#this set looks deceptively simple but took forever...

[edwinas]

Jacob Romero Has Season 2 Spoilers | One Piece | Netflix

[spooky-ghostwriter]

Sentinels Deck Number 6 - Ol’ Inkwell Town

A while back, I posted some Sentinels stuff which included a set of 1920s cartoon promos for all of my heroes - except Silhouette, who I hadn’t made at the time, but she is not left out!

But I know what you’re thinking. What are these old-timey cartoon versions of my heroes? How do they fit into the flimsy made-up canon that my decks are retroactively based on?

Okay, you’re probably not asking those questions, but I made a whole deck to answer them. Welcome to Ol’ Inkwell Town...

The story behind this deck is basically that the heroes woke up one day and found that they were no longer in New Granwall City. They were in an alternate cartoon version of their hometown - and they had to find a way to get back.

Ol’ Inkwell Town is made up of three distinct locations. My heroes Gold Dragon and Skimmer, plus guest heroes Charade and Alius (by insomn and Mistillitain respectively), explored the main city. Various street corners looked familiar to Gold Dragon and Skimmer, though danger lurked in the skies.

The first cards to show off are pretty simple mechanically, so let’s talk thematics. Ol’ Inkwell Town is mostly based on black and white cartoons. I watched a lot of Popeye in particular, since Gold Dragon’s old timey cartoon version was heavily based on Popeye. The deck also includes some Loony Tunes clichés like falling pianos and anvils.

Instead of simply drawing a falling anvil, I turned it into a character. Living objects is a bizarre trend of those classic cartoons, so I put faces and white gloves on everything from lamp posts to other heroes’ equipment.

The deck is intended to be wacky but deceptively brutal. Making hero equipment cards “come alive” is an effect that already exists in Sentinels, and it’s a dangerous effect because it allows villains to destroy your cards simply by doing damage. Ol’ Inkwell Town’s version is even more brutal by having your equipment fight you when you try to use them. However, heroes whose equipment are mostly magical (denoted by the Relic keyword) are immune.

Bomby is a very destructive effect, but you have a whole round to try deal with him before he goes off.

The second location visited by heroes is the cartoon equivalent of the Alesia Circus. This is where Escarlata, Electrogeist, and Tsukiko ended up.

The Table of Pies is both a benefit and a negative. Playing the top card of the environment deck usually means another cartoon is coming into play, accelerating the deck’s nonsense. Then it increases the damage the cartoons are throwing around by giving them an arsenal of pies.

However, the heroes can use the pies too - either throwing them as well, or eating them to recover HP. Heroes typically have powers that are better than what Table of Pies offers, but in a pinch, those powers might be exactly what you need.

Past the pies and into the circus proper, Escarlata and Tsukiko discovered an old-timey version of Tsukiko herself, who cast a horrifying spell on our modern-day Escarlata...

When Escarlata was pulled into the box, a cartoon version of her appeared as well! Electrogeist and the modern-day Tsukiko were shocked!

The Enraged Escarlata isn’t really a card in the deck. At the start of a game of Sentinels, you choose one of the 2-5 variant character cards that each hero has available, play as that character card, and put the rest back. Only one card in the official game can switch variants mid-game, but I think it’s interesting design space, so I threw it on a card here in an intentionally wacky environment.

The “thematic” way to play this deck is to have my heroes switch into their cartoon selves when Forced Volunteer hits them, but you’re free to switch your hero into any variant you want. 

The modern-day Escarlata wasn’t really gone forever, though, and she quickly found her way back to the stage from wherever the magic had put her. There, she met her own cartoon counterpart...

The deck has two copies of Cartoon Counterpart, and even though it took extra drawing, I was convinced to change the art for the second copy. This is an annoyingly wordy card, but the premise is simple. Cartoon Counterpart fights its “owner”, who thematically is the one the cartoon is a counterpart of, but if you beat it up enough, it helps you. Cartoon violence is the solution to all of cartoon life’s problems.

So, where was the original Tsukiko during all of this? Erm... occupied.

When I asked my friends on the Custom Sentinels Discord for things they wanted to see in an old-timey cartoon deck, I got lots of ideas for tropes and clichés (most of which I already had on my list). But someone (insomn?) reminded me of a saw I’d drawn chopping Tsukiko in half on the incap for her own cartoon version.

This inspired Choppy Sawington, who is once again harassing Tsukiko. He has a really nasty effect that I’ve toyed with before, of either chopping a hero’s hand in half or dealing some damage. (I would’ve liked it to chop the hero’s HP in half, but that’s way too strong.)

The icon on Choppy is Tsukiko’s nemesis icon, meaning that Tsukiko and Choppy deal extra damage to each other. Given Choppy’s ties to stage magic, and Choppy focusing on discarding cards compared to Tsukiko’s focus on handing out card draw, and the fact that Choppy’s only victim so far has been Tsukiko, I felt it was more than justified.

The third location in the environment is only touched on briefly, but it’s the haunted mansion where a devilish vampire lives.

Silhouette’s cartoon counterpart, The Zany Zywen mentioned right at the start, is a user of dark magic who offers power to those who seek her out. This is usually a monkey’s paw situation where the person who gains the power realizes they were better off without it.

Naturally, Silhouette herself is all about dark magic and cursed power, and envious of her cartoon self, so she charged right into the castle. A guest hero, Antiquarian by Gaist, joins her.

The gargoyles themselves are your typical prankster minions, and in the game they’re annoyingly hard to kill and annoyingly destroy the heroes’ stuff. I don’t have much to say on them in particular, so let me go off on an art tangent.

When I first started this deck, I’d been drawing simple backgrounds (or no backgrounds at all!) for the old-timey cartoon stuff. However, not only did I need some background art for the digital implementation of the deck, actual old-timey cartoons really did have nice background art. 

The backgrounds are still fairly simple compared to what I usually do, but I used CSP’s pencil tool to shade and add a unique texture to everything. I wanted to give everything a grainy look to it and make the non-cartoon characters really pop.

Zany Bats is a card designed pretty much for Silhouette. The bats seek out the hero with the lowest HP, and Silhouette is likely to be lowest since she starts with such low HP. A hero bitten by the bats may deal themselves Infernal damage, which is Silhouette’s whole shtick. And finally - this one was accidental synergy - if Silhouette plays her own Form of the Bat card, she has enough damage reduction that the bats won’t hit her at all.

After the three groups of heroes escaped their perils, they all tried to meet up to share their findings. But there were still two obstacles...

As the various cartoons met up, they started a fight that escalated into a giant brawl. 

The two in the center of Big Ball of Violence are Escarlata and The Zany Zywen. You can also see Tsukiko’s Tank Top sticking out of the cloud, as well as Gold Dragon’s tail, one of Charade’s now-sentient Stun Batons, Choppy Sawington’s... nose...?, and a foot. That foot belongs to Ampere, another guest hero by Mistillitain.

Finally, there was but a single obstacle...

Me!

Cartoons and their animator fighting is a classic cartoon trope - though admittedly it’s more of a Looney Tunes thing than a black-and-white cartoon thing. 

I had some mixed thoughts about what the animator should look like. A giant hand from the sky? Should it even be a character, or just the reality-warping pencil itself? But I like where this settled.

The Animator has two abilities. It “erases” a cartoon and deals radiant damage, and it also plays the top card of each deck, essentially creating and rewriting the game every round. 

In the art, we see a guest hero Chronan the Barbarian (made by Gaist) as The Animator draws a cartoon counterpart for him.

And that’s the deck! None of the cards represent how the heroes actually got home, but I think there are a few possible options. Maybe The Animator was the one responsible for bringing them there (I was) and sent them back. Maybe Silhouette managed to make a deal with her cartoon self and got sent back with dark magic. And maybe Tsukiko’s magic box was powerful enough to return them to the real world.

Whatever the case, I had a blast making this deck and I hope Sentinels custom content players have just as much fun playing it.

[moohnshinescorner]

Bewitched Shadows by Autumn Blake (The Wicked Belles, #1) Publication date: April 4th 2023 Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense

Synopsis:

A fiery witch… Ember Belle is a total mess. When she’s not partying with the local shifter pack or causing mayhem around New Orleans with her three sisters, she does anything to avoid confronting her out-of-control fire magick and the grief from losing her parents. However, when an opportunity arises to obtain a magical item that could solve all her problems, she decides to take her life into her own hands.

A cold-as-ice demon… Killian Inferno’s only desire is to spend his final weeks of freedom in New Orleans, away from his duties as the future Lord of Pride. What he doesn’t expect, is to be summoned by the amateur witch who has been haunting his dreams. A seductress who needs his expertise to solve a recent murder by any means necessary. Even sorcery.

Ember now has no choice but to enter a demon pact with Killian. The terms are simple: remove the spell she may have cast on him before Samhain, or return to Hell with him, kicking and screaming. Can the two enemies set aside their animosity to uncover the city’s secrets and unlock Ember’s true magical potential, or will they be undone by the enemies they didn’t see coming?

Bewitched Shadows is Book 1 in the sizzling, new Wicked Belles series.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/76753347-bewitched-shadows

Purchase:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3yZsXmM

MY REVIEW:

Yes!!! This book took off like a roller coaster. It was full of adventure, danger, lust and twisted endings.

Ember is a witch whom lives in New Orleans with her three sisters. She is known for drinking, partying hard and her sexy rendezvous'. After her parents died her life spun out of control. She could not control her fire magic nor her crazy shenanigan's.

When the Vampire Princess turns up dead, killed in the same manner as her parents, she begins to look into what really happened. But she cannot do it alone, so she inquires the help of a sexy demon named Killian.

Killian has had his eye on Ember for quite some time. Drawn to her by unexplainable means, he follows her in the shadows all the time. It must be a spell. She has bewitched him somehow. When she requires his help he is all to quick to make a pact. Release him from her spell and he will help her find the murderer. But if she fails, he gets her soul.

This book took off from the very beginning. When I first started I thought, "man this book is long" . I thought it would take forever to read, but I was so wrong. I flew through this book. It was adventure and danger from start to finish. The characters were interesting and excitable. I fell in love with them, especially Killian straight from the start.

Ember is a strong and independent character, whom I feel is struggling with the guilt of her parents death. This plays a key part in the reason that Ember constantly gets into mischief. But deep down she is sweet, fiercely loyal and very in tune with her body.

Killian is a very complex character. He has many sides to him. He struggles with his mothers death and the vengeance he wants to inflict on his father for his role in her murder. But under all that is an amazing man. He is sweet, caring and highly protective.

With this amazing cast of characters, the author has created a paranormal world in the city where the dead never sleep. She takes all those characters that go bump in the night and places them in the city that is known for the strange and unusual. Vampires, witches, werewolves and fae, all come together to live in the city undetected by mere mortals. Ruled by a council with a member from each group as representation, they aim to live in harmony and under the radar of the human race.

Overall the story is an intricate web of danger and deception. It twists and turns and is woven perfection throughout. The danger level is a ten and the steamy scenes level is a 20. This book is no teen read. It is downright sensual and dirty. The MC's chemistry is at explosive levels all through the story. They are a perfect combination.

I enjoyed the story immensely and cannot wait to read more from this world. This book exceeded my expectations and more.

AUTHOR BIO:

Autumn Blake is a romance author currently residing in Texas. She loves morally grey heroes, strong heroines, and lots of spice. When not reading or writing, Autumn spends her time cuddling her Yorkies or traveling with her husband.

Author links:

[metamelonisle]

how the fuck do you do perspective

Perspective is a deceptively simple concept that nevertheless took humans thousands of years to fully understand and explain for a reason. It is very difficult to utilize without a good understanding of its mechanics, so don't worry if it's difficult.

Keep in mind I am a fledgling art student who is still learning the fundamentals of drawing, but I will teach you to the best of my ability because you are my bestest buddy forever :>

There are three kinds of perspectives to draw in. One-Point, Two-Point, and Three-Point perspectives.

The term "Point" comes from a specific point in space known as the vanishing point. These are a set of six imaginary points in our vision where parallel lines appear to converge. Typically, there are two right in front and behind us, two to either side of us, one up above us, and one directly below us. These pairs of vanishing points are 180 degrees of separation from each other (and thus represent the X, Y, and Z axis of dimension) and typically it is not possible to see more than three vanishing points at a time as a result. (Unless you are viewing a reflective sphere! But that will not be covered here.)

In One-Point and Two-Point, these "Vanishing Points" are always located on the horizon line (as they are the head-on point and one of the side points). In Three-Point, two of the Vanishing Points are located on the horizon line, while the other is either above or below it.

One Point Perspective: Head-On Perspectives

This is a diagram of a hallway drawn in One Point Perspective. Notice how all the walls and floors, despite being straight, parallel, and perpendicular to the horizon, all converge towards the vanishing point. This point is something that everything in the point of view will slant towards, no matter it's positioning or shape. Thus, when you want to plan out the general shape, you usually trace a faint line from the vanishing point to the back corner of the object with a straight edge to determine its proportions.

(Obvservation: Everything in a drawing in perspective will slant towards a vanishing point unless it is directly facing the viewer.)

Two-Point Perspective: Edge Perspectives

When you view an object from an edge, parallel lines will appear to either converge or diverge as they depending on if it is an exterior or interior corner. These are because there are two vanishing points this time, both on either side of the line that you are looking at. This center vertical line (the "Focal Line") divides the drawing between the vanishing points, as all horizontal lines one one side will converge towards its own respective vanishing point.

When you view an interior edge, such as the corner of a room, the lines will switch points to converge to.

Three Point Perspective: Vertex Perspectives

Three-Point perspective is the only one I've yet to have a true assignment on to bolster my understanding of, but it utilizes the maximum vanishing points of three to view an image's edge from a bird's eye or worm's eye view (from above or below. the above image is a worm's eye view.)

The horizontal lines of three point perspective work much the same way as two-point, but the vertical lines are defined in relation to the vertical vanishing point.

I hope this helped and was informative!

[annalis-e--shadowofpanem]

ofcarnvge​:

Unarmed

It took a moment to figure out where she was. Like a picture resolving on an old style television set. At first it was a kind of perceptual static, but when it sharpened it was as real as life.

The woman Molly had shared a cabin with was sat cross legged before a notebook, the familiar globe of the obsidian super computer floating nearby. It was still trial and error, she couldnt quite expand her perception beyond Cyanne’s position, but it certainly seemed to be Casa Del Doi.

Molly grinned. “Not a bad idea, we’re dealing in new dimensions now.” She strolled forward a pace or two. 

“There’s a lot to explain, but the short version is…I can help with the nexus assembly. I got a few tips from the woman who helped design it, believe it or not. It’s kind of deceptively simple…”

That made Molly laugh. The way the loop closed.

“I’ll hopefully be there in the next day or so. Things here are…complicated. But I get the feeling it’s going around.” Molly could feel other presences nearby, even if her reach didn’t allow her a visual on them.

“Who else is here?”

-

Go go perched cross legged on the work bench, O-ren stood near her, just a few paces into the room. Floss sat on the stool near the microscope with her arms crossed and watched all the participants closely. She wasn’t overly worried, but the newest Viper was still something of an unknown quantity. 

 And Mallory spoke. 

“I’ve been surveilling you all since Bill hired me five years ago. He wanted to know everything about you, all of you. Where you went, who you saw. I don’t have targets like you would have done. My job was to watch. I did a really good job.”

Mallory sat with her knees bent on the floor, red hair pushed to one side. Somehow she managed to make looking bedraggled strangely glamorous. 

“Essentially if you could never figure out how Bill knew where you were? That was me.” Her eyeline moved particularly to O-ren. “He found you through Minami…”

Every muscle in O-ren’s body seemed to brace, her mouth in a hard line. But she didn’t move. 

“Minami’s fine.” Mallory went on quickly. “But after a while I figured out what was really happening. Bill would go on and on about enabling his agents, wanting them to be their best. But that was bullshit. He wanted control. A couple of years into Beatrix’s coma I got the idea of waking her up…And when London got levelled, and the world went to hell, well…It gave me a reason to follow through. I know I put you in the line of fire. But I also know my own abilities. I’m a good agent but I’m no assassin.”

Mallory threw a slightly disdainful, but ultimately self deprecating look Floss’ way. 

O-ren scrutinized the woman on the floor for a long moment before she replied.

“You played the right hand of the devil. I understand that. You brought Beatrix back to the world, that’s a debt I’ll owe you forever, regardless of what happens. But forgive me if I don’t take trust on faith, I’ve not lived a life that allows that. I need time.”

“I need more than time.” Go go uttered harshly in Japanese before slipping back into English. “You put us all in the path of Kiddo, you would have traded every one of us for your own agenda…”

“-I don’t know what meditation retreat you went on Yubari, but I’m pretty sure I watched you gut a man in a bar three years ago. You wanna play morality? You’re throwing rocks in a glass fucking house.”

Mallory parried with such vicious precision Go go fell silent. Floss drummed her fingers tensely on her crossed arms.

“Look.” Mallory sighed. “Bill’s gone, Elle’s gone. The next person in Beatrix’s sights is going to be either you.” She nodded toward O-ren. “Or Budd. Cause it’s Bill she wants. You want to make this right? Tell her where her daughter is then go get on a plane and deal with…” She raised her hands exasperated. “…Whatever damn relationship you two have.”

O-ren bristled visibly but said nothing. 

“All I want is to know who killed my family…”

There was the sound of footsteps descending the cellar stair.

Unity made it to the point in Cyanne's journal where she understood why she was talking to herself. Her understanding of the stone expanded with every page Cyanne turned, and her calculations took on new shapes.

“Huh,” Cyanne muttered. Up until that point, the device was just...the Device. Then here came Molly, wanting to help in her usual way, blessing the device with a proper name. “I welcome the help. Seems like however this Reach business is supposed to work, you’re more adept than I am.”

Cyanne turned the page. “It’s a busy house. I have my team from the Pillbox here, though without a proper barracks and no way to house them without shoving them all into hotel rooms...I may just send them home. Leave the development to us. Besides them, Amber is here. She was the one hacking...everybody. She's settling in after apparently being attacked by Agnes. The implications behind that are...unsettling...but the network is chomping at the bit for payback. 

"Anyway, Paris conducted the rescue, and she's acting as Amber's bodyguard...so she’s here...don’t know if she plans to stay. I imagine not, since you’ll be here. I don’t think she’s as big into conflict as she used to be. Finally, there’s her partner Koa... I can’t begin to sort out if he’s coming or going. If I were to assume, he’s charging his batteries and waiting for the Agnes shit to hit the fan.”

Cyanne laughed. “Are you sure you want to come here? A lot of big personalities under one roof, and a lot of unstable politics surrounding Umbrae. It might be calmer across the pond.”

