#well. i could probably go buy a new commission w them for one

[shuckstruck]

nothing is worse than when u pay somebody for art and you realize that you picked the wrong kind of artist. like maybe their art style just doesn’t jive w the character u for art of. or they’re misunderstanding a key element

[rainbowpixiecat]

Getting back into Tumblr

Been meaning to for a long time now. I've been away for several years. Probably a lot, actually. I lost track of time. But yeah, I'm making an effort to get back into this site and all the things I love on here. Once I get new fanart of characters, I'll share it! I'm kinda broke cause I'm unemployed rn but I know some artists who'll let ya do payment plans, so that's my backup plan for now. And I plan to cut back on the rps and spend time focusing on finishing all those ABDL/emeto WIPs I have saved on my computer and Google docs. Right now, I'm really obsessed about Nightwing/Dick Grayson and the Batfam. I am watching a dub on YouTube of the Wayne Family Adventures comics and I wanna buy them, they're so good. The VAs for that are brill btw. ^w^ I'm still obsessed with Fresh from Worldview and Homestuck and Undertale as well. I seem to be finding new things to add to my list of things/characters to obsess over and be inspired by and love. Umm, oh, I found some amazingly well written fanfictions on AO3 by user alchemistsarego. My absolute favourites so far are Shaking in Your Arms Tonight and Connected. So FUCKING GOOOOD! Ha ha, definitely go give them a read if you love cute sick boys and the Batfam. <3 I sent their writer a couple messages asking if they do commissions (God, I so hope they do...) Cause I am thirsty for more of their writing and I already read all the Dick Grayson emeto fics I could find. XD Umm, what else...well, my emeto server is a thing! I've been trying to be more active on there lately too. And it's slowly growing. ^_^ I'm so happy. It's a safe place for anyone who loves emeto to come enjoy it. I came up with 2 new Mushi inspired sicknesses based on Mushi-Shi (I love that series). Of course they involve vomit. It's me. X3 Oh and I'm trying to limit the amount of rps I'm in. I visit Gaia Online and Neopets daily, as well as Discord. I'm also on Diapered Anime and Daily Diapers. I email Ah Bagels every now and then. Just sent one the other day, actually n' waiting to hear back, ahehe! Oh and I'm totally into Momma CQ and Worldview by Alaina Prana. They are awesome comics. Go check 'em out and give her all the love. <33

[gaysimpsstuff]

Accidental Turn-Ons; Hawks x Dom! Reader

Genre: angst to fluff to smut

Type: Oneshot

Summary: Hawks returns home from a mission, clearly exhausted, and you take the time to give him a little massage! However, it doesn’t quite have the effects you expected.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: minor dub-con (Y/n doesn't know that what they're doing is sexual for Hawks), stress, minor injuries, Keigo's adorable bird tendencies, sexual innuendo, dom y/n, wing play, feather play, nicknames, edging, dacryphilia, handjobs, aftercare

Other: Yo this might actually be my best smut yet

Inspiration: This was actually inspired by my own piece of work, MHA Characters + Their Biggest Kinks where I spoke about Hawks’ wing and back kink and how it relates to his avian traits.

Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy @catcherisvibin @thesubtlewhore @popcatx0

You paced the living room, glancing between the TV and the door. The news station had cut away from the fight five minutes ago, which meant your boyfriend was either in the hospital getting treated for any injuries he might have sustained, dealing with fans, dealing with paperwork, or on his way home.

Your phone buzzed and you raced to grab it off the couch, fearing an incoming call from the hospital, or a news alert about the well-being of the man you loved.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you realized it was just an email from work, not even marked important. You tossed your phone back onto the couch with a groan.

Wasted build-up. Your mind grumbled

Your eyes flicked back to the TV, watching as the reporter rambled on about yet another stupid thing America had going on as you waited for something, anything to happen. Right when you were getting ready to pick your phone back up from the couch cushions when you heard a light tap tap tappity tap against the thick glass of the sliding glass door that led to your balcony.

You dashed across the living room, accidentally knocking a chair over as you raced to reach the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. You'd recognize his special knock any day, even if he changed it all the time whenever he forgot it. You always had patience with him, you knew he had too many things on his mind with Hero Work to always remember a random knock.

You grabbed the handle, yanking the door open with a wide grin, finally laying eyes on your bird boy. He had a hand stuffed in his pocket, the other rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Hey, Y/n. So sorry I'm late, been flying all day so naturally I'm a little sore. No excuse for missing movie night but-"

"I'm just so glad you're here!" You exclaimed, taking his cheeks in your hands and rubbing at his cheekbones. "I'm so sorry you're hurting, come inside I'll get a heating pack, or a cooling pack, maybe some lotion and I could give you a massage." You babbled, tugging him inside.

"A massage and some cuddles sound great," he sighed, eyes tired. You never liked the fact that Keigo was a hero. He worked too hard, too much, and for so long. He was still young, he should be appreciating life and spending time on himself and with his lover and not with the commission. "Oh I uh, I found this for you."

He took one of your hands off his face, taking his other hand out of his pocket and pressing something cold and smooth into your palm. You opened your fingers, a soft smile growing on your face at the sight of a smooth pretty white rock with grey and black speckles.

"Oh, Kei, this is beautiful. I love it~" you pressed a kiss to Keigo's cheek, loving the way he trilled. He was always so excited to pick up random items he found pretty or interesting, and he'd always give them right to you. It was truly adorable, you loved his gifts. His wings fluttered in happiness for a moment before he winced slightly in pain, happiness vanished in a reminder of his stress from the day.

"Ouch, okay, sitting down time," he muttered, stumbling past you to flop down on the couch. You grabbed the lotion from the kitchen counter (you kept it there for whenever he came home with sore muscles). You set the stone down on the coffee table, tapping it twice in a small show of affection before sitting next to Keigo.

"Shirt off Birdie," you said, squirting some lotion into your palm before rubbing them together.

"Hey, at least buy me a drink first," he chuckled, tugging his jacket off and peeling off his tight hero shirt. You sighed, deciding not to comment on his tacky flirting, knowing you'd been dating for almost a year now.

