toe, the tension between them crackling in the air. It was always like this—one little comment, one tiny spark, and they were at each other’s throats. Neither was willing to back down, and it was only a matter of time before one of them said something they couldn’t take back.

But before it could escalate any further, Phoenix walked over, her expression exasperated.

"Will you two knock it off already?" she said, stepping between them. "We’ve got enough to deal with today without you two bickering like school kids."

Ace took a deep breath, forcing herself to step back. Rooster, too, backed off, though the smug look never left his face.

"Fine," Ace muttered, turning her attention back to her jet. "Just stay out of my way."

Rooster gave a mock salute, his smirk still in place. "Whatever you say, Ace."

As he walked away, Ace’s frustration simmered, but she forced herself to focus on her work. She didn’t have time to let Rooster get under her skin—not when there was so much at stake.

But no matter how hard she tried to ignore him, the tension between them was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to flare up at a moment’s notice.

The day had been long, and by the time Ace returned to her quarters, she was exhausted. Her body was sore, her mind was racing, and all she wanted to do was collapse into bed. But as she sat on the edge of her bed, her phone buzzed with a new email notification.

She picked it up, her mood lightening slightly as she saw it was from her mystery contact. The memory of their flirtatious exchange the night before brought a small smile to her lips, a welcome distraction from the frustrations of the day.

Hey there, the email read. How was your day?

She sighed, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she considered how to respond. Part of her wanted to vent about Rooster, about how infuriating he was, but she held back. She didn’t want to taint this connection with the negativity that seemed to follow her

---

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster was sprawled out on his couch, his guitar resting on his lap as he strummed absentmindedly. The buzz of his phone drew him out of his musings. He saw the email from his mystery contact and smiled, eager for a distraction from his day.

Hey there! My day was pretty intense. Spent most of it dealing with some annoying issues at work and got into a few heated exchanges. How about you?

ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace read his response and couldn’t help but chuckle. It seemed like they were both having a tough day. She typed back, her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard.

Intense is definitely the word for it. I had a rough day with some tricky equipment and a certain pilot who seems to think he’s invincible. But enough about me—what’s your idea of a perfect way to unwind after a day like that?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster’s smile widened as he read her email. Her mention of a troublesome pilot made him wonder if they might be talking about the same person, but he decided not to press the issue. Instead, he focused on her question.

Ah, a perfect way to unwind? I’d say a good jam session or maybe just kicking back with a favourite movie. Something that takes my mind off the chaos of the day. What about you? Any special routines to shake off the stress?

ACE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Ace considered his response while taking a sip from her cup of tea. His laid-back approach to winding down was something she could relate to. She quickly typed her reply.

Sounds pretty good. For me, it’s usually a mix of hitting the gym or getting lost in a good book. Sometimes, a good meal with friends can do wonders too. It’s nice to have a little routine to fall back on after a hectic day.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Rooster liked the idea of winding down with friends—it was a nice contrast to the solitary nature of his typical evenings. He began typing his response with a relaxed grin.

Sounds like you’ve got a pretty solid routine. I’ve got to say, a good meal with friends sounds like something I could use more of. Maybe I should work on that. Anyway, what kind of books are you into? I’m always looking for recommendations.

ACE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Ace’s interest was piqued by his question. She enjoyed talking about books and was happy to share her favorites.

I’m a bit of a mix—I love thrillers and mysteries, but I also have a soft spot for classic literature. Recently, I’ve been diving into some historical fiction. How about you? What’s your go-to genre?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Rooster read her email with interest. Her love for thrillers and classic literature was something he could relate to, though his tastes leaned a little differently.

I’m a fan of thrillers myself, though I’ve been known to get into sci-fi and fantasy from time to time. It’s always nice to escape into a different world for a while. Historical fiction sounds intriguing, though. I might need to check that out.

ACE’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

Ace felt a genuine connection through their exchange. She was enjoying this conversation more than she’d expected. She responded with a hint of her playful side.

Sci-fi and fantasy, huh? That’s a pretty interesting mix. You might have to convince me that they’re worth diving into. And if you ever need a book recommendation, just let me know. I might have a few hidden gems up my sleeve.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

Rooster’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as he read her playful offer. He liked the idea of her recommending books—it felt like a little inside joke between them.

I’ll definitely take you up on that. And I’m always up for a good book challenge. Just don’t be too surprised if I end up recommending a few sci-fi classics in return. It’s all part of the fun, right?

ACE’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Ace’s smile grew as she read his response. The playful banter was exactly what she needed after a long day. She decided to keep the momentum going.

Challenge accepted. I’m ready for your recommendations anytime. And who knows, maybe we’ll end up with a shared list of must-reads by the end of this.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Rooster’s grin widened. He liked the idea of a book exchange and was intrigued by the way their conversation was flowing. He typed his last message of the night.

Looking forward to it. It’s nice to have something to look forward to, especially after a day like today. Here’s to new books and unexpected connections. Talk soon?

ACE’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Ace finished her tea and read his message with satisfaction. She felt a genuine connection growing and was looking forward to continuing the conversation.

Definitely. Here’s to more chats and less stress. I’ll be here.

She sent the email and closed her laptop, feeling a sense of calm settle over her. The mystery contact was turning out to be a much-needed bright spot in her hectic life.

---

The hangar was alive with the usual pre-flight activity. Rooster was inspecting his jet, but his attention kept drifting towards Ace, who was absorbed in her tablet. Her brows were furrowed, and she seemed completely engrossed in whatever was on the screen.

Rooster, never one to miss an opportunity, strolled over with a casual swagger, a mischievous grin on his face. “Hey, Ace,” he called out, his tone light but laced with teasing. “Looks like you’re pretty absorbed over there. Texting someone special, are we?”

Ace glanced up, her expression a mix of irritation and surprise. “What’s it to you, Rooster?”

Rooster leaned in a little closer, clearly enjoying the moment. “Just curious. I saw you typing away like your life depends on it. You’ve got to be talking to someone pretty important, right? A special someone, maybe?”

Ace’s eyes narrowed as she tried to hide the screen of her tablet. “It’s none of your business. Can’t you just focus on your own stuff?”