Somewhere, in the middle of the discourse, Eleanor stopped scoffing to herself, and her usual quips fell to the wayside. Eventually, her silence drew Amy’s attention, finding her retreated into a corner with a stone-cold stare on her face. Amy tracked Eleanor’s gaze...and found herself wearing the same exact expression. 

Pan stood against the wall, halfway through a slice of cheesecake sitting atop a saucer. Her fingers barely moved, and her eyes struggled to lift from the blank stare at the floor. Both Eleanor and Amy knew it didn’t matter where Pan’s eyes looked--they knew that she saw visions of her father in them no matter what. Pan's mind tumbled and fell into a slideshow of every time he hurt her for her “benefit;” from the day he left, causing her to chase him into the Shadows, all the way to the point where he left again, forcing his title upon her. It hurt worse now that she could recall every moment with precision.

But even without Reach, she recalled the exact number of lives lost in the attempt to wipe Parliament, and along with them, the Shadows’ Board of Directors from Earth's surface. It was the single act of butchery Delun needed to make Pan’s promotion possible.

Bill and Delun would have been good friends.

Pan sat down the saucer of cheesecake.  The phone number she dialed was longer than any telecommunication standard. “I would like to arrange a video call with prisoner 5241-SR. Encrypt it on your end, and let me know when you have a key generated.” She hung up, and for a moment, she struggled to move. 

Eleanor gently wrested the phone from Pan’s grasp before making her way to the bag she tucked away in the corner, rummaging through its contents in search of her laptop.

“You know if she talks about this to anyone...” 

Pan shook her head. “Amy, I don’t think she cares. I don’t think I do, either.” She willed her eyes up from the floor. “We can’t sweep our history under the rug forever...”

--

The cell was a cave, and the door was several dozen feet above her. The rock was always wet and slippery, so there was no climbing it. The only thing she had to call her own was a small lantern, powered by batteries that the guards tossed down through the bars. The batteries themselves were always from differing brands, with various levels of charge. Anything to keep her from forming a pattern. Her eyes hadn’t tasted sunlight since...

She didn’t know when.

The method was effective. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were lowered down in a basket at irregular intervals. When they caught her through the camera measuring the length of her curls, the guards descended in force, held her to the cold stone, and shaved her bald. When they grew back, she begged and pled to keep them, vowing never to measure them again. They never came back. Her curls grew to her shoulders, but by then...the objective was met.

Sparrow Ravensdale’s perception of time was irrefutably shattered, and without it, there was no way she could weave an escape. The hole in the artic was all she knew.

The rope fell from the door above and slapped the cold ground, waking her from her sleep. Her instinct told her to recoil back, her hands raised. She heard the guard connect his gear to the rope and slide down until his boots struck the stone.

He sat the laptop down in front of her, along with a brighter lantern. “You have a caller.”

“But...” Sparrow shivered. “Kelsie called not too long ago...it’s too soon.”

“It's the director.”

“...what does he want with me...?”

The guard shrugged and stepped to the side. “Be ready. The call will commence in a few minutes.”

[wish-i-wasnt-a-coward]

I won’t leave you, not again

Pairings: Anxceit (can be read as platonic if you’re determined) platonic/familial DRLAMP

Warnings: violence, food, mention of injury, fear that someone is dead, cursing, crying, angst with a happy ending :)

Word count: 1170

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Virgil pulled himself off of the ground, wincing as his wounds protested painfully. He and Janus had been stuck in Remus’s side of the imagination for hours. These shadow monsters had found them almost as soon as they ended up here. Virgil had done his best to protect Janus as attack after attack was thrown at them but he was losing stamina.

Janus stood across the clearing pushing back the shadow creature with his shepherd's crook. 

“For the record, this is your fault” Janus yelled over the screeching of the monsters. “And how’s that asshole?” Virgil called back, sprinting towards Janus. “You started the argument that got us here,” Janus said dodging a tentacle, “I did not!” Virgil stabbed the tentacle with a strand of his spider web and pulled Janus back. “You started it! And you got mad enough to send us here”. 

Janus opened his mouth to shout an insult back but nothing came out. Virgil turned, following Janus’ line of sight. He tightened his grip on Janus and cursed loudly.

Another shadow monster had risen behind them. The three demons shrieked in joy as they circled the two sides. 

“Cover your ears” Virgil commanded. Janus clamped his hand around his head as Virgil screamed in his tempest’s tongue.

The demons backed away convulsing in pain.

One of the demons recovered faster than the others and shot towards Janus, opening its tentacles to consume him. Janus stood helplessly as the monster thundered towards him.  

“NO!” Virgil cried in tempest’s tongue and he threw himself between the two. Janus made a strangled noise reaching out for the anxious side only seconds too late.

Virgil was enveloped by the darkness.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Virgil opened his eyes the first thing he saw was grey carpet. He dragged his head to the side. 

Virgil blinked and looked around, the dark side’s mind palace loomed around him. He could hear someone in the kitchen and footsteps above them.

The anxious side sat up slowly, “what are you doing down there?” a voice questioned from behind him.

Virgil wiped around, shifting into a defensive position on instinct, “are you ok Virgil?” a young Janus asked, kneeling next to him. Virgil’s mouth opened and closed as tried to make sense of this.

Janus looked at Virgil with soft concern. “Can I touch you sweetheart?” he asked, snaking his soft arms around the taller side when he nodded. Without thinking Virgil wrapped his arms around Janus’ thin frame and pulled him close.

His mind was racing a million miles an hour, where was he, why didn’t Janus hate him, why was he so young, what had the shadow monster done to him, was he ok?

Janus pulled away from the hug. “better?” Virgil nodded and the deceptive side beamed, “terrible, I wasn’t making dinner, would you like to come eat? Remus is here” Virgil nodded again and let himself be pulled up by the smaller side.

Their hands stayed firmly clasped as Janus pulled him into the kitchen. Virgil looked around in wonder, the mindscape looked exactly like it did before Virgil left... Janus looked like he did before Virgil left. 

The anxious side was pushed into a chair. Janus dropped a bowl of pasta in front of him and sat across the table. He didn’t have food himself, he just looked at Virgil lovingly as the anxious side tentatively picked up his fork. Virgil took a bite.

..verge

“Janus what's going on” Janus furrowed his eyebrows, “what do you mean??” he questioned.

you have to wake up

Virgil sighed “you know what I mean. All of this... you. It isn't right” Janus looked confused, “what do you mean it isn’t right, we're happy. Isn’t that what you want?”

please

“It’s not real Jan,” Virgil said sadly, “as much as I wish things could be as simple as they used to be, I have to live with my decision, there’s no going back.”

I can’t do this alone

Janus’ eyes filled with tears, “You can’t go back, he doesn't love you, he’ll never love you again. Please don’t leave me”. His form flickered in and out of existence. 

Virgil crumpled a bit, “I love him enough for the both of us, I’m not leaving him,” he said as determinedly as he could. The not-quite Janus growled, lunging towards Virgil.

 Virgil closed his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Janus, the real one this time, held Virgil's limp form as the last shadow monster fled. He frantically checked for a pulse, slumping in relief when he found one. “Come on Verge” he murmured, “you have to wake up. Please” tears welled up in Janus’ eyes, “I can’t do this alone” he whispered.

Virgil jolted, yanking Janus down into a tight embrace. “Oh god, Verge. I thought you were gone” Janus cried into the anxious side shoulder. Virgil breathed deeply, inhaling Janus who was here, was real. “I’m not leaving you, not again” Virgil murmured.  

The two sat holding each other for a few minutes and would have forever but it quickly became clear that Virgil’s injuries needed tending, badly. Janus didn’t know first aid so he acted as Virgil’s crutch as they trudged towards Remus’ palace where hopefully they could get back to the mindscape.

The moment Virgil and Janus set foot inside the dark castle Remus appeared, looking a lot paler than usual. “What the fuck happened to you two!!!! Here let me help,” he blurted, reaching towards Virgil's other arm and taking some of his weight.

The three sunk out into the mind palace.

Logan and Patton looked up from the couch. Roman stopped his pacing and raced to catch Virgil as he slumped forward out of the other two’s arms. Logan summoned a first aid kit and went to work on Virgil’s injuries as he was lowered onto the couch.

Janus hovered over Virgil, batting Patton away as he fussed over Janus’ scratches. Eventually, Remus had to push him into a chair and hold him down while Patton cleaned Janus’s wounds.

After Logan was satisfied that Virgil would be ok Janus recounted what had happened. Remus looked incredibly guilty, despite Janus’ protests that he wasn’t to blame. 

Once Janus was done with his story the twins went off to “seek glorious revenge” or “murder the mother fuckers who hurt you” depending on which one you asked. Patton went off to stress bake and Logan followed to assure he didn’t accidentally set the kitchen on fire.

Janus sighed leaning against the couch where Virgil lay. He carefully intertwined their fingers as Virgil blinked down at him with doe-eyes. “You alright,” he croaked. The deceitful side laughed, “you should definitely be asking me that. But yeah, I’m fine. You?” 

Virgil relaxed, blinking slowly, “good” he murmured. “I’m glad” Janus smiled softly pressing a kiss to the groggy side’s head.

Virgil blinked up at him with an adorably shocked expression, “we shouldn’t talk about this later” Janus said, “but now, sleep.” Virgil nodded and yawned. He opened his arms for the deceptive side who happily burrowed into his embrace. 

Janus smiled into Virgil's warm chest, they were gonna be ok.

[sleepylixie]

3.1k words, Angst, Fluff (Romance), Non-idol AU

Kim Hongjoong X fem! Reader

Inspired by Love you Like Me- William Singe ( Playlist here )

Beware of Profanity, Heavy themes of infidelity, implied sexual activity 

The studio was loud, bustling with murmurs and movement, lighting being fidgeted with and artists putting in the final touches to the simple, neutral toned set. A shiver traced down your back as you watched people walk this way and that, preparing everything to be perfect just in time, just before the cameras begin rolling and the star of the show settles in front of the camera-

The steady buzz of your phone in your hand interrupted your train of thought. Took him long enough, you thought to yourself as you watched the name flash across the screen. Hongjoong. 

Not a couple of months ago, his contact’s name had been ‘loml’ with a red heart- how quickly things change. You knew he would call you before you were to go on-air, a tradition that he had unfailingly kept alive over the last 3 years. This particular call however, was different. Special. 

Because it was going to be the last. 

You would miss his calls, you mused as you accepted the call. His smooth, lilting tenor always greeting you with- 

“Hello, starlet.” 

The amused endearment didn’t make you smile like it used to. You used to shy away from it when you had initially started dating Hongjoong. Over the years, however, you had truly grown into a starlet in your own right so the inside joke was now laced with adoring truth. 

“Hello, my love.” 

Your voice was soft, mellow, the perfect replication of how you would respond to him in better times. Funny how a relationship you’d valued as much as your career had come down to pretence and secrets- 

“Are you ready?”  

The real question is, are you ready? The response was heavy on your tongue but you swallowed it down, letting a sardonic smile curl up the edge of your lips as you hummed into the phone, a show of contemplation.

“I think so.” 

If only he knew what you were talking about. 

“I’m sure you are, you spent so much time in the studios with Chris. Trust yourself, darling. You’re going to do amazing.” 

There had been a time when his reassurance would’ve given you enough motivation to rule the world- now though, it felt like nothing but a sham. Pretty, deceptive falsities that he kept up only for the sake of his promise to you. A game of make-believe he seemed to be amusing himself with. 

He was going to find out soon enough, you convinced yourself. He was going to find out soon enough that you were no game to be trifled with. 

The producer caught your eye, motioning to the set – it was time. 

“It’s almost time, I need to go.”

What a glorious double entendre this conversation was. 

“Good luck, my love. I’ll be watching the live.”

You hummed again before hanging up, coughing into your hands as you made your way to the set. The producer flashed a smile and thumbs up at you as you took your seat on the stool meant for you. 

“We’re going to be live in 3 minutes. Ready?” 

Between your makeup artist doing some final touches on your face and the sound technician checking the wires and mic-set for your in-ears, you returned the producer’s thumbs up with a confident smile- more confident than you were truly feeling, you were sure. 

“Ready.” 

All too soon, the 2 minutes had passed and you were sat alone in front of the camera, nothing but a mic in your hand as the producer did a countdown- Rolling in 3,2,1-

The first strains of the backing track flowed through your in-ears, your grip on the mic tightening as the repetitive, building melody washed over you like the tune of a haunted nursery rhyme. With the melody came the memories, a barrage of feelings tinged angry red and melancholy pink. 

After all these years, it seemed your love really had to end the way it began- mic in hand, lyrics at your lips and leaden heart in your chest. This time though, he wasn’t the healing balm, he was the twisted knife itself. 

Kim fucking Hongjoong.

“He never calls this late at night, no… But I can tell he’s been drinking all night long.” 

The studio was pin-drop silent except for the soft, dragging lilt of your voice. The track Chris had made for you could catch a listener’s attention all too easily- the magic your voice brought with it soon afterwards only served to hook the listeners more. 

You remembered slipping into the studio one rainy 2 a.m, scrawled sheets of paper feeling heavy and hot in your pocket. Chris had been rightfully concerned with your deceptively put together appearance, knowing exactly what had brought about the torrent of words you had thrown onto the table. 

Chris had always been safe, warm comfort for you- from the days of pulling all-nighters before graduation to the sleepless nights spent recording and producing in your shared studio, your friendship had come a long way.

But you’d shaken your head at him, urging him to look at the sheets. The memory of your pen slicing into the sheets was still burnt onto your fingertips, your vision almost blurring with tears as you scrawled every word that came to mind. Fiery, sensual, vengeful words seared onto the paper, a clear reflection of everything that had silently plagued you every night, every sunset, until you broke.

 “He sounds upset, I’m asking baby where you at, I called you earlier but you didn’t call me back…”

You met Hongjoong a little more than 4 years ago in a dive bar- him, the tired university student looking for a break and you, the evening’s entertainment. Your set had been entirely covers of moody love songs, reminiscent of your own sentiments- all you wanted to do was write your own music but it seemed all rookies were destined to be stuck with small gigs and other artists’ music. 

But for some reason, this one man with electric blue hair that contrasted- clashed, even, with his formal outfit had approached you after you finished your set. Only when he sidled closer to you did you noticed the paint splatters on his cuffs and the tiny earring dangling against his neck. The first thing he told you was that he had fallen in love with your voice and would love to get you a drink so he could hear it more. 

Even in the heartbroken haze you were in, you knew there was something about this odd patch-work quilt of a man with a sparkly smile that you couldn’t shake. Conversation had been uncannily easy after that-

Falling in love with Hongjoong however, hadn’t been a cakewalk by any means. 

 “He’s breaking down, I’m about to lose it… I’m screaming who the fuck were you with…”

Falling for Hongjoong was walking through fire and hail and ice; it was always expecting the worst out of each other but somehow ending up with the best too; to see each other as flawed humans before possible targets of affection. It took a good part of a year for the both of you to acknowledge any sentiment beyond friendship for each other, even more time to consider dating. 

He’d been hesitant at first- so had you. But as Hongjoong murmured to you that fateful evening your relationship began, the thought of not knowing how you’d be together was one he could not digest. Sometimes you wish you hadn’t agreed- but to disagree would’ve been a regretful lie. 

Over the years, it had always warmed your heart to have known without a shadow of a doubt that he would walk through all the world’s calamities for your hand in his.

Kim Hongjoong was perfect, after all. 

The perfect son of a perfect family, the visual arts graduate with a perfect score, the perfect fit for a job as an art gallery’s curator- Surely, his love was tinted with the same shade of perfection as the rest of him?

You were wrong. 

 “I grab my keys you better tell me where you at… he said he fucked up but there’s no taking it back...”

Kim Hongjoong was fickle as a wayward breeze where the matters of the heart were concerned. It was easier for him to let people love him, feel the adoration for him rolling off people’s eyes and bodies than be the person to love freely. Love was vulnerability to him, but gods, did he make vulnerability look gorgeous. 

Maybe the very reason he began to love you at first was because you didn’t care for his perfection.

His words still echoed in your ears sometimes, especially in nights that were woefully sober or afternoons that were hopelessly unproductive. There had been a time when the only things you remembered of the honeyed rasp was from your best dreams, promising you forever in every day- 

Not anymore. All you remembered now was the way he had sounded that night, alcohol and regret mixing badly in his veins, voice rough and stilted and broken as he asked you for forgiveness, for space in your heart despite his mistakes.

 “I gave everything to you and this is what you turn around and do…”

You wish you’d never driven to him after his teary confessions, hoping against hope he was pranking you and had only drunk too much to cater to common sense. You wish you hadn’t walked yourself to his best friends’ night club and have to witness the look of pity Seonghwa and San cast upon before handing Hongjoong over to you. 

You wish you hadn’t put yourself through the utterly tragic ordeal of picking up after him. Especially now, that you know how the future would look after that night. 

The memories steeled your voice through the smooth notes, the music rising and falling as the backing track began to build. You’d struggled to record this section of the song- your breath always seemed to catch and hold when you sang the words, your chest feeling too heavy, tongue too leaden to mouth the next lines. But today, the tune was like second nature to your lips, the sentiment almost easy to express. 

Surely he was watching now, wherever he was, the lyrics’ meaning sinking into his skin with every word. Some tiny, savage part of your brain hoped he felt the same cold terror and sense of unfairness you felt all this while- you hoped he would drown in it until it consumed him, soul and all. 

 “Did she have it all, all that you wanted for you to go and break your promise?”

He’d crawled into your bed with you that night, holding you closer than he had ever held you in 3 years. Soothed your tears of pure disappointment and cried way too many of his own, your shoulders shuddering as you pulled each other closer. Murmured apologies a million times, over and over again against your skin as he curled his body around yours, until you fell into a restless sleep. 

You still remember the time-dampened images of the nightmare you had that night, the shadows laughing at you for being an inadequate girlfriend, an unfit person, that he probably cheated because you weren’t doing enough for him. You’d awoken a mere couple of hours after the both of you had nodded off, Hongjoong’s grip on your body still tight despite his state of slumber. 

Was he worried you’d wake up and walk away?

He would find you in your kitchen in his old shirt when he woke up anyway, tired eyes and tired limbs and enough coffee for 2 in the French press. 

 “I wanna know, every secret you’ve been hiding…I wanna know just how long have you've been lying…”

A mistake, he’d called it. One-off error in judgement, a single moment in time he had chosen not to listen to his better sensibilities. It had happened once, entirely because of his lapse in judgement, he said. It would never happen again; he swore to you. Promised to you with your hands in his, earnestness in his gaze that you had never been subjected to until now- then again, he’d never given you reason to mistrust him until now. 