He turned his back to you, crossing his legs. He folded his wings, lowering them to give you access to his shoulders and shoulder blades. You pressed your fingers against one of his shoulders, finding a large knot almost immediately. You heard him hiss, and your frown increased.

"I know it hurts but it will hurt a lot less when I'm finished," you told him, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck. The hair there rose against your skin, a shiver shooting down his spine. You blinked, confused at his reaction. Maybe it was uncomfortable for him. You resolved not to kiss there again.

You continued to rub against his tightened muscles, listening to his soft hisses and groans. You pulled away after about six minutes, picking up the lotion bottle and squirted some more into your palms.

"Hey, when you finish with mm~ when you finish with that shoulder could you do around my wing joints? Down my spine, y'know?"

"Are there muscles there?" you asked, most people didn't have muscles down their spines, usually it was just the ridges of said bones.

"Yeah, I do," he explained quickly. You nodded pressing into his knot, slowly working down when it eased up. You moved your fingers downwards, feeling his shoulder blades and spine before reaching his wings joints. He shuddered, similar to when you kissed his neck, but a little larger. You hummed, pressing your fingers down and finding another knot, right where his skin turned to bright red feathers.

"Oh, yeah, yeah right there that's perfect." You glanced back up at him, confused, he didn't usually speak when you massaged him, he'd also never asked for a massage so close to his wings, he was usually very cautious about having his wings touched. Maybe he'd just gotten tired of dealing with wing pains by himself, it was probably a lot different from other knots.

"I'm so sorry you have to deal with this," you cooed. "You really deserve a break, it's not healthy to work this hard all the time."

"I know, Little Feather, but it's nng- n-not my fault. The citizens need me." he panted. You sighed, moving your other hand to work out both wings' knots at the same time.

Keigo's head flopped forward, and his hand flew up to slap over his mouth, holding back a soft whine. You lifted an eyebrow in suspicion, there were only a few times when you heard him make noises like that.

Slowly, you pressed your fingers down closer to the underside, right over a few of his downy feathers.

"Oh fuck~" he hissed.

"Okay, that's it." you lifted your hands away from them, holding them in the air. "What the hell's going on with you?" His head whipped around so fast you were surprised it was still attached to his neck. His golden eyes widened, pupils blowing out, nearly completely covering the honey iris.

"W-what?" he exclaimed, feathers puffing up.

"I'm sorry if I seem mad, I'm not, I'm just- very confused. You're literally moaning. I am giving you a massage and you're moaning. Explain."

His cheeks dusted over in pink, and his eyes fell down to his lap.

"Okay uh- fuck I- this was not how I planned on telling you, erm- I promise I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-"

"Keigo, it's alright, I'm not uncomfortable, just confused. Take a breath darling,"

"Okay, okay, okay." he took a deep breath. "My wings and back are... sensitive, like- in a sexual way. It's why I never let you touch them, I didn't want you to get uncomfortable with that."

"Oh Keigo, you should have just told me, it's perfectly alright, you know I love you, and I love your bird traits. I'm not uncomfortable with this." you smiled sweetly, pressing a hand to his cheek.

"You're- you're not?" he glanced back up at you, golden eyes filled with hope.

"Not in the slightest. To be honest, I don't see why anyone would be uncomfortable with it. It's just another erogenous zone, like someone's neck, ears, or nipples would be. And lots of people keep those bits on display."

"Thanks," he murmured, rubbing his nose against yours. "That does make me feel better, but uh- there's something else.." he trailed off, nervous.

"Your obvious boner? I was gonna leave you to take care of that yourself, but I'll gladly do it for you if you'd like."

"Oh uh-" his cheeks brightened as if attempting to match the tone of his wings. "I would very much like that," he admitted, offering you a slightly nervous smile.

"Anytime, Birdie~" you stood up, hands landing on either side of his waist as you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "But I would very much like to experiment with those wings of yours, see what we can do with them. Just how far can we go?" You smirked at him, tongue darting out to moisturize your lips. Keigo let out a soft breath, shifting against the couch to make room for the tent in his pants.

"I- I have thought about using them before- my feathers can move fast, so they can act as a vibrator if I focus, but I could never use it on myself. I know I'd get distracted, then the feather would stop moving, then I'd have to start all over again. I'd basically just be edging myself all night. I know I'd just give up and jerk off."

"I can work with that~" you pressed your lips against his, surprising him. He whined into the kiss, hands flying up to fist your shirt.

Unfair. He thought, he already had his shirt off, and he knew he'd be naked in just a few minutes, but you hadn't taken anything off yet. Knowing you, you would stay clothed just to tease him. The most you would do was lift your shirt a little to show him your stomach before quickly covering it again. That was what you usually did when you dommed. At least for the foreplay.

You pressed the tip of your tongue against his lips, pushing past his defensive barrier of shiny white teeth, perfect for the press, and you licked along the top of his mouth. His whole body shuddered against yours, his hips jerking upwards.

You grabbed his thigh with one hand, squeezing. A warning, he knew, against bucking up again, against disobeying. He tasted your saliva, feeling it pool onto his tongue. His eyes finally drooped closed, enjoying the taste of leftover's from last night's dinner on your tongue.

He whined against the back of your mouth, feeling you move your other hand up towards his back. He already knew what you were going to do. Without pulling away from the kiss, you plucked a feather about the size of his hand from his wings, running a finger down the stem, brushing it against the little red bristles. Soft against your finger, yet forcing Keigo's restrained cock to grow even harder than he ever thought possible.

You slowly pulled back from the kiss, taking his lower lip hostage between your teeth, tugging it as far as it could go before finally releasing it. You felt Keigo's hot breaths fanning out across your face, and your grin only grew. You loved breaking him apart, the strong, well-put-together Hawks was an act only for the cameras, only you could ever know the real him, the horny, whiny, needy baby he truly was.

"Look at you, falling apart already? I've barely done shit to you."

"Fuck- that's just 'cause it's you~" he purred

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, doll." Your shit-eating smirk only grew, and Keigo could feel himself melting into the couch cushions. "C'mon, take 'em off, you're a big boy, I'm sure you can do it yourself."

He nodded, hands flying away from your shirt and grappling with his belt buckle faster than you could say 'Hawks.' He tossed his belt behind the couch, not caring if it hit anything, and quickly shimmied out of his pants and underwear, letting them pool around his ankles. His cock slapped against his stomach, six inches and throbbing.