Rooster’s grin widened. “Oh, come on. Don’t be so secretive. I’m just wondering if you’re setting up a hot date or maybe just chatting with a certain someone who’s been on your mind.”

Ace’s face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger. “Seriously, Rooster? Not everything’s a joke. I’m just dealing with some work stuff.”

Rooster raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying riling her up. “Work stuff, huh? If it’s work, why’re you so secretive? You can tell me. I promise I won’t judge. Or is it that you’re afraid I might find out it’s someone...well, let’s say, more interesting?”

Ace’s frustration peaked. She shoved her tablet into her bag and took a step toward Rooster, her voice low but fierce. “You’ve been on my case all morning. If you don’t back off, I swear—”

Rooster chuckled, stepping back slightly. “Whoa, calm down there. I’m just making conversation. Didn’t realize you’d be so touchy about it. Guess it’s a sensitive topic.”

Before Ace could respond, Phoenix and the other squad members noticed the growing tension. Phoenix stepped in, her expression serious. “Alright, enough. If you two can’t handle a little teasing without it escalating, I’m going to have to step in.”

Hangman and Coyote, catching the edge in Phoenix’s tone, moved closer. Coyote placed a hand on Ace’s shoulder, gently pulling her back. “Hey, Ace, take a breath. It’s not worth getting worked up over.”

Hangman approached Rooster, his expression one of mixed amusement and exasperation. “Rooster, you’re really pushing it today. Maybe give it a rest, huh?”

Ace, still seething, shook her head. “I’m done with this. I just want to get through the day without dealing with his nonsense.”

Rooster, now more subdued but still smirking, raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Fanboy and Bob, who had been watching from a distance, approached to help defuse the situation. Fanboy clapped Rooster on the shoulder. “Come on, man. Let’s focus on the mission.”

Bob nodded in agreement, glancing at Ace with concern. “Everyone needs to stay cool. We’ve got enough on our plates without adding personal drama to the mix.”

As the squad began to gather for the briefing, the tension between Ace and Rooster lingered, but they both knew they had to refocus. Phoenix took a deep breath, addressing the group. “Let’s all get it together. We’ve got a briefing coming up, and we need to be professional.”

Ace and Rooster, now separated by the intervention of their teammates, walked toward the briefing room, the earlier animosity still simmering but temporarily set aside. The squad’s intervention had helped to de-escalate the situation, but the morning’s drama left a mark on everyone’s mood as they prepared for the day’s mission.

---

ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace slumped onto her couch, exhausted from the day’s events. Her laptop was open, and she continued her email conversation with her anonymous contact, hoping to unwind a bit. She began typing with a mix of curiosity and irritation about the ongoing mystery.

Hey,

Today was a disaster. Had a big argument with a colleague who really knows how to get under my skin. Not the best day for me. But this email exchange has been a good distraction, I guess.

How about you? How’s your day going? Anything to share?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster read her email with a smirk. He was enjoying the light-hearted banter but was curious to see if he could draw out more information. He typed back, subtly hinting at the similarities in their work environments.

Hey,

Sounds like we’ve both had our share of drama. My day wasn’t any better—had some heated exchanges with colleagues. It’s like we’re living in the same soap opera.

I’m starting to think our work situations might be more similar than we realized. Anyway, got any funny or surprising stories from your day?

ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace read his email with increasing suspicion. His description of his day seemed all too familiar. Deciding to push further, she typed her response, trying to get more clues about who he might be.

Hey,

It’s funny—your day sounds almost too familiar. I’m starting to wonder if we might be talking about the same environment. If you’re in a high-pressure job with lots of drama, I might have a pretty good guess about who you are.

Any hints?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster saw her email and felt a spark of recognition. He decided to give a direct clue to see if it would lead to an answer.

Hey,

Alright, here’s a hint: I work in a place where tensions are high and everyone’s on edge. Sounds like you might be in a similar boat. Does that help?

I’m curious—any idea who I might be?

INT. ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace read his clue and felt a sharp pang of realization. Her frustration from the day mixed with the sudden clarity about her correspondent’s identity. She quickly typed her response, her irritation clear in her words.

You’ve got to be kidding me. With your “high-pressure” job description, it’s pretty obvious that you’re Rooster. I should have known, I can’t believe I’ve been having these conversations with you, of all people.

This is ridiculous. And to think I was actually enjoying this exchange. I’m so done with this.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster’s eyes widened in shock as he read Ace’s email. The realization hit him hard, and his amusement turned into frustration. He quickly typed a reply, his tone reflecting his annoyance.

Seriously? I had a feeling, but this is just perfect. So it turns out I’ve been emailing with Ace. I should have known you’d be the one on the other end. What a surprise.

I can’t believe you were getting so worked up over these emails. Great, just great. I guess we’ve got a lot to talk about now. Or maybe not.

ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace’s frustration flared as she read Rooster’s reply. She cursed under her breath, the realization that Rooster was behind the emails making her even more upset. She slammed her laptop shut, her annoyance with both Rooster and Hangman boiling over.

“Damn it, Rooster. And damn Hangman for setting this up!” she fumed. “This whole thing was a setup from the start.”

She paced the room, trying to calm herself. The surprise and anger of discovering her mystery contact was Rooster left her seething. The day had been a mess, and the email revelation only added fuel to the fire.

Please comment, like and reblog!

[vortexbloom]

need a yandere phainon so much

Of course !

I already made some Yandere Headcanons for him, so I decided to write a OneShot :3

Unbound Obsession (OneShot)

Pairing: Yandere Phainon x Reader

Fandom: HSR (Honkai Star Rail)

Warnings: Yandere themes, Obsessiveness, Stalking

─୨ৎ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────୨ৎ─

Masterlist - Honkai Star Rail

Masterlist - Genshin Impact

Moodboards - Genshin Impact

Masterlist - Marvel

Boycott List

─୨ৎ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────୨ৎ─

English isn’t my first/native language, so there might be misspellings etc.

I do NOT own any Characters !

Have fun reading this :D

Art by: @illix233 on X (Twitter)

Phainon had always admired you from afar, your beauty, your kindness, your very essence drawing him in like a moth to a flame. But admiration soon turned into something darker, something obsessive.

