#transcendence ch 7

[chuuyasporkie]

hello my beloveds, happy weekend! chapter 7 of transcendence is up! in-chapter warnings do apply, but here’s some of my fav scenes as a treat! 🫶🏻🥰

[frankcastlescumslut]

Ch. 2: Hard Times

pairing: frank castle x f!reader / platonic!amy bendix x f!reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: angst, language, hurt/comfort, implied loss of a sister (no details), descriptions of wounds, established relationship yet somehow it’s a slow burn

summary: He somehow reached across space and time to tell you the words you wished you had heard that night: you didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is on you. Frank had become a god, transcending the laws of physics to piece you together with sutures and sympathies.

A/N: I wrote this chapter based off of this song. loosely. sorry this isn’t the happiest of endings, I’m leaving it open ended in case I get the momentum to keep going (there is a potential plot).

[previous chapter]

I love your feedbacks and comments so much, thank you. reblogs help a lot as well <3

The stars looked like pin pricks against a dark sheet, so bright you had to squint to make sense of your surroundings, but there was nothing to make sense of. Just black asphalt laid out like a red carpet.

Your body ached and groaned as you stretched ever so slightly, and Frank pretended not to notice the way you winced when you pulled your shirt from your dried wound. 

He cleared his throat, trying to distract you. “Mornin’.”

“Mornin’,” you yawned, checking the dashboard. 

1:42am. 

The last time you stopped was somewhere in Ohio at a run down 7-Eleven. Amy threatened to jump out of the van if she didn’t get a slurpee, but you couldn’t really blame her, it did sound good, so Frank was outnumbered like he usually was. 

That was hours ago, though, and you found Amy curled against the duffle bags with a ring of blue food dye around her lips.

“How far are we?” You prodded. 

“Few hours.” 

“Oh.”

Frank was a man of few words when he first met you. It took him three days just to ask you for an extra blanket when he met you at that motel in Nebraska, though he chalked it up to his unnatural ability for needing something. Didn’t wanna bother you.

You were patient with him, never pressing him about the occasional bruise or poorly hidden glances, instead choosing to talk about how vending machine chips are basically just bags full of air and how mattress stores are money laundering operations—he laughed at that, fully and with his chest, and it was game over for you both. 

Yet somehow you were sitting within a foot of each other and felt like strangers. 

“Do you want me to drive?” You offered, daring to look at him. He looked worn, his eyes drooping with sleep.

“No,” he answered too quickly. “I’m okay.” 

“Maybe we should stop somewhere?”

He was silent, unwilling to admit defeat. Stoic. Stubborn. A pain in the ass that kept you awake with a fevering bullet shaped gash in your side. 

You would make yourself power through the pain if it meant he would be normal again—if he would even look at you for more than a second and without what you perceived as disdain. You would pretend that each day you had Amy didn’t feel like salt being shoved into your sister-sized wound. You would lie through your teeth and tell him that you were capable of keeping up, that this life was enough for you. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. 

“We’ll stop at the next motel.” He looked over at you, his eyes trailing towards the rust colored stain on your shirt. Your cheeks burned underneath his gaze, and all you could do was nod in reply and watch the constellations blur. 

“Wake up.” A breathy voice tickled your ear, causing you to jolt upright in your seat.

“Damn it!” You cursed before placing a palm against your sternum, ignoring the way the seatbelt burned against your exposed neck.

Amy was pleased by your reaction, carelessly falling back into her designated makeshift seat of a jacket tucked against the back of your chair. Frank didn’t crack a smile. 

“Knock it off,” he warned, his eyes quickly darting towards the backseat. 

“Oh come on,” Amy whined. “It was funny.” 

“I actually disagree,” you chimed in, your heartbeat still racing. 

“You’re no fun.” She pouted, slouching against the hard interior. 

Frank would disagree, though. You were fun. Charismatic. Lighthearted. 

He missed that version; the one where you existed alongside of him with ease, the one where you convinced him that joy existed and was accessible to people like him, to people like the both of you. 

It felt foreign to him, the easiness of it all, but he gave up rejecting his need for self denial when he met you. Because you were fun. 

“We’re stopping soon,” he cleared his throat and those distant memories of you, and you nodded with a “k.” 

“I have to pee,” Amy broke her secret vow of silence, probably just to hear herself speak. 

“Hold it,” you and Frank spoke in unison, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

You often wondered what he was like as a dad. If he was the silent and stern parent, always fussing with light fixtures and the underside of a truck. Maybe the kind that cared a lot about grades but even more about after school sports or school projects. Really, you think, he’s the kind of parent that just enjoys his children’s joy, never getting in the way of what was causing it— a winning soccer match, a new video game, a carousel. It didn’t matter anymore, anyways, and you were too scared to ask him about it. 

So you didn’t, and you don’t. You never do, because you’re not really sure what you would say if he ever asked about your sister. Some things are better to be speculatory, you decided, until Amy came along. 

She acted like a secret maneuver that would draw back the curtain on what Frank Castle was like as a father, and you seldom looked away. 

“Sheesh,” she muttered, and you hid a smirk behind the palm of your hand. 

It was silent for the next few miles, save the occasional clanging of weapons every time the van fell victim to a pothole. It was silent even as Frank drove past the first motel. Then the second one… and the third. 

Amy eventually caught on, sitting on her knees and looking out the window like a dog with its ears flapping in the wind. 

“Where are we going?” she asked. 

Frank was quiet, eyes still straight ahead, even as he pulled into the parking lot of a neon green Holiday Inn. 

“A hotel!” Amy squealed, throwing herself in Frank’s general direction, ignorant to the way the car swerved due to her affections. 

He watched you from above Amy’s head, thankful she was blocking the smirk on his face as your brows furrowed in his direction, silently asking are you sure? 

He was sure. He had made up his mind hundreds of miles ago when he first saw the blood soaked cotton of your shirt, but he wouldn’t dare to tell you. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Amy let out a sigh of relief, loud enough that it was dramatic even for her. 

Frank was silent as he dug around in a back pocket before handing you a thick wad of cash. You failed to meet his eye as you accepted the offering, opting to nod with a tight lipped smile as a thank you. 

“Get the biggest bed you can get!” Amy called out to you before the door swung shut in her face. 

She pulled herself into the passenger seat and sat back with a huff and a genuine smile on her face. Finally, she thought. 

Frank’s eyes were trained on the entrance of the hotel. He watched you pull your jacket across your body, attempting to hide your ghastly appearance, as you leaned against the counter. The woman at the front seemed reasonable, he assumed. You both smiled at one another, so things must be okay. 

“Frank,” Amy attempted to disrupt his attention 

“Not now.” 

She watched the way he studied you, almost disgusted by the way he withheld his care and affection from you. 

“Frank,” she tried again.

“What?” He snapped, finally meeting her gaze. 

“You really need to fix whatever this,” she pointed a finger from his chest to the hotel lobby, “is. It’s a little ridiculous.”

“There’s nothing to fix.” He straightened ever so slightly.

“Bullshit.” 

He was thankful she dropped the conversation when she did. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to admit there was a palpable tension, he just didn’t know how to fix it. He thought the hotel would be evident enough that he was sorry, but you pulled the door open a little too roughly for that to be the case. 

“Here,” you handed him a rectangular card.

“Two keys?” Amy asked. 

“That’s for your room. I got my own.”

“What?!” She scoffed and Frank clenched his jaw.  “Are you serious?” 

“I’m right next door.” You began to unload the van, carefully slinging a heavy bag around your good side. You tried your best to hide your inconspicuous smile, but it was harder the more you thought about the king sized bed assigned to you. 

Amy and Frank trodden heavily behind you as you made your way through the empty lobby and towards the elevators, not without waving towards the kind faced woman at the front desk. 

“You’re actually leaving me alone with him?“

“You'll be fine, Amy.” You rested your head against the back of the elevator wall, closing your eyes in surrender as the metal doors slid together. 

“That’s not fair,” she whined; you half expected her to start stomping her feet. 

“Life ain’t fair,” Frank finished the argument as the elevator came to a bumpy halt. You barely opened your eyes to glance at him, surprised at the way he nods, as if giving you permission to be alone. 

You aren’t sure why you became shy and why your cheeks warmed. Maybe it was the way his eyes had softened ever so slightly, or maybe it was the gratification of him acknowledging you made a sound decision for once—that you were capable, even after your extreme fuck up just hours earlier. Either way, the softness lingered as you found your rooms. 

The cool air hit Frank’s face as a pleasant surprise, though the cleanliness, the luxury, felt burdensome.

“You have to apologize.” Amy claimed her bed, minding the way her sneakers dirtied the white sheets.

“Yeah?” He huffed, remembering he should be offended by your lack of appreciation for the new scenery. “For what exactly?”

“You’re being a dick!” She exclaimed, slapping her hands against her crossed legs. “I’m serious, Frank. It’s my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” he sighed.

“Okay, great, then stop blaming her for it.”

“I’m not.” 

“Sure.” 

The hum of the air conditioning filled the room as Frank stood awkwardly, thrumming his fingers along his thigh while Amy pretended not to notice.

“‘I shouldn’t have left you alone, okay?” He leaned against an empty dresser, still unwilling to find comfort in the queen-sized mattress. 

“She did what you couldn’t do,” Amy mumbled and he grit his jaw in response. “I was the one that called for pizza, okay? I wasn’t thinking. It was on me and I’m still alive, so go say you’re sorry.” 