Looks like his prediction was correct. He was naked. You were not. You didn't look like you were planning on undressing anytime soon, which left Keigo feeling slightly disappointed. However, any negative emotions vanished the second you ran his bright red feather down his nose, over his lips, then under his chin. He knew immediately you were trying to lift his face with the feather, despite the single feather not being strong enough by itself, not unless it was under his control. But he was not in control, you were, and fuck it if that wasn't the best part.

"Good boy~" you praised him, sliding a hand up his bare thigh, brushing it carelessly close to his dick. He bit his lip, eyes flicking between your hand and your eyes.

"Please, please touch me," he whispered, slightly embarrassed by the situation. It had been a long while since you'd last had sex, and an even longer while since you had been the dom. He'd all but forgotten how to properly beg. You could tell.

"Come on, doll, I know you can ask me nicely, or at least better than that." He groaned, hands gripping your hips and attempting to tug you into his lap, a plan formulating in his head that ended in an amazing thighjob. But his plans never worked, not at least with you involved. No, you were too stubborn, one of the many things he loved about you. But not really in this precise situation.

"Nah ah ah~ hands off the merchandise." Your hand squeezed his thigh again, twice this time. That was all he needed to let go. He found purchase in a nearby pillow, moving it behind him and tugging on the little dangly bits on the corners. He forgot what they were called but he was ninety-five percent sure it started with a 'D' or something.

"Fuck, please, I need it, you know I need it, I-I've been nothing but good all day, please touch me, please~" He whined, eyebrows furrowing. That plus his reddened cheeks made just the cutest face. You couldn't wait to make his eyes go crooked and for him to drool.

"That's it, good boy~" You ran the tip of the feather up his cock, circling the tip. He shivered in response, biting back a loud moan. "Come on, don't make me mad, vibrate yourself with your feather~" you cooed, teasing tone making his stomach churn in the best way possible.

He bit his lip, looking down at the feather slowly circling the tip of his dick. It had already nudged his foreskin downwards, leaving the red skin fully exposed. He took a deep breath, trying to block out your presence, and how hard he was, just focusing on the single red feather, twirling around in loops.

He felt it twitch against his skin, before finally starting to shake, then at last it was vibrating. He twitched it away from his dick, slightly nervous about how it might feel. You sighed, pressing it directly onto the little hole at the tip.

"Ghhh- oh fuckkkkk~" he moaned, pressing his head against the couch cushions. It felt better than he ever possibly could have imagined. Feeling the feather on his dick, his dick against his feather, it was double the pleasure. He whined loudly when the vibrations suddenly stopped. "Nooooo I want it, bring it back, please," he begged, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"Doll I didn't even do anything. You lost focus. You gotta try a little harder." you said, tapping the feather against him again. Pre-cum stuck to it, making red glisten with a little bit of white. He cursed at the sight (and feeling) of his own pre on his feather.

Soon enough, it started to buzz again. And you put it back on him. This time, you traced it up and down his base, running it over the tip again. One of his hands flew up to his mouth, knuckles pressing against his lips. His hips bucked up against the vibrating feather.

"Ooooohhhhhh fuckfuckfuckfuck so goooood~" he moaned loudly. Again, the buzzing stopped without warning. "Nooo fuck no! I need it please fuck!" He looked like he was on the verge of tears- no way it was really that good. You'd have to ask him to use his feathers on you sometime.

"I know baby, I know," you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. His breath hitched, golden eyes filling with tears of pleasure. "But you gotta focus to get it done, okay?" he nodded, wiping his tears, but he only managed to spread the warm, salty liquid over his face, making him appear even more debauched.

How cute

You wrapped your hand around his dick when it started to vibrate again, the feather curled up between your palm and his dick. Slowly, you began to jerk him off, feeling the feather vibrate faster than you'd felt any toy vibrate, and his dick throbbing and pulsing against you left you feeling like you just might cum in your pants.

"FUCK!" he shouted, back arching off the couch. One of his legs flew upwards, toes curling around the air. He was shaking at this point, looking like he was just on the verge of cumming. "Oh, Godddd fuckkkmeeeee~" he wailed, tears overflowing and falling down his flushed cheeks.

"No god's gonna fuck you, darling, only I will because you belong to me. Isn't that right?" You pulled on his hair and his moans grew louder, the vibrations intensifying, which you thought was impossible at the rate it had been buzzing against your skin and his.

"Youuuuu fuck- I- I belong to youuuu~" he moaned, hiccuping a little.

"Fuck, you're so fucking cute like this, so adorable when you fall apart beneath me, gonna break soon?" He sniffed loudly, nodding. His moan broke out into a disappointed wail when the vibrations stopped again. He tried to get it to move but it just wasn't going to. You opened your palm, revealing the feather, the stem bent awkwardly. Hawks sighed, sadness filling his eyes.

"I was just 'bout to cum too..." he whimpered.

"Oh, you'll still cum. We don't need anything else between us anymore~" you tossed the feather aside before spitting into your palm, beginning to jerk him off again. It certainly didn't feel nearly as good as it did with the feather, but at this point, he was so close he just couldn't give two fucks about how good it felt, just that it would get him where he needs.

"Oh yes yes yes fuck yes more more- gonna cum gonna cum ooooh fuck baby you're gonna make me cum!" He cried out, bucking up into your hand, sobbing as pre ran down the sides of his dick and onto your fingers.

You pulled him to you by his hair, loving the loud moan he let out from the pain. You pressed your lips right up against his ear.

"Then fucking cum, my baby boy~" you purred seductively. Moments later, his whole body spasmed, legs shaking violently and wings flaring outwards. He wailed, screaming as he finally came into your hand, white ribbons landing on his legs, stomach, and even a little on the couch. Subconsciously, he knew he'd have to clean that up later, but he was not about to worry about that right now.

"Godamn! If that wasn't the hottest thing I've ever seen!" you exclaimed, truly in awe at just how good his orgasm looked. He had gone limp, flopped back against the couch, and panting. You pulled your hand away from his dick, licking away the bits of cum from your skin before sitting down next to him, tugging his body closer to you.