You’d asked for a promise from Hongjoong that day- a no-closed-doors policy on your relationship. It should’ve been a no-brainer as far as you were concerned, but it seemed that people like Hongjoong needed the reminder that not all people lived the way they did. That love wasn’t reckless free fall to everybody, a spark that burns fast and bright and fizzles out just as quick. 

 “I wanna know, does she fuck you like I did…I wanna know, and will she love you like I did…”

You wish you’d been less mature about the whole affair. 

Singing the words aloud only made you wish you’d thrown the words at him the first time it happened, instead of now, behind the safety of two screens and physical distance. You should’ve allowed yourself the sheer meltdown that the situation warranted, allowed the rage to take over your system even if it was for those few unfiltered seconds.

Hongjoong’s actions hadn’t deserved the maturity you afforded them. But you couldn’t blame yourself- in those fleeting moments, the primary emotions you had felt was that of inadequacy. You should’ve trusted yourself more.

 “Boy this ain’t how it’s supposed to be...Dancing between someones else’s sheets…”

After the burning hurt from the fiasco died down, it felt like Hongjoong had taken it upon himself to prove to you how special, how important, how absolutely irreplaceable you were to him. In the haze of it all, you ended up loving it. 

The once almost stoic man was now making an effort to be more to you, less of the disappointment he had caused you. He made an effort to talk to you, open up about his frayed relationship with love – hesitant at first and then naturally. 

I care about you. I love you; he’d murmured to the ceiling one night. You were silent, body resting against his as he arranged the sheets higher around your bodies. I wanted to know what we’d be like together and I haven’t regretted a second of it. I can’t imagine my days without you around.  A soft kiss planted against your hairline that you returned against the crook of his neck as sleep claimed you.

 “I can’t believe this is really happening, your guilty conscience is going to be the death of me..”

The next few months were a daily reminder of how much Kim Hongjoong had come to know you over the years of your relationship. Your favourite flowers turned up like clockwork at your desk every Tuesday, accompanying a note in his quick, scratchy handwriting – a new tradition of mid-week dates at experimental restaurants with oddly planned menus. Voice notes of his raspy morning voice sending you sweet affirmations that rung in your ears late into the afternoon. 

Even the way he touched you felt softer, more… reverent. Like he’d had a taste of what he stood to lose and never wanted to think of it again. As each day passed, you found yourself resting easy, basking in the attention and adoration and soft romance of it all.

Looking back on it, you should’ve known. What was it they say about a cheat?

They expect you to be loyal to them despite their faithlessness.

 “You got so caught up in the moment...But she’ll only love you when she’s lonely…”  

The second time it happened, the only thing your heart felt was a wildfire doused in rage and an almost crippling sense of treachery. A fellow artist in the same recording company as you had slipped into the studio late one night, just as you were packing up to head home. She’d pulled you to the couch on the side, holding your hands in hers as she hesitated before asking her questions- Are you sure your boyfriend is faithful? He keeps leaving the club I perform at with other girls?

Your fingers curled tightly around the mic, trying your hardest not to let your other hand clench the fabric covering your legs. You would give the world neither the privilege nor the misfortune of knowing how much truth this song really held. The world didn’t- no, Hongjoong didn’t deserve it. Not anymore.

 “This ain’t a game you better tell me where you're at, No boy, you fucked up and there’s no taking it back..”

You’d dropped by Hongjoong’s apartment that night, hands shaking in your coat pockets and head spinning from the rush of emotions. You had a spare key, and it was only a matter of dropping him a quick text before letting yourself in. Betrayal? Rage? Frustration? Disappointment? It was the disgusting cocktail in the pit of your stomach that led you to snoop through his phone while he was in the shower-

You wish you hadn’t but oh, you’d be damned if you weren’t glad you had.

He’d brought girls to his apartment at the end of so-called club hopping nights with Seonghwa. Every Friday. Ever since he’d made his ‘promise’ to you.

Every single Friday.

He’d bedded some random chick from the clubs and then turned up at your doorstep every weekend like nothing had ever happened.

Every. Single. Friday.

 “I gave everything to you …and this is what you turn around and do..”

You remember slipping out of Hongjoong’s apartment as quickly as you had turned up, faking an emergency at the studio to dash out the front door. Stubbornly holding your tears at bay as you drove back to your own neighbourhood, out of the car and into your apartment. Collapsing on your couch in a daze just as the breakdown began.

You still don’t know if the tears you shed that night were of anger or sadness- with the urge to destroy everything Hongjoong stood for, the only thing you wanted to do was never see him again.

For a second, you were transported back to that disaster of a night, the studio melting away into the familiar walls of your apartment, closing in on you as the despair and bottomless rage set in. There was an edge to your voice as you sang now, more angry than sad like before. Was he listening? Was he able to hear your farewell in the lyrics?

Was he panicking that you found out? Or worse, did he not care at all?

 “Did she have it all, all that you wanted for you to go and break your promise?”

The next morning, you’d woken up with puffy eyes and a heavy heart, but with one clear motive seared into your mind- revenge.

You’d allowed him into your heart, let him build a home there for years and years. You had loved him every way you knew how to- broken at first, unconditionally later. You’d given him trust, a currency you were known to be stingy with- and he turns around and does this to you.

Maybe that was childish of you; maybe a more mature person would’ve broken it off that day, wallowed in heartbreak and made efforts to move on. But no, not you.

If Hongjoong had found it acceptable to take girls home while being in a relationship with you, he would definitely find it acceptable if you aired some of his dirty laundry yourself.

 “I wanna know every secret you’ve been hiding…I wanna know just how long have you been lying..”

Chris had been concerned when you walked into the studio, looking almost entirely functional and not worse for wear at all.

It made sense, your best friend’s worry. It had only been 3 days since…since the incident and besides an update message, you had burrowed yourself at home and entirely unreachable. But here you were today, sheets of paper filled with your scrawl covering the table in front of you- lyrics.

Read them, you’d muttered, shoving the pages towards him- your hands shook slightly, the first crack in your façade. They’re a bit of a mess, but they mostly make sense.

Only you would remember being drunk off your mind on whiskey and later, wine the whole time. Alternating between feverish writing and heartbroken sobbing. Pretending to be completely fine to Hongjoong, telling him to not ‘interrupt your creative process’. Staring out into the starrless night skies and wishing that one day soon, Hongjoong would feel the hell you were feeling now. One day, you would look a camera in the eye and sing these lyrics out loud, for the world to hear, for him to hear. And you’ll be damned if that day, Kim Hongjoong didn’t get his final taste of who he’d just lost.

 “I wanna know…does she fuck you like I did, I wanna know,  will she love you like I did..”

Getting the right feel to the lyrics while recording the song had been all too easy, waving off Hongjoong’s curiosity about your newest project easier so.

It was a surprise for him, you would smile, dropping fleeting kisses against his cheekbones and jaw just the way he liked. He always smiled and dragged your mouth to his own, letting his smile slide against your own, murmuring that he was going to follow you into the studio to take a peek for curiosity’s sake. 

Talk often fizzled out at that point, because god, it was so difficult to stay away from each other’s bodies and out of each other’s arms after the long days of being your own people, strong and resourceful and adult and independent. It was easier to let your muscle memories take over, touch and sense and feel every single wretched thing that Hongjoong was so capable of making you feel.  

 “She won't do you like me, she won't love you like me, baby…she won't touch you like me, she won't love you like me, baby…”

You would be lying if you said you didn’t get a wild sense of pleasure singing those lines, your eyes not leaving the camera pointed at you. Was it revenge well served? A broken heart being healed?

Over the weeks of preparing for the song, you’d realized how true those words were. The burning sense of betrayal and hurt hadn’t faded in the least- you still woke up every morning feeling lesser than, but never again. Never would you let anybody feel like this again.

Nobody would love Hongjoong like you could. It was about time he realized that. Pity, though, that you wouldn’t be around to witness it. 

“She won't love you like, she won't love you like me.”

The music fizzled out into silence, the producers counting down as you stayed still- 3,2,1 cut! In pursuit of the feeling of reckless freedom, Hongjoong had lost the one person he claimed made him feel like he belonged. How unfortunate for him, you mused, as the studio erupted in claps, the producers grinning widely and everybody smiling at each other. In the middle of the chaos, the door swung open- His eyes were wide, short blonde hair a windswept mess against his forehead, the single stalk of your favourite flower hanging limp in his hands. Surely there were paint marks on his cuffs, and the tiny earring would jingle prettily when he moved, but as his gaze met your dead ones, you could only think one thing-

She won't love you like, she won't love you like me.

Thank you for reading! Do let me know what you think~ xoxo, Elliana.

Network Tag: @kpopscape​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Omertà👄15

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (blowjob); alcohol

This is dark!Bucky and dark! Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father was a bookie and taught you everything you know about numbers. After his death, you were taken on as a bookkeeper for Loki Laufeyson, resident crime boss in Manhattan. But can you keep your place in the background when a man from Brooklyn threatens to drag you to the forefront?

Note: This thing never ends but I’m not complaining!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You stared in the mirror. Your cheek was swollen and your entire body was sore from his touch. The bathroom was a mess still. Water all over the floor. 

He’d left moments before. It had taken too much to get him to go. Thinking of what you’d done, you felt stupid but you didn’t regret. If you could do it again, you’d have choked him harder, sooner. 

You touched your tender jaw and whined. Loki would know the moment he saw you. Another gruelling day made longer by his disapproval. Even if he didn’t guess, he might find out from his business partner. You frowned and winced.

Well, you could try to lie, you just had to make it believable.

You inhaled and grabbed your clothing from the table along the wall. You swept through to the bedroom and shoved them messily into the end of your bag, half hanging from the zipper. You took the night shirt and pulled it over your head.

You went to the front room and crossed to the mini-fridged beneath the glass bar. It would be satisfying to add the costly drinks to Bucky’s bill in your deception. 

Well, if it worked.

You took out three of the miniature bottles of chardonnay and two of the tiny whiskey bottles. It was almost five. The sun would be up soon and Loki too. 

You paced as you uncapped a bottle of the chardonnay and drank it. One bottle would be enough of a buzz to make it believable. As you reached the dregs of the wine, you opened another and poured it down the sink behind the bar. 

You swigged a mouthful of the whisky and dribbled some down your night shirt. You checked the time and emptied both bottles down the drain. You washed away the liquor from the sink.

You tested your breath as your vision began to glow. An hour had passed. Loki was an early riser. You expected him at seven, eight if Thor had kept him up late.

You took the third bottle to the bedroom. You messed up the bed and turned the lamp on the night table on its side. You tried to shake off the heady glow which sank into your brain. Maybe a whole bottle was too much.

You went to the bathroom and rumpled up the rug. You pushed over the stool beside the door. You looked around one last time. No sign of Bucky. No hint of him having bent you over the brim of the tub. Nothing but the bile in your stomach.

You tossed the bottle of wine so that it smashed across the tile. You got down, careful not to cut yourself as you laid down beside the remnants. You laid half in the puddle of chardonnay, your feet over the rug as your bruised cheek rested painfully against the cold floor.

You closed your eyes and swallowed. Now you just had to wait. Your eyelids got heavier with every passing second. The smell of wine burned your nostrils and the liquid in your stomach felt thick.

You snorted awake as you heard the decisive banging on the door. You didn’t move and did your best not to tense up. Your eyes felt loose in your head as your mind bubbled from the half-slumber you’d sunk into.

You listened to the distant clamour outside your hotel room and slowed your breaths. Keep your eyes closed and don’t move. 

The wait was interminable. Finally you heard the subtle beep of the lock on the door. 

“Thank you very much,” Loki said from the front room. “So careless of me to leave my key inside.”

“Not at all, sir,” Another unfamiliar voice answered. “These things happen.”

“Here,” Thor said and footsteps faded away as the door shut.

Soles scuffed over the marble, softened by the rug, and grew decisive as they entered the bedroom. You focused on your heart beat as you listened closely.

“Looks like she had quite the night,” Thor mused as something moved.

Closer, closer, closer. You felt the shadow in the doorway and kept your breath steady.

“Mmm, so she did,” Loki’s heels clicked on the tile as he neared and toed you with his shoe. “Thank god I’m not paying for all this.”

“Is she alive?” Thor asked. You felt a thick hand on your arm as you were pushed onto your back. Your arm fell across the tile limply. “Christ, look at her face.”

Loki sighed as a rough palm settled on your hot, bruised, cheek.

“Wake up,” Thor’s thick fingers rubbed softly as he tried to rouse you. “Honey, honey,” He cooed. He slipped his arm under you and pulled you to sit up. “Hey, hey. Fuck, Loki, you wanna get some water or something?”

You grumbled and your head lolled against Thor’s arm. Fingers snapped in front of your face as you let your eyes flutter open. You swatted Loki’s hand away and belched.

“What’s you doin’?” You slurred.

“What are you doing?” Loki countered as he knelt beside you. “You certainly enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?”

You frowned and tried to wave him away. Thor chuckled and hooked his other arm under your legs and lifted you. It was frightening how easily he was able to hold you.

“You should’ve invited us,” Thor kidded as Loki stood and stepped aside as you were carried through the doorway. “We can still get in on this, eh?”

“It’s barely eight in the morning,” Loki slithered. “Get her on the bed. We haven’t time for this… mess.”

“Poor thing, you’ve driven her to drink.” 

Thor dropped you on the bed, his hand grazing your thigh as he drew away. He paused and shoved his hand further up your night shirt. You flinched, your cunt still tender from the night before.

“Don’t touch her.” Thor’s hand was ripped from between your legs. “She’s barely awake.”

“All the better.” Thor boomed. “I don’t mind it. Easier.”

“You truly are vile, brother,” Loki sneered.

“I can be quick,” Thor pulled your shirt up over your pelvis. 

“You are here for business,” Loki snarled and tugged the shirt back down. He tore the blanket from beneath you and covered you with it. “Go. Wait for me in the other room.”

“You are no fun, brother,” Thor huffed but left.

Loki waited for him to disappear beyond the door then carefully sat beside you on the mattress.

“Darling, you must think you’re so clever,” He touched your cheek and you winced. “But when you sober up, you will realise how dumb you truly are.”

He shook his head and jostled you as he rose.

“I expect you will have slept this tomfoolery away by this evening,” He said. “And since you will have missed a day of work, you will make that up to me.” He neared the door and turned back. “And this will not happen again.”

👄

You weren’t sure if you were really hungover or you had slept too deep. Despite your wiser forebodings, you let yourself drift off shortly after you were left alone. You needed the sleep but you also needed to get your shit together.

It was clear after the previous night that you could not go on like this forever. Sooner or later, likely sooner, these men would break you. You weren’t delusional enough to think you could outlast them. Already, you were exhausted and the casino felt too much like a tomb.

It was already two. You groaned as you climbed out of bed. You weren’t going to wait around for Loki. You showered in the glass booth and the hot water eased your body. Your eyes stung but you gulped back the sudden wave of hopelessness.

You dressed. You hurt. A lot. 

You pulled on a tea length skirt and a simple sleeveless blouse. The only real mark of your intense night was your swollen face and the rest of it could as easily be explained away as the result of your drunken fall.

You grabbed your phone and shoved it in a small purse along with your wallet and headed out. You hailed a cab and had it drop you off a street away from the casino. You found a cafe and ordered a double espresso. You sipped the bitter brew as you traversed the next block.

The casino was still a hive of activity. You were barely noticed as you passed the men in their hard hats and you kept your head down as you climbed the stairs. It was almost four.

You passed the open door of Loki’s unfinished office, then that of Bucky’s. Both were vacant. Luck, for the time being. 

You exhaled and approached the door of your own office. You’d hide there until Loki returned. If you cut him off at the pass, he might not be irritated enough to really make you suffer.

You stopped short as you entered. Behind your new desk, sat a broad figure. Your ledger sat open before Thor as he slipped carelessly through the pages. You clung to the door and peeked out behind you.

“Ah, you’ve recovered. Already?” He smirked as you turned back to him. “Do come in.” He stood. “Apologies, I was told I might use your space in your absence and I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“Loki doesn’t appear to be in his office,” You approached one side of the desk as he rounded the other. You kept away from him. “I’m certain he wouldn’t mind--”

“Fun night?” He asked as he strode towards the door. 

“I don’t… remember, if I’m being honest.” You lied as you checked your second drawer. The lock was broken. “Not much at all.”

“No? Just got a little carried away, did we?” He swung the door shut and crossed his arms as he turned to lean against it. “Lonely, perhaps?”

“I have a lot to catch up on,” You sat and ignored him as you set your coffee on the desk along with your purse. “And I’m sure you--”

“You don’t remember anything? Not even this morning?” He wondered.

“Bits and pieces,” You sighed.

He slowly traipsed towards the other side of your desk. He planted his large hands by your ledger as he loomed over you. You didn’t look up as you took a pencil from the top drawer.

“My brother’s a prick,” He said. “I get it but it’s no reason to shun me.”

“Thor,” You sat back and placed your pencil in the middle of the ledger. “This is business. I’m doing my job. Go do yours.”

“Fortunately, my work is already done for the day,” He said. “I think, in fact, I have earned a brief respite.”

“Go,” You said firmly. “I still have work to do.”

“Oh, you do,” He said as he stood. “Go on and get under that desk. Show me why my brother likes you so much.”

“Get. Out.” You snarled.

“You really don’t know when you’re punching above your level, do you?” He walked around the desk and you swiveled your chair and stood.

“Thor, I mean--”

He grabbed the back of your neck, his other hand on your shoulder, and forced you into the chair.

“It’s okay, I’ll stand,” His fingers dug into your neck as you whimpered. 

His other hand went to his trousers and he tugged the tails of his shirt loose. You tried to stand but he was too strong. You grasped his thick wrist and tried to wrench it for your neck.

“We don’t want to break that face entirely, do we?” He flicked his button open and slid the zipper down. “Come on, honey, I know that mouth of yours is sweet. I’ve seen it myself.”

“Let me go,” You kicked out and his hand slipped around your neck to your throat. 

He choked you as he freed himself over the top of his pants. His cock was thick and throbbing. You tried to roll the chair away from him but his grip only tightened.

“Open,” He guided his tip to your mouth and pressed it to your lips. You tried to turn away. “I’ll break your jaw, honey. I’ll break every part of you, now open up.”

Your eyes watered and you gasped as you opened your mouth. He shoved himself inside, his hand quickly swept to the back of your head. He forced his way into your throat and you choked, teetering on the edge of your chair.