Being still was a foreign concept for Frank. He was constantly moving, hard wired for productivity and precision, scoffing at the mere idea of rest. His neurons exploded even in his sleep, unable to ignore the zap zap zap that kept him moving, kept him alert, kept him alive. It kept you alive.

He ran through the numerous possibilities and outcomes of apologizing to you in his overtired head, filtering through his own remorse and your indignation. 

Fuck it, he decided, ending his marathon around the room. 

“Don't call anyone. Don’t move from this bed. Don’t answer the phone and don’t answer the goddamn door,” he placed his hands on his hips, emphasizing his seriousness. “Understand?” 

“Roger that.” Amy saluted him as he neared the door, unable to hide her smile. “Use protection!”

Just as his hand reached the handle, he paused. “What did you just say?” She audibly laughed at the mixture of disgust and genuine shock plastered against his face. 

“Go kiss and make up!” She shooed him away, and she swore she saw him smile before he disappeared.  

The bathroom mirror shook in a steady succession following the slams of heavy doors. It was constant, and you almost considered complaining before remembering that this was a luxury compared to your previous hideaways. 

It wasn’t always so bad, though. Before Amy, it was exciting— like a cheap thrill that you hadn’t felt since you were 16, sneaking out of a bedroom window and choking down a stale cloud of smoke. There was a monumental lack of pessimism between you and Frank; he brought life back into you, and for once you didn’t feel guilty for living. 

So you accepted the cheap motels and fried foods, never minding the greasy-lipped kisses. You welcomed the sun beaming on your bare feet when they laid across the dash as you drove nowhere. You loved the way your stomach felt full as you drank a beer, pretending you weren’t hiccuping while Frank sunk an 8 ball in a top right pocket. You loved the nights spent in a dirty dive bar where you didn’t have to think about who the fuck you were for at least a few hours. You loved it, and then he told you to run before bullets started flying. 

The knock on the door was so faint you almost missed it over the sound of your cursing. 

It was him—you knew it was him. He had an aura so thick it bled through walls. 

“Y’gonna open the door?” 

No. 

Maybe.

The door opened with a metallic click, though you didn’t care to hold it open. He shoved himself inside, feeling like an intruder. 

You studied your irritated wound in the mirror, continuing your attempts at cleaning and suturing it. The sting of the alcohol wipes hardly compared to the pair of eyes transfixed on the evidence of your failures. 

“You okay?” What a stupid question. 

“Fine.” What a stupid question. 

Fine. It wasn’t a complete lie, though you avoided meeting his gaze at all costs. He could see right through you, hell, he could feel the resentment radiating off of you. 

You didn’t have to distract yourself from the emotional distance; your attention was spent on unwrapping the much too small steri strip from its packaging to notice the way he awkwardly balanced his weight. 

“Shit,” you cursed as the first suture folded over on itself.

“Do you need—“

“I got it.” 

You really tried, but it was impossible to see the wound over the mound of your breast, and you could hardly twist your waist enough to get a decent angle. You decided to go in blind, completely embarrassed but unwilling to admit defeat. 

The sticky strip landed incorrectly, directly atop of the ragged flesh, and you yelped as it adjusted. 

“Let me get that,” he didn’t wait for your protest before inviting himself into the small bathroom.

“It’s fine, I got it,” your fingers shook as you attempted to pry the suture from your skin, salty tears splashing towards the floor. 

You dropped your hand against your hip and audibly exhaled as he assessed the wound. He was hardly offended that you refused to look at him. Truth be told, he could hardly look at you without having his whole chest be filled with the weight of his own shortcomings. 

He hated when you cried, especially at his own doing. You could blame it on that searing pain of torn flesh instead of the heavy burden of disappointing him, so you did. You pretended that the only pain you felt was the physical kind as you stood in front of him, half naked and bleeding, as he sat on the lip of the bathtub.  

In any other situation you would have taken advantage of this position, cupping the back of his neck before sliding between his legs, waiting for him to pull you into his lap. But it’s different now, and you almost flinch as his calloused fingertips carefully brush your skin.

“You ready?” He asked, waiting for your permission before hurting you all over again. 

You nod while stare at the ceiling, counting the porous tiles, bracing yourself for what is to come. 

He tried to get the stitches and bandages ready as quickly as possible, prepping them on his knee as he gave the countdown. “One, two, three...” 

“God damnit!”

The world became nothing but splotchy stars and radio static as your flesh ripped apart all over again, and you bit down on your knuckle, focusing on that dull ache that took your attention away from the way Frank was piecing you together again. 

“I’m sorry.” He sounded muffled, his silhouette splotchy, but he held you together with nothing but cheap butterfly sutures and a half assed apology. 

“I know,” was all you could muster out, breathing in that last bite of fight you had in you. 

“Y’gonna stop poutin’ then?”

You jerked away from him, your nostrils flaring as you looked over his bent frame before turning on your heel, leaving him in that makeshift emergency room. 

He almost regretted saying it, almost, but there was nothing worse for a man than putting himself out there and being disregarded, so he sat there, counting the bloody wash cloths and discarded bandages until he felt that familiar sense of carnal  responsibility. 

You were changing when he finally came about, his imaginary tail tucked between his legs. It felt wrong to look at you, to see the way your bare back curved and folded before disappearing beneath an oversized shirt—his oversized shirt. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you before, with your body on full display as he appreciated every inch with a soft brush of his lips. He had seen you, tasted you, held you, but this time it was different.

“Look,” he cleared his throat to signal his presence. “I’m sorry.”

“You done?” You ignored him as you pulled the starchy sheets back, but he wrapped a hand around your wrist, forcing you to look at him. 

“Hey,” his eyes softened and voice dropped. “I mean it.” 

There was an invisible argument happening as you both held onto the white sheet. You knew. He knew. Someone had to give in. Someone had to break first. Someone had to bare their soul and damnit were you tired of pretending. 

“Well it don’t feel like it.” You gave in, and for a minute, you sounded as tired as you felt. 

He ran a hand over his face with a sigh and you took the opportunity to sit on the first clean mattress you’d seen in months before bracing yourself against the sturdy headboard. 

“Sometimes,” his hand twitched at his side as he contemplated his next sentence, “I look at her and all I see is my Lisa.” Your eyes shot towards his face at the mention of his daughter, and it was hard to ignore the painful knot in your stomach. “It’s like I’m losing her all over again and I—“

“Frank,” you leaned towards him, and the mattress sunk next to your feet. 

“I just can’t do it again, y’know?” He looked at you, tears brimming on the waterline but never daring to spill. “I can’t do it again.”

“You won’t. You won’t do it again.”

You said it as if you were a god, fully capable of aligning the stars and galaxies and writing history. You said it as if you were able to predict the future—a future where Amy was safe in an undisclosed location and you and Frank were, well, somewhere. 

He huffed at that, and rightfully so, though you tried to convince him anyways. 

“I’m sorry,” you attempted to shift the blame, “I didn’t know that she ordered food, I should have paid attention. I should have known better, I should have—” 

“Hey, hey, hey” he placed a hand on your leg. “Quit it.”

“I’m sorry, Frank. I didn’t mean to mess up.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry, I tried,” you could feel the uncomfortable knot lodged in your throat but you couldn’t push it down. “I swear I tried.”

It was embarrassing the way the hot tears left patterns against your white cotton shirt as they fell. You weren’t really sure why you were crying or who you were crying for. Amy was still alive and tucked into a bed just behind another door, but your sister was somewhere else entirely. 

“It’s not your fault,” Frank attempted to intervene, gently scooping you into his side. You let him, though not without feeling so incredibly selfish. He rubbed your arm, in a steady motion, squeezing lightly for his own emotional support. “I’m sorry for taking it out on you. I shouldn’t have left you guys alone. You shouldn’t have had to clean up my mess, okay?” 

You nod into his chest, wishing his words didn’t feel like a cheaply made sympathy card. 

“None of this is on you, you understand? You didn’t do anything wrong.” He placed a kiss against your temple, and you folded into him even more.

He somehow reached across space and time to tell you the words you wished you had heard that night: you didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is on you. Frank had become a god, transcending the laws of physics to piece you together with sutures and sympathies.

It was quiet for a while save for the muffled lull of the obnoxiously cold air conditioning. You missed this—the feeling that life could go on, that you were enough for him, that the silence didn’t signal an impending doom. 

“Stay,” you whispered. 

“Hm?”

It was silent as you considered your next move—play dumb or give in, going belly up for a few more minutes of playing pretend.

“Can you stay?”

It was silent for another minute, but his breathing shifted and you held your breath.

“Sweetheart,”

“I know. I know she’s next door,” you tried to make his decision easier. “Can you just stay until I fall asleep?” 

“Sure.”

It was less than convincing, but he kissed your neck before sliding himself down the mattress and pulling your body into his stomach. 

You curled into yourself, hugging a pillow against your face before deciding it was too soft. This, you and Frank, felt too soft after a week of sleeping in different beds and communicating through glances and strategies to stay alive—to keep Amy alive. It was different. Too soft and still not enough. 

He felt the emotional shift as your body tensed, snaking an arm beneath the crook of your neck before reaching for your empty hand. You followed directions without a second thought, intertwining fingers and limbs with a relaxed sigh before your world went dark.

He stayed, like he said he would, watching the numbers on the clock face ascend.

It was unfair to you, he thought, that he was splitting his attention between you and a young girl he barely knew. It was unfair that he had to uncurl himself from your body and walk next door to a bed that would be too cold, too empty, too soft and pretend that he didn’t just abandon you. It was unfair that he brought you along to something he wasn’t sure how to finish. 