"Unf, that was the best damn orgasm of my life," he murmured, voice a little hoarse.

"Looked like it, you alright darling? Can I get you anything? Water, blankets, bath?" You worried a little, hoping you didn't completely brain-fuck him.

"Jus' some cuddles." his head flopped down on your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as he yawned.

"Hey birdie, don't fall asleep on me," you chuckled. "We still gotta get you all cleaned up and put in bed."

"Not... a problem..." he whispered, breath tickling your skin as he nodded off.

"Heh, that's a problem," you smiled affectionately. He deserved his rest. You resolved to stay still for a little while, then clean him up as gently as you could before carrying him to bed. He wasn't that heavy, after all. "I love you, my darling Keigo~" you whispered, resting your head on top of his and closing your eyes.

Maybe the mess could be cleaned tomorrow, you were also very tired.

[goddess-pan]

Tailor!Reader in Dream SMP

Dsmp x reader prompt; Tailor!Reader in Dream SMP. Credit would be appreciated so more people can find this and make their own things based on it.

Can fully be read as platonic. GN!reader with they/them pronounce as a placeholder so anyone can adapt it however they want. Both general and character specific parts included.

Characters who have a lot written for/about; Eret, Ranboo, Foolish, Tommy, Technoblade, Philza and Michael. Mentioned; Tubbo, Sam Nook, Purpled and Foolish Jr.

This ended up being super long so I’m putting it under the cut in order not to clutter people’s pages. My personal favourite part is Phil’s and Techno’s part. These could be read as headcanons but are still available as a prompt(s) to use for anyone.

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

The reader joining after the doomsday as a time frame in my mind.

The reader helping people patch up their current clothes since most of it got pretty banged up during the doomsday, and it's not like they can just go get a new outfit since quite a few people had just lost all their belongings and only had the clothes on their back. So at first prioritizing helping patch up the current clothing people were wearing and then moving on to making some simple fast to make and easy on the resources clothes for people. Just like basic shirts and shorts/pants, nothing fancy. Then when everyone has at least a couple of different clothes to change to and from starting their own business to sell people more if they wanted. However waving payment if they brought them the materials and what they wanted wasn't overly complicated.

People at first thinking they are just some chump who knows basic sewing or something. A very kind chump, but still a chump. So imagine their surprise when one day they are just walking by the reader's now established tailors and they see these absolutely stunning designs displayed at the windows. 

Just like their reactions seeing these beautiful designs they can't help but stare at. I'd imagine some of them just doing a double take when they walk by, someone pressing their face up to the glass trying to see it closer, the braver ones going inside and talking to the reader about their designs and the more anxious and/or shy ones only going inside when the reader isn't there to look at designs closer. 

And the reasons they like/are amazed by the designs vary also ! Some just have monkey brain that goes "Pretty. WANT", some who just love the colour and art of the pieces, some who imagine how epic this design or others would look on them, some who love the fashion aspect of it and of course the very small portion who actually know anything about tailoring/sewing and the amount of work that goes into making something intricate.

Some specific character/group interactions I thought of;

Making warm well insulated clothes for people moving to Snowchester so they don't freeze. +A warm cape for Ranboo for the same reason.

Eret being one of the firsts (if not the first) to get himself a fully tailored and customized outfit. Them also being the first and very possibly only person to get a dress or a skirt since most of the other people on the server prefer to wear pants (excluding maid dresses which people might get as joke). The reader crying in joy for getting to design something different for once. And hey if the reader ends up making a few extra ones that she didn't order, but decided to give her anyway it was all just some extra ones they had lying around, never mind the fact that the dresses/skirts are perfectly tailored for Eret and are her style. Just a coincidence, nothing suspicious there. Eret also models for the reader and once he even convinced them to hold a fashion show to showcase some of their work to the whole server. Of course he was the main model presenting the outfits.

At start of the reader beginning to display their designs at their shop Ranboo sees a really cool looking suit on display and his brain just goes "Want." He probably wouldn't be able to buy anything pre-made and be comfortable in it due to his physique. And him having just moved into the arctic and only starting to get settled in, he doesn't have comfortable enough funds for him to get something as expensive as a custom tailored suit AND have enough for any possible rent that he might be required to pay. 

Eventually when he gets richer he starts considering getting one but the anxious side of him always ends up winning and he doesn't. However once he finally gets the courage to go commission the suit for himself he doesn't regret it at all. The reader did their best to not overwhelm him and to make it the best possible experience. Just imagining the absolute joy he would feel for having a properly fitting suit that's made just for him, not too short sleeves nor too wide torso and shoulders, just perfect. If he ends up ordering a couple more suits that's between him and the reader. He actually ends up probably being their most frequent and reliable customer.

And we should all know why that is, but let me clarify just in case; Michael.

The reader basically becoming Michael's personal stylist (/hj) . Not only does Ranboo buy a god awful amount of clothes for Michael, the reader also makes some free ones for him. The free ones are things the reader felt like designing since they absolutely adore Michael and the ones Ranboo pays for are commissioned by him. Michael absolutely has the biggest wardrobe in the whole server. The reader learning how to make plushies so Michael could have some more toys, this learning experience including learning to crochet and knit to see what he like best.

Using their newly acquired plush making skills, the reader starts their quest to make some plushies for others after seeing people stare at the plushies wistfully either while they were working on them or seeing Michael with the plushies. People who got them include the minors, their close friends and basically anyone they thought might benefit from them. Some of the ones they made (that I could think of);

Of course a bee for Tubbo, but also throwing in a little ram one as well

Ranboo gets a grass block plush/pillow

Tommy gets a cobblestone block plush and a cow plush. He also later receives a Sam Nook plush while he's working on the hotel

Purpled getting two different sized ufos, one to hold and the other more of a big pillow

Eret definitely gets a flamingo plush

Foolish gets a totem and a gold block plushies

Phil gets crow plush as well these tiny fake coin and gem plushies (the latter causes problems for him which I'll expand upon later)

Techno gets a pig one as well as polar bear one

Back to the individual/group part

The reader just chilling w/ Foolish as a fellow artists. Them talking about both their arts and catching up every time the reader comes to deliver something to Snowchester when Foolish is building the mansion. Just two pretty peaceful artists talking about their passions. I’d imagine Foolish and the reader could relate to each other and their place in the server due to their similar hobbies/jobs as well as their similar time of joining the server. Foolish's first commission from them being an intricate blanket for Foolish Jr so he could have a more comfortable resting place. He may or may not end up receiving that and several other (though less intricate) blankets as well as a tiny shark plush to give to Foolish Jr. Later on when the reader gets better at either knitting or crocheting they end up making a tiny shark jumper with a hood for Foolish Jr as well. Foolish would definitely cry when he sees his tiny shark baby. Any commissions of clothes for himself tend to always take some time due to sheer amount of work needing to be done due to his size so he always makes sure the reader doesn’t already have a lot on their plate and that they know he’s fine with waiting if they need to take a break from it.