It all started on one fateful day when your eyes met across the room. It was innocent at first, a passing glance, a momentary connection, but to Phainon, it was a spark. It ignited a fire in his chest, a fire that could never be extinguished. He began to watch you more closely, studying your every movement, your every word. He knew where you would be, what you would do, who you would speak to.

At first, he tried to be subtle. He would show up at places you frequented, pretending it was mere coincidence. A smile here, a soft greeting there. But as time passed, his actions became more bold, more possessive. He was always there, lurking in the shadows, just a step behind you, waiting for the perfect moment to claim you as his own.

He started sending gifts, flowers, trinkets, tokens of his affection, but none of them were ever enough. You never seemed to notice, never seemed to appreciate the lengths he would go to. That only fueled his obsession. He began to track your every move, learning your routines, discovering your likes and dislikes. Each new piece of information brought him closer to the conclusion that you two were meant to be together—forever.

And then came the day when he finally confessed.

It was a quiet evening, the world outside shrouded in darkness, the air thick with tension. He had orchestrated the perfect moment, knowing they would be alone. The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft rhythm of your breathing as Phainon stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with a strange intensity.

"I’ve been watching you," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "I’ve been waiting for you to realize that we belong together. No one else matters. Just you and me."

Your heart raced, a chill creeping up you spine as you took a step back. But Phainon was quick, grabbing your wrist, his grip tight, unyielding.

"You don’t have to be afraid," he murmured, his lips curling into a smile that sent shivers down your spine. "I’ll make sure no one can take you from me. You’ll never leave my side."

His words were both a promise and a threat, a chilling combination that sent a cold sweat down your neck. But Phainon didn’t care. In his mind, this was fate. This was the way things were meant to be. And nothing, nothing would stand in his way.

From that day forward, you would never be free again. Phainon’s obsession consumed him entirely. His love was suffocating, possessive, and there was no escaping it. He was always watching, always waiting, and no matter how much you tried to run, Phainon would always find a way to bring you back into his twisted, unrelenting embrace.

Because, to him, there was no other choice. You were his. Forever

© 2024-2025 vortexbloom all rights reserved. Don’t repost, edit, translate or plagiarize my work!

Have a good day/night/evening/morning/afternoon ☼꥟☽

[seungrem]

lee felix x m!reader

‘Work Husband’ ~*+

summary: Transitioning into a new department can be tough. Luckily, male!reader’s new boss pairs him and Felix together- the two almost immediately having great chemistry. Work-relationships almost always develop into something more, right?

( overview: office AU, soft-top!felix since u guys want it so bad, bottom!reader, smut obviously, protection and all of that, bj + anal, discreet/hidden but in office )

emoji theme:

🪐 ( office AU )

+��️ ( +18, mdni )

🌱 ( short fic, oneshot - barely 1k words )

☁️ ( = y/n )

likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Welcome. It’s a pleasure to have you join us here.. and I’m sorry about your former office.”

A large wooden desk with a few tan files sat inbetween ☁️ and his new boss. Shedding beams into the room, the sun’s golden rays illuminated the frosted glass surrounding the two. ☁️ shook his head lightly, him then smiling at the older woman.

“It’s no problem. As long as this department isn’t anything like the other, this’ll feel like a promotion.” ☁️ brushed his hand against his navy blue sweater and sighed. “Thank you for having me.”

“Like you said, this is kind of like a promotion. I expect great things from you.” The boss stood up as a soft knock erupted from outside of the office. A man with long-ish blonde hair walked in and smiled- first at the boss, and then to ☁️.

“This is who you’ll be assisting. Felix will give you written pieces and ask for revisions until he sees that it’s fit to be published. Unfortunately, we are short staffed by choice, so the work load will be a lot. Please keep up with the given tasks and their deadlines. Felix?”

☁️ turned his head back to the man.

“Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Lee Felix and I’ll be taking care of you. I look forward to working with you.”

☁️ simply smiled and spoke a shy “hello,” as he stood up. “I’m ☁️, it’s nice to meet you as well.” He then thanked the boss for her time and followed Felix out of the room.

“Behave, Felix!” The boss shouted as ☁️ stepped out of the room behind the man. He followed Felix down the left side of the large room, stopping at a set of cubicles that sat against a wall of windows. Started from the floor and touching the ceiling, the view displayed a bustling city. The cubicle was light gray and quite large, with a grey laptop located on the desk inside. Felix walked in and pulled out the large cushioned chair, and looked around awkwardly.

“So.. this is where you’ll be spending a majority of your day. Since it’s so spacious there’s only two cubicles located against the wall on this side of the room. My area is directly in front of yours.” He pointed over the cubicle wall. “If you ever need anything, please just walk over or.. just look over it. Sound good?” Felix explained, his voice soft yet sonorous.

☁️ nodded and smiled bashfully. Felix was remarkably good-looking, which was unusual for an office setting such as this one. The man was pretty much ☁️’s type, too, making him even more nervous than he already was.

“Yes. Thank you, Felix.”

Felix smiled and nodded to the man before leaning against the cubicle’s entrance. He dug his hands beside his white button-up and down into his black pant’s pockets, waiting for ☁️ to sit down before responding.

“Of course. I’ll let you get used to the office before I ask you to do work.”

☁️ acknowledged what he said by nodding and smiling.

After Felix left, ☁️ opened the new computer and typed in his passcode information. For some reason, the office wifi wouldn’t connect, though. After trying for another minute, he stood up and peered over the wall to see a sitting felix.

“Felix?” ☁️ asked, his nose just barely peaking over the wall. Felix smiled and stood up to look over the wall as well.

“What’s up, love?” He asked, placing a hand on the edge to support his weight. ☁️ was initially taken aback by the pet name, but ultimately didn’t mind.

“I can’t get onto the wifi for some reason. Is there a different one that you use?”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that. I guess our tech guy forgot to set that up for you. Jisung always forgets.”

☁️ watched a Felix closed his computer and then made his way back over to his cubicle. As a result, the man sat back down and perked his back up to fixed his posture. Felix strolled in after a few seconds and leaned into ☁️’s computer, his body softly brushing against the man’s shoulder. ☁️ couldn’t take his eyes off of Felix’s side profile as he typed into the computer.