“Oh, wow, oh,” He purred as he wiggled his hips. “Amazing.”

You slapped the hand on the back of your head and your body spasmed as you gagged.

“You can do it. I know you can take all of me.” He pushed even deeper and you couldn’t breath. You reached up and grabbed onto his jacket. “Oh, yeah, that’s it.”

He pulled back and you gulped for air around him. He slid your mouth up and down his length, faster and faster as his groans floated around you. The sloppy noises of your mouth made you even sicker and the stone set behind your brow grew even sharper.

“Oh, I think for the first time… I’m starting to understand my brother,” Thor rocked his hips as he fucked your face, gripping your throat and head firmly. “Fuck, I’m already close.”

He kept on. Your breath and throat ragged. You were dizzy and sickened by the slobber that dripped down your chin. You clutched his jacket desperately as he continued to sped up.

“Swallow, honey,” He grunted and shook as his thrusts turned frantic. 

He dipped several times into your throat then held himself there as heat flooded into you. You slapped his stomach as you struggled to swallow around him. He pulled out as your throat began to constrict and you managed to gulp down his salty cum. 

A string of cum hung from his cock as he let you go and backed away. He turned to lean against the desk and sighed. He took his pocket square and wiped himself clean with it before dropping it in your lap.

He zipped his trousers up and stood as he cleared his throat. You coughed and covered your mouth to keep from vomiting.

“Now, I know my brother is the jealous type,” He strutted around the desk and rolled his shoulders. “So, this stays between us, right?”

[southernrays]

location: Fairvale + Jesup/Atlanta in flashbacks date: The second week of July 2020 + Ray’s entire life availability: closed solo tldr: Ray ponders his love life before-during-after the apocalypse cw for: transphobia, disclosure talks, transitioning, divorce, drugs (mentioned not used) and all of the general heart break affiliated with young love.

000.

Ray fell in love too easily.

It had always been a problem, really, but there was no real fix. Ray loved deeply, easily, and with his whole entire heart. He had done so since he was a kid, and he would probably always do so, apocalypse or not.

001.

His first crush had been on Brittany Walker when he was six years old. That was before he was Ray, before he was even Nate, but a crush was a crush.

Brittany was the most popular girl in their elementary school. Jesup was a small town that only grew smaller the older they got, and Ray was one of ten in his class. Brittany was classically pretty - blonde hair, blue eyes, a big smile, and kind eyes - but Ray knew it was more that that. He didn’t want to be Brittany’s friend, he wanted to be her best friend, and got jealous of everyone else. When the town got a new set of siblings, brother and sister, and Brittany started hanging out with them instead of him, Ray’s father noticed the frowns and sad looks at the dinner table.

“What’s wrong, champ?” David had asked, the nickname sticking from a t-ball championship streak of two years. Ray had pouted over the okra on his plate, and not just because it was slimy.

“Brittany has new friends and likes them better. But I like her more than anyone else on the playground.”

“Is that right now?” David had amusement in his eyes when he tried to keep a straight face, and Ray was old enough to see it. He was deceptively perceptive for his age and already a good people watcher at the bar. David knew that.

“I’m serious Dad. I’d marry her, like you and mom.”

Ray was still just six, though. He didn’t notice the tense of his father’s shoulder, the way he glanced over to make sure that his wife wasn’t in the room. He didn’t notice the frown lines on his face or how unhappy he had been for the last six years. He didn’t know that the divorce papers will be signed before their next Christmas, and it will be spent without Regina Turner. That all of his birthdays and holidays and life events would be without her, forever, very soon.

“That’s a whole lot of like, kiddo.”

“I mean it, Pa.”

“That’s alright champ. You can marry whoever you want to when you get older, alright? I’ll love you no matter what.”

“Alright dad,” little Ray had said with a wrinkle of his nose. “Don’t make it weird.”

David’s laugh had filled the kitchen, and Ray felt better about it all.

002.

Ray didn’t have a type growing up. The people he liked, he liked individually, not because they fit into a mold that checked off imaginary boxes. In high school his eyes turned towards a new girl in town that’s aesthetic screams southern gothic in an unironic way. Hailee wore her eye liner too thick, kept her music too loud, wore too much black and metal, and glared at everyone at Jesup’s only high school like their mere presence bothered her. Ray had no idea, in retrospect, why he was drawn to her, but he was. Ray was finally Nate by then, finally himself in his own skin and his own clothing and no one could take that from him. Not the busybodies of Jesup, not his mother’s stinging palm on his cheek, and not any pastor of a Church he wasn’t apart of, praying to a man he didn’t believe in. 

Ray was unapologetically himself, and maybe he was drawn to someone else like that, too.

Hailee avoided him like the plague, too, at first. She scoffed at his worn levis and dirty cowboy boots. She ignored Ray when the popular crowd stopped by his locker. Ray was popular, too, in spite of his transition and small town gossip. His father owned one of the only bars in town that made him cool, and a source of liquor for unage drinking and parties. Ray didn’t care much for that, but he did appreciate the socialization of it all.

“Hey, Hailee, wait up now,” Ray had called out, almost not recognizing his own voice after his second puberty. 

“What do you want, Nate?” Her eyes had narrowed, pretty and green despite the kohl surrounding them. 

“You to come to Nick’s party this weekend. What do ya say?” Ray rocked back on his heels, nervous of her answer. People in the hallway stopped to look at them, and Ray wondered what they saw. Was it the stubble on his chin, his recent growth spike, and the new squareness of his hips? Or was it the same kid that had been there since pre-school, unable to leave that old, uncomfortable skin behind.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah? You do that, then. I can pick ya up on the bike if you want?” 

Her eyes flashed with something dangerous, then, and Ray knew he had hooked her. What kind of edgy girl could resist showing up to the party on the back of a sick motorcycle?

They find themselves in a closet, of all places, in the middle of the night. Ray tasted tequila on her lips when she slotted their hips together. He pushed back, pinning her against a wall as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. The groan she let out was sweet music to his ears and she melted like putty against his strong frame.

“Worth comin’ out for the party?” Ray asked against her lips. She bit his lip in retaliation before deepening the kiss. Ray’s hands wandered, fingers trailing the skin exposed by the black crop top she had decided to wear tonight. They separate when Ray needed to come up for air, harsh pants filling the small spaces of the closet.

“I didn’t expect it to be so good,” Hailee mumbled against his lips, and Ray can’t help but freeze.

“What? Kissin’ a redneck?” He tried to joke off, desperate for her to make some small town hick joke. Because Hailee was from Indianapolis. She was supposed to be edgy and alternative and beyond all of the small town gossip. She was different from the other people Ray had been taking hayrides with since the days of diapers. 

He expected more out of Hailee - maybe more than he should have, maybe more than what was fair - which is why the disappointment felt so much worse with her.

“No, you know...” A brief pause of hesitation and Ray prayed, dear God for her to say anything but what he thought she was going to say. “Kissing someone like you.”

Ray flinched back like someone had dropped a bucket of ice on him. His eyes sting for a brief second of embarrassment before the rage took over. He takes one deep breath, and then another. Man, testosterone was a potent thing, wasn’t it?

“I... I’ll see ya ‘round Hailey.”

“Wait - Nate - I didn’t ... I wasn’t trying to-”

Ray doesn’t hear the rest. He doesn’t need to.

003.

Dating Xavier was a mistake, plain and simple.

Ray was new to the area. He was finally free of his town, free of the stigma and the knowing looks, and the everything else that came with a town so small it felt like a fishbowl. Here, in Atlanta, he got to start over. He could be Nate from the beginning, without any need to pretend otherwise.

And Nate was a useless bisexual. Always had been.

Xavier was kind of a douchebag. He met Ray at a bar, of course, his band playing on the makeshift stage. Xavier was a drummer. He was so dang pretty, easy on the eyes, and kissed in a dirty, grungy sort of way that had it’s charms. He was nothing like Jesup kids; Xavier was spoiled, wild, a city boy through and through, and Ray craved the simplicity of it all.

Xavier (who went by X) was not a good guy and did drugs (most X) and got crossfaded out of his mind after shows. He stayed up crazy hours, usually high, and wrote all sorts of lyrics for his band. Their relationship, if you could call it that, was very brief and mostly physical.

“You should play guitar, babe, like for real, you know?” Xavier said, waking Ray up at five in the morning to tell him that.

“Why’s that, handsome?” Ray had answered, sleep still clogging his voice as he rolled over. It looked like X hadn’t been to sleep yet, which made sense considering the binge he had been on.

“It’d make you more edgy, right, like, you’d be hotter. Everyone’s hotter if they play guitar.”

“S’that why you’re a drummer?” Ray teased, but the fun nature of it went over Xavier’s head. He leveled a big scowl at Ray, and Ray sighed.

“No need to be mean, Nate.”

“Was just a joke, baby.” Ray opened up the covers of the bed, glancing at the clock again. Xavier’s pupils were so dilated that he couldn’t see his pretty brown eyes. “Come to bed soon?”

“You know I have to finish this song. We hit the road in three weeks for our tour.”

In that three weeks, Ray picked up a guitar and had his first lessons, broke up with Xavier, and never saw the guy again.

He was not more edgy, not in the slightest, but he did have a new guitar and a whole city to explore.

004.

Meeting Luci had been accidental in every way. He had picked up an extra shift at the bar that his manager forgot to write into the schedule, so when he showed up for it there was double staffing and no need for Ray to be there. Instead of spending a Friday night alone, at his apartment, he decided to stay. Ray nursed a couple of beers as the bar filled up and texted his friends to show up early.

The Drunken Crown was a sort of themed bar-slash-pub in Atlanta. It was smaller, which Ray appreciated, and had theme nights on the daily. A lot of the college kids from nearby spent their time there, and the average patron was generally on the younger side. On Fridays and Saturdays their theme rotated, and tonight’s was Historic Night. 

His friends arrived a bit later, dressed in Spartan battle gear. They did a couple rounds of shots before most of them took to the dance floor, leaving Ray laughing as he refused at the bar.

Ray had come dressed in an honest to goodness toga, including a gold spray-painted leaf crown and golden accessories. His time in the gym had definitely paid off as he was finally bulking up and gaining more definition in his shoulders. One or two girls had been orbiting around him, but Ray didn’t make any passes at anyone. He sipped on his beer, watching his coworkers make their rounds, and decided to people watch for the evening.

A group of flappers were tearing up the dance floor. Ray could see his buddy, Blake, drunkenly approaching them and attempting some dance moves that made him look ridiculous. Some guys in three piece suits were making out by the entrance. A group of hippies were eagerly chatting and mingling at the bar. Ray saw at least three girls who looked like some extras in a Nirvana video begging for some kind of song change from whatever was on the speakers.

Luci had been dressed up as an old writer, someone Ray knew the name of but couldn’t remember, not truly and definitely not any more, and kept all to herself in the very corner of the bar. She was sipping on some mixed drink and Ray’s eyes stopped on her. What was her story? The quiet girl, alone at the bar, barely hanging onto the fringes of all of the activity. 

He was intrigued, and he wanted to know.

A simple introduction was given. Ray prodded, trying to get a feel for the quiet girl, who opened up immediately when asked about her costume. Ray was no academic, but he appreciated the passion in her eyes when she spoke about something, voice louder than either one of them expected.

“I’m Nate, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

And it was. Luci was his opposite in so many ways. He hadn’t expected to see her again after that night, too shy to ask for her number and unsure if she was interested in giving it. His coworkers had given him hell for chickening out, and Ray just gave them a good-natured smile.

A week and a half later, Luci came in, dressed normally, while Ray was working. He spent the entire night neglecting his duties, trying to get a conversation out of her and working his own natural charm. And she came back the next week, and the week after, too. Soon Ray was brave enough to ask for her number. And she gave it to him.

Being with Luci was different. Their first date, Ray had taken her out of the city to a local dirt track. They went mudding in ATVs and Ray nearly fell off of his trying to impressive her halfway through. Luci’s eyes had been wide the entire time, soaking up the whole thing with a curiosity that Ray came to associate with her. One date turned into two, which turned into a whole series of exploring together. 

They took turns taking each other outside of their comfort zones. Ray taught Luci how to have fun the country way, with mudding and camping, and picnics in the bed of his truck as they watched the sun rise together. Luci surprised Ray with her deep thoughts, her sharp mind, and the push to better himself with her. She didn’t let him keep up his self-deprecation. They would have late night conversations, under the stars, all alone, wrapped up in each other.

She met his friends, his family, incorporated herself in his entire life.

Ray fell head over heels. And he told her so, earnest and eager and open to love. Open to a lifetime of learning and exploring with her. 

And she left him, at the edge of the cliff he was ready to jump off with no parachute, without so much as an explanation. And she took a part of him with her, whether she realized it or not, that never really came back.

005.

There were more. Some before Luci, some after. Each person was different - different backgrounds, ages, race, gender, personalities - but one thing always remained the same. Ray loved too hard, too much, too easily. Ray was open to the idea of commitment, and committed, too easily. 

 It didn’t matter who he was dating, he was the constant, he was the issue, and it hurt to admit.

Ray tried, and he loved, before-during-after the outbreak. And it went like this:

There was Rob, a brewmaster he met while at school. They dated for over a year, before graduation hit; Ray wanted to go to Atlanta and Rob wanted to go to family back in Miami.

“It’s like - you know - I really like you Nate. I like you a lot. But long distance? It never works. It’s better to end it now.”

There was Sage, a wild child trust fund girl that wanted to save the rainforest with Daddy’s money. She laughed when he asked her to be his girlfriend.

“That’s cute, you thought we were dating? It’s not that serious babe.”

There was Fi, a survivor in a camp Ray had stumbled across after leaving the Fort. She was the reason Ray stuck around for three weeks. They had had an awful fight before the camp was overrun, and she hadn’t made it out alive.

“You’re too soft, Ray. I’d chew up your sunshine and spit it out. I don’t want to see you again.”

There was Ronnie, the permanent student with four different bachelor degrees. He cheated on Ray with one of his roommates after six months of dating.

“I was bored, Nate. I’m not ready to just settle down, dude. You’re smothering me.”

There was Destiny, a small town, kindred girl he found in Atlanta not too long after Xavier. She had looked at him in the worst way when Ray had come out to her.

“I’m - I’m not - That’s not what God would want for you, you know?”

There was Jenny, a financial advisor that Ray had met through the bar and mutual friends. She had always been so carefree, maybe too carefree, maybe just too free in general.

“Oh Darlin’, I don’t think so. We’re not exactly endgame, are we?”

It didn’t matter who, when, where they were. Ray wasn’t worth keeping around - that was the universally proven fact. It was one he had to stomach his entire life, and well, it sucked, but Ray was not one to stay down. He washed off the mud, dusted off his boots, and got back up again.

000. +

Ray tried not to play the self pity card. It just wasn’t his style. But with the outbreak, losing his family, and trying to re-invent himself yet again? A relationship was the last thing he wanted or needed. Fairvale was a clean break, it was (mostly) mess free. He could be whoever he wanted or needed. He could start over, again. He could protect himself and his heart.

Love mucked all of that up. It always had.

So when he caught himself - again, Ray, really? - people watching with his eyes settling on one person, he ignored it. When he felt that small flip-flop in his belly at their smile, he pushed it down. When his day would brighten at the familiar face of a kind-of-regular-that-showed up, Ray decided he would not have a crush again, thank you very much, and make things uneven. 

He could not afford to give up his heart any more than he already had. He couldn’t afford to be let down, disregarded, by someone again.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

pride. | sss | ksj

seven sins series. Kinky smut themed around a deadly sin. 

pairing(s): seokjin x reader | kink: role play

warnings: idol!BTS; PWP; established relationship; Seokjin’s POV

--

"How's this one?"

He looked up from his phone and smiled. 

"Yes, that one, please."

Excitement fluttered through him, but he kept his face neutral. A part of him still felt a little guilty. She told him countless times that she enjoyed it and that she would do anything for his happiness but, well, society had a different outlook. At this point in their relationship, they had many outfits, but his favorite was always... always, shamefully...

"Teacher?"

The schoolgirl one. 

He tucked his phone in his pants pocket and reached for the glasses hanging on his vest. With a simple twirl of his wrist, they were on his face and he was in character.

He turned his head and regarded her sternly, trying not to be blown away by her cuteness. Her hair tucked behind one ear, eyes wide with innocence, minimal makeup, and that lip stain he loved that made her lips plump and dark pink. The outfit was plain – a neat navy blazer, white dress shirt with a navy necktie (the necktie was important for the look and he was glad she remembered this time), and a short, short gray skirt. Definitely not a skirt for an actual high schooler. 

He said her full name sharply, bordering on mean. She visibly flinched, biting her lip, but not looking away. Thighs pressed together, hands nervously twisting the hem of her skirt. It was exactly what it looked like and he was loving every second of it.

"Do you know why I called you into my office today?"

The 'office' was more of a table dragged into their bedroom but none of these things matter once the scene is set. 

Her eyes flitted about, looking from the floor, to the walls, to his legs, lingering on his crotch, sauntering up his chest. Fuck. She was getting good at this. It made him so happy.

"It couldn't possibly be because I skipped class today... and yesterday... and maybe the day before that."

He tried not to smile.

"Actually, it's because you failed the last exam," he stated curtly, slamming his palm on the table. She jumped, her skirt fluttering to reveal a little upper thigh. She smoothed it in a flustered manner even though both of them were ready to rip it off. "You do remember what I told you. Don't you?" he added, dragging out his words, punctuating them with sharp taps on the table. Her frame trembled. Fear or excitement?

"I'll have no choice but to fail you from my class."

"No!" She started and placed her hands on the table, making her breasts bounce. His mouth twitched. Damnnit. "No, please, Teacher, can't I take the remedial exam? Please?" 

The right amount of pleading and tremor in her tone. Fuck me. "If you bothered to come to class, you would know the remedial exam was yesterday. No exceptions," he stated flatly, readjusting his glasses with a flick of his wrist. 

"Teacher, please," she whimpered, coming around the table. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll do better, I can take it now if you want." She grabbed his dress shirt sleeve and tugged on it. He glared at her and she immediately let go, a spark of unease in her eyes. 

He shook his head and sighed. "What will it take?" His eyes found hers. Slowly, he raised his hand and stroked her cheek. Her lips parted at his touch. “Incentives?” He withdrew his hand and swiftly spanked her ass, making her jump and yelp at the sudden movement. "Or discipline?"

Breathless, she looked up at him through the strands of her hair, so unsure, so innocent, so perfectly fuckable.

"T-teacher?"

Oh, if only he could frame this moment and keep it for later, he would. 