The bed dipped as he forced himself away from your warmth. He held his breath, silently praying you wouldn’t notice his absence. You looked calm for the first time in a long time, since before you both became honorary foster parents and ran from men that looked like they were on a pilgrimage. You looked so calm, and he tucked his invisible tail between his legs again while pressing a kiss to your shoulder, letting out a final sigh of resignation before disappearing behind a closed door. 

You were too tired to move. Too tired to leave that spot that still smelled like him if you closed your eyes and inhaled. You knew he was leaving, only pretending as a courtesy to his feelings, though you couldn’t help but wish the metallic click of the door was a gun aimed directly at your chest.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Going through the new parts for CH 7 and seeing all of the foreshadowing about getting seriously hurt on the battlefield (Silver warning us to be careful and Lillia getting hurt to protect Silver) makes me think that Lillia will wake up when Silver gets seriously injured and the memories of his life as a caring father will flood in and wake him up from the dream.

[Referencing this post!]

Yeah, that could be it! 🤔 Definitely not going to rule that out as a possibility. It could confirm to us that Lilia and Silver’s bond is one that transcends races (and hey, maybe that’ll be that “ah-hah” moment (or contribute to it?) where Silver is so moved that he realizes he wants to be known as “Silver Vanrouge”—).

I do find it interesting how Lilia (even when he’s at a point where he distrusts humans and says he’ll leave them for the monsters in the forest if they step out of line) instinctively protected Silver when he was in danger. He claims he dislikes the idea of having to mentor others or being a guardian figure, but Lilia just… naturally does the mentor/guardian-like things anyway 😂

Maybe it’s his subconscious calling out to the still sleeping Lilia, telling him to protect his adopted son from danger at any costs… 🥺 which is actually really sweet, if that’s the case.

[tarosophical-tarot]

03/06/2023:

Today's Lunar Mansion "Al-Na'am" signals success in questions involving a quest or reaching a goal - if we have been searching for an answer then the time is auspicious for finding it: "in this Mansion make images to tame wild and disobedient beasts" (Picatrix, book 1, ch.4)

The question I asked of the cards today was in respect of a current ongoing "conflict", seen here as J♦️ "upon his breast he carries a quiver of arrows, symbolic of destruction; in other words the quiver of arrows symbolises that the soul must depend upon the country through which we sojourn for sustenance. It also means that we are to let go of yesterday as being forever dead, while the cant hook (his staff) is a symbol of hope + faith in the future." (MA Pottenger)

The A♠️ in itself resembles an arrow-head, shooting forth to release us from our "yesterdays", especially given its inherent meaning of cutting-off from the past.

Here it is replicated in 7♠️ where Fortune resides today (also chosen as a random factor by the dice) - the Fixed Air of Moon in Aquarius highlighting problems stemming from established patterns of behaviour that need to be examined and cleared.

Has an area of conflict arisen and you find yourself behaving in the same old way in response?

Venus in Scorpio 7❤️ indicates that you have a way of making others around you feel secure enough to loosen their inhibitions, inciting trust ensuring that interactions are always positive - but with Fortune residing in a "random" situation today, 7♠️ we are not behaving at our best with those who don't really know us (we are connected to them but only distantly - they interact remotely and we've not met in person).

Everyone should of course yearn to transcend personal limitations and separateness from others - but some relationships trigger unresolved childhood complexes.

It is here in our repeating patterns of behaviour the the A♠️ must cut us free - in order to allow for personal growth and progression. 6❤️

[jazy3]

We’re back with another script episode! This time we’re talking about the epic showdown between 001 and Eleven at the lab and how Eleven is able to harness her inner strength! Enjoy! 😘

[web5studio2]

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The Road to E-Commerce Success:

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Web5Studio Agency in Nagpur understands this, which is why they emphasize the importance of a reliable Payment Gateway. They partner with you to create a holistic e-commerce solution that seamlessly integrates the best Payment Gateway for your business.

In a rapidly evolving digital landscape, where competition is fierce and consumer expectations are high, Web5Studio Agency's expertise in e-commerce website development, design, and Payment Gateway integration can be your recipe for prosperity.

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In Conclusion:

The landscape of e-commerce is dynamic and ever-changing, and Payment Gateway Services are central to the e-commerce experience. As you navigate this realm, remember that your choice of Payment Gateway can influence your business's trustworthiness, security, and ability to cater to a global audience.

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In the digital age, where competition is fierce and consumer demands are high, the right Payment Gateway and an expert e-commerce partner like Web5Studio Agency can turn your e-commerce venture into a flourishing, globally recognized online business. Trust in the power of Payment Gateway Services and the expertise of your e-commerce allies, and you'll find your business thriving and prospering in the exciting world of e-commerce.

[hollandorks]

middle of the night - masterlist

*this fic is complete*

battinson!batman x f!reader

summary: y/n’s life changes immensely, starting with the Batman falling out of the sky right in front of her and ending with a promising new job at Wayne Manor. As her life intertwines with that of both Batman and Bruce Wayne, she begins to figure out that there’s more to both than meets the eye

find it on ao3

Playlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Epilogue

oneshots, blurbs, bonus chapters:

Chapter 28 & 29: Bruce’s POV

Partners -- set about a week after ch 31 (NSFW)

Domesticity -- a fluffy oneshot 

the ring -- Alfred POV blurb

the proposal -- set post ch 31 before epilogue

transcendent -- Bruce's POV of ch. 30

[dilemmaontwolegs]

This Month: June 2023

The Aftermath || LN4 {Nine} {Ten} {Eleven} {Twelve} A Little Longer || CL16 Tangled Up In You || MV1 Another Lie {5} || Max’s Ending Riding Shotgun {2} || CL16 & PG10 Already Gone {6} || MV1 Pick Ups || CL16 blurb A Taste of Temptation || DR3 {part two} Expensive Affection || CL16 Licence to Thrill || CL16 Story Time || LN4 & MV1 blurb All That Matters || CL16 Schrödinger's Cat || MV1 Running from the Flames || PG10 {Epi 1/2} Sibling Rivalry || MV1 Sod’s Law || LN4 Playboy || PG10 {Two}

Coming Soon:

Running from the Flames - Epilogue The Taste of Temptation Pt.3 Already Gone Pt.7 Sibling Rivalry Pt.2 Playboy Pt.2 The Aftermath Pt.13 & Epilogue Too Good -Prequel

Requests: closed

This is so I can finish the F1 series and make my way through the ones I have already received 💕

Last Month: May

Wild Nights || CL16 - Epilogue Running from the Flames || PG10 {Ch.27} {Ch.28} {Ch.29} [Ch.30} The Aftermath || LN4 {One} {Two} {Three} {Four} {Five} {Six} [Seven} {Eight} Leap of Faith || CL16 - blurb Riding Shotgun || CL16 & PG10 Too Good || MV1 - blurb Already Gone || MV1 {One} {Two} {Three} {Four} {Five} Going Public || CL16 - blurb Another Lie || CL16 - part one || part two || part three || part four || five - Charles Transcending Time || CL16 The Best Kept Secret on the Grid {3} - multi-driver smut

[journeytothewestresearch]

Taoist Work that Influenced JTTW

https://journeytothewestresearch.com/2022/03/13/archive-34-understanding-reality-a-taoist-alchemical-classic/

I’ve archived the the Wuzhi pian (悟真篇, “Writings on Understanding/Becoming Aware of Reality”, 1075), a Song-era work of Buddho-Daoist philosophy by Zhang Boduan (張伯端, a.k.a. Zhang Ziyang, 張紫陽, mid to late-980s-1082) (fig. 1). Shao (1997) expertly shows that Zhang’s writing had a huge impact on the standard 1592 edition of Journey to the West (Xiyouji, 西遊記) (see especially ch. 4). For example, the reason that the first half of Sun Wukong‘s story (ch. 1 to 7) is Taoist heavy (i.e. his quest for immortality and later ascension to heavenly rank) is because this follows the first part of Zhang’s philosophy, which is attaining the golden elixir (jindan, 金丹). And the reason the second half (ch. 14 to 100) is Buddhist heavy (i.e. building merit by protecting Tripitaka on the pilgrimage west and the rise to Buddhahood) is because the second part of Zhang’s philosophy involves attaining the Buddha-Mind. Combined, these achievements make someone a true transcendent, one free from the wheel of rebirth. 

A line from the Wuzhi pian is a prime example of Zhang’s stance on those who strive only to attain the elixir: “A halo behind the head is still a phantom; / Even when clouds rise beneath your feet you are still not an immortal” (Zhang, Liu, & Cleary, 1987, p. 161). This explains why Monkey is banished from heaven and imprisoned under Five Elements Mountain. He has yet to attain the Buddha-Mind.

[chuuyasporkie]

im so happy to see u active here!!!! will u be answering the chapter comments as well? i left one earlier tdy n im too shy to turn off anon here but i love ur humor n replies sm author 🥺🥺🥺

hello, lovely! when have you ever NOT known me to answer the comments?? i always answer them on the third or fourth day after the chapter release as i do keep a very busy schedule, but fear not! I WILL GET TO YOU!!!! and you can be anonymous all you want <3 im just happy to have you here!! <3

[mayrubyy]

Clouded III

➻ Pairing- Chanyeol x Reader  ➻ Genre - Angst + Fwb! 