“All right, you’re all set.” He cooed, brushing against ☁️ once again. As Felix was about to leave the cubicle, ☁️ shot up and grabbed his hand. Surprised, he stopped and turned around, still holding ☁️’s hand.

“Sorry if this is weird to ask, but..” ☁️ paused and tilted his head. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Oh, no.. not really my type if you know what I mean..”

“Oh okay.. then do you have a significant other- or something?” ☁️ asked.

“No,” Felix smiled and tightened his grip on ☁️’s hand. “but I think I kinda have a crush.”

☁️ knew exactly what he meant and mentally blushed. “Same here. Maybe we could go out sometime?”

“For sure. What’d you have in mind?”

“Would you wanna.. come to my place?”

Felix looked to the side, and then back to ☁️. “We don’t have to wait. Here, follow me.” He said, leading ☁️ into a storage room a few feet away from their work areas. Though the lights were extremely dim as the two hurried in, ☁️ could see the many drawers, bulletin boards, and spare furniture. Felix lightly closed the frosted door and somehow locked it from the inside, him then turning his attention to ☁️. He grabbed ☁️’s hands and held them in his own.

“Do you mind?” Felix asked as he raised one of the man’s hands to his mouth, kissing it. ☁️ shook his head and wrapped his arms around Felix’s neck, Felix reacting by guiding ☁️’s back into the wall behind him. ☁️ pushed Felix’s head forward, allowing the man’s lips to meet his own. Felix’s hands ran down ☁️’s torso, then settling on his hips as ☁️ began french kissing. Felix’s grip on the man’s waist tightened the deeper they kissed, with Felix’s bulge now rubbing against ☁️’s. A few seconds later, Felix pulled away from ☁️- strands of his blonde hair having fallen over his eyes.

“Come over here.” Felix instructed, using a hand to drag ☁️’s wrist over to a small table sitting against the wall. Felix gently pushed ☁️’s shoulder down as he leaned back on the table, leaving ☁️ to fall onto his knees. With a growing bulge right in front of his face, it was only natural for ☁️ to begin unbuttoning the man’s pants.

“Ah.. you’re excited, aren’t you?” Felix teased, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He ran a finger through ☁️’s hair as the man exposed his dick print, ☁️ then pulling the pants down to Felix’s ankles. Felix began unbuttoning his white top as ☁️ stroked the man’s boner through his gray underwear.

“Can I take it out?” ☁️ asked, continuing to caress it. Felix finished unbuttoning his top, displaying sculpted abs much to ☁️’s liking.

“Go ahead.”

☁️ slowly pulled the man’s underwear down, not anticipating getting smacked by his length.

“Oh, sorry.” Felix laughed. ☁️ rolled his eyes and smiled, him then beginning to stroke Felix’s cock, the man softly whimpering as he did so. ☁️ grinned at the reaction, placing Felix’s dick inside of his mouth and slowly throating it. He leisurely bobbed his head up and down as Felix threw his head back, practically moaning out now.

After a few seconds of steady swallowing, Felix quickly grabbed ☁️’s head and yanked it back. His dick fell out of the man’s mouth dripping in saliva.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to finish yet.” Felix said, kneeling down to match ☁️’s eye level. “Can I get some of this too?” He whispered as he got closer to ☁️, him then reaching behind the man and squeezing his ass.

“Oh, do you have a condom?”

Felix reached behind him and magically pulled out a wrapped condom and a tiny bottle.

“Of course.”

☁️ furrowed his eyebrows and muttered an “alright.” as he followed Felix’s action of standing up. Felix’s skinny dick was still hard and poking out in front of him. Pulling his own pants and underwear off with quickness, ☁️ placed a hand on Felix’s chest.

“You can sit or lay on the table if you’d like, or you can-”

“You should let me do the work.” ☁️ murmured, softly pushing Felix back. Felix smiled and nodded, sliding back to sit on the table. He rolled the condom over his dick as ☁️ climbed on top of him, the man placing his knees beside each of Felix’s thighs. Waiting for him to pour the liquid onto his dick, ☁️ wrapped an arm around Felix’s neck- the man’s chest inches from Felix’s face.

“Alright, go ahead.” Felix muttered, placing his hands on ☁️’s waist and guiding the man down onto his cock. As his pink tip slipped in, ☁️ moaned out and tightened his grip around Felix’s neck.

☁️ now sat entirely on Felix’s dick, moaning softly as he took his time to undulate on it. The two huffed and whimpered as ☁️ began moving steadily on Felix’s dick, with ☁️’s chest still inches from the man’s mouth.

“That’s good.” Felix whispered, his eyebrows furrowed and his ajar lips producing silent moans. ☁️ felt Felix’s lips on his nipple a second later, him sucking and licking as the man bounced. ☁️ sped his undulating form up as Felix moved his hands down to ☁️‘s ass. Guiding him up and down even faster, ☁️ quickly became overstimulated. His knees buckled and he fell into Felix, who pulled away from the man’s nipple and placed his chin into ☁️’s neck.

“Can you keep going?” Felix hummed into ☁️’s ear, rubbing up and down his waist as he waited for an answer. After another few seconds, ☁️ pulled away from Felix and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah, you can keep going.”

Felix nodded, pulling ☁️ into him and wrapping both of his arms around ☁️’s waist. As Felix began thrusting softly into him, the man wrapped both arms around Felix’s neck. Felix grunted as his thrusts picked up in speed, filling the room with the sounds of clapping and ☁️’s whimpers. Both of their moans hummed in each other’s ears, pushing the two to the brink of finishing.

Felix continued shoving the man onto his dick despite feeling ☁️’s knees buckle for a second time. As ☁️ felt his leaking dick brush against Felix’s rough abs, he threw his head back and gasped. He ejaculated, painting Felix’s abs in a glistening white liquid. The man thrusting into him noticed, and became even more turned on, using all of his force to drill into ☁️.

“I-I’m cumming.” Felix gasped. After a few more seconds of harsh and sloppy thrusting, Felix forced ☁️ onto the entirety of his length, filling the boy up with his semen.

The two breathed heavily in front of each other before Felix fell back onto the table, pulling ☁️’s arm as he did so. ☁️ fell on top of him, his energy drained. The man pulled Felix’s dick out of him and slid the condom off, bringing it in front of him so that he could tie it and throw it aside.