He smiled, taking a step towards her, backing her up against the wall. Her eyes widened as she hit the solidness, effectively trapped. He leaned towards her, lips against her ear. 

"My name is not 'Teacher'. It is Kim Seokjin," he drawled, lips grazing her skin as he made eye contact again. Oh, those eyes shaking with guilt and lust. "Can you remember that, my little deviant?"

She nodded quickly. He smirked, slowly unraveling her necktie. 

"Then I better hear my name coming out if these pretty little lips."

He placed his leg in between hers, forcing them apart. He slid his thigh between hers, smile growing as he felt the dampness through his slacks. He watched her look down and bite her lip nervously, breathing rapid and shallow.

“What’s this?” he murmured, using his knuckle to raise her eyes to his. She whimpered as he pressed his thigh against her mound, rubbing gently. He clicked his tongue. “What a naughty, naughty girl, getting wet by me talking to you.”

She gulped, voice trembling. “N-no…” He tilted his head inquisitively, indicating her to continue. “It’s because… You’re so close. So…” Their lips brushed against each other as she spoke. “Handsome.”

He pressed his lips against hers, roughly, almost growling. She moaned into his mouth, the sweetest sound, all his. He pressed his thigh against her core, feeling her juices soak through the fabric as she ground against him, whimpering at the friction. This used to be just an experiment. The first time they tried doing this, they couldn’t be serious for more than a few minutes. But now… Now it was a carnal desire that could not be ignored.

He broke away, breathing hard, still clutching her necktie. Those beautiful eyes with such perfect innocence reflected in them. She allowed him to indulge in his pleasures as much as he wanted to. If anyone else knew, they would surely judge him, but not her.

“Seokjin… please…”

“Please, what?” he snarled.

She would never judge him. Only tempt him.

“Please take me.”

He grabbed the front of her shirt, ripping it apart. Buttons flew everywhere and she squeaked in surprise. No bra – the last one did get destroyed after all and those things were deceptively expensive – so her breasts bounced in their newfound freedom. Looping his arms around her waist, he lifted her easily, picking her up and setting her ass on the table. He pressed his forehead against hers, panting.

“How often do you think about me?” he whispered. He could look into those eyes forever.

“All the time.”

He grinned. “Even during math?”

She smiled devilishly. “Math isn’t as good looking as you are.”

It embarrassed him and empowered him all at once. He kissed her again, softer this time. Down her neck, her collarbones, the curve of her breast. He flicked her nipple with his tongue, making her tense and squirm in his arms. He did it again, enjoying her shudder, before taking it in his mouth and sucking hard. She mewled lustfully, hands clutching his shoulders.

His eyes flickered upwards, eyes glued to her face as he kissed across her breasts, sucking on her other nipple intently. Her head tipped back, lips quivering, gasping softly as he flicked it with his togue. He loved knowing his effect on her, loved how she fell apart in his hands, giving him everything.

He pushed the tiny skirt up her waist, amused to see the white and blue striped panties. With one hand, he pushed her down on the table, using the other to spread her legs wider. Her panties were soaked, the damp fabric molded to her pussy lips.

“Should I take care of you?” he breathed, inhaling the scent of her sex. So sweet, so dirty.

“P-please…”

He reached over and pulled her panties upwards, forcing the thin cotton to fold inwards and cut into her swollen lips. Just the sight of her slick slit made his cock twitch, straining against his dress pants. She whined, bucking her hips just for some friction. Her clit popped out, the inflamed nub rubbing against the hem of her raised panties.

“No one will ever fuck you as well as I do,” he growled. It took all of his willpower to wait for her answer.

“No one can fuck me like you, Seokjin,” she panted, desperately wiggling her hips. “Seokjin, please…”

He yanked down the flimsy fabric and it slid down her legs into the floor. He didn’t even bother undressing – he was much too horny for that – and simply reached into his pocket for the condom, ripping it open as she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. They fell around his knees, but he honestly didn’t give a shit. He put the condom on, grabbed her hips and shoved himself into her with one swift stroke. She wailed, back arching at the sudden intrusion. No matter how wet she was, she hadn’t been stretched out yet, so it must have been a little painful.

She liked it like that. He knew because he was good like that.

She whimpered, hands splayed against the tabletop as he reached down and slowly, gently, rubbed her clit, letting her get used to him. So tight. So wet. Her muscles gripped and throbbed around him as he waited for her to adjust.

“F-fuck… your cock….”

He made his cock twitch inside her and broke out into a smirk as she moaned, bucking her hips into him.

“What about my cock?”

She raised her legs to his shoulders, tightening around him, increasing the sensation. He had to close to eyes, shuddering.

“You fit so perfectly…” she breathed.

He smiled, leaning forward and pressed her legs against her breasts.

“Perfect cock for a perfect pussy.”

He thrust into her, hard, over and over. He was obsessed with watching her face as he fucked her – her eyes rolling into the back of her head, mouth open as he fucked out each and every moan. Her hands curled into fists and her back arched as she came, walls gushing as he fucked her through her orgasm, relentless. He loved it. He loved knowing it was him – it was always him, no matter what version or role he was playing that night – in the end it was always him making her gasp for breath, begging him for more.

“Harder, please, Seokjin, ah–”

He used one hand to balance and one hand to pinch one of her nipples, rolling it between his fingers. She cried out and squirmed under him, forcing him to pinch harder and he felt her cum again, her entire body jerking with pleasure as she came. His thighs and maybe even his pants were probably a mess but he honestly didn’t care.

He pulled upwards, letting her nipple slip out of his fingers, swelling in satisfaction as she groaned, so driven by lust that she tried to grab for his hand for more. Instead, he gripped her hips, holding her still as he thrust into her.

“One more time, cum one more time for me,” he murmured, rolling his hips into her, hitting the spot she loved.

“S-Seokjin!”

His name tumbled from her lips, so sharp and sweet as she came again. He felt something inside him snap and he shuddered, feeling his own orgasm shoot out of him and fill the condom. There was so much. All because of the stupid schoolgirl outfit and his perfect girlfriend.

And he would do it again, without hesitation.

--

masterpost

[liemonyellow]

i couldn't hide from the thunder (happy end)

read on ao3

Ship: romantic anamoceit (patton/virgil/janus)

Word Count: 5000

Warnings: implied attempted suicide (no one dies, but it’s not really discussed either - the end is almost pure fluff), lots of italics

Summary: It was cruel, the way Virgil’s heart belonged to someone who would never love him back. It had to be karma, because hadn’t it been Virgil who pushed him away? Virgil, who lashed out and locked out everybody in a moment of hurt, who was too afraid to admit his feelings, forever destined to see his beloved love someone else?

Notes: This is the HAPPY ending. If you prefer sad endings where the ship doesn't get together and someone dies, there is a tragic ending version. The story is exactly the same up until the line, “From you? That would be nice, yeah!” and diverges from there.

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If you're here for the alternate ending, click here to skip to the diverging point.

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Virgil didn't understand how things had gotten to this point.

He drifted vaguely into the kitchen, taking in nothing, trying not to think about how tired Patton looked when Virgil checked in on him only five minutes ago. Despite Virgil’s insistence that he rest, he was adamant on staying where he was, though he did ask if he could bring up something warm, like tea, or soup. Apparently it tasted better if it was handmade instead of summoned.

"Can you bring up two? For when he wakes up?" He had asked, eyes red with exhaustion, his normally exuberant smile timid and watery.

Virgil didn't want to. But he saw the tremor in the moral side's hand as he tried and failed to rub away the tiredness of his eyes, the other clutching Deceit's cold, unresponsive arm like a lifeline. So he agreed, of course he agreed, because Patton had asked, and it was important that Patton was happy. And if making Patton happy meant making Deceit happy…

Virgil sighed, rubbing his own eyes, pinching his nose as he tried to focus. He opened the cupboard to check what they had and spotted a tin of Patton’s (and Deceit’s, his brain unhelpfully reminded him) herbal tea. He figured it was a safer - and quicker - bet than food and grabbed a couple of tea bags and put them in some mugs, then filled the electric kettle and started it.

It was taking a while.

Wasn't there a saying about pots and boiling water or something?

If Patton was here, he'd probably make a pun, his grin bright and shining as Virgil rolled his eyes and pretended he wasn't amused.

If Deceit was here, he'd probably shoot back with a snarky pun of his own, in that silky-smooth voice of his, all arrogance and smirks.

…

If Deceit was here, Virgil wouldn't be doing any of this.

Virgil didn't know what had possessed him to go and confront the snake the day prior. He was just so frustrated, unable to get the concept of Deceit charming his way into Patton’s daily life - and his heart - out of his head. Virgil was sure that the deceptive side had to be manipulating Patton somehow. And the sight of Patton, after everything he’d said, looking at Deceit with such fondness and affection whenever he saw them together, and Deceit doing the same - it made Virgil’s blood run cold and boil all at the same time. Virgil couldn’t stand it, the thought of the two of them, together. Deceit had to be using Patton to gain more influence over Thomas, because Virgil refused to believe the lying serpent could love anyone more than he loved himself. Because if he could...

Perhaps it was because no one had seen him in the last few days. That had Virgil worried, and the longer he failed to make an appearance, the more antsy Virgil got. Patton’s own fretting was driving him up the wall, but the other side kept saying something about “respecting his boundaries”.

He expected a fight. He expected the usual snark and sass and sarcasm. He didn’t expect to find Deceit’s room dark and freezing, or the side’s cold, dead-looking body curled up and slumped over in a pile on the ground.

Virgil wasn’t sure what happened after the others arrived. He hadn’t even been aware he was screaming until someone had grabbed him and sunk them both out into the commons, because even Remus knew that leaving Virgil anywhere near his own room in that state would have been a bad idea.

Whatever they did or found out, they had eventually managed to move Deceit to his bed and warm him and his room up without too much trouble, or so Virgil had discovered after he had calmed down.

Patton hadn’t left Deceit’s side since.

The shock had worn off completely then, replaced with renewed ire when Virgil realized Patton wouldn’t leave until he woke up.

If Virgil was frustrated before, he was incensed now. What if this was part of Deceit’s plan? What if it was all just another plot to get them to trust him? What if it was all just another lie? Patton, bless his forgiving heart, was dangerously close to falling in love, if he hadn’t already.

And Virgil had tried, so, so hard, to convince Patton to let him take care of Deceit. At least then the moral side could get some rest, and Virgil would have a 24/7 watch on the serpentine side. And watch he would.

Virgil had to admit that Deceit was very convincing in the way he looked like he was falling just as hard for Patton, likely plying him with some sympathetic sob story designed to reel in the fatherly figment. Every little glance, every lingering stare, every miniscule twitch of Deceit’s eyes were focused on Patton, when he wasn’t mocking Virgil with forlorn eyes and damn his acting abilities for making it look so genuine that Virgil couldn’t stop himself from glowering back, trying to catch him slipping up, to the point that every detail of his face, down to each and every scale was ingrained in Virgil’s mind.

The anxious side honestly didn’t know how he could keep up the act. But while Virgil had years of experience with Deceit’s smug goading and flirtation, Patton was falling for it all, hook, line, and sinker. (But why him? Why not-)

Virgil didn't have to like it, but Deceit was one of them now, and Patton would defend his acceptance to the bitter end. Such fierce loyalty, directed at the worst possible target. But however admirable Patton’s newfound devotion to and defensiveness of Deceit were, Virgil was determined to put a stop to it before the situation could change even more.

Now was probably the best time, given Deceit’s unconsciousness. The first thing to do was stop them from spending so much time together, before they actually got together; it was a slim chance, given their recent closeness, but Virgil had to try something. He was running out of simple options - Patton would only worry more once separated from his not-yet(?) boyfriend, and asking him to just hang out would just be tactless and suspicious at this time. Virgil had even offered to stay there with him and Deceit - so many times it sounded pathetically desperate even to himself - just so Patton could eat or sleep or simply stretch his legs for a minute, but Patton wouldn't budge. He hadn’t so much as drunk a glass of water unless someone put it into his hands.

Right, the tea.

He hadn’t noticed the kettle click off, but there was still steam rising from the spout so he poured the water into the mugs. He hesitated before putting the kettle away. Maybe Patton would let him stay a little, if he brought his own cup, and then Virgil could maybe convince him to leave Deceit alone with him for a few hours? Virgil would stay with Deceit for as long as it took.

He grabbed another mug and tea bag and poured himself a cup and grabbed both the other mugs with his free hand before carefully heading back up the stairs, focusing solely on not spilling anything as he walked.

He was just outside the door, wondering how he was supposed to get in when he heard a raised voice. It sounded like Patton.

Glancing around and finding no help, he ended up setting down his one mug on the floor and opened the door with his newly free hand, and slowly tilted his head inside.

“-ease, Janus!” Patton was kneeling next to the bed, clutching Deceit’s hand between his as if in prayer, his head turned away from the door, focused solely on the bed’s occupant.

Deceit was awake, just barely, eyes cracked open just enough to reveal a sliver of yellow and amber. As soon as Virgil had peeked in, he’d noticed and stared, expression unreadable. Virgil’s blood chilled at the sight of him, pale and pitiful and hardly able to keep his eyes open, looking so vulnerable and weak. Then Patton bowed his head, bringing their joined hands to his brow as he trembled, and Virgil’s blood burned in his veins. It was an act, he reminded himself. It had to be. Because if it wasn’t… then they...

Deceit mumbled something too soft for Virgil to hear, and Patton spun around to see him standing in the doorway, wide-eyed. He scrambled to his feet and gave Virgil an obviously fake smile, wiping away his tears. Virgil could feel his heart squeeze at the sight of him pretending he wasn’t hurting.

“Virgil! Janus is awake! Um,” he glanced at the bedridden side and back, spotting the mugs Virgil was holding, “oh, right, the tea! Thank you so much!”

He walked over quickly and grabbed the mugs, saying, “I’m sorry, kidd- uh, Virgil, but I don’t think Janus is really ready for more people right now. I’m really sorry!”

Virgil’s heart dropped, but he managed to nod mutely, step out, and close the door behind him. He heard Patton cooing apologies to Deceit before the heavy wood cut off his voice with a finality that unsettled the purple side.

Virgil stood there for a minute.

Picked up his mug.

Made it all the way to his room.

Shut and locked the door.

Stood there another minute.

Started shaking.

Then, he threw the mug, tea and all, against the wall, splattering the hot liquid all over the posters and shattering the ceramic.

Virgil sank to the floor, hugging his knees, tucking his face into them.

It was cruel, the way Virgil’s heart belonged to someone who would never love him back. It had to be karma, because hadn’t it been Virgil who pushed him away? Virgil, who lashed out and locked out everybody in a moment of hurt, who was too afraid to admit his feelings, forever destined to see his beloved love someone else?

He didn’t know how long he stayed there. Eventually, he managed to drag himself into bed and into sleep, so exhausted that his anxiety had no chance to keep him up before he was unconscious.

For the next week, Virgil settled into a vague routine of bringing tea to Patton (and Deceit) in the evening. Deceit had recovered rather (suspiciously) quickly and was able to get up and walk for a bit. Still, Patton refused to leave him alone. If anything, he’d gotten more protective. Logan, Remus, and even Roman would also pop in during the day to see how the two were doing, but they did not seem all that concerned with things, at least not as much as Virgil was.

The worst part was how carefully the others would tread around Virgil, like he was some pitiful, pathetic creature or something. It was no secret that he had a huge crush on Patton. (Was that why Deceit chose him? Or just a spiteful twist of fate?) Roman had teased him relentlessly about it before… recent events, but Remus had only gotten worse, ribbing Virgil about making a little threesome with Patton and Janus, after years of mocking him about Janus’s “flirting”. And while Logan didn’t participate, the logical side also talked about Virgil’s crush as a matter of fact while chastising the twins for their teasing. So Virgil had taken to just staying inside his room and taking a nap during the day and going out in the dead of night, when everyone else was sleeping.

The evening of that fateful night, Virgil drifted awake the same way he fell asleep, vaguely aware that he was in a state of transition before his mind caught up to whatever was happening. He pushed himself up and stretched, checked the time, then flopped down, eyes drifting closed again...

Why had he woken up so early? Usually he wouldn’t get up for at least another hour, unless he was being summoned for something. God, he was so damn tired these days, no matter how long he slept.

Virgil’s eyes snapped open and he bolted up.

Fuck, Thomas was getting anxious about something.

Virgil swung himself out of bed and ran his hand through his hair to hopefully smooth it out some, then sank out and appeared in usual place at the foot of the stairs.

Thomas was staring at his phone, frowning. He didn’t seem too aware of Virgil’s presence.

Virgil reviewed the situation: Thomas was anxious. Obviously. He was about to text a friend. They hadn’t talked in a while, and left things off in a weird way that no one was happy with. Thomas missed him. He just wasn’t sure he missed him back.

Thomas sighed. He looked up and over to the blinds where Patton (and, now, Deceit) usually stood during discussions, then back down to his phone again. It had locked from inactivity. He huffed in frustration as he keyed his passcode into the screen.

Virgil decided to cut to the chase.

“Tell him the truth.”

Thomas practically leaped, his head whipping back up to see his anxious side leveling an accusatory stare at him, one eyebrow raised.

Thomas sighed again. “It’s probably too late...”

“Look, I’m sure he misses you, too.”

“Yeah, right. Clearly he does, or he wouldn’t be constantly avoiding me.” Thomas frowned at his phone again.

“You don’t know that. Not for sure. And being sure means you can move forward.”

Thomas gave an empty chuckle, then he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands, as if denying he could see anything would help him avoid talking about it.

“Pretending you don’t miss him isn’t going to help. Just tell him the truth. Doesn’t he deserve that much?” Virgil asked.

Virgil knew that neither option felt any better than the other. Thomas glanced at Virgil from the corner of his eye. The side slouched even more, eyes flicking between Thomas and a random spot on the floor, almost pleadingly.

“Of course he does. But what if he doesn’t feel the same?”

“Then you apologize. And… you move on.”

Thomas shifted his glare to Virgil. “You’re saying that?”

Virgil hid his face. Of course he’d be called out. “We all have to try something new at some point, right?”

Thomas’s glare lost its heat. He looked back down again. “I want to apologize, but I feel like-”

“Like no matter what you do, you do the wrong thing. I know.”

Thomas sighed again, frowning at his phone. He hesitated, then deleted his text and wrote, “I’m sorry for how we left things. I still care about you. I want to apologize. Can we talk?”

He stared at the words for a good minute. Then he hit send.

It was the truth, at least. Thomas didn’t feel all that much better, and for that matter, neither did Virgil. Thomas set his phone down and buried his face in his hands again.