➻ Word Count - 3.7k  

➻ Rating - (M) Warning! this contains strong language, fwb, sexual and angst themes that are intended for mature audiences. Please don’t read if you’re not comfortable with the said themes and if you’re under 18! 

A/N - hey guys, so.. it is time to say goodbye and i was always full of hope and love for this series. sadly, it won’t see the light of day like i hoped for but in all it’s unfinished, glory, i present to you ~ Chapter III of Clouded.

This is my last post. So, farewell. 

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.  ･ ｡ × fragments=͟͟͞͞evanescent-lucid͟͟-transcending × ｡･ .  

Wayfaring aimlessly, you were drenched from head to toe and your senses were heavily distorted. The icy pellets of rain were unrelenting, not gentle in the slightest as they slapped against your skin. Streaks of lightning pierced through the forlorn sky in iridescent veins of electric and purple.The wind kept howling around you, the violent rainstorm having no mercy as it obscured your vision. Cars were zooming by at full speed, splashing puddles on to the pavement in their wake and when thunder roared above you, it sparked some kind of urgency in you as if the universe was telling you to take that one step forward, one step closer to starting a new chapter of your life– only you couldn't fathom that by doing so you were inviting trouble. 

All you could think of was Chanyeol and you found yourself knocking at his door, in the dead of the night.

Moreover, being completely soaked to the bone and nearly shivering to death wasn't fun. A mild wave of panic coursed through your body when you realized he wasn't answering the door. You rang the bell a few more times, begging, hoping and praying he was home. 

But, it was all drearily for nothing. 

Just when you were about to give up, you heard him shuffle. His footsteps thundered across the hallway and with a hasty turn of the knob, the door was ineptly flung open. The light fixtures in the foyer did little to illuminate his features, flickering about as they swathed his tall form in subtle hues of orange and gold. Chanyeol stood before you like a tower, silhouetting the buttery glow of his apartment and for a fleeting second, you couldn't decipher anything. Your mind was swirling in a heart stopping haze, his cologne dominating your senses as you stood there, wavering under his gaze. He rubbed his own bleary eyes, looking dazed and spaced out in the soft light, hair a complete mess, perhaps from wearing headphones. His breathing was erratic, chest tight against his shirt as it rose and fell, elucidating he had dashed all the way to get the door. To get to you. 

"Y/N?" He faltered, gaping at you with furrowed brows. "Wh-what are you doing here?" He asked you, dipping slightly to look at the expensive watch that adorned his wrist. "It's like one in the morning," ruffling the crimson locks away from his face, he tilted his head to the side like a lost pup and an awkward wave of silence crept between you two. The frigid air was stinging and your damp shirt was unpleasantly clinging to your body, the dewiness itching and nibbling away at your skin. Quivering in your bones, you wrapped your soaked arms around yourself and stuttered through chattering teeth. 

"Ch-Chanyeol… I'm c-cold."

"Fuck– my bad." He shuffled from one feet to the other before cautiously leaning towards you. "Here, let me–," then carefully draping his arm over your shoulder, he lead you inside, the warmth of his body effectively engulfing you as he did. The minute you set foot in his apartment, you were taken aback by how huge and spacious it was. And oddly enough, it was welcoming and cozy– just like him. 

It wasn't an ordinary apartment at all. It was rather luxurious for an undergrad and you could say you were mildly shook. You caught a whiff of coffee coming from his kitchen and some beats blaring through the headphones that sat tacitly on the counter. He was after all, much to your relief at home and completely immersed in music. That's why he couldn't hear you ring the bell or knock the door. He clumsily hooked his leg around the scaffold of the stool and dragged it closer to the island. Gently squeezing your shoulder, he ushered you to sit and after you quietly perched yourself down on the stool you looked up at him. His gorgeous pair of eyes sparkled as they met yours and deep in your heart, you felt relieved for having someone like him to rely on. A shoulder you could lean and cry on. 

"You, alright?" he asked you, concern swirling in his dark orbs. You kept your head low and nodded while he paced towards the coffee-maker and quickly grabbed a mug from the cupboard. He poured the hot liquid into it and scampered back to you. "You might want to have some. It'll help you warm up." He mumbled, voice deep and soothing to your ears. His fingers brushed softly against yours as you took the mug from him. "You probably need a warm bath too. I'll be right back." And with that he hurried away again, disappearing into the bedroom this time. He seemed anxious and quite restless like he didn't want to linger around you. 

You began to fret you were bothering him for turning up unannounced and so out of the blue like this. For a good moment you were contemplating whether to leave again. The door was right there, maybe you should...but your limbs had failed you. Your joints were beginning to ache and there was a sharp pain seeping through your nerves from the cold. Feeling defeated and worn out, you winced as you brought the rim of the mug to your lips and sipped quietly. The warmth from the coffee slowly began spreading down your throat and into your empty belly.

Your eyes flickered around the apartment as you placed the mug back down on the counter. A huge shelf made of glass had intrigued you. It was filled with action figures, a collection of sorts, of Chanyeol's favorite manga and anime characters. There was a record player sitting by the same shelf which had a robust and vintage feel to it. And, a glass door beside it leading further into something that looked like a mini studio, with guitars racked neatly in a corner and some dreamcatchers celestially hooked to the wall above them. The other end was adorned with the One Piece flag hanging on the wall which confirmed his addiction to all things Japanese. It was adorable. You squinted through the glass door again and found a desktop– an iMac sitting right in between the space with acoustic diffusers surrounding it. You could tell Chanyeol was very passionate about music. You had once heard him play the guitar at a local club on a weekend but you didn't know he had a whole studio in his exquisite apartment like this. 

Your bestfriend Kyungsoo had told you that Chanyeol was from an affluent family. He was in the Basketball team along with your boyfriend Taehyung. Highly competitive and charming to a fault, musically talented and really tall, kinda clumsy with a goofy grin and big fluffy ears– that was all you really knew about him. 

It was at a party after a match that Baekhyun had introduced you to each other. And, all you could vaguely remember was playing beer pong and getting drunk out of your mind. Taehyung had abandoned you in the middle of the party and the next day, you found yourself waking up on top of Chanyeol. It sure as hell was fucking awkward, you recall. Although, he had chuckled nonchalantly and assured you that you were just woozy and beyond sloshed. That you held him tightly and wouldn't let him go till you were out cold and passed out on the couch. Chanyeol went as far as calling you cute that day and you felt your face go embarrassingly crimson and returned him with a sharp punch to his gut, making him groan frantically. He did put up a dramatic show that day because he loved attention and took much pride in teasing you. 

Quickly enough, your little encounters with him followed. You ran into each other at the games a lot. More mini trips to 7-Eleven at the campus, talking about music and other things that amused you and you came to realize that you both had a lot in common. You were beginning to grow fond of his company everytime Taehyung left you hanging. And whenever you'd get anxious you'd end up texting Chanyeol asking if Tae was at the game. 

Chanyeol would facetime you and tell you that guys like to go into their little caves from time to time. That it wasn't anything you should be worrying about. Although, to your shocking revelation, it was far from an ordinary man cave. Your world turned upside down after Chanyeol ran into your boyfriend making out with one of the cheerleaders in the locker room. 

He kept it from you for two weeks before fidgeting and stuttering, then finally spilled everything out and suggested you moved on from Taehyung. That it was for the best. At first you thought it was some kind of a pathetic joke but turns out, it wasn't. 

You'd never felt so broken and so ditched. You felt ridiculed and helpless. Taehyung never really cared to bring the matter up. And when you asked him if he was seeing anyone, he simply told you not to be ridiculous, persuading you to drop it with all things romantic and velvety later on. You were starting to feel sick of his behavior. Of course it was you who was being delusional and not him shoving his tongue down someone else's throat. It must have been so easy for him, right? 

As the weeks flew by, your mind hopelessly drifted back to how your boyfriend would rather spend the weekend with some chic who'd had sugar, spice and everything nice and honestly, it wasn't fun or healthy for you to fret over him anymore. It made you dizzy, made you want to throw up. He was cold blood lying through his teeth. He was cheating on you and you'd had just about enough. 

Barely hours ago, you'd stormed out of Taehyung's apartment after having a nerve wracking argument with him. Completely blinded by rage you wandered forcefully in the streets until it had started raining violently. And then it dreadfully occurred to you that you had absolutely nowhere to go. Kyungsoo wasn't in town and the last person to cross your mind was Chanyeol. His apartment was around the corner and of all the people, you never really fathomed you'd end up knocking at his door all doused and a drenched mess like this but here you were.  

You balled your fists and sniffled quietly, trying to stop the tears that were welling at the corner of your weary eyes. Chanyeol was still nowhere in sight while the beats continued blaring from his headphones from the other end. You wiped a lone tear that had trickled down your right cheek and returned your attention to the white foam swirling delicately in your mug, trails of steam dancing above it. 

"Y/N?"

You heard Chanyeol's voice echo from within the room. You quickly placed your elbows on the counter and ducked your head to conceal your tears away from him. 

"The bath is ready. You'll find the clothes on the dresser. And, I– uhm, I have some bath bombs. If you wanna use them. Go ahead." Chanyeol reappeared scratching the back of his head, his lips had curved into a daffy smile. 

"You have a...g-girlfriend?" It wasn't that you were curious but you knew you shouldn't have blurted that out so mindlessly. It was obvious. It was so goddamn obvious. He's a young adult, a drop dead gorgeous one for fuck's sake. He plays basketball and guitars, has got a whole studio of his own and must have plenty of girls over. You couldn't have been more nuts to ask him that? You mentally shrug and cuss at yourself. 