“I would’ve lasted longer if you weren’t so cute.” Felix muttered, stroking ☁️’s arm as the two laid still.

“It’s okay, there’s always next time.”

“Yeah.. and I’ll be sure to take you out to dinner beforehand.”

☁️ chuckled at the comment, planting a kiss on Felix’s puckered lips. “I’d like that.”

“I would too, love.”

a/n: writing smut is saurrr boring but i hope u guys like this lil top felix moment. i still think he’s cuter as a bottom lolll :,)) alsoo lowkey im desperately waiting for someone to request an indie movie plot so i can write smth cute, request awayyy!

likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[sweetimpurity]

💓 day 23!! I have been waiting for this one and the next three days!! this is a continuation of THIS sweet thought that everyone was asking for a part 2 of!

So the next three days are gonna be a mini series off of that!! I recommend reading that before you read this so it makes sense!

cw: yandere themes, obsession

PART 1

Earth-731

Mig’s been watching you for months. Managed to tap into the feed of multiple Miguel’s across the multiverse. Connections to his dimension are tricky since a rogue anomaly came a while back and threw off the timeline only slightly. So things are glitchy. He feels glitchy all the time. Like there’s a flicker in his head and in his bones. Searching for the thing that would make everything right again, make him feel okay, and he can only look to you. Perfect you. You don’t exist in his timeline. Yet in almost every other dimension, you’re there with a version of him that’s much luckier than he’s ever been. 

It’s obsessive at this point. He watches you all day long. Watching you with your Miguel. Or rather watching you get left behind. He watches Miguel-928 miss out on important events, forget anniversaries and birthdays, watches you going to bed alone for nights at a time. But he also watches the good times, the nights in, date nights you two share together, the laughs, the love. Forcing himself to turn the feed off when it seems your version of him will get even luckier. 

It’s torture. To have fallen for you when he’s never even spoken to you before. But you love him in another timeline right? So why couldn’t you love him in this one?  

“Hah…” He sighs, running fingers through his hair and getting up from his seat. Pacing around his office in Alchemax. In this dimension, he’s not the leader of the Spider Society. He’s a geneticist working for a tyrant CEO in a bright sterile lab in Nueva York. And not a single person knows of his genetic predisposition. 

He wakes up, goes to work, overworks, goes home, checks the police feed he’s hacked into and listens to where he’s needed. Going out in the night to catch crooks and criminals because that’s all he can do. He hasn’t been able to figure out how to jump dimensions since the anomaly left his timeline glitching and cut off. But religiously he watches back a video feed he captured of another Miguel on Earth-378, constructing a portal generator. 

Since he doesn’t have the instructions himself, he’s dissected and analyzed this video over and over for months. Trying to copy it to the letter and make a portal generator of his own so he can finally get out of this place. He’s collected parts and worked countless hours in his apartment trying to make this work. 

Originally his destination in mind was anywhere but here. But ever since he found you while combing through multiversal feeds, he knows you’re his first stop. He’s taking you with him no matter where he goes. Your Miguel doesn’t treat you right anyway. 

Heading home, he stumbles through the door carrying a new discarded piece of machinery from work. There’s a circuit board with a specific wiring he thinks will be the right piece for the generator. Lugging it down the hallway to the spare bedroom which is now his makeshift lab. His half constructed generator on a bench there. Putting the piece down and flicking a few switches to bring the lab to life. Lights flickering on and some machines humming. Multiple screens on his computer awaken and he walks right over to one, scanning his fingerprint. Pushing up his glasses and typing on the screen to bring up the feed labeled with your name. Pressing on it and tuning in to see what you’re doing. 

He sits down, focusing on the screen and zooming out to see you’re still at work in your dimension. Looking so pretty and perfect. His heart flutters just seeing you after the long day he’s had. He wishes he could talk to you. 

He sits at his desk, fiddling with the machine to remove the parts and watching the feed like TV. Listening to your voice through the screen and seeing you leave work, street cameras picking up your route home. His eyes lock on any suspicious characters on the street and making sure you get there safely. Even though he’s dimensions away, he always watches to make sure you get home safe. 

And almost like it’s his favorite part of the movie, he leans forward, waiting for the surveillance in your apartment to pick up your expression as you enter the door. A smile on his face, admiring you adoringly at that relief in your expression. That gladness he knows you feel being home after a long day. It’s a good thing your Miguel installed all that surveillance in the apartment. Because now he can watch you worlds away. He’d probably do the same thing if he knew if could keep you protected. 

The night goes on and clearly your Miguel isn’t coming home until late again. Most likely on patrol all day or at the Society Headquarters like he always is. Hardly seeing you at all in a day. Mig watches you make dinner for yourself. He watches you watch a show for a while, listens to you singing to yourself as you do the dishes, watches the bathroom door when you’re taking a shower and then switches the feed to the empty kitchen while you’re getting changed in the bedroom. All the while he’s working on removing the pieces from this machine, finally getting it undone by the time you’re calling your Miguel to ask when or if he’ll be home tonight. You’re already in your pajamas ready for bed and he’s not even back yet. 

“Shit… damn it..” Mig huffs when the circuit board doesn’t fit where he needs it. All that work and now he’ll have to find a different piece in scrap somewhere. He sighs, forcing himself not to chuck the piece across the room, instead discarding it calmly in the junk metal bin. He huffs, sitting down at his desk and running his hands through his hair again. He stays that way for a few minutes. He’s tired.

Sitting with his head in his hands and hearing the sounds of you getting ready for bed. His eyes closed and listening to you brush your teeth, wash your face, do all the things he watches you do every night. And then the sheets when you’re getting in bed. Feeling heavy himself. 

Your moans fill his ears, infiltrating his mind. Your body which could only be soft and warm and plush. Under him and accepting him over and over. His cock hugged and loved through your tight walls, his tip kissing your sweet spot every single time. Making you tremble, making you moan for him. Moaning his name. “Mmmmiguel!” You gasp and it makes him shiver. His face dipping into your neck and inhaling your scent which he can only imagine is so sweet and pleasant. 