“Thanks, Virgil. For being… gentle? Patient? Understanding? Usually you’re the one giving me a hard time about this stuff.”

“I figured you could use a break. I am trying, you know. To help. To be less… aggressive.” Virgil shrugged, looking away. “I’m just filling in for Patton, really. Y’know, what he’d say in this situation and all.”

Thomas looked up and glanced at his- their spot again.

“I figured he would have shown up. To help me, like you just did. Where is he?” he asked.

Virgil shrugged. “With Deceit.”

“Why-”

“Just- don’t ask, Thomas. Now’s… not a great time.”

“When is?”

Virgil couldn’t look at Thomas. Thomas rubbed his eyes.

“I just don’t get it. Up until a couple of weeks ago, things were fine. Then, it’s like, I don’t know, it’s like I stopped caring. About my friends, my family, my own life. I was supposed to do laundry, and take a day off to hang out with everyone, but I totally flaked on everything!” Thomas leaned back, sliding a little down the couch. “And I know it’s not Janus’s fault because Janus told me self-care was having clean clothes and spending time with my friends.”

Virgil held back a growl. This was absolutely Deceit’s fault. ‘Janus’ this and ‘Janus’ that, could the snake leave him alone for five goddamn minutes?! He already saw him day after day (Virgil could think of only one reason for wanting to see him more and he was already doing the best he could on that front) and he couldn’t even get away from him in his dreams!

“Why don’t you ask the Lord of the Lies himself?”

“I tried! But he didn’t show up either.”

“So you summoned me instead?”

“Not really… I guess I just got more anxious the longer I waited.”

“You know what? I just- I can’t with you right now.”

And with that, Virgil sank out, refusing to answer Thomas’s summons afterward. He appeared outside of Deceit’s door.

Now that he was here, though, he hesitated. But he brushed it aside, too angry to think at the moment. He knocked and let himself in.

“Thomas wants to talk to Deceit.”

Patton was already half-standing, looking back and forth between the side in the bed and the side who just entered.

“But, Janus isn’t ready for-”

“He can walk now, can’t he? It’s not like he’s a real human, it’s not like he’s going to disappear without you around.”

Patton made a pained sound, but Deceit laid a hand on his arm and said, “It’s fine, Patton. I can go and see what Thomas wants to talk about.”

Patton shook his head. “No! I’ll go!”

“Patton-”

“I’ll go,” Patton said.

Deceit looked into his eyes for a long moment, then nodded gravely before adding, “Then Virgil can stay with me tonight, and you can get some actual sleep.”

Patton’s face scrunched in distress. “Janus-!”

“Thank you, Patton. For everything you’ve done for me. But you need rest.” Something they both agreed on, not that Virgil would ever admit to it.

“Will you…?” Patton glanced worriedly at Virgil.

“Yes, Patton. I’ll tell him. It will be fine, Patton. I promise. Go to Thomas.”

Patton glanced a moment at Virgil, then bent down over Deceit. From his angle, Virgil couldn’t tell what he was doing, but it seemed like he was whispering something in Deceit’s ear. Deceit whispered something back, and Patton stood back up, tears forming in his eyes. They were both smiling softly. Virgil felt a pang of jealousy throbbing in his heart, knowing he’d never be the recipient of such fondness. Patton wiped his face on his sleeve, then walked over to Virgil, expression somber.

“Virgil,” he said, voice low. “Please, please, don’t let Janus do anything… extreme. Please. I know you don’t like him much, but I’m begging you.”

Virgil sighed, but cracked a small smile. “Darn, there goes my plan to secretly help him enter the Olympics.”

Patton didn’t laugh. Virgil’s smile fell, and he said, “Yeah, sure. I’ll try.”

A corner of Patton’s mouth quirked up. “Thank you.”

Patton sunk out slowly, maintaining eye contact with Deceit until he was gone, leaving the two of them alone together. Finally.

Deceit immediately spoke up. “There’s no need for you to actually stay, Virgil. At least, no longer than you’re comfortable with staying.”

Virgil fixed his stare on the reptilian side. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No, you’re not getting rid of me that easy. I told Patton I’d stay here, and that’s what I’m going to do. And so are you. You said you were going to tell me something?”

Deceit sighed, rolling his eyes and looking away. He looked deep in thought. That never meant good things, in Virgil’s experience.

“Do you remember what it was like? Before you left?”

The question caught Virgil by surprise. “Uh. Yeah, I guess. As much as anyone remembers things that happened years ago.”

A corner of Deceit’s mouth twitched up, not unlike Patton’s had some minutes ago. Virgil wondered who’d picked it up from whom.

“I suppose it’s too much trouble to ask if you ever missed it?”

What was his angle here? Trying to trick Virgil into reminiscing? For what purpose? Virgil’s glower deepened.

Deceit sighed. His shoulders slumped, just a fraction. “I’m only wondering, Virgil, I’m not going to bite you or anything.”

“Why do you want to know?”

Deceit met his eyes, staring levelly. Neither one said anything for what felt like ten minutes, but couldn’t have been more than ten seconds. Virgil broke away first, face flushing from such direct, intense eye contact.

“Can’t a side be curious about what it’s like to be accepted?”

“You are accepted. Sort of.”

“Sort of,” he agreed, nodding.

Virgil bit his lip. The motion drew Deceit’s eyes to it, but they snapped back up to continue boring into Virgil’s. “Honestly? Not really. It was different, back then. Harder. And don’t get me wrong, it’s still hard sometimes, but it’s also easier? ‘Cause now Thomas knows how to, I don’t know, work with me? We work together now, and it’s a lot better than it was when we didn’t.”

Virgil ran a hand through his hair, fixating his gaze on the pattern in Deceit’s rug.

“When you were one of us.”

Virgil looked back at Deceit. His expression was, as usual, unreadable. “Well, yeah.”

Deceit looked away. He took a deep breath. Then he got out of bed.

“What are you doing?!”

Deceit snapped his fingers.

“Baking a pie. What does it look like I’m doing?”

He was now dressed in his best attire, though not quite fully. Virgil was reminded of the courtroom. Whatever Deceit was planning, it couldn’t be good. Virgil could feel his panic rising.

“Patton said-”

Deceit frowned and snapped again, conjuring a pair of yellow socks.

“Patton doesn’t control what I do.”

He put the socks on.

“I said-”

Pulled out a pair of shiny shoes from beneath his bed.

“You said you would try. You tried. It’s not your fault you didn’t succeed.”

Put on one shoe.

“What are you even going to do?!”

Then the other.

“Take a walk.”

Deceit stood up, straightening out his suit and checked his inner breast pocket for something, patting it for extra measure.

“What?”

He stood in front of Virgil. He looked shorter without his hat. His hair was a mess of curls. They looked soft.

“I left my favorite hat in the Imagination. I need to go fetch it.”

Virgil blinked incredulously.

“Why now?”

“Patton would hardly let me out of his sight, let alone this room.”

“Ask Roman or Remus to get it.”

“Alas, I hid it too well. Neither of them would be able to find it.”

“Ask one of them to make you a new one!”

“Are you going to let me go or not?”

“Give me one good reason I should!”

Deceit gave him yet another unreadable expression.

“You want the truth?”

“From you? That would be nice, yeah!”

Virgil was getting frantic. He could feel, somewhere deep within, that if he let Deceit walk out the door, he would never see him again.

The thought was unbearable.

“The truth,” Deceit scoffed, “is that you win.”

Virgil froze, uncomprehending.

“Wh- What?”

“Patton loves you. He says he loves me, too, but he didn’t want to hurt you. So we were a secret. He said he was fine with just me. But I’m not fine with just him.”

Virgil could not believe what he was hearing. It had to be a lie.

“I also love you. I’ve loved you for so long.” Tears were streaming from his eyes. “I thought- maybe you-” He had to stop to stem the flow of tears trailing down his cheeks and take a deep breath.

Virgil was frozen. He could not think of a single thing to say, or even think. His mind was stuck on three words.

“You made it very clear that you don’t feel the same. You don’t want anything to do with me. And you’re right. I wouldn’t want anything to do with me.” He wiped away a stray tear. Virgil wanted to do it for him, and to punch whoever had hurt him so much he’d started crying.

Oh. That would be him.

“And don’t think no one’s noticed how hard you’ve tried to separate Patton and me.” He sniffled. “So I’m giving you what you want. Removing the unwanted leg of the love triangle. You want Patton? He’s yours. You want me gone? I’m gone.”

Gone? What did he mean, gone?

“I mean you don’t have to worry about me ‘manipulating’ Patton anymore. I’m honestly surprised you found me in the first place. I thought for sure no one would notice until after everything was settled.”

No. What…

“Were you upset that I survived? Just one more day and all your problems would have disappeared. Well, here’s your chance. I’ll leave you and him and everyone else alone. Forever.”

Forever? As in...

“Yes.”

No. No. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t mean...

“What do you want from me, then?! Stop giving me mixed signals, and just tell me!”

Virgil looked down at the serpentine side, at the tears in his lovely, long lashes, the anguish in his eyes, obscured by the red puffiness of his eyelids, the pained grimace that didn’t belong on his lips. Anxiety stood there, watching in slow-motion as his racing thoughts came to a conclusion that he’d known for so long but never truly acknowledged.

Why he’d been so jealous not only over Patton spending time with him, but over him spending time with Patton. Jealous over the fact that Patton was the one being flirted with, being teased, being stared at with such wistfulness. Jealous that they were together, without Virgil.

Why he’d been terrified, just as Patton was, that if he didn’t constantly have him in sight, that if he’d so much as blinked, he’d be back there, screaming over the cold body of someone he loved.

So he did the only thing he could think of, the thing he’d been wanting to do for the last few minutes, hours, days, years, but couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Didn’t.

Virgil grabbed Janus by his lapels and pulled him into a kiss. It was sudden and unexpected, and the impact kind of hurt his teeth, but if this was the only way he could get through to him, so be it.

Janus melted into it, after a moment of shock. Virgil pulled him closer, wrapping an arm behind the smaller side’s neck possessively. Janus embraced him tightly around the chest, almost falling backward from the way they were leaned over.

After an eternity, they separated. Virgil loosened his grip, but did not let go, resting his forehead against the shorter side’s head, eyes still closed.

“You love me?” he asked, voice small.

He said nothing, but Virgil could feel his nod. For the first time in what felt like forever, Virgil smiled, albeit with a bittersweet joy.

“I love you, too, Janus. I’m sorry. I’m so- I’m so fucking sorry it took you wanting to die for me to say it. But I want you here, with me. With Patton.”

They stood there, holding one another. Virgil didn’t want to let go. But he did.

They needed to talk. But they could do that later, with Patton. Janus needed rest. They all did.

Before they could do anything about it, the door opened and Patton took one step inside before stopping. He looked from Janus to Virgil and back.

“Janus? Why are you dressed like that? What’s going on?”

Janus shared a glance with Virgil. They both looked back to Patton.

Then they both burst into laughter.

“Guys!?”

Janus stumbled backwards to sit on his bed. Virgil doubled over, his own knees threatening to collapse from the emotional roller coaster this night had been.

“Patton, dearest, come here,” Janus said, holding out a hand as he wiped away his tears. Tears of joy, this time, and the thought swelled Virgil’s heart.

Patton gave Virgil a worried glance as he crossed the room toward Janus, only to be pulled, yelping, into the latter’s lap.

“Janus! Virgil-”

“Has something he’d like to say to us. Doesn’t he?” Janus’s eyes were so warm, so mirthful, and yet there was still some hesitation, some fear. It was time to put a stop to that doubt, once and for all.

Virgil shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets and hid behind his bangs. Despite knowing the likely outcome, he was- surprise, surprise- anxious about actually voicing it. He never thought he’d ever have to actually say it, and the last few minutes didn’t count, because Janus said it first. He gave himself a moment to compose himself.

He stared at the two of them, the two he’d fallen deeply and wholly in love with, and took a deep breath.

Then another.

One more-

“Virgil,” Janus said, his voice tender and gentle and oh, how Virgil loved that it was directed at him, “if you don’t want to do this now-”

“No,” he said, shaking himself out, “this ends here. Or, begins, I guess.”

Patton looked between them again, comprehension dawning as he looked into Virgil’s eyes. No doubt he’d noticed the eyeshadow by now.

“Patton. Janus. I, uh, I like. You?” Virgil cringed. “No, wait! I can do better!”

They waited patiently, with watery eyes and tender smiles. God, Virgil loved them.

“I love you. Both of you.” Virgil exhaled, eyes closed. There. It was over.

There was whispering, then the sound of cloth and springs and movement and footsteps. Virgil opened his eyes to see Janus and Patton standing side-by-side and hand-in-hand in front of him, holding out their free hands toward him.

He took them gratefully and they pulled him in to plant a kiss on both of his cheeks. His face burned.

“We love you, too, Virgil.”

---

@mimssides look what i did! happy ending! (don’t read the other one lol)

[catalinaroleplay]

Gender & Pronouns: Cis man, he/him

Date of Birth: September 28th, 1981 (39)

Place of Birth: Boston, Massachusetts

Neighborhood: Lafayette Square

Length of Residency: Since March 2021 

Occupation: Unemployed

Face Claim: Lee Pace

BIOGRAPHY

Born to parents who had tried forever for a child, Alexander was a miracle kid. Only kid. A kid whose life was planned out for him. They wanted nothing less than absolute success for their only child, so as he grew, it was always the best schools, best tutors, best everything their money could buy. Academia was the main focus, but sports and even arts were also encouraged, but as a hobby. They wanted their son to be well-rounded, even if it it was merely for culture and conversation making. Alex didn’t mind this arrangement, at least he got to try out a variety of things, but a hobby a week ended abruptly when the first argument broke out. Having lawyers as parents meant arguments but it was the escalation of voices that stopped Alex mid lesson. On one hand was his father with ‘he needs to pick something and stick to it’, and the other his mother with ‘he’s still a kid’. In a household were decisions were based on the outcome of mock trials, Alex knew his fun ended when his father walked in. The matriarch conceded the point; still a kid was not a sufficient reason.

Not given a chance to protest, Alex just did what he had to do. What they told him to do. Honour roll, school paper, student council. He was the child they always dreamt of. Who was he to break that image they held for him? There were nights where he grappled with ideas and dreams of being something different, of being someone else — but come morning all that would be left was ink on his hands and a couple pages full of scribbled out stories. With a career path already picked out, what could Alex do if he lost every debate his parents had staged? Beating them at their own games seemed impossible until he convinced himself that Law was the right choice, falling right into their hands. Law only became bearable with Marion. Meeting her was not fate, with their parents running rival law firms, a friendship was strictly forbidden but strategically encouraged. Alex, however, didn’t complicate their friendship with competition, she had a story similar to his; lawyer parents and impossible expectations, while his parents took a more deceptive route of coaxing her to side with them, Alex stuck a true friendship. They had plans to start a firm and surpass everything their parents expected until she left without a backwards glance and ruined his plans. Hurt at that sudden betrayal, spite carried him forward; at her, at his parents, at the world. With graduation behind him and a new job on the horizon, Alex settled into the next chapters of his life on the other side of the country.

LA was different than what he was used to, his parents feared it would change him, but Alex hunkered down and set about climbing the ranks, proving to his parents that they had nothing to worry about, Alex was still Alex, hardworking and devoid of all passion.

That is of course, until he met Cassius Davis.

Once the worker bee clocking in more than the expected hours, Alex went from building books to building friendships. A feat he thought was impossible. The day he met Cash was ordinary by all means, but the minute Alex laid eyes on them, he knew there was something there. A only child that lacked affection, Cash provided it in bundles. It was a whirlwind of a romance, and going from just friends to something more was easier than breathing, fate had its red thread wrapped around him and Alex was hooked on Cash while they were hooked on god knows what. Still, Alex chased that rush, that high for life feeling, finally there was passion in his life, so what if his hours at work feel short? He had more clients than most senior associates. So what if he lost a few cases? The golden glint from his finger brought about a smile no successful case could. So what if he was getting unfavourable looks due to his lifestyle? His thirties were what his twenties should’ve been.

Voted most likely to succeed in life for his high school year book, Alexander finally, failed to meet an expectation. Up until that last pill, that last shot of alcohol, he was a success. A senior associate within five years, a junior partner within seven, well on his way to becoming a full partner when things came crashing down. It was silent as it was deafening. The higher ups, not wanting to damage the reputation of their firm, did not simply simple demote back to the starting ranks but fired him completely. Word even reached his parents who were nothing but scathing in their  disapprobation of their only son. Slowly, everything slipped through his fingers, career, family, even the supposed love of his life. Once the drug induced haze blew over, Alex was left with broken pieces and was a broken piece himself. Slipping off the ring from his finger one night, he set off without a goodbye, not to the city, not to his friends, not even to his husband.

The next few years went by aimlessly and without much fanfare. Alex jumped between cities, between jobs until eventually heading back to Boston where the only permanent job he could get (with terrible scrutiny), was working under his parents. He moved between people too, gazes lasting too long to be considered casual, coffee dates disguised as work meetings, but before things got serious, he was pulled aside for another wake up call. Being fired for the second time round, by his own parents this time was salt to the wound. There was no mock trail to decide his fate now; it was two against one and like forever, Alex was not given a chance to protest.

What he brushed aside a a fever dream, or at least he wanted to pretend was one, was in fact real. He was married, he was still married. That fact took him back to LA to find Cash, and soon to the resort beach town of Catalina. To confront his past or keep pretending, was the question now.

PERSONALITY

Positive: Romantic | Disciplined | Kind

Negative: Indecisive | Blunt | Sensitive

Alexander Barnes is portrayed by Pace.

[astxlphe-fics]

Faustluna / Luna will never tire of hearing Faustina say their name.

Eeeh this is messy as hell but I've wanted to write this ship since forever. This is a mix up of headcanons and weird theories stacked up into a fluff one shot, since i don't have enough canon to have a proper idea of how they would interact.

regarding Luna I think they use he/she/they but for this fic I stayed with they/them. Might change if I write them again.

this is just experimenting with how to write them so probably on the ooc side.

The boys are in bed, and Vanitas – well, Luna now — allows themselves to breath.

Children. What in the world has taken over them, deciding to care for children? It’s not something they know how to do, and there isn’t a day where they don’t doubt. What if something happened to the boys because of them?

They sit at the table, looking out through the window. The moon shines at them from over their head, round and white as it often is in the human world. It makes them miss the other world, the beautiful red moon hanging in its night sky. As red as her eyes.

They have only been to Altus a handful of times, hoping to catch a glimpse of this new world tailored for vampires and, maybe, of a certain person — but they could not, and given up.