"What?" Chanyeol looked at you as if you were delirious. "Uhhh, no? I don't." He mumbled, a huge pout adorning his lips. "I'm not.. really.. in a good headspace for love." He crossed his arms and leaned against the door. "Also, love is fucking illusive, you know?" 

Illusive? Is that even a word? You both eyed each other intently and the more you looked at him the more you were mystified by his words. You bit your lip quietly and urged him to continue, "tell me more."

"How about you get out of those clothes first." Chanyeol's voice was barely a whisper. He then furrowed his brows but his expression quickly morphed into an awkward one like he was ready to pull his hair out. "I mean, you must be cold –not that– I– fuck–.." 

Another wave of awkward silence crept between you two and he began pulling at his hair frantically. "That sounded awful.." He stomped about cursing and letting a string of fucks slip out of his tongue again. He then collapsed to the floor and hid his face dramatically in his hands. You couldn't help but chuckle at his actions and wheezed loudly enough for him to peek from between his fingers to look back at you. He slowly loosened up and smiled quietly to himself. "I'm serious." He walked towards you and sat himself on the stool, "don't want you falling sick, babe." 

Chanyeol looked at you adoringly, the apples of his cheeks were glistening, still blushing pink. "You done with that?" he pointed at the mug. You took one last sip and nodded, never taking your eyes off him. "I am." You pushed the mug towards him and his fingers found their way around the porcelain again, brushing softly against yours like they did the first time. You mouthed a soft 'thank you'. He darted his tongue out to wet his lips while you continued gazing back at him, mesmerized by his pink fluffy ears. A hearty smile fluttered on his lips as well as yours. He wrapped his long fingers snugly around yours and whispered back to you, fondness gleaming in his eyes. 

"Don't worry about it, baby."

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The lump in your throat was gnawing its way slowly down to your chest as you helped yourself out of your damp clothes. Your head was starting to spin again when you finally caught a glimpse of your disheveled state in the mirror. You mocked yourself cynically and wondered why Chanyeol wasn't mortified, hadn't gasped and shut the door back in your face. You looked ghastly but he was being far too sweet with you. He was gentle as ever, taking your icy hands that had gone numb into his huge ones, rubbing them together to get them warm and whispering sweetly and huskily that it was alright, that you were safe in his hands now. 

The more you looked at yourself the more you felt exasperated like you were wallowing away in wades of self pity. Your eyeliner was smudged around your dreary eyes as though someone had beaten the living crap out of you. And, being alone by yourself again only allowed the bitterness to creep back into your heart.

'Love is illusive' Chanyeol had accented and you couldn't help but dwell on the thought as you ensconced yourself into the steaming tub, allowing the lush scent of lavender to cloud your senses. The water soaked and engulfed you in a lukewarm trance, washing away the remnants of the rainstorm that had pierced your fragile skin not merely an hour ago. 

"Love's like a game– a game you just can't win." 

Chanyeol's words echoed in the back of your mind. He kept citing whilst showing you the way to the bathroom. He can't just be saying that to make you feel better would he? He looked pretty suave and confident saying he didn't have time for romance but then again with a charming aura like that he could get any girl at any shack. It would be his call. You had no hint or clue about his past flings although he'd grown to be so close to you. However, somewhere deep in the pits of your broken heart, you felt like you've known him for years even though you'd only started talking to him merely months ago. 

As much as you wanted to drown your thoughts into the night in the tub, you couldn't keep him waiting. If it wasn't embarrassing enough he'd heard your stomach growl to which he had softly grazed your cheek with his thumb and asked you to hurry up, rasping away that he'd cook you something. You were in fact enthusiastic about wanting to give him credence for his witty nuances about love and join him back in the kitchen. If you were a damsel in distress– Chanyeol was your knight in shining armor. You chuckled at the thought and huffed away, blowing and lifting some of the delicate foamy bubbles that were settled on your knees. 

Perhaps, it really was time to turn the page to a new chapter in your life. "Fuck you, Tae." You spat bitterly, soapy suds slithering down your dewy, glistening body as you rose to your feet, planting them firmly on the ceramic underneath. "Fuck everything." You crouched again and pulled the stopper out, watching what was left of the effervescent mixture of lavender whirl about and get sucked into the drain, taking along with it parts of you that you no longer wished to carry the burden of. 

You felt like you deserve the chance to clear yourself of this mess and you were willing to explore what the universe had to offer you now. If it had so spurred you into risking hypothermia enough to end up at someone's door who could in fact be your saving grace. Someone who believes that love is all but a load of bullshit, then maybe Park Chanyeol might actually be the one for you. And, you could definitely rely on him to help you piece your broken heart together without having to worry about the perpetual matters of love. You wanted to step into the light, without having to look back again. 

And you were glad you could seek the light past love and its hazy horizon for once.

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A hoard of concerns were lurking before you. With all your clothes soaked and dirty now, including your garments, you stood in front of the dresser, scratching your head in confusion. 

Huffing away, you put Chanyeol's t-shirt on which had engulfed you completely, all the way down to your knees. The most frustrating part however, were the shorts he picked for you. They didn't sit at your hips at all and had drooped down your legs the minute you put them on, instantly piling at your feet. 'How the fuck am I supposed to secure this?' You fretted, shrugging as you picked them back up. 

You tried again but failed miserably. It would be fucking awkward walking back into the kitchen, dressed only in his shirt. You had absolutely nothing on underneath. Fuck. It's not like you were going to touch him or anything. You can manage this and maybe he won't notice, right? It was your last resort and you quickly had to make your mind up. Out of nowhere you heard your stomach growl again. It was either do or die now. You had to decide. 'I'll keep my distance from him and he won't bat an eye' were the words you chanted to yourself before leaving the bedroom. 

As you walked back into the living room, your ears were invited by the soft music playing from the record player, the one that was by the glass shelf. You stopped by the dining table facing Chanyeol's back who was busy in the kitchen. The aroma of pancakes whiffed through the air and the atmosphere was perfectly cozy. Although, you didn't dare move from the table and decided to keep yourself away and at a distance. Then Chanyeol turned around and his eyes flew wide open in surprise. 

"What the fu– ...you startled me." He yelped, placing the pan back on the stove and clutching at his heart. "I thought I already had you stricken with horror when you first opened the door," you snorted, "I looked horrendous, didn't I?" Chanyeol simply shook his head in denial and retorted with a playful smirk. "You looked quite hot. I'm not gonna lie."

"Shut up, Chanyeol." You felt your face flushing an awful shade of pink at his remarks. "It's the truth, babe." He quipped, whirling about and chuckling away as he returned his attention towards cooking the pancakes again. "Come here, you need to eat!" he called out and your limbs immediately went limp. 

"Um, can you place it on the counter for me?" you purred, requesting him in your humblest tone. "I'm..kinda.. in a fix here." Your voice wavered and when Chanyeol turned around to look at you again, he grinned sheepishly. "What's wrong?" he asked you as if he had no clue what you were going on about.

"It's an embarrassing...outfit situation." You cleared your throat and Chanyeol quickly mouthed an 'oh'. "It doesn't sound like much of a problem to me." He rasped, dripping maple syrup on pancakes. "Your belly needs some food and that's more important." He then brought the plate with the freshly made pancakes and placed it on the counter and ushered you warmly to join him at the island. His voice suddenly grew a little stern. "Come on now before it gets cold." His sudden strictness made you chuckle. He possibly can't get more adorable than this, can he?

"Fine." You faltered in your steps and met him at the island. Thankfully, the structure blocked a good amount of distance between you two. When you settled down on the stool, he handed you the fork and you started taking measly bites out of the plate. Chanyeol watched you intently, his arms were propped up against the counter, hands cupped around his face as he gaped at you in awe. "Stop looking at me like that. You're making me nervous." You mumbled in between bites. He gave you a squinty eyed grin before snatching the fork away from your hands and making you gasp. 

"Geez baby, you're supposed to wolf it down." He cut through the pancake haphazardly and jabbed at a huge chunk, "like this." He then shoved the massive bite into your mouth and a muffled moan left your lips as you swallowed it down. "This will fill you up." He then glanced  at your lips coated with the sweet syrup hazily and mumbled huskily in his deep voice. "God, I could fill you up."

Of course you were going to choke upon hearing what he had just said. You wheezed frantically and couldn't pluck enough courage to look him in the eye anymore. Your heart thundered in your chest as you squirmed and scooted anxiously away from him, a faint blush spreading over your cheeks. You could tell he was violently biting down on his bottom lip, shutting his own eyes close, as tightly as he could. 

You both were awfully quiet again. Too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. But then Chanyeol interjects, breaking the awkwardness, "I didn't mean to…" 

 "D-don't.. worry about it," you bite on your own lip and jab at your pancake with your fork. He looks at you cryptically, "are you sure?" 

You nod your head and lick your lips and when you do, something triggers Chanyeol and he quickly gets off his stool and much to your relief walks back to the stove with an excuse to make you more pancakes. You try to gobble the rest of the pancake as quickly as you can while trying your best not to dither about what had just happened. As soon as you're done, you pick your plate up and scamper towards the sink but Chanyeol blocks you. "Woah, hold up. You're not done eating until I say so." He looms over you and his voice is yet again, stern and you push him away and boy you wish you didn't. 

The second your palm came in contact with his abs  through the fabric you knew you fucked up. You could feel the ridges and he was so perfectly packed and built. The girls at uni, they were right. Park Chanyeol was irresistible and you were only inches away from him.