Finding your hands with his and lacing his fingers with yours. Hands entwined above your head, as close as he’s always yearned to be. Pumping you full with everything he’s been keeping for you. Your cunt he’s longed to taste, to fill. Your sweet soft skin he’s needed to kiss and bite. Kissing down your jaw, your neck, your sternum and finding your perked mound, sucking the hardened nip into his mouth and sucking. Drawing the sweetest, most erotic sounds from your lips he can even imagine. Your shaking legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him deeper, is that’s even possible. Like he could never be separated from you. Even though he’s never not been separated from you before. 

“Oh please Mig!” You sigh, and he looks up at your face, your features quirked in pleasure. He keeps with the rhythm, knowing it’s bringing you pleasure, bringing you closer to orgasm. And he wants to feel you come apart on him. He’s wanted it for so so long.

“Come on sweet girl…” He whispers, but the sound doesn’t leave his chest. It rumbles but it stays. Like the words won’t reach the air.

He shakes awake when his elbow knocks a tool off his desk. The metal clanking and ringing through the room. “hah!” He flinches, lifting his head from where it was resting in his hands. Having fallen asleep watching you sleep. It was a dream. No it was a tease. His mind taunting him with what he will never have.

Except your moans don’t cease. They don’t stop. That’s not in his head. He looks up at the screen. Seeing the time, trying to decipher what’s going on. Your desperate cries coming in through the monitor. And there you are in bed. Your Miguel finally returned home from wherever he was all day ignoring you. The two of you having loud sex under the blankets. He’s confused. Caught off guard. Slamming a few buttons and shutting the feed off. That’s enough taunting for one night.

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136 @lazyninjaphilosopher

@pinkdizzyship @opalwitchart

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

plus those who requested a part 2:

@d3stin7 @laysmt @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @marshhbs

@twwcs @resident-clown @haveclayeveryday

@fullmetal-spiderling @grumpyahjumma

@lxverrings @lazyjellyfish300

[lightandfellowship]

The Sewer Squad's designs are fine, actually

If you ask me, the Sewer Squad from KHUX are a really great visual example of Kingdom Hearts' approach to writing and design.

That approach being: it's fine to make design and writing decisions that come across as silly, campy, unbelievable, or "cringey" if those choices are meaningful in context and contribute something significant to the story.

On the whole, the Sewer Squad are a mess of character designs. Minus the Leader who just kinda looks like a normal character tbh, the remaining 3/4ths of the group don't look particularly cohesive or even...aesthetically pleasing? At least for me. If you were to judge these designs purely on a visual and technical level, using commonly accepted character design guidelines, I personally don't think they would score very high.

Function has been thrown out the window with their accessories, with a lot of said accessories looking either bulky, heavy, face/movement obstructing, or just plain uncomfortable, despite them presumably fighting Heartless on the daily.

Color palettes are all over the place, especially with the Gummi Girl who's sporting three different hues of pink all conflicting in one design. Themeing is likewise all over the place—using the Gummi Girl once again as an example, she's pairing futuristic Gummi ship wings with a ninja outfit and a modern-looking frog hat. Which like, normally you can marry vastly different themes/time periods together into one character design just fine if you do it well, but here these elements are just kinda pasted all over the design separately with no blending/discussion between them. (Yes I know this makes perfect sense given the lore; I'm getting there.)

And then characters like Fancy Bowtie Boy are wearing gimmick-y clothing pieces based off of canon characters, such as Ansem SoD and...Halloween Town Goofy, for some reason. Which makes the design look derivative and nonsensical. (There's a way to justify this in canon thanks to the Book of Prophecies and the medals, but it's still kinda weird and offputting to see one of the Big Bad's gloves on a silly side character.)

It also doesn't help that their outfits/hair/facial features weren't designed specifically with them in mind, and instead are comprised of various disparate, pre-existing Player assets slapped together haphazardly. And not being able to give these characters more thoughtful, bespoke design elements means losing the opportuntiy to communicate who these characters are more precisely.

They do have recognizable silhouettes though (along with some much needed diversity), so I'll give them credit for that.

But, everything I just said and criticized above? THAT'S ENTIRELY THE POINT, BABY!!!

They're not supposed to represent a typical character with a typical character design that follows typical character design rules because they're not typical "characters"—rather, they're supposed to represent the average, real-life players playing KHUX. The people who buy random outfits with whatever Jewels they have and then mix and match the pieces together regardless of whether or not they actually look "good" together or logically connect. The people who are just having fun with customization.

And this distinction is meaningful because the whole idea behind these characters is that they belong to the same party that the Player belongs to. They're not like Player's other friends such as Ephemer and Skuld who are main characters in the plot and thus require more visually pleasing and thought-out character designs; they're not "generic" NPCs that Player runs into only once or twice like the "my friends aren't my power" guy who can just wear one of the basic default outfits and it'll serve its purpose just fine; they are, specifically, Player's fellow party members. And if the Player themself is wearing a silly costume too, well, they'll just fit right in with the Sewer Squad, won't they?

Thus, they're meant to mirror the visuals and dynamics of real KHUX parties comprised of real people, hopefully making it easier for the person playing the game to relate to them (if said person belongs to a party themself) and intuitively understand the role these characters play in Player's life. And despite how unrealistic their outfits are (considering most of them are running around fighting in outrageous, cumbersome costumes), I would argue that their closer resemblance to the actual playerbase gives them the potential to feel more real, paradoxically.

This also just demonstrates KHUX's commitment to its story and gameplay integration. It doesn't matter how "silly" a gameplay feature might look or feel in practice, it is going to be properly represented in the story regardless. Lux, Guilt, Power Bangles, Spirits, Shift Pride, player costumes, it doesn't matter, if it's a part of the gameplay, it's going in the story somewhere. The game takes a risk and trades a little bit of immersion/suspension of disbelief for pure gameplay and story synergy. Perhaps it doesn't work for everybody, but in general it works for me, and I respect it.

[alexanderwales]

An Idiot's Guide to Creating Themes

There's something that Wildbow says about themes, which I'll paraphrase here: themes are something that grow without you even necessarily wanting them to, so long as the characters have strong traits and act consistently.

What this means is that if you have a character who has a real problem with authority, then naturally they're going to frame a lot of things through the lens of authority, and they're naturally going to get in conflicts with people in a position of authority. Suddenly, without even really trying to, you have created a Theme.