Luna doesn’t like vampires, in general. They, themselves, are not quite the same kind of vampire as the rest, and they know they’re not the only ones. That there are others, out there, living in and outside of Altus, born under the blessing of the blue moon, vampires for whom blood is the gateway to the soul.

There are footsteps and a knock, and Luna stands, hand closing round their staff as they open the door. Their eyes narrow as they recognize the smaller, white figure in front of them, pale hair and skin and red eyes stark against the night.

“You Highness,” they greet, and Faustina, Queen of the Vampires, tilts her head. "I didn't know you were well enough to travel."

“Vanitas,” she greets back — if you could call that a greeting, but neither of them had the opportunity to be friendly those days, even if Luna knows it’s not quite her fault. The queen blinks. “I have my moments. Are you not inviting me in?”

“I would rather we spoke outside, actually.” They smile, deceptively wide. “The moon is full and the stars bright, Your Highness.” They close the door behind them, leading the Queen further away from the house. “We should enjoy it while it lasts.”

Displeasure flickers across her face. “I’m not here as the Queen,” she says. “I'm here as a friend, if you accept it.”

And who would Luna be if they didn't? She hasn’t come to them in decades, maybe even centuries — it’s getting difficult to keep track of those things. She isn't entirely free to do as she likes, always followed by guards, under the watchful eyes of the aristrocracy waiting for a moment of weakness.

“In that case...” Luna relaxes, and they chuckle. “As if I could ever refuse my dear Faustina. Would you like something to eat? You have come a long way.”

Like by magic, Faustina's open expression as she heard her name gives way to a slight grimace. “I would rather not, I did eat before traveling and—”

“Ah, you still worry about my cooking, don't you? You shouldn't, I didn’t prepare a thing — it’s all leftovers from lunch, the boys—” they trail off. As a friend, Faustina should be allowed to know about the boys. Besides, it might concern her one day. The books are not Luna's alone, and to this day Faustina still periodically loses herself to the curse that Luna themselves, in a moment of anger, set on them. “Well, we made it together.”

“The boys?”

“My kin.”

“Your—” Faustina’s eyes go wide, and Luna settles on the grass with very little grace, patting the spot next to them. The staff almost falls to the ground and they yelp, catching it and carefully setting it down. “Come on, sit, it’s quite the story.”

Faustina sits as well, her hair falling in gentle curls around her, over her clothes, and on the grass. She looks at Luna curiously and, Luna can tell, a bit of suspicion. “Tell me.”

And so, Luna does. “The humans had, for a reason or another, secured our books and a sample of my blood. Then, they—” They pause, looking over to the house. “I assume the blood was injected, and that they were looking for a way to use the books.”

“Those boys you spoke of—”

They nod. “The scientists made two human children my kin, and I took them in. What else could I have done?”

Faustina stays quiet for a minute, frowning. “You could get rid of those books, for a start.” Her lips pull down into a frown as Luna laughs out loud. “This is serious. If the human chasseurs could get their hands on something like then, then who knows what else they could do? Vanitas —”

“I go by Luna now, actually.”

“Oh." Faustina stops, silently mouthing the name. "Since when?”

“Three nights ago. One of the boys call me Father, but the other named me." They grin. "Do you hear this, Faustina? I have a name of my own now! And I like it.”

“And I am glad for you, but—”

“Come on, use it,” Luna demands, voice rising higher in excitement. “I would like to hear it from my dearest Faustina!” They could feel the flush of their face, probably now colored a dark blue, and Faustina’s own cheeks turns a cute, unexpected pink.

“Luna,” she calls out, voice barely above a whisper, and Luna’s heart, if it beat with the same kind heartbeat as the other's, would skip and stutter.

“Again.”

“Luna,” Faustina says again, louder this time, and adds, hesitant: “And you say the boy gave it to you?”

Luna chuckles, nodding. “Of course – it was so sweet, I immediately loved it. Why?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me now. Are you jealous?”

“What in the world —”

But Luna claps their hands together, giddy. “I’m sure they could come up with a good name for you too, if you dislike your current one. You would have to wait until morning though, I will not wake them for you. They’re young, and need their sleep.”

“I’m not jealous—”

“Then are you upset that you were not the one who chose my name?” Faustina has always been a possessive one, and the one time she decided to be selfless, to put the needs of others before herself, they lost each other.

Faustina stares resolutely at the grass. They are each other’s oldest friends, the very first to discover just how deep the changes were within them. “We gave each other our true name,” she whispers. “And you gifted me with the name I use every day. It would have been more fitting for me to choose another name for you, wouldn’t it?”

Neither of them knew, at the time, how much this simple act would bind them together. And yet, as time went and more vampires appear, as she became a queen and they became scorned, their common true name kept them linked.

“It would have,” Luna agrees. “But you didn’t, because when the time came to do it, the others already cast me away and named me Vanitas . And you didn’t stop them.”

“I should have.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I am of another kind entirely, after all.” They have long since resigned themselves to the fact that they didn’t belong with the vampires, with Faustina’s people, with Faustina herself. They can’t walk into Altus and the palace, can’t stand by Faustina’s side every day as they did once.

If Luna and Faustina hated each other, both for abandonement and for the curse, for Luna's insistence that they kept looking for what made them different, they've long since left this resentement behind. What is left now is a curse running unchecked, unable to be stopped, independently from Luna's own will.

“It suits you,” Faustina says instead of acknowledging the truth. “Luna, the moon.”

“Good, because I’m not changing,” Luna answers proudly. It’s their name, one not given out of hate or fear. The moon seems to glow brighter above them, approving. Vanitas has always been more of a warning than a name, a reminder to vampires that they may not be humans, but that they were vulnerable and mortal all the same. Luna is different. Luna fits. “Again.”

Faustina sighs, but she smiles and indulges them. “Luna,” she repeats. “Your name is Luna. Luna, like the moon. My Luna. L—”

Oh, Luna is never getting tired of hearing it from Faustina's mouth. Still, they lean down and like something they’ve already practiced thousands of times — no, not like, is something that they have done many, many times before — she kisses her, because she is right and they love to hear it.

Luna is Faustina’s and Faustina is Luna’s.

“Thank you, my dearest.” They lower their head, rest their forehead on her shoulder, and Faustina's hands carefully combs through their hair. She can’t see their face, which is fine, because if she saw she would know that this may be the last time they see each other. Luna is old, and they can tell the end is coming one way or another. Hopefully, their death will not affect their dear Faustina as much as they fear. Their bond runs deeper than any other, and it would not surprise them if Faustina felt them die, even all the way to Altus. “I love it even more when I hear you say it.”

“Then it is the only name I’ll ever call you from now on, Luna."

[craykei]

I’ve written this because I no longer know where you are . And I know you won’t want to listen to me if I ever found you . So this will be here for you .. so fate can have something to lead you toward .

This is for the significant wonder :

It’s been years .  And my recollection of you fades with time . Not that it’s my intention to erase my own memory .. I won’t forget events in my timeline, or any important words you spoke to me . But I want to preserve a part of you in my mind . It’s long overdue that I strike what I’ve built .. and lock the image .  Of you .

Do you know who you are ?

You may have forgotten .  Because you’re different today . But you used to be somebody .. unbelievable .   You were a dream come true .  Everyday . And a hope never lost .  Anchored heavily and true . You were real . I knew of your depth .. yet I dared not tread beyond shallow water . Your welcome was a warmth .. That would easily subdue the air around me . And continue to envelop my spirit .

You had me absolutely yours . Did you ever know ?

Your words so pure, my heart would have stopped at your slightest verbal command Should you ever speak it done . And you would be the only divine being on the surface of this earth Who could accelerate my heart to race again .. With nothing more than a simple glance .

Your beauty was a challenge to appreciate .. in truth it was a universe in itself . As it filled infinite dimensions .. composing an endless symphony . And its potential was far too immense to be held in the very world you lived in .

But I appointed myself to that solitary journey ..   And embarked on a chain of blissful discovery Of everything .   Everything inside of you .

And granted, if my heart took the greatest capacity of courage ..

Then maybe I’d know for sure If this is where I was truly meant to be .

Underneath the most stars I’d ever seen in my life . On a porch stairway foreign to me .. Sitting one step below, and an arm’s length away .. From the most beautiful girl .. ever to grace my life story .

We were there together .. and I was a nervous wreck . I couldn’t speak .  And I wouldn’t dare look your way . I was afraid my words would slip .. And I would tell you .. you’re beautiful . Then instantly end up despising myself for using such incompetent words . You had no idea .. It was the first time I’d ever experienced for myself .. The supreme elegance which moonlight has the power to reveal . In you .

I was no match for the velocity bound inside of me . It was inevitable that I would lose to it soon .. And something .  Just .. something .. would escape me .. And reach you . And you would finally know . That I loved you . … And it .. escaped . … My voice was a disaster when I said it . I was instantly overcome with embarrassment and a concave silence .. Awkwardness left me ready and waiting to stutter my next word .. Possibly an apology for my crude mannerism .. Or a chuckled diversion to typically break the tension .. I was at a most desperate and pitiful loss for action or dialogue . Until I looked up . And saw your face . You changed everything . It was the first time in the history of my existence That I stared into the eyes of my destiny . It was in that instance where time itself ..  had stopped . To let us live in that moment .  Just a little while longer . Your stare was strong .. piercing me and tearing me apart . You spoke to me very clearly .. only with those eyes . They reflected everything the sky had to offer . Even if my sense of hearing was immediately taken from me Right then and there .. It still could never stop me from understanding The response within your gaze . You loved me . And my heart soared ..  clear into the highest of heavens . You began to cry as you said it . And I shared that feeling with you .. We repeated ourselves over and over again .. Releasing an abundance of jailed emotion and destined words . I held you so close .. As if to cover and shield you from the world .. Bravely protecting you from all harm that exists . And that is what I did . From that night on . Thus began the birth of our relationship together . I loved every minute of it .

At times it was a struggle to find myself with you . But I hadn’t the slightest need to wonder why . An easy journey would lead me worthlessly elsewhere .. It made perfect sense to me .. that a girl of your value Could only be reachable beyond life’s most difficult obstacles . I worked my hardest .  Just to have that time by your side . All of what I owned could easily have been traded .. To acquire what I needed for you . Because you were appreciative . Of everything I did .  And everything I was . Do you remember .. I drove alone for seven hours .. No phone and no more than a few dozen dollars in my pocket .. Just to see you .. For an hour and a half . And it was seven more hours driving back home .. Lost in total happiness .. and weary swoon That I was able to feel your arms around me .. And your face burrowing softly against my chest . There was never a time where I was simply able to set my eyes on you .. Without being overcome with a heavy rain of joy .. From the thought that this lovely woman Of unimaginative elegance standing here before me .. Is truly mine to cherish . … We created a world together .. didn’t we . It seemed like the longest period in my life .. You and I were inseperable . Truly .. I loved you so . We achieved sweet perfection . Until the scale had to be balanced . I don’t know why we came to that point .. In which everything good began to slowly burn .. I’d always put myself up to be blamed .. for blaming you . But we both knew it wasn’t that simple .. Eventually .. I let go .. freeing my hold each day . Releasing you of that shield which protected your entire being .. And allowing the horrors you feared to swiftly reach you . You lowered yourself so much . Putting every ounce of pride away . Just to ask me to reconsider my departure . But I couldn’t . I was callous and cold . Steadfast and loyal to my decision . And I hated myself for a long time because of it . You experienced the worst disasters of your life . One .  After the other . And I was not there to help .. Because of my own horrible choice . You spiraled into a maze of despair, deception, and death . And your health unfortunately coincided with these dreadful events . The world around you blamed you for everything . And you could have easily turned the blame to me . But you didn’t .. You accepted it all didn’t you . I know you did . I just couldn’t believe that you still loved me that much . Literally .. you were the only person who’d ever told me You’d give your life for me .. And proved it . But you disappeared . Before I could find you to apologize .. You were gone . I searched non-stop for what seemed like forever . Only to find that we were no longer even on the same continent . You had been sent away . My hope . Had fled my being .  Only to be replaced by new fears . I had never known the feeling .. Of not being able to know for sure If the only person you care about in life .. is still living . I plunged into the deepest despondency I’d ever experienced . Possibly the only true depression I’d ever been bound within . It lasted for what seemed like a seperate lifetime .. Trudging through nights where I lay in utter silence Only to wake up to days where I quietly float through the hours . I hated myself .  And I hated everything . It was the last and only time I’d ever felt this way . As the months crept by ever so slowly .. I met someone who understood . Somebody who only wanted to help .  And she did .  Somewhat successfully . And I moved on . Meanwhile .. you were there .  Away and across the globe . Never had a way of contacting me whatsoever .. but you never lost any hope . Still just as in love .. and working diligently to somehow find your way back to me . The possibility that I’m still looking for you .. Was the strongest motivation that kept you going . But word somehow found its way to you . And you heard I moved on . And it killed you .

After another year .. you were finally able to come back . And you contacted me . Do you remember how thrilled I was ? I was so relieved to know you were still alive and well . Physically . But your heart had been broken .  And your spirits darkened . And you were hurting so much . I felt the sadness I’d caused you .. And even felt the happiness you still wanted for me . You never did give up on putting me first . And I hated how you were so perfect . Unreasonable to the core .  Yet unselfish by nature . I wanted to be like you in that sense . And I wanted to find a way to somehow see you happy again . You eventually moved on . Found somebody in an unexpected atmosphere .. And he did hold you dear . …… We never spoke more often than once every 4 months or so .. And I was always eager to hear your good news . I loved to hear how much you cared about him . And about how your family was doing so much better . It brought me so much happiness to listen to you share these things with me . We carried on this way for quite some time, didn’t we . Rarely ever talking to each other .. and always by total chance . You seemed to be slightly different .. But I always felt like .. the old you was in there somewhere . Until your relationship had failed . I’m so sorry . Please believe that it brought me no happiness to learn of your misfortune . You were mistreated terribly .. and for awhile you allowed yourself to be blamed . Just like always . Taking the nobility route . But you eventually took note of his error .. And you were able to realize your innocence in the matter . … That’s when you changed . … You no longer wished to speak to me . When I tried my best to talk to you .. I was only responded to with hostility .. And annoyance .  And cruelty . It was all so sudden . I surely could not understand why you had become so cold-hearted towards me . Out of everything I’d been through with you .. This was brand new . I contacted you to ask how you were doing .. And it only upset you . You spoke to me rashly and casually .. cursing and being coarse Like never before .. as if I was a nobody to you .. Or a nobody to everybody . I felt as if you had totally shifted .  And I was afraid to know the truth . You were like a completely different or rather, opposite person . Or maybe you just forgot .. who I used to be to you . This was the last time I’d spoken to you . …..   ….. And also .. a leading motivator in composing this letter of sorts . Believe me .. I will not act as though I truly understand you now . But I will also keep myself from being anymore of a bother to you . And I know I made you aware of that upon our last conversation . I just wanted to let you know .. I am finally ready to close this chapter in the book of my life . After everything we had been through .. which was indeed valuable .. I guess this is where our story ends . I just wanted you to have a final understanding toward my definition of our time together . I will not immortalize you in my mind as a terrible person . You will be one of the very few people I will forever remember . Please accept these parting words . You will always be inside my definition of ‘beautiful’ . Even though you may dislike me or no longer care for me .. There will always be a special place for you in my heart and memory . A place that has been crafted by you .. during the period in which we existed as one . You are loved .  By an entire world of people . Don’t ever doubt your worth .  You are absolutely priceless . Any man who does not see that .. is not even worthy of your eye contact . Your way to success clearly exists .  Please do not give up on yourself . Extraordinary things require hard work to reach .  And I learned that through you . Be honest with yourself .  You deserve the best of all things . Don’t ever be ashamed of your wonderful smile . And please don’t second-guess your beauty . Never allow yourself to be abused .. you must be treated as the queen you are . Aim beyond what you expect for yourself .  You’re far greater than that . I won’t be finding myself in your life any longer so I sure hope I’ve said all that’s necessary .  I’m sure I’ve covered all that I wanted to assess . I know this isn’t the best way to convey such strong emotion .. but if you’re meant to know these things, then I know you’ll find your way here naturally . And since you probably won’t want to talk to me .. I’ve left all of this here for you to read at your own pace .. if you choose to read it at all . Have a great life .. wherever you are .  And good luck with whatever you’re doing . I hope you’re well .. If there’s one mental picture to keep .. Let it be the moment we shared On the porch steps of your house . Underneath the most stars I’d ever seen in my entire life . Thank you for showing them to me . And thank you for teaching me to be a better person .

Thus concludes .. the story of us .

[breathings-of-the-heart]

To Love Another

Levi Ackerman x Reader

A/N: Hey guys!! Back after a long hiatus, sorry hehe. I know y’all must hear this a lot and be sick of it, but there was a lot going on in my personal life that I needed to deal with. (I.E. an parent custody issues and succession of court cases) But everything has been settled in my favor so I’m back and excited!! 

Anyway, this is a part two I promised like years ago which can stand by itself kinda so u don’t have to go back and read part one lol. I wrote so much that I’m dividing it in two; part three will be out most likely by tomorrow. If you want to read part one, link for it is here: Imagine Relating to Mikasa about Loving someone in the Military

(requested by @a-single-uwo @dracq and @little-diva-gurl and to you three specifically, so sorry for the wait! But I didn’t forget :3)

“He loves you, more than he’s ever loved anyone. Surely you know that,” Hange tried to plead, taking (Y/N)’s small hands into her own.

With an inability to overlook the throbbing in her chest, the girl simply met her gaze with a sorrowful smile. Her friend’s expression was sympathetic, conveying her sentiment with a sense of urgency and conviction; such a gesture was appreciated, but considering the events of today leading the broken girl thus far, easy to brush off. Levi’s own harsh words and hard-set countenance were forever etched into (Y/N)’s memory-- speaking louder than any other subconscious that told her he didn’t mean the things he’d spoken. All she could see now was the Captain’s anger trumping all the blinding endearment she thought the two of them to shared. There was no room in her brain for two such vastly different images… the young woman viewed herself an idiot.

(Y/N) was barely able to speak, a thousand words at once caught in behind her pursed lips as she shook her head, wishing Hange’s statement was true.

“With all do respect, Section Commander…” weak voice trailing off, the petite beauty cleared her throat and willed herself not to cry. “I don’t believe you. I was a fool to think of myself as more than my true worth to Levi.”

Said man of the conversation stood on the other side of the door, a whole world away, fist lifted mid-knock. He stilled, gray orbs downcast as he heard the girl’s reply echoing in his ears. 