Then there's Tommy, who they sometimes teach more about sewing since he already knows some basics. Him probably being the first person aside from Michael they make a plush for, due to him demanding one once he saw the reader making them. Then proceeding to get three plushies in rapid succession. The first being the cobblestone, the second being the cow and the third one being the Sam Nook one. He ends up losing one of them during the prison fiasco and when the reader asks if he'd like a new one they only get the answer of "Don't want to think about what happened and the same one might make me do that". He then promptly receives new clothing (so he isn't wearing the same ones he was wearing in prison) and some extra blankets (for comfort) from the reader. 

After Tommy meeting Michael does he use him to scam the reader to make them matching outfits for free? Yes, yes he does. Does it work? Yes, yes it does. Are they bothered by it? Not really, they look adorable in their matching outfits.

The reader being the source for Sam Nook's construction gear/clothes or at least the original patterns for them.

And then there's the arctic boys (minus Ranboo, who will still get mentioned) who are an interesting bunch clothing wise. The first one to commission the reader out of them would be Phil who got the original warm cape for Ranboo but also at the same time commissioned one for himself that would include slits for his wings. Eventually getting to design clothing for him which is always an exciting challenge with his wings. And when Phil finally manages to convince Techno to get something made for himself as well, Techno almost immediately gets addicted to having high quality clothing when they finish their first piece for him. The fun the reader has designing clothes for these boys is immeasurable with their different styles and needs in the clothing. Aside from clothing Techno also commissions them for a pet bed for Steve. 

When the boys got their plushies it was adorable but also a very chaotic. Techno giving his pig one to Steve so he wouldn't miss him when he was away from home, but also bringing the polar bear one with him when he couldn't or wasn't allowed to bring Steve with him but still needed comfort. While on Phil's side of things; he was showing his crows the crow plushie joking about he'll replace them if they aren't careful however he made the mistake of showing them the tiny coin and gem plushies as well. I want you to imagine hundreds of crows descending upon this poor fool of a man in the background while the reader is walking away hoping they like their plushies. 

The war that ensued the couple following days amongst the crows starts to cool down but the bickering doesn't, every waking moment Phil can feel eyes on him and one or more of the crows coming to complain about the others having had the shiny plushies for too long. He quickly caves under the pressure and commissions more of the tiny shiny treasure plushies. And by more I mean a lot more. 

When he finally has enough of the things he goes around distributing them to the crows. Finally a moment of peace, but he still feels like something is staring at him occasionally. Deciding to ignore it since it's finally quiet he goes to makes himself a cup of tea and while waiting for the water to boil he fishes out the few shiny plushies he had saved for himself. The second he does he feels eyes burning into him and now that it's quiet he hears it, quiet muffled snuffles and snorts of discontent. Then he sees what ‘it’ is, it's Techno behind the window looking at the shinies in his hand with such intensity Phil fears for his life (/hj). Phil just sighs deeply before walking over to the window and opening it. For a second Techno looks like a deer in headlights before returning to intensely staring at the shinies in Phil's hand before Phil just dumps the shiny plushies into Techno's hand and closes the window. Happy piglin noises can be heard outside while Phil debates the pros (getting to have shinies himself) and cons (the embarrassment of having to commission even more of the shiny plushies than he already has) of getting new ones from the reader. And in all this the reader has no idea the amount of chaos they inadvertently caused.

And finally; Techno commissioning robes/cloaks for whole the Syndicate to wear in their meetings, because he’s dramatic like that. But since he’s a thoughtful guy, he wants them all to fit the members well and not be uncomfortable to wear so he gets everyone’s measurements. Once he has them all he goes to the reader with the order for the robes, he has all the measurements written down under just Person 1, Person 2 etc. to keep their anonymity and when asked what the robes are for he just tells the reader it’s a book club. When he gets them all and the reader asks no further questions he thinks he’s gotten away with getting some cool robes for the Syndicate with their secrets safe. Little does he know the reader actually now knows all the members in the Syndicate since they can just reference the gotten measurements with everyone’s measurements written down from previous work done by them. Whether the reader thinks it’s some weird cult they all are a part of or just an actual book club people are too embarrassed to admit they are in, is up to interpretation. 

[hottest-mf-that-has-ever-existed]

i love chili (childe x zhongli) they are just so funny to me, silly men 💕

Zhongli, who hasnt learned how to live like a human yet (example: constantly forgets mora cuz he could just make it on spot, hes not dumb guys 😐 he just hasnt learned yet!!) so of course he isnt that familiar w human customs regarding relationships, especially romantic ones bc he has to learn other stuff first, and Childe, who is just unhinged bc of his trauma and from a different culture all together and also rich and ready to do everything for the people he holds close to his heart, just ugh!!!! love them

i can imagine them just walking together, zhongli noticing something he likes while childe buys that for him and then zhongli rambles about that thing while childe listens and shares his own thoughts.

then they go to buy food and zhongli trying to teach childe how to hold chopsticks but then childe sometimes not learning on purpose so zhongli feeds him ❤

most of liyue people are already used to the fatui scum and funeral consultant just being in their own bubble and they dont mind much cuz hey! childe pays really well so they get money, economy is thriving even

also they probably spar after zhongli's identity reveal and exchange fighting technique knowledge cuz im sure zhongli isnt that familiar w ALL fighting techniques so they just talk 💕

also zhongli unintentionally making childe flustered and then childe making zhongli feel nice when they are just hanging out :)

zhongli agreeing to spar bc it brings some life in childe's dead looking eyes but eventually when zhongli becomes family to childe, childe having a small spark in his eyes even without it because he loves family and i hc that family makes him feel alive too bc they are important to him end of story.