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A/N ~ 

this is it guys. it’s broken and full of errors lol. i lost the doc that had everything written beyond this.  i had wiped my drive for work last year and other reasons. anyway,  i’m happy you made it this far with me in this clouded journey. if you wish to find out what happens after, feel free to ping me i’ll sum it up for you, sweet & short, only if you really wish to find out how these two end up haha. but yeah. this is it. i haven’t got anything else to say. so yeah, stay safe and most importantly, be happy. love y’all. <3

Taglist ♡  @loeyprivvv @littleflowercrown13 @wifechungha  @rashidamesrur  @mindofthescattered @zessafg @always-wishing-for-rain  @brazilianbasicbitch @kpopfessions-blog @baek-byunies @j-pping @godexosblog @hansolturnt @anyh0w @fire-poppyqueen @smolmel @nanasupremacy​ @chanyeolparkriswu✧  Note - If I have forgotten to tag anyone! I’m sorry, I lost the doc where I kept track of you guys so, this is all I got. 

[meteorstricken]

Sephiroth Week Day 7 Prompt: Redemption

Apotheosis Ch. 7: On Salvation

Sephiroth descended, returning to the plane of the Lifestream that reconnected him with the realm of time. He was in it, but not subject to it. No timeline took possession of him; no path could force him to travel it. The first thing he'd bind up were their crossroads and turnabouts. They flocked and swirled around him--echoes of outcomes competing for the one that he'd choose to reign supreme and true in the final turn of events. There was, of course, but one finale that he'd accept--the one where he completed his original mission to merge with the planet.

In that last battle, with only one timeline left and full of the knowledge he'd acquired by transcending it, he'd divide his consciousness and place himself in the orbit of every sun throughout the Cosmos. At his command, all at once, the explosion of billions would grant him the spirit energy of every living thing.

But he was not content with victory alone.

First, in retribution, he would guide Cloud and his companions down a path that allowed them to catch glimpses of the power he exerted over the fabric of existence. He would deceive and tempt yet teach them, so that when they faced their end, they'd know that saving their own lives and planet as they knew it could only come at the much greater cost of allowing the Cosmos to tear itself asunder. He knew they'd still resist him, but he'd offer alternatives they'd never accept, and when they clawed their way, panting, to that last fight, they'd lack the morale to struggle at full strength.

Twisted in confusion, no longer able to discern between the planet's will and his, or if the planet was truly acting in its own best interest, it was possible they'd turn on one another.

As a phantom, he walked the path, manifesting at opportune moments to remind Cloud of where he'd failed along this trek in another timeline. He led them on until they collapsed that old one--the one the planet had designated--themselves.

Fate was no more monstrous and empty; it was he.

"Seven seconds 'til the end. Time enough for you...perhaps. Let's see what you do with it."

~FIN~

[tarithenurse]

Nightingale - 47

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: One big mix of smut, fluff, angst, unrealistic handling of PTSD, past trauma, feels, and much more...like lack of proofing, probably. Can’t remember. A/N: Blame @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ for any pain and frustration (of any kind) this chapter might cause. ASK or REBLOG for tag! HUUUGE thanks to all who are reblogging already <3

Ch. 47

“Are you sure, you want to do this?”

“…yes.”

“That didn’t sound convincing.”

“Would you just shut up and let me go?”

“...now that’s more like it.”

Kakashi can barely see the eye roll under the shaggy hair and wide-rimmed hat, but he knows it’s there. He knows all of her is under there. Somewhere. There’s a beard in the way too, and a several worn layers of baggy clothes in neutral colours that do absolutely nothing to call for attention.

The thing about disguises worn in public is not as much to look different as it is to not be worth looking at – plain and boring without any details that can be remembered later so that if any civilian does try to describe what they saw, it’ll be too generic to be useful.

“Asuma keeps saying this kid is good,” Uguïsu straightens her back for one last time before stepping out of the borrowed office, “let’s see how good,” as she speaks the last bit, her voice warps into that of an old man reminiscent of the Hokage though without being a perfect echo, “now lead the way, boy.”

Hrm…maybe she’s enjoying this too much. Still, Kakashi obliges and leads what appears to be an old man out of the front door of their home and towards downtown Konoha.

It’s busier than usual. Although summer always brings a plethora of travellers and farmers to town (which in turn attracts merchants busy to strike a deal or in search of added muscle for the trip back), the upcoming events seem to have contributed the most to the swarming people. Knowing of his girlfriend’s predicament, the jōnin finds it hard to part ways with her and carry on alone. She’s resourceful and talented, he admonishes himself, but still worries if perhaps it was a mistake to have let Asuma ask her for help. Either way, it’s too late to go back now and he must attend to his own tasks if Team 7 is going to take the exams.

…

The fish sizzles decadently on the pan, yellow butter popping as herbs and spring onions change colour from the mat tones to more vibrant and inviting. The rice is already done and shaped (holding the heat under overturned bowls), and the soup is only waiting to be served.

Come on.

As if on cue, the door slides open and a figure steps in mid-metamorphosis: a short, scruffy beard is clutched together with thin gloves; blue strand spill out from under the hat and wig that are slipping askew.

“That was fun,” Uguïsu beams and shuts the door, “and it smells delicious here!”

Headbutting the hat further towards her back, Kakashi kisses her with a smile. “Good to hear. I’m told it went well?”

There’s a sigh from within the layers of clothes that the woman is discarding, “why do you make it sound like a question when you probably already know all the details?”

“Because I’d much rather hear you talk about it, sweetie.”

“Hrm.” Despite the distrustful grunt, it’s a happy face that greet him once she’s back to her normal appearance. “Not before I get something of whatever smells so delicious.”

Kakashi had fairly quickly figured out that his blue nightingale wasn’t a cook – not that she’s bad, but she simply doesn’t have a great interest in it – and had grasped the opportunity to take the so-called task upon himself in exchange for her delightful praises. He liked cooking for some one other than himself; enjoyed knowing that in this way, at least, he could take care of her.

…

“I’m glad they did well,” Uguïsu sighs as she adjust her pillow.

Together, the couple had cleaned after dinner, exchanging stories and gossip from the day interspersed with comfortable silences, and they are now getting ready to get a night’s good rest.

First in bed, the woman waits (im)patiently for the white-haired man and even goes as far as to make grabby hands the moment he returns from brushing his teeth.

“Silly-head,” he whispers through the kisses against her cheek before pulling the mask back in place.

“Says you.”

And he does indeed feel silly when scooting closer. Taking up the usual place by his left side, Uguïsu’s head comes to rest above his heart, her leg casually draped over his, and the left hand idly toying with the string of his pyjama pants. Wrapping his own arm around her, Kakashi feels bare skin wherever his fingertips wander.

Time has passed since the night in the cave, time where Uguïsu timidly has begun to explore each of their bodies out of her own free will. Sometimes, she has let Kakashi’s hands or tongue bring her to the peak of delight and each time, he has marvelled at her as she writhed in silent ecstasy. Those occasions have been far in between.

“Sweetheart…” his voice is weak at the revelation, “are you...do you want me to…?”

The big eyes almost look innocent. “Don’t you think it would be nice to be able to feel each other?”

Yes, I do! With the voice now completely gone, all he can do is nod which his girlfriend takes as a sign that she may begin working the clothes off him although the process is hampered by increasingly needy kisses.

Skin to skin, Kakashi revels in the intimacy his blue nightingale grants him and he can feel the smile that grants his tongue further access; can sense how their bodies shift as if they could melt together. All of his senses are taken over by cotton and sweet, sweet hunger for more as their hands roam in search of purchase.

“Considering how great a day you’ve had,” he hums against the woman’s neck, “a reward could be appropriate?”

Hearing no coherent words, he takes the tug of his hair and the happy mewl as a sign of agreement and follows between her legs as Uguïsu rolls onto her back.

Only a single lamp next to the bed illuminates the room, but for Kakashi's keen eyes, he can easily see the anticipation glistening between the folds, making his mouth water and cock throb...but he takes his time highlighting his favourite paths along her body and limbs with goosebumps before finally and ever so lightly flicking the clit with the tip of his tongue before committing fully to the goal.

He loves this part. What originally had been hesitation for the sake of helping Uguïsu feel safe in spite of her trauma has evolved into a gleeful delight in slowly teasing the woman by winding her up, balancing her on the edge of an orgasm again and again until she’s writhing and begging him.

Hushed moans and whimpers fill the room in waves in accordance to the jōnin's ministrations, and he is considering letting her reach the goal this time (the fourth) when Uguïsu’s fingers tug at his hair insistently until he has crawled close enough to find her mouth.

“Please...’Kashi...” she gasps, “m-more.”

She’s pulling him by the shoulders now and has wrapped her legs around his hips, nudging him gently with the heels until his cock head brushes against the slobbering mess of her pussy.

It would be a lie to claim that the baser instinct aren’t urging him to slide in without a question asked. But he can’t. Apprehension and concern keep him frozen as he scrutinizes the face beneath him for any sign of insecurity.

“Sweetheart...” he swallows hard, steeling himself against his girlfriends attempts to move his body, “please look at me.” Lashes flutter. Her nose wriggles adorably in an attempt, maybe, to help her focus. “I do not want to push you,” Kakashi intonates carefully.

Uguïsu is still out of breath and her chest is heaving, brushing her breasts again him. “You’re not.”