The documents in his hand fell from his fingertips as his body slacked, the pages fluttering in the air and settling with the ambiance. He hadn’t realized he dropped them, and when he did, Levi could not bring himself to care. His eyelids squeezed shut painfully and the stoic male turned heel, footsteps rhythmically sounding off the lacquer floor as he shuffled away in defeat and heartache.

And only when the stoic man reached the privacy of his room did he realize his fingernails were dug so tightly into his palms that crescent moon scars would indent the skin for life.

A cruel, constant reminder. A testimony to his greatest pain--- your heartbreak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Commander Erwin sat at the head of the office table of one of the many meeting rooms littered along the castle, a serious expression cast on his defined face. There was a tired yet determined look fixed on his shadowed face; deceptively aged with worry lines creased across his forehead: a tell to the stress and conflicting passion his position required. Untold horrors must have crossed the man’s mind on the daily, yet, the disciplined, solemn facade did well to suggest otherwise.

Even in another dim scenario such as this one, he remained the epitome of strength.

As Erwin studied a long paper in front of him, there was a flicker of deep thought that passed just as quickly as it came. The thought grew smaller in his eyes, and the put-together authority figure stroked his freshly kempt chin.

Having not seen the Scouts since their rescue mission to save Eren, you were shocked at the change in the head of the regiment. With an arm lost and the deceptively young-looking appearance faded, it was only then when you realized his hair told stories as well-- speckled with select gray strands, the stress-revealers hid amongst a thicket of slicked away blondes.

Things seem to have shifted. From what I’ve read in the reports… Eren controlled the Titans with his scream without knowing how. It feels like we’re moving forwards and backwards at the same time.

You touched the bandaging around your torso, wincing a tad as you pressed too hard.

If I’d been more careful last mission I would’ve seen it all for myself.

A map was spread out across the wooden surface of the ancient worktable, the parchment’s top ends brushing against your fingertips. It gave off a beige hue with ink blended in a thoughtful, delicately beautiful layout of Wall Maria’s charted territory. Sunlight filtered through the window shades and illuminated the figurines representing another formation of the Commander’s. Clusters creating an almost horseshoe shape laid out in front of the spectators in the room, squads labeled accordingly. The symbols representing the Special Operations Squad were located on the innermost circle, standing out in bright yellow.

You took a moment to gaze up and break away from the lull of the deafening silence.

You were painfully aware of Captain Levi’s presence next to you. Eren sat on your other side, with another squad leader directly across. Hange was at Erwin’s left side, and Moblit peered past Mikasa’s shoulder in order to see properly as the head of the Survey Corps spoke, finally leaving the separate worlds of his own mind. Armin and stood behind the blonde man, absorbing each of his words carefully.

“There’s many obstacles to be dealt with, naturally” Erwin intoned, officially beginning the meeting. “For starters, we cannot risk any casualties on the journey to Shiganshina. Knowing the enemy, they will be prepared for our arrival and not a single soldier can be spared until we get to the battle field.”

Erwin brought up a lingering, troubling issue that already started to make your head hurt. As a key strategist and extension of the Brain Trust, however, your mind was your strongest weapon. There had to be a way to work around it all.

“Traveling at night is yet another risk,” you relayed, resting your weight on your forearms. “Considering the events experienced the night of the Beast Titan’s appearance.”

The light of the full moon must have been bright enough to give the titans energy.

“How are we supposed to work our way around that?” Eren groaned in exasperation.

You wracked your brain, biting your lip in frustration as all came up blank. All motion came to a halt, though, as you felt a hand grip your knee firmly. Electricity shot through your body as you met the penetrating gaze.

Levi.

“Calm down, brat. Tapping incessantly will only piss me off.”

You hadn’t even known you’d been doing it, but the second the Captain touched you, you were frozen.

Your eyes met his, fully, for the first time in months. And from that instant on, they were trapped in the blue-gray you had drowned in so many times before. You couldn’t help but absorb the sight and engrave it to memory, the art of Levi himself a blessing you had nearly forgotten. But he was different from last time. Maybe it was the illusion fading, or your distant memory. Of him, never.

He looked tired, like you, the fire in those orbs dulled into dying embers. Was that the mission’s doing? The loss of nearly half the regiment?

Or was it something else entirely?

Then your focus shifted to his hand, which dared to travel the smallest bit upwards. Levi kept it there, as if stuck in his own trance. A minute, hour, day could have passed and still, in that moment, you wouldn’t have noticed.

Until reality hit and you remembered everything anew.  

As if he had been burned, Levi retracted his hand as quickly as you looked away. The illusion faded once more, just as tragic as last time.

Breath, (Y/N). This is bigger than you.

“I suspect,” you sighed, regaining yourself, “the indirect source of sunlight the moon reflects, is enough to generate energy for these new titans. The solution is simple.”

“We can initiate the expedition next new moon!” Armin exclaimed, pointing at you excitedly.

“Mhmm, that is our most promising option. But I doubt it will be safe doing it on horseback. We need to be quiet, stealthy, and aware of our surroundings considering the dangers of the dark. Our vision will be limited,” Hange pointed out. “We’ll need to walk them and our supplies, and find a better source of light.”

Erwin nodded, looking slightly impressed.

And as your nonchalant front solidified, you realized it was becoming easier to smile than to remember the hurt. It seemed that way for Levi too, who took an elegant sip of tea as if nothing fazed him at all.

There are more important things, clearly.

[wildwoods1]

Honoring the Sadhus who volunteered to be photographed and painted as a gift toward our Consciousness.

BLUE RAY: LEVEL 1 He was from another century, loincloth, and all. He appeared in the meditation as if Allen had slipped, tumbling from the stillness on his own. He did no such thing. This visitor was seeking him out and interrupting. It was important. It was LifeChanging. It was Blue, iridescent beams of Royal/Pthalo light filled the room!

“Dear Heart,” uncharacteristically, he addressed Allen with deep affection as well as respect. “I am here to bring you news of your unfoldment. I shall begin with our overall subject first. You are Blue Ray, this you know. You are also, however, a unique variety. You are Level 1.” Allen looked puzzled. He started to protest such a proclamation. The Sadhu continued “There are very few Blue Ray Level 1s, it is a rare type and one of the highest vibrations capable of incarnation in these dimensions as human.” Allen tugged at his beard, looked around the dim room now shy of light since the sun had just set. What was happening? What was he supposed to do with this information. He took a breath and looked back at the man sitting in front of him in mid-air, beaming from ear to ear, and saying “It is joyous, is it not?!” Before Allen could utter a word his new companion revved up once again to tackle the challenge at hand. “Rare, very rare! You see, if there are too many level 1 Blues on planet at the same time it will create a severe imbalance for the human population. The Stronger humans who are most likely to reach further in their Spiritual Journey could choose not to bother as much because they can now sense there may be no need; there are already more Blue 1s and the effort is not required! Psychological diminishment! Tsk tsk,” he shook his head, “we simply cannot have this. There are other reasons, to be sure. For now, let me say that there are many reasons for you to deny this possibility. I understand. You are concerned that you could not in any way be qualified! Yes?! “YES!” Allen blurted out as the panic began a slow rise from the pit of his stomach. “Most assuredly and unequivocally YES!!!! ….Oh God, yes!” he ended in a whisper. “Now, now, my son, you are in good hands. Truly, you have nothing to fear at all. While I may not seem to be much by human standards…. I am more than capable of your protection under any circumstance.” Allen stopped wiping his face and looked up. The man….the being, well, he was glowing softly, brilliantly. His voice, when next it crossed those few feet between felt like a silk cape with shearling collar around him and even though it was ‘only’ energy, it was the most comforting thing he had ever felt in his life. “Calm, my son. Allow me to continue.” “Blue Ray ones have a similar foundation but are all different. They carry a wide range of expressions. But what they carry in common is a unique assignment, each one to his own. They are highly sensitive, tend to withdraw from others and even though it is an uncomfortable life, they are ever-loving, with hints of purity, high creativity and a rather delightful cosmic hint of madness! They are not meant for the life of others. They do know anger and depression, whatever befalls within the human. They are here to serve in ways others are not. For example, while everyone is focused now on reaching into deeper work and connections, Blue Ray 1s are based in deeper connection, not merely developing the capacity but their very presence, along with others, helps create the depth itself. They tend to take on some of the more severe clearings of the collective and most will have difficult burdens from which to rise. Their sensitivities can be deceptive! They may have scars that make the immediate recognition of them quite difficult. You assumed you could not be such a being because you do not see yourself as this level of ability/capacity/mastery! This is truth.” “Yes, it definitely is!” Allen, not wishing to be rude, held back his auto-pilot protests. “That is because you have not been awakened. I see how humans regard this notion of being awakened: it is the means by which they become aware of the Ascension Process. Blue Ray 1s were born to Ascension process, yet, and I say this with caution and no care to inflate any assumptions, have been kept in a semi-stasis until time for the individual’s particular manner of extensive awakening. In order to qualify, you must complete much your personal clearing and then reset the extra

burdens you also carried. You will no longer “carry for the tribe.” (taking on some of the collective work directly) This must happen prior to certain self-revelations. Once completed, you will be introduced to your deeper skills and capacities, en toto.” “In your case, you are older, one of the very first. You were sent earlier than the Indigos to help clear/stabilize, and, should, if all goes well, have the blessing of being part of the Collective Rising. It will be harder for you, but you can do this. You can awaken in a way you feel inside of you yet never believed would actuate itself. At least not here….now….as this you!” “I will give you are few days to mull this over. And if you doubt this, well, what harm could it do to simply look for both me and the possibilities in the event something occurs that seems to overwhelm? We will be with, I assure you!” “Dear Allen, yours has not been an easy path. You are who you are and because of many factors, you never quite found purchase in your own power. Now you can. But give yourself this gift: know in your deep humility, your heart and soul are the breath of the planet, of this galaxy, this universe. Know that your hints of purity are being shaded from sight, your Love, which already shines bright, will rise to that of the Sun. You, my dear, beautiful Soul, along with all who follow the Light, are the templet and the gauge which the Great Ones said would come. You are not replacing the Buddha or the Christ…. however, given the depth of your true humility, you are their direct child and will soon realize with the Oneness of ALL, the fullness of them in you! We are the Oneness and in us, all Love shall shine. Because of the work of every soul, all can meet and Be Light. The Blue Ray 1s require the work of every other being to manifest their assignments. EVERYTHING IS INTERDEPENDENT. No one is of any greater status or value. So you can relax all of that foolishness thinking you are not “good enough” to fulfill such a work as this. It is yours because of that which the Source has used to accomplish the work, utterly free of ego. You are the sum of your parts and both the sum & those parts (the totality of your being) are now required. Time to collect all your bits and pieces to offer to the cause. It is as simple as that. IF any felt superior, their capacities would fade, leach out into the sand. That soul would lose their place and be replaced by another ready to fulfill the task. It would mean the result would not be the same! It would change with every adjustment the Whole is required to make. Not that those who fall would not be mourned, but the ego rulership has no place here. It cannot survive and is indicative of work left undone. But we are blessed with energy to smooth the way, as long as we accept the challenges, releasing the fears as we go, we will know the blessing of realization, Ascension. Ones know better than anyone that energy shy of the true depth required for certain projects of consciouHonoring the Sadhus who volunteered to be photographed and painted as a gift toward our Consciousness means the dream is not possible. They also know that without Infinite Joy, nothing will prosper! And that is the difference that the Blues make! The sense of All being great joy! They understand it in stillness and they know it in chaos in ways that penetrate not only the rabble, but the unspeakable center of the Pearl. They understand this and treasure it as an integral part of the depth required to meet transformation on every level of existence. It is why they can plunge into that great spring of Life and feel all the pain, rising again with a kind of interminable vigor that knows no end! That is its own joy! You, my dear being, known as Allen, and every other one of your kind, is privileged to tend the Spirit of the ones transitioning into the higher realms. You know better than most, without Joy, Light cannot be Love. So allow that to grow in you, my son. Allow Joy to lead, It will be as if your Soul has been partially holding its breath waiting for you

to come home to yourself, fearlessly and whole! It will now Breathe!! It will come forward in you in ways it has forever withheld its dearest expressions. You know now that what I am saying is not merely pretty words! They are truth. They are real---as are you! Pretty is nice. Always dive under the pretty—you know this, but I am saying that when your capacities begin to surface, never blink!!” he nearly shouted, which startled Allen. “See them all as nothing but the next step and the next. Never be impressed with what you can suddenly do— none is all you, it is all of us being through you!!! Think well on this!!! All of us through you! No ego can be heard/felt over such a din!! Imagine, the energy from much of the universe pouring through a few billion humans! And now we reach the crux of my mission today:…” The seeming man from ancient jungles of India uncrossed his legs and stood, walked around the illusion of a room and sat once again in the exact same space…different Now. “I have shifted this…you call it a Timeline? Yes, well, it is a different Now and you will learn from this place. You understand? Do you?” Allen’s mind, busy trying to run alongside the planet as she spun, looked up with a face that was understanding, then bewildered. “You are a being of many planes and dimensions. Sometimes, especially during transitions, your stability in one dimension is unreliable. I merely switched your timeline, usually adopted by consciousness, to a frequency more in harmony with your new material and the consciousness growth currently taking place. It was necessary for you to become aware of it for the information to find purchase in your psyche. To make it stick.” Allen nodded to indicate he had followed the explanation. “Let us imagine you have realized your new tasks and abilities, you are confronted with a particular challenge that requires, as you see it, immediate action before you are certain you are fully prepared to manage the work, but you have to try. Here is the process with which it will happen: you will be attuned to Universal, Divine, Holy (or whatever designation you give equivalent interpretation) of such energy. That is your connection. Then you will act according to the will of what you refer to as Highest Self dedicated to said Universal energy. This sublime Union has already taken place. The Highest Self and Universal Divine energy are already One. They have merely been waiting for you. At this point, you have been dedicating every cell and thought to this purpose. Your higher awareness practically leaks out of your cells and ears, you have light coming from your hands every moment. (he giggled) It is not a state of perfection. It is, however, sufficient to the immediate task and your thoughts have now reached a high neighborhood of expression (more often than not). It will be the Universal energy that actually accomplishes the work, of course. As with healers, you are a conduit. But now, there is greater consciousness in the Universal energy than before. It will be this which guides you even more precisely than your Guides do now. This energy is the sum total of All and it is developing such awareness as even humans can understand. It always has been this, it is simply evolving as you do! But it is Omnipresent and now grows in what you may call “both” directions”! It is easier for the lower vibrations to read some of its wisdom than it ever was before. To be a conduit of this energy, you must allow yourself to become this energy! Become, Be, Express and allow the fullness of it as you never have before. And isn’t it a gift that every time you surrender utterly to this energy, you become more of it. You evolve beyond what you were a moment ago! Is this not an extraordinary process!??? Is this not the high reaches of Joy!!!???? And by realizing the energy that passes through you is literally ALL OF US passing through you, imagine what your consciousness could do with this. There is no stopping anything now, if you are amenable. It is up to you. You may choose this version of your path, or you may

refuse. You will be given another chance, as many as it takes, though none quite as thrilling as this one. THIS Earth, this time, this now, is a unique process and it will never need repeating again. My advice, my dear, beautiful Soul, is to make the most of it while you can! It is GLORY! It is JOY! ……………….Any questions?” “What do I call you?” Allen asked a little bewildered and looking for whatever replaced his reason. “And yes—I do have a question.” He reached out to the napkin he had used earlier and once again wiped his face. Took a sip of water… a deep breath …before he looked back at the Sadhu. “The Sadhu laughed outright. You may call me Murma,” he replied with a crafty chuckle. Don’t worry about the meaning. It is nonsense. I am nonsense! Most other of the Sadhus find me outrageous!” “Thank you, Murma, thank you for a means to address you. My question”…. Allen’s voice drifted off…. “Uh, no. Well, Yes, I mean … here’s the thing: You are saying I should allow Joy to lead. But all that I have studied from teachers tends to encourage the student to release all thought, feeling, any indication of self from their contemplations, meditation, ways of thinking. They seem to consider something like Joy entirely too alluring or distracting to allow true stillness. So I don’t quite see what you want me to do.”

My dear Allen, do you know why there are Gurus and Lineages? Because each sees the Path to Realization as close to the individuals’ Soul as possible. No two people are going to have the exact same journey. It is very simple. It’s a custom job! Every step, every pause, every breath! Some will be their Soul through asceticism, some will be a beacon through the deepest love beyond the human references. Some will laugh, some will suffer beyond reason. For YOU the path is Joy. (It is not wasted distraction.) You will be, as a level 1 Blue, a being who plows the road. All of you are that. In your case, tending to the Spirits of those around you, your task is to help them sense…SENSE: that means silence, stillness, pure, focused in JOY! You do not think of Joy, you allow stillness in the silence. That is accomplished by your method to realize it. I am suggesting you find the doorway through the Heart, enter, and then release all else. Use all the discipline you feel appropriate. Then, once you have recharged and reconnected in a high frequency, realize that the way of expressing that Heart & Soul is JOY! Think of it as a cousin to Bhakti Yoga. Find your way through the disciplines. Understand? Try non-being! Work with it. The journey is accomplished through the heart to get to and release Soul from degenerating energy. Joy is an expression of Love! It will be the new fuel for the rocket!!!! It will be what powers the rocket they use to transcend conditioning and pain! They may arrive at this through Love, through Joy, Bliss, Creativity, Communication and many other endless means. But it will always be the Soul, speaking through the Heart for you! As much as you feel bonded to the intellect, you will Rise with JOY!!!!” He finished with a flourish and allowed a slight bounce of his body seated there in the air. His voice tilted upward like a bird, “UNDERSTAND???” “Yes, Murma. Allen closed his eyes as the power of these thoughts entered him like a waterfall. Sacred Water pouring in. Sacred Love pouring. Sacred pouring. It was all true and right. It was what he deeply wanted and had tried to change because he thought he was wrong, that he was not living up to the deepest, the most spiritual path! Waste, indeed! He felt the bliss as his gratitude overflowed on the return journey out/IN to the Sadhu… “I am already in you, dear Allen. I will be there and I will be here….I will be. No limits. Waste no time wondering where I am. I am ever, not where. There is no when. I AM. His voice trailed off as he dissolved from view, whispering “I am ever with you…”, the blue lights fading from the seemingly empty air of his room. Allen was in a state of shock. No thought. Nothing happening except on a very deep level, he could feel something like an origami paper bird….slowly, deceptively fast yet ever imperceptibly unfolding itself. There were no sounds, even if it seemed there should be, there was nothing to indicate anything beyond .....this. And yet…it was happening….. Now.