also zhongli was the god of war so i feel like he probably doesnt mind childe liking murder that much bc he only fights strong opponents and doesnt touch the common folk

their relationship isnt "normal" and i feel like they might have never put a label on it bc zhongli probably didnt think of it bc he doesnt know and childe probably not feeling the need to label it 🤨 also he'd probably wouldnt feel the need to put a label that zhongli wouldnt fully understand yknow?? like they would take it at their own pace cuz both would probably learn new stuff along the way

childe would probably eventually have to leave liyue so they'd write letters to each other :)

traveler just asking both of them to help on commissions together so they can meet and stop being sad and pathetic 🙄🙄

gets kinda sad after this aka time exists and childe is a mortal... i hope you get what i mean

foul legacy would probably eventually injure childe so bad that he wouldnt be able to continue to be a harbinger anymore so he and zhongli would start living together probably near childe's family

or childe would die in battle and it would be sad so i wont think about it

anyways

they would probably still spar n shit if childe wasnt too badly injured after that, yknow its just their thing and they find it enjoyable, also childe just doesnt want to lose his skill yknow

they would probably live a pretty peaceful life afterwards as they cant really do anything about it, not much excitement

they would still visit liyue few times a year of course!! it's zhongli's pride and joy after all and he needs to see it himself outside of others updates and childe just likes enabling him in stores so they always go back w a bunch of stuff

childe would probably grow old tho (well not too old, he probably wouldnt live past 60 considering how he's living 💀💀)

zhongli would try his best to take good care of him till his final hours :((

tho i feel like childe wouldnt like getting old tho especially w his mindset, his injury was probably bad enough on his mental state

so childe's final wish (if he wouldnt have mellowed out or just didnt care about zhongli's feelings in this matter that much) to zhongli would be a spar to death without holding back so he doesnt have to wait for his death. he would make it a contract so none of them could back out

but i feel like he'd most likely die surrounded by family and friends cuz yknow, im soft and he loves them very much and zhongli wouldnt agree to that wish (at least not easily cuz he'd have to live w it for the rest of the time and considering how good his memory is it would be painful even if it would make childe happy)

afterwards zhongli would probably move back to liyue (bc theres nothing holding him in the country of a different archon and they didnt have children so theres just no point) w all of the knowledge he earned and keeps childe in his heart or even a locket near his heart since they can take pics in genshin 🤨

but he would visit his grave every year at least once on his bday, if he could make time he'd go there as often as possible and just tell him things and bring flowers and other small things from liyue since childe probably liked it too

zhongli would live on forever w childe in his heart, maybe he'd find different lovers but i'd doubt it since childe was One Of A Kind yknow,,, idk i feel like zhongli wouldnt want to experience that pain again of losing a lover, at least a mortal one

fucj this made my cry why am i like this!!!!

tldr:

i feel like their relationship is far from conventional considering who they are but thats what i like about them

[myelocin]

ij(y)&m | miya a., akaashi k.

synopsis: love is enough, until you think that it isn’t. to love and to lose; then whether to dive into the sea of ocean eyes or look into the skies in search of the sun.

genre: hurt/comfort, slice of life, longfic, happy ending, love triangle

wc: 17,500+

characters: miya atsumu, akaashi keiji

a/n: this is a commissioned piece by @23soong | i still can’t believe u trusted me w this giant fic but ilu i guezz

commissions | ko-fi

(April 16, 2021 | New York City.)

You like to eat cake.

The color lilac, ocean eyes, and the sky. The lyrics to Ayahuasca, and the hidden metaphors where the poem you uncover always looks like a different scenario than the next person. You know what you like, and it’s only this and that. Other days, when your reasoning is a little swayed, you suppose you can afford to think that you like this plus that.

It was a difference only you understood.

(—understand, you mean.)

(You always know what you understand.)

You like cake because you enjoy sweets, and that one shade of violet that borders right in between periwinkle and lilac, because it never looked like it was too much. It didn’t blend into the background like some of the warmer colors, nor make too much of a bold presence like the depth of scarlet. You suppose you like where you’ve always been, after all.

Being content with your own security had always been one of your stronger suits. There wasn’t a wall, nor a fortress around you, but even when you’re out in the open you felt okay. The shade in between lilac and periwinkle was enough because it was you.

Chocolate over cheesecake, because you’ve never been much of a fan, and that bakery down the end of street fifteen minutes away instead of the one right across where you lived. The windows were always tinted in the shade that gave away its age, but you suppose it was its charm. The old auntie who sits by the counter always wears her apron, even if all the pastries to be sold for the day were already prebaked and arranged on the front for display.

There’s an old comfort found in that auntie’s bakery, you think. You still don’t know her name, and you know she only smiles at you because you’re probably a regular by now. You know the pen she’d had clipped to her apron is the same one from eight months ago, probably never used, because the seal’s still intact by the cap. There wasn’t a table that you could call yours, nor a spot in the fall you would stare at and daydream on your rougher days. There was no music, to dull out the sounds of the world outside—but now that you actually give it a little more thought—that’s what gave you the most comfort.

It’s a known fact that when people tend to slip into a state of reclusion, they would search for a space in a world that they can cocoon themselves in. External factors, there, but ignored. Phone often switched to silent, where the spot they stared at along the cracks of the wall would show them a world they could live in—momentarily.

(And that was the problem—at least you think.)

A safe space, they say. And it had always been valid. When your sister would talk about the boy in her dreams who loved her under the rain, you can tell that she felt safe. Sometimes she looked a little farther away despite physically being with you in the moment, but she always looked warm—so you would just choose to sit shoulder to shoulder beside her, and let her be.

People worked differently; a simple this or that situation, and it’s always going to be like that.

Your comfort is just this.

Auntie’s bakery fifteen minutes away, where you’re some random seat inside because in all the years you’ve been coming here, you could never really pick a spot. The table by the window was nice, as was the one by the shelves. The AC hit you in the way you appreciate the most wherever you chose to settle, anyway.