He gives in to the kiss, allowing her to relieve some of the tension of the moment and almost getting lost in the languid desperation before pulling back again. “I love you.” Another deep, but gentler kiss. “I’ll do anything you want.” This time he pulls away from her lips to catch her gaze. “But I need to know you’re sure.”

And there it is: the evasive eyes as she bites into her bottom lip and almost almost distracts him. However, next second Uguïsu fixes her full attention on him again. Then she twists, reaching under the matres to retrieve something in a flat foil-wrapper. She’s prepared for this step.

“I’m sure, ‘Kashi.” Her voice is strong even if it’s still a bit frazzled from the sounds of pleasure he had been drawing from her moments ago. “I want...it. Please, help me know that...that it can feel as good as my body is telling me when I’m with you...and d-don’t let...don’t let him keep that part...”

Going against every single law of nature, Kakashi's heart both breaks and swells, leaving a throbbing crater behind in his chest that overflows with admiration and fear.

Fear. Until this woman appeared from the shadows, fear had only existed in his life in the memories of his childhood – distant and unchangeable, and safe due to its static nature. But in less than a year, Uguïsu has managed to shake his understanding of...well, of everything. She has made him irrationally afraid; brought him a love so tender, he feels like drowning (without wanting to fight it); and has helped him come to an understanding he didn’t know he was lacking.

His hands tremble as he rolls on the condom before wrapping his arms around her. “If you change your mind”, his words are swallowed in the kiss, “you just stop, ‘kay?”

Already, Uguïsu is nudging for his hips to move but halts long enough to cup his face and promise him.

Her last word transcends into a squeak as Kakashi rolls them over, planting the woman he adores on top to ensure that she is the one to control the pace...and guarantee that she can retreat without hesitation if needed. A flash memory from a cave shielding them from a thunderstorm rears in the back of his mind but is immediately banish as she rolls her hips, dragging heat along the underside of his cock and making his eyes roll back.

“Oh?” He can hear her smile and fights to bring her face into focus.

Strong fingers are wringing the sheets beneath him in an attempt to prevent them from thrusting up. It’s a good thing too: extending the motion, her clit rubs the crown of his cock again, sending a new wave of fire through every muscle of him only to be countered by a weightless anticipation when Uguïsu lingers with the cock head by the entrance to her core.

And now she’s the one to tease him until he can’t hold back the stuttering of his hips and she lifts just a bit to position herself better above him and...

...and...? Kakashi looks up to see furrowed brows. “If you don’t -”

“I do,” she interrupts decisively before relapsing to worrying on the lip for a second. “It’s just...how...? I mean...it’s big a-and...I don’t know...if...” she trails off.

Reaching up to kiss her, the white-haired man can’t help but smile. “Take it slow. A bit at a time before pulling back a bit.” A last kiss before he lies down. “Do what feels right to you.”

Oh holy fucking shit! He manages to strangle the words with a groan as Uguïsu sinks down, enveloping the head before stopping with a gasp.

She looks so beautiful. He could compliment her in a million other ways but it’s carnal thoughts that win as Kakashi sees her back arch and breasts heave from the quivering moan that escapes. Her hair is spilling around the shoulders (well, entire upper body) as a silken veil, granting her an ethereal quality together with the sheen of sweat that shines golden in the lamp light.

For a moment she smiles down at him, hands reach for his, and only when their fingers are intertwined does she move again. Slowly up. Just as slowly down. Her mouth hangs open to allow small whimpers escape – sounds that grow when she reaches a certain spot that Kakashi has acquainted his fingers with before and never fails to have her eyes rolling. This time he can’t see that, as he face is scrunching up with concentration and the overwhelming sensation. And emotions. With a final sigh, she sinks down fully on his cock.

That’s when he sees it. The realization crashes like an ice-cold boulder into his guts and he doesn’t stop himself from sitting up to wrap her in his arms.

Tears are streaking Uguïsu’s face, adding salty water to the kisses he peppers her with while he frantically promises her they can stop, that she’s okay, that he never should have said yes, and much more...or he would have if she hadn’t stopped him.

“Happy tears, ‘Kashi, happy tears.” And she is indeed smiling so bright that her eyes almost disappear.

In awe, the more-than-confused man allows her to push him back, place his hands on her thighs, and guide her slow, bouncing motion into a rhythm that chases worries away.

Not yet not yet notyetnotyetnotohfuckinghellnotyet!

It becomes a mantra, played on loop in his brain as his body screams to chase release. His hips are nearly vibrating, lighting fizzling at the edge of his vision while he tries to contain the flood. And when the scalding heat tightens in rapid spasms, the gorgeous woman spilling a broken moan in spite of the rigid body? Let Orochimaru be gone forever, Kakashi manages to think and it grounds him enough to avoid toppling over the edge with his love.

Uguïsu is gasping for breath on her way back to the present, slumping onto the jōnin and enveloping him in her scent of cotton and fresh sweat. “I...had no...no idea...wow!” A moment passes where he strokes her back and kisses the top of her head, then she looks at him, “wait...did you...?”

“This is about you, love,” he smiles, but give me a few bounces and I could.

“And I thank you for that.” He knows she does. “And I want to feel that I can give myself over and that it’ll be good. Together with you,” Uguïsu concludes.

The meaning is clear: being in control is fine and safe but she wants to defeat the lingering fears in the ultimate trust exercise.

He should argue – Kakashi is already mentally preparing every argument – but is prevented from it when the woman rolls them 180 degrees and the movement makes her core squeeze him deliciously. The tightness. The motion. It diverts all of his blood to his groin and makes the hips roll so he’s pushing deeper than ever before and his mind blanks out for a split second until a whimper brings the horrible realization crashing down.

“Fuck!” His eyes snap open and the word slips out again, although with a different intonation, at the sight of Uguïsu’s blissed out facial expression.

Blinking, she looks up at him and he can see the exact instant she hatches a plan because a smirk blooms, twisting those pretty lips. “Please show me...teach me how delicious it is,” she purrs before short-circuiting his brain once more with “sensei.”

Slow drags through Uguïsu's heat fills the room with subtle squelching from where his cock is swallowed, their gasping breaths and moans (sometimes a hiss from Kakashi when nails dig into his back and drag red lines). He really does try to restrain himself...but it’s lost the moment the woman begins to chase a new high, meeting each thrust of her own volition and punctuating them with whimpers pulled from her chest.

Her chest...her breasts. Catching a nipple in the mouth, he barely registers the dark pattern right above it – and if he had, the only thought right night would be along the lines of: you’ve lost, snake – because the effect is astonishing. Arching, undulating, the wetness sucking his cock as deep as it can, Uguïsu cums beneath him and the white-haired man can’t hold back his own orgasm any longer but snaps his hips one last time as their lips meet.

It takes time before either of them can talk (let alone move) again, but that’s alright because words aren’t necessary any longer.

[rebbestorah]

“Heels Over Head”

The Torah portion Eikev begins with the verse, “Because (eikev) you listen to these laws and safeguard and keep them, G-d your L-rd will keep His covenant and kindness that He swore to your fathers.”1

The Hebrew word eikev not only means “because,” but also “heel.” Thus Midrash Tanchuma2 explains that “these laws” refers to mitzvos that seemingly lack significance, so that people tend to “ignore them and cast them under their heels.”

Superficially, it would seem that the Midrash is inferring that these seemingly unimportant commandments are treated so lightly by some individuals that they do not observe them at all.

However, if this were indeed so, what is the connection between their non-performance and their being “cast under the heel” — if they are not performed at all then they are “cast out entirely,” not merely “cast under the heel”?

Truly, the Midrash is not referring to people who maintain that these “insignificant” mitzvos need not be performed, and surely it does not allude to those individuals who defile them by casting them under their heels.

Rather, the Midrash is making reference to those persons who recognize that all mitzvos are to be performed, no matter how inconsequential they may seem, only that these individuals prioritize the order of their performance, delaying the performance of mitzvos that they treat lightly — they cast their performance “under their heels.”

These persons maintain that they will first see to it that the “head,” i.e., the most important and stringent matters, will be performed properly. Afterward they will see to those mitzvos that are in close proximity to the head — mitzvos that are slightly less major. Only at the very last will they think about observing “heel mitzvos ,” and surely going above and beyond the letter of the law through the beautification and enhancement of these mitzvos will be put off to the very end.

Such individuals contend that one cannot possibly begin with the “heel”; order dictates that one must first do those things that are of greatest import and only then can one begin to think about deeper piety, enhanced performance, beautification of mitzvos , etc.

Although such thinking has a certain validity,3 it is absolutely vital that divine service begin with faith and acceptance of G-d’s yoke, not with the dictates of logic. And the Jewish faith exhorts the individual to be as scrupulously observant of the seemingly minor mitzvos as the major ones.

For the quintessential aspect of all mitzvos is that they unite the individual with G-d.4This applies to all the mitzvos , without the slightest difference between “major” and “minor” mitzvos , “head mitzvos ” or “heel mitzvos.” It is therefore out of place to think about a sequential order to the performance of mitzvos.5

Thus we also observe that the condition which enabled the Jewish people to receive the Torah and become a nation was their prefacing “We shall do” to “We shall hear” — a totally illogical sequence.6

For a Jew’s spiritual beginning, similar to the beginning of the Jewish nation as a whole, must be with faith and acceptance of the divine yoke and not with intellect; even those matters that are readily understandable must be performed out of a sense of faith and G-dly submission.