I don't really think that this by itself is enough, and think that it helps to bring some intentionality to the process. For one thing, if you have two protagonists who have their own strong traits, you might develop two different competing themes that do not work in harmony with each other, and suddenly people will start asking you "why isn't this two separate stories" and you'll come to the grim realization that they're right.

So if you have a single strong trait, you want to pick your other traits to be in harmony, and you want to do the same when you're thinking up secondary characters, villains, etc. Themes tend to flow a lot easier if all the stuff you're putting into the pot has something that links them together. Ideally you want a funhouse mirror where you get to see a bunch of different sides of your theme, different ways that the characters react to it, their different takes on it, even if you're just doing big shonen battles.

Doing theme construction in this way often involves trying to have the story as a prism, and your job as someone writing the story is to break that beam of light down into its component parts. Find as many pieces as you can, then make those into plot points, characters, side stories, etc.

Let's try an example!

I'm writing a superhero story and want to pick a theme, so first I think about what theme I want to spend a novel exploring, and I decide that the idea that's tickling me is the alienation of globalization and the information age, the way that everything feels overwhelming and Too Big sometimes, like there are a thousand things clawing at me for my attention.

So we start with our protagonist, and he's being pulled in a thousand directions at once, never feeling like he has enough time for anything, but paradoxically, for all that people want his attention and focus, he also feels alone. I haven't yet said that he's a superhero, but sure, it's easy to see how we can fit that in: people want him to solve their problems, to settle their disputes, to use his talents, to help them rise through the ranks, and that's not necessarily what he wants, but he feels trapped by it, like there's no other way to live.

If he's a superhero, he needs a superpower, and writing a story like this I would be extremely careful with what I picked since it needs to help carry many many fight scenes and plot points, but teleportation is my first thought: there's disorientation as he enters a new place, a feeling that he's never really anywhere because he could be everywhere, and maybe some secondary sensory powers on top of that, an ability to see and hear that can help evoke an internet connection (I have not at this point decided whether the setting has smartphones or internet, but I think maybe it works better if it doesn't, because one of the things about themes is that sometimes it's best to come at them from an angle).

So I kind of have a sense of the main character at this point, if not an overall plot. If the guiding star is "information age alienation and how it overwhelms us, offering infinite connection that leaves us lonely", then maybe the plot can be something about that. We can go toward the theme by having some plot about alienation, a society that's drifting apart, and probably a significant figure pushing that, or we can go toward the theme from a different direction, having someone who promises an answer. I like the promise of an answer better, something that our hero has tension against, so we whip up a villain whose whole thing is that the world has gotten too varied, too complicated, and promises a return to simpler times. Maybe they're a cult leader, promising family, promising that through their high-control group everything can be reduced down to something understandable.

(There are at this point many many options for our main villain and his/her powers. Maybe it's a woman who makes the world go still and silent in her wake. Maybe it's a time-traveler acting as a specter of the past. Maybe it's someone with mind control powers seeking to expand their reach until they can put the whole city under their thumb. Maybe they're a former superhero who couldn't take the constant desires and demands of the public and have twisted into a dirty form of self-induldgence. There are many "villain" answers to the question of alienation.)

So we add in some side characters. They should also approach our theme in some way. Here's a quick and dirty brainstorming list:

A friend who is terminally cape-brained, always keeping track of their specific domain of expertise, retreating hard into a niche where they know everything, which takes monumental effort and a sort of nervous anxiety approach to information. Probably a superhero with an info power, name of Dispatch or something.

A father who is blissfully unaware, but shows the flaws of that approach, always ignorant, knowing little about the goings on of the greater world, alienated in his own way by that, unable to connect to people because of it.

A government handler/contact who is a friend, but always pushing our hero, always ready with another thing that needs doing, another cause that needs nudging, a criminal manhunt to help with. A symbol of pressure, anxiety, and overload, but friendly in a way that makes it tough to say no. (A stand-in for the kind of friend who always wants to tell you about the latest atrocity, who doesn't quite demand that you know the name of every person brutalized by the police, or the latest list of people whose shittery has come to light, but does seem mildly disappointed that you're not as tuned in.)

A mentor figure who burned out, maybe a speedster who ran too fast, did too much, let themselves get run into the ground both figuratively and literally.

I think that this is a good enough starting point that if I wanted to writing this story, I probably could, and maybe the core of it would evolve as I wrote, but I have a guiding star to look toward, and one of the great things about setting out to write a theme is that if you ever hit a bump, you can look over at the post-it note that describes the theme in a few words and hopefully, get back on track.

[imbecominggayer]

Writing Advice: Too Many Characters

A common advice when writing stories is "don't write too many characters". But, like with everything creative and good, there is no definitive answer to how many characters should be in a book!

So I will be discussing numerous variables in storytelling which impacts how many characters you should have and what makes something in a book "pointless".

Themes! Themes! Themes! (Omori Spoilers, Not Too Much)

The most important question that a writer has to ask themself is "what is this scene/book/media trying to do?". If your story is based on the relationships we have with others and the impact they can have on our psyche then having a close-knitted community of people will drive the message of intimate connection better then just having more people in there. If your story is focused primarily on introspection, looking inward, individuality, and other spiritual activities then the protagonist is more likely to spend longer durations of the media by themselves.

An example of these to forces is the popular game of Omori.

(SPOILERS ABOUT OMORI<3)

Omori is a game that focuses on acceptance first and foremost. Self-acceptance to be more specific. Due to the fact that the game is a piece of introspection both for Sunny and for the player, the most important moments in the game such as the "reveal" sequence of pictures and Black Space are ones that are done on your own.

However, the game also prioritizes the relationships Sunny has between his friends as this serves as motivation for the final duet. The final duet was an act of bonding as Mari and Sunny just wanted to spend time together, doing something they liked.

The introspection moments are pushed towards the end of the game because it's only when Sunny has that support and belief in his friends, can he rise above his doubt and shame and fear.

2. What Is The Purpose Of This Character?

All characters need to have a purpose in the narrative. Both within the context of the world and in the context of the book.

Within the context of the world, they need a goal that is going to impact the protagonist either positively or negatively.

Within the context of the book, what is this character giving to the audience that wouldn't otherwise be there?

Pro tip: All the characters you have need to have more then one purpose! Characters that give exposition can't JUST give exposition.