A slice of chocolate cake on Mondays, then maybe again on Wednesdays, but Saturdays could also mean red velvet if you were feeling like it. The bells by the door sound out your entrance every time too, but even if one day there were gone, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Having a constant was okay, but not necessary. You’re here because you liked their selection better than the one closer to your place, and that was that.

Auntie’s bakery wasn’t your cocoon that kept you away from the world, but you liked it that way.

You found comfort in taking a seat in one of the ten tables inside, and setting your bag on the chair beside you as you got comfortable. You liked moving your hair to the other side, and slumping your shoulders because you know you'd enjoy this little break you decided to give yourself.

You had chocolate two days ago, and even if there was a new option for carrot cake today, you still bought chocolate again. You can hear the conversation from the group of teenagers outside the window every time the doors would open and the sounds of the world outside would filter in. The sound of traffic and life was dulled by the walls, but not muted. There’s still no music in the bakery, and you can sometimes hear every time the auntie behind the counter would shift and tap away at her phone.

This was your slice of comfort.

You didn’t escape the world, but you find yourself still. There was an underlying of connection that you found with the world when you’d have your one slice of cake after a job well done.

So you like to eat cake, because you deserve cake.

You finish the schedule you’d set for yourself, written in bullet points from top to bottom—additional notes scribbled in the margins so you wouldn’t forget, and spreadsheets written so that you keep yourself in line.

You like to eat cake, because it’s a reminder that you’re doing your part as a little cog in the machine that is this world. It’s not escaping that gives you comfort, but rather, the reminder that you’re still in this world, and you’re doing just fine.

(So you deserve your cake.)

-

Until some days where you feel like you don’t.

-

Your childhood looked something like this:

Air conditioned rooms, sniffling instead of crying, and the lilac blooms outside your window. There’s a sky, infinite as she’s always been, that watches. Sometimes she cries, but in your corner of the world, it’s more common to see her smile. Sometimes you wonder what she smiles about, but 7 year old you liked to think that she smiled for the same reasons you do.

A cool breeze in the summer, and paper kites folded every sunset. Your dreams of ocean eyes every time you’re close to the shore, as if it’s a foreshadow to the future still to come, but you’d always only stand by the edge and watch—never wading too far in.

It wasn’t a fear of the water, nor the depth, but you just always had a nagging thought behind your head that the waves would never truly be for you. You loved the sun, and the sky too much to give in to the waves.

Perhaps it’s a metaphor for something later on in life; perhaps it isn’t. You’ve never been curious enough to try to think much about it.

Ever since you were young, your idea of love never changed much from your initial thoughts.

Love felt like it should just be what’s written under the bullet points of your life schedule. Love, supposedly, looked like ocean eyes and dark roots for hair. He’d be a little more on the reserved side, and would conquer the world with you.

People always tell you that love should conquer the world for you, but it felt like too much of a selfish dream. Your whole life, you moved with a sense of purpose in mind. You buy cake after a job well done, because you know you’ll only deserve it by then. You do things only because you’ve done certain things, and it’s always been as black and white as that.

(It works.)

You’re in high school and you sit next to your best friend’s boyfriend from seven to five. You have a circle that loves you as much as you do them, and you still treat yourself to slices of chocolate cake from a bakery down the street. Their cake has a generic taste, you think, but it could be better.

Still, you settle. Settling is okay.

The idea that things would always be just okay in the black and white was okay. Your everyday life, and routine, looked like this. The people around you act like this, and you—in return, feel like this.

You laugh when things are funny, then cry when they aren’t. You appreciate the notes you’d find in your locker: the doodles and scribbled reminders alike. The difference in the handwriting and color choice of the sticky notes only reminds you that you’re part of something that isn’t just you.

You will always love your shade of lavender, or lilac, or periwinkle, but you found sentimentality and love in shades of peaches, scarlet, greys, and serenity blue too.

Routine is the kind that looks more lax than rigid, because bursts of serendipity still find you anyway.

-

(March 13, 2015) Hyogo

Because it’s in your final year of highschool, where the idea of what it initially was is thrown right out the window.

Miya Atsumu.

Brown eyes that are the complete opposite of every hue of the ocean, and his god awful piss yellow hair.

When you meet him, there’s not much to romanticize about it. He sat a few seats away from where you are, and parked his bike purposely close to your sister’s by the gate. He raised his hand to the questions he didn’t know the answer to and would drag his chair beside your desk to say hello even when you’d turn away to focus on your paper during breaks.

Love was an abstract sort of thing, so you could guess that his peculiarity fits.

You were all the shades of lilac while he offered you the pale yellow of every sunshine you found solace in ever since you were young. The color on the opposite end of the color wheel, Miya Atsumu truly was your contrast.

He ate cheesecake and didn’t hide his face when he sneezed. He’d roll up his sleeves and fight the next person without thinking to talk it out first and scribbled his ideas from the center of the paper instead of listing them out from top to bottom, or left to right like you always did.

But he was the start.

“Hi, Len.” he said instead of the standard “hi, hello; what’s your name?” greeting, and it even if it baffles you how he got your name before you even had the chance to introduce yourself—you didn’t think you had it in you to be mad about it.

Third year highschool Miya Atsumu with the god awful piss yellow hair and black undercut smiled in the way that had the left corner of his mouth rising just a little higher than the right, and you were fucking hooked.

You didn’t show it at first, but you were hooked. He had the kind of lilt in his voice that you always thought was more endearing than attractive, and would often lean back in his seat with one arm slung over the back of his chair as he waited for you to finish up with your review for the day. He liked all the things you thought were okay at best, but he was who stayed.

Libraries were for those who found a little comfort and familiarity in the silence, and he was a wildfire. He fell asleep waiting for you as you studied, but would always have a whole lunchbox of soft snacks for you to munch on while you did your thing, checking off the bullet points of your list.

On Saturdays, he was the person waiting for you at the bleachers by the track field with a towel and water bottle, cheering you on as if he understood the sport. When you’d pass him, he’d wave, and holler at you like you just won even if you’ve just been running laps for warmup.

He was never a hello, because he was a whirlwind that caught you off guard straight from the start. Some would say this is like serendipity, and perhaps it is—he is—but you like to think that maybe he’s just part of the black and white of your life. You liked what you liked, whether it correlated with your plans or not, and it really was as simple as just that.