So too, children — people at the beginning of their lives — should know not only about the natural, i.e., logical, events that transpired with the Jewish people, but the miraculous, i.e., faith and belief, as well. This instills a firm foundation of faith in G-d.

This manner of conduct is especially important in times of exile, when the Jewish people are “like a sheep surrounded by 70 wolves”7 : When we transcend our self-imposed order and are equally fervent in our performance of all commandments, then G-d too foregoes the “order” of natural events, and the “Great Shepherd protects His sheep,”8 and abundantly provides them with children, health and sustenance.

Based on Likkutei Sichos Vol. XIX, pp. 89-93.

FOOTNOTES

1. Devarim 7:12.

2. Ibid.

3. See Mo’ed Kattan 9a.

4. Likkutei Torah , Bechukosai 45c; Rebbe Omer 5700 , conclusion of ch. 1 and onward.

5. See Kuntres U’Mayon p. 22.

6. See Shabbos 88a.

7. Tanchuma, Toldos; Esther Rabbah 10:11; Pesikta Rabosi ch. 9.

8. Tanchuma, Toldos; Esther Rabbah , ibid.

[stealing-jasons-job]

Fic updates & timeline 🥰

Here is my current prompt list and potential timeline. 

I’m currently participating in the @t100fic-for-blm initiative, and I am working through those prompts in the order I’ve received them. I appreciate all of you guys being patient (especially with my WIPs that have taken a backseat for the initiative), and I’m excited for what’s coming down the pipeline! At the moment, I am not accepting new prompts until I can work through this list. <3 

The rest is under the cut, but here is an up-to-date look at my fic list: 

Current ongoing projects

Upcoming fics 

WIPS I swear I haven’t abandoned 

Current ongoing projects

Wreck Jroth Club Fic Collab 

Would you choose the end of war and suffering in your own lifetime if it meant the end of every other universe, too—including ones where you, your friends, and your family are happy and at peace?

Or, the S7 finale rewrite where Clarke experiences some of these other lifetimes and makes the ultimate choice of whether or not the end of suffering in her own reality is worth sacrificing infinite others where things might have gone differently.

An angsty fic collab where different writers from the Bellarke fandom write different chapters as part of an overarching story. Each intro is written by me, as well as the first chapter, last chapter, and a few sprinkled in the middle. Follow @wreck-jroth-club for updates! 

Bellarke Big Bang - Find me in the light 

While I can’t unveil the premise just yet, I am a writer, creator, and mod alongside @animmortalist for Bellarke Big Bang 2021! First chapter will publish in June, but I’ll be working on this fic in my spare time between now and then.  Y’all, get ready for some ANGST. I haven’t been this excited about a fic in a long time. 

_______________________________

Upcoming fics 

Linctavia prompt — official title TBD

Prompted by @1munequita

Linctavia as sexually frustrated parents whose daughter continually interrupts them. 

Cross my heart - official title TBD 

Prompted by @thecspenciskillingme

Gallagher Girls AU! 

Normal 18-year-old girls graduate high school and then go off to college with their friends. Maybe they join a sorority. Hell, maybe they get a boyfriend or girlfriend and fall in love. They sleep in and skip class and stay up late with their equally normal friends.

But Clarke Griffin has never been normal.

It comes with the territory of being the daughter of two renowned spies for the CIA. Clarke had been raised to speak seven languages and be able to change her entire appearance with nothing but a pair of nail clippers and some shoe polish. She wasn't built for normal.

Angsty. Spy shit. Multi-chapter. 

I see a monster’s eyes in the mirror - official title TBD 

Prompted by @constellationbellamy 

S6/7 AU — Bellamy got nightblood in S6 when Josie took him prisoner, and Bellamy is who Slim Sheidy "takes over" in S7. Fulfilling all of our void!Bellamy dreams without the religious indoctrination ala Steve and Etherea. Also, there will finally be a reason why no one killed Slim Sheidy as soon as they realized he was back. 

Is this potentially the angstiest idea I’ve ever had? 120% But don’t worry, it’ll have a happy ending. My name is not Jason. 

Criminal Minds AU - official title TBD

Prompted by @constellationbellamy​ 

A Bellarke Criminal Minds AU. 

Song prompt: Let You Down by NF

Prompted by @edgelessness

Everyone thinks Clarke has the perfect life, including her best friend's older brother Bellamy. But that's far from the truth.

Angsty AF.

Bear Grylls AU - official title TBD 

Prompted by @slyth-princess 

A collab between myself and @writetheniteaway for Beardcave. 

Don’t expect me to fall in love with her, too - official title TBD

Prompted by @writetheniteaway

Against all odds, Steve Doucette fell in love with Bellamy Blake. And Bellamy fell for him, too. But once they start rebuilding back on Earth after the "the last war” and transcendence turns out to be a myth, Steve starts to realize exactly what Bellamy meant in the cave when he said Octavia and Clarke were the most important people in his life.

As he gets to know the blonde, he can see the deep connection that exists between her and Bellamy. They are part of each other’s souls, and Steve can’t help but admire the way they are together. He’s not going to stand in the way of their relationship, whatever it is — after all, he was raised believing you could love more than one person equally. He knows Bell loves him, and he’s okay with the knowledge that Bellamy loves Clarke, too. But just because he understands why his boyfriend loves her doesn’t mean he has plans to fall in love with her himself.

Then again, you know what they say about well-laid plans.

Angsty. Sappy. <3 The OT3 we deserve. Multi-chapter.

Two sides of a coin — official title TBD

Prompted by @sparklyfairymira

Bellarke/Jeresa crossfic for all you QotS fans! Teresa and James are trying to establish themselves in the Dallas market, but DEA agents Clarke and Bellamy are determined to not make it easy. Throughout the fic, both sides will start to understand the other a little more and learn how to coexist without sacrificing their livelihoods or their integrity.

Angsty AF. Multi-chapter.

WIPs I swear I haven’t abandoned 

Since joining the BLM initiative, my focus has shifted away from WIP updates and toward completing prompts as they come in. To be honest, I was not expecting to receive as many prompts as I have (which is amazing on so many levels), so I apologize for how long it’s been since some of my fics have been updated. 

I appreciate you all being patient, but here are the WIPs I swear I haven’t abandoned! If anyone wants to prompt chapter updates for the BLM initiative, that will help get these on the prios list sooner. But otherwise, these bad boys will still get done. Albeit more slowly.  

I'm gonna get myself back home to you 

S4/5 AU where Bellarke gets together before he goes to the Ring, and he never believes she’s really dead. Told from multiple POVs before, during, and after the Ring. 

Next update: Ch. 6 — March 2021 

Intertwining Your Soul 

Arranged marriage grounder fic. 

Next update: Ch. 12 - March 2021

Amor vincit onmia 

S7 rewrite to spite Jason. 

Next update: Ch. 2 — March 2021 

There are some things written in the stars

Timeless AU

Next update: Ch. 4 - April 2021

Choices We Make 

Greys Anatomy AU. 

Next update: Ch. 9 - April 2021 

___________________________________________________________

If you’ve made it to the end of this long-ass update post, I commend you. lol But hopefully for those of you wondering when certain things will be published or what upcoming fics you can expect from me, this provides some clarity! 

You may have noticed I took off the expected publish dates. I’m trying like hell to stick to a schedule, but I can’t make any promises and I hated letting anyone down if something didn’t get published on the expected date. 

Shoutout to my BAHSA babes for keeping me sane, thebellarkes Discord for enabling my angsty-ass fic ideas (and for prompting me for BLM to write a ton of said ideas). Forever grateful for a community of people who support my writing! 

Come hang out with me on AO3 @stealing-jasons-job or Twitter @stealjasonsjob! 

[chuuyasporkie]

WHAT THE FUCK WAS CHAPTER 7. WH- I- ?????? YOU HAD NO RIGHT. WHY WOULD YOU. CHUUYA- no, D A Z A I-?????? AND- arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I cannot go on (I have school tomorrow why would you do this to me. why. also, I fucking love transcendence sm ahhhhhhh seeing chuuya get humbled was amazing, and dazai and verlaine absolutely losing it ~together~ was actually healing. and also tHANK YOU FOR LETTING THE KIDS LIVE OML YOU GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK WITH THE OPENING TO MIMIC ADVANCES ON THE SAFEHOUSE- but chuuya getting slapped??? I- w h y. just w h y. the soukoku content was *chefs kiss* though lmao. thank you <3)

IM ACTUALLY DYING AT THESE 😭😭 IM ABOUT TO COME OUT WITH A YOUTUBE APOLOGY AT THIS POINT BUT WILL IT MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER IF I SAY THAT THINGS WILL BE JUST FINE?? well.... eventually 🥰 hehehe

EXCEL IN SCHOOL, MY LOVE!!! THESE GAY DEAD AUTHORS AND THEIR SILLY SHENANIGANS WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU BACK HERE!!! also thank you so much 🥹 i was actually so dubious while writing the end few scenes because i was like. is this really the direction i want to be taking. but then i was like. what are two things i absolutely love? (1) chuuya whump and (2) people caring about chuuya so. from there it was a done thing 😭 i promise to redeem myself!!! NOT WITH THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS THO. THE DARK ERA IS GOING TO BE ANGSTY THROUGHOUT. IVE WARNED YOU ALL. DON'T HUNT ME DOWN PLS I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH THAT'S NOT A NICE THING TO DO!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE, MY LOVE!!! ASKS AND COMMENTS LIKE THESE ARE MY MOTIVATION TO KEEP WRITING!! 🥰🥰