If you have a love interest that can be cut out without taking away a vital part of the story either from a thematic(theme) standpoint or a narrative(plot) standpoint, just replace them with an object and move it along!

If you have an ally character that only shows up twice and can be changed into "I went down to the store to buy these items", give that "ally" tag to someone more story relevant"!

3. Priorites?

Ask yourself this: "Do I have the book length to dedicate time to this person?"

If the answer is no, follow my next steps. If the answer is yes, here is how to make them better.

When I say "prioritize", I mean you need to figure out what type of character this character is. Are they a main character? A side character? Cannon fodder? A symbol? WHAT ARE THEY?

Also, can you give these character responsibilities to someone else? This simultaneously gives those characters deeper complexity and eliminates more characters

Example: Love Interest, after being trapped by the villain, uses their intelligence in order to provide information about the villain to the hero. (Love Interest + Ally + Informant)

Example: Friend is revealed to be a double agent on the side of the Villain. However, it's revealed that Friend was secretly a triple agent who is finally redeemed from their original believed betrayal. They're back to being an ally. (Friend + Betrayer + Ally + Enemy)

[yapihapi]

Part 1

“I’ll be 87, you’ll be 89 / I’ll still look at you like the stars that shine.”

Blue Lock

Michael Kaiser x Reader

Fluff & Angst

Note: All characters and events in this story are entirely fictional and not based on real people or events. Please be advised that this story includes themes of violence, abuse, and spoilers for the manga. Reader discretion is advised.

The swing creaked softly under my weight as I held out the bread to the boy sitting beside me. He hesitated, his ocean-blue eyes glimmering with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. He looked fragile, like glass on the verge of breaking, but there was something fierce in his gaze, a defiance that refused to shatter.

“Don’t worry!” I urged, grinning. “It’s not poisoned. It’s from the bakery just over there.”

He stared at the bread for a moment longer before carefully taking it from my hands. His fingers were thin and trembling, his knuckles scratched and bruised. My heart ached at the sight, but I tried not to show it.

“Thank you…” His voice was soft, almost a whisper. Then, to my surprise, he tore the bread in half, handing the larger piece back to me.

“Oh! Thanks!” I beamed, taking it. “I didn’t bring this for me, but I’ll eat with you!”

We sat together in silence, swinging slowly and munching on our bread. The park was quiet except for the chirping of birds and the distant laughter of children. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, studying his worn clothes and messy blonde hair that glinted like sunlight.

“You know,” I began, breaking the silence, “I see you here all the time. I wanted to be your friend. You look so cool playing soccer.”

His eyes flicked toward me, and for a second, I thought I saw the faintest hint of a smile. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Do you want to be a soccer player someday?” I asked excitedly. “It suits you! You look so happy when you play.”

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted, his gaze falling to the ground. His hands clutched the swing’s chains tightly, his knuckles white.

“Do you feel a connection with your soccer ball?” I asked. “My mom always says that if your heart feels something strongly, you should follow it.”

He was quiet, his sadness evident in the way his shoulders slumped. I bit my lip, trying to think of how to lift his spirits.

“Well, I think you should go for it,” I said earnestly, leaning forward to catch his gaze. “Starting now, I’m your first fan. I’ll be your number one fan when you play soccer. I just know you’ll do well.”

He glanced at me, his expression softening.

The streetlights flickered on, and I realized it was getting late.

“Oh, I need to go home!” I jumped off the swing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He nodded silently.

“Wait! What’s your name?”

“…Michael.”

“Michael? Hmm… Mihya! I’m calling you Mihya from now on!” I waved enthusiastically as I ran off, his quiet chuckle following me into the night.

Over the years. Mihya and I grew closer with each passing day. Every afternoon, I’d find him waiting at the swings, and we’d spend hours talking—or rather, I’d talk while he listened. He didn’t open up much, but I didn’t mind. His presence was enough.

But no matter how much time passed, the bruises never disappeared. Sometimes, there were new ones, and it broke my heart to see them.

One day, I couldn’t keep my worry to myself anymore. “Mihya… are you okay? Your bruises… they don’t seem to get better.”

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes fixed on his soccer ball. Just as I was about to apologize for asking, he spoke.

“My father,” he said quietly. “He gets angry. And… I’m the one he takes it out on.”

His words felt like a punch to the gut. I’d suspected something was wrong, but hearing it confirmed was almost unbearable.

I reached out, placing my hand over his. “You don’t deserve that,” I said firmly, my voice trembling. “You’re not alone, Mihya. I’m here for you.”

He didn’t say anything, but his hand tightened around mine.

For years, we shared everything—bread, secrets, plastic rings, and dreams. Michael began to smile more, though he still rarely spoke. I cherished those moments, holding onto them like treasures. He still had his quiet days, and sometimes I’d catch him staring at the horizon with a faraway look, as if he was dreaming of a world far beyond the park.

But then, one day, he didn’t show up.

I waited by the swings for hours, the bread in my hands growing cold. Maybe he was running late, I thought. Maybe something had come up. But as the days turned into weeks, the hope I clung to began to wither.

He was gone.

At first, I told myself he’d be back. Maybe he was busy. But the more time passed, the more doubts crept in. Had I done something wrong? Had I said something to upset him? The thought twisted in my chest, filling me with guilt.

I kept returning to the park, hoping for a glimpse of him. Every blonde-haired boy I saw made my heart race, only for disappointment to settle in when it wasn’t him. I even went to the bakery, hoping the scent of fresh bread would bring some kind of comfort, but all it did was remind me of how alone I felt.

Eventually, I started to believe the worst—that Michael had simply left me behind. Maybe he’d grown tired of my chatter, or maybe he’d found someone better to be with. The boy who once felt like my entire world had vanished, and I was left wondering if I’d ever meant anything to him at all.

— Author’s note!

Happy new year, everyone! I hope 2025 is off to a great start for all of you! I couldn’t resist diving into some angst for this story 😅 But don’t worry, I promise part 2 will be all about fluff and warm feelings to make up for it. Every reblog, like, and comment means so much to me and helps share this story with others who might enjoy it. I’d love to hear your thoughts, feedback, or anything that stood out to you. Thank you so much for taking the time to engage. <3