-

In high school you always liked to eat cake after exams. You liked chocolate because it was sweet, and you’ve always been the person who had a sweet tooth.

You write left to right, from top to bottom and keep your letters beside to eachother in print, because it makes sense.

Miya Atsumu, the boy who was the pale yellow to your lilac, was the one who offered you a pen when you’d misplace yours, even if he only had one with him in his bag.

And you liked him, you suppose, because you just do.

-

(March 13, 2020) | Tokyo

Miya Atsumu was blunt, and freeing.

He was the sky, and not the sea, but love—later on, became the realization that you’re just freefalling.

After the initial introductions, there wasn’t a point where either of you felt like you were still supposed to be somewhere else. Like something you didn’t know had even been out of place sliding into it, instead of clicking. The skies would open, not just for you but for him as well.

While you saw all the colors of the sun and of the golden hour, Atsumu saw the shades of lilac in the earth.

What becomes is the love that’s felt in the silence, and on the way home.

It’s your voice that he hears chastise him to put down the donut and share it with Osamu when he’d been planning to leave him a third of the last at best. It’s the four letters of your name that he scribbles in the corners of receipts mindlessly, but would still fucking deny it every time he’d get caught.

Atsumu and his bike rides to school, along with his habit of catching up to you just to get off and walk beside you if he sees you nearing the gates.

A silent sort of company in the morning beside someone who was basically known at the most perfect personification of what noise would look like if it were to be redesigned into human form.

True love, and serendipity he thinks, is this. It’s you and all the witty remarks you’d make towards him, telling him to go away, that he never ends up taking seriously because you’d be blushing red before he even gets a chance to react.

The reaction he comes is delayed, but the epiphany that it’s you who becomes the face to love, isn’t.

You were the who when it came to answering the who, what, when, where, why, and how of love.

The what was answered love. The when, is yesterday, when you spilled a little bit of your chocolate milk on your desk and cursed in the way he never would have figured you saying, and today, when you looked out at the skies and smiled your private sort of smile towards the palette of the sunset.

The where was everywhere. Love, as you, in the sidewalks leading up to the gates, and on that desk on the row ahead, diagonal to him.

The why, was this. (It was everything.) (Running, then leaping. Flying, then soaring.) (Everything.)

He finally finds truth to the poems he usually tended to ignore in love songs, but it was great.

And the how, finally, was answered with a shrug.

How did he love you? Atsumu would always shrug because he just does.

Always, always does.

-

Along with the high, comes facing the reality that you must also fall. For the longest while, you’re climbing, climbing, climbing¸ until eventually, there’s nowhere else to go but down. The real face of love looked somewhat like that.

It’s one foot after the other, and steps towards the sky. There’s no staircase with a solid ground leading up, nor wings clasped behind you to lift you up even with through the absence of a breeze. (But love had you flying.)

It’s seeing the sights you’ve seen your whole life not with a new set of eyes, but a new vantage point. Atsumu’s the sun, all the while you still felt as if you were the child forever glancing up towards it. They tell you to never look at light straight on, but his glow never had you blinded.

Atsumu gave you clarity, showcased on a silver platter.

You understood all the priorly misunderstood parts of your life, where it felt like a new kind of exhilarating. Like having knowledge at the palm of your head, the world became as infinite as it became yours.

(And yours alone.)

Your hands that only grabbed just what was yours were suddenly reaching too far in the cookie jar. Greediness has never really been you, but eventually the fall—your fall—from the high looked like crumbs on your hands and shirt, and the absence of what once was where it should still be.

Atsumu never said a word, because it never was that way.

Still, you closed your eyes while still in the air. The view was right there, and Atsumu was beside you through the climb, the high, and the period where you just glide, telling you to open your eyes and look but you only did—for just a fraction of a second.

It’s the heaven that sits above the clouds that terrify you, you think. The unspoken truth that was kept as a hush is suddenly right in your ear screaming.

“He’s holding you to the clouds,” it taunts, then continues, “—But what have you given him in return?”

Atsumu’s never heard the demons in your head, nor was aware of its presence in the first place, but he always seemed to just have a way of knowing what to say, exactly when to say it.

Like now.

He’s sat in the bleachers, high on life, while you’re high on adrenaline. Six thirty in the summers meant the sun was just beginning to set, so he smiles, knowing that you’ve always thought of this moment as yours.

(And his, he adds mentally, a whisper to himself—a validation that you are his as much as he is yours.)

Truly.

“Hi Lena,” he grins; one side quirked up higher than the other, and under the bloom of scarlet and amber, he’s beautiful. “What’s your name?”

You’re laughing, as if you don’t carry the weight of all your demons on your shoulders. Amber against your deep brown eyes, and he’s caught. Like always. Fucking entranced, like always.

“Hi ‘Tsumu,” you voice back, leaning close and laughing at the way he scrunches his eyes close at your sudden display of brevity. It catches him off guard every time. He loves it, as much as he does you—but he’s still a boy inside.

You laugh anyway, pressing a kiss on his eyelids when he keeps his eyes closed, and you smile, softly, when you notice the way his shoulders relax.

“What’s your name?” you echo, then you’re both laughing at the inside jokes that you admittedly could never get sick of.

“I really don’t know,” he stretches further, enjoying the ay the moment became not just yours, but also truly his, with just a couple of words and some laughs. “I just can’t remember, Lena, but what’s your name?”

You laugh, throwing your hair up in a quick bun, before taking the seat beside him.”Atsumu we sound stupid.”

You don’t turn to return his stare, but you feel his eyes on your profile before he even tries to make something off of it. He smiles, and you feel that too.

You’re beautiful, he thinks to himself. A thought that comes to him more frequent than remembering the kanji for his own name, and Atsumu knows he’s rooted himself way too deep to even try to think of letting go.

“Fuck the status quo or whatever that shit says babe,” you hear him laugh in return.

You’re both sat shoulder to shoulder, eyes towards the sun, and the world feels like it only exists to be yours. (and his.)

A moment, where in your eyes, it feels like it’s just (him) and you.

Just him.

Love, as just Atsumu, because he has a way of being your forever anything and everything. A whirlwind of some sorts; a spontaneous wildfire wrapped with the pretty shades of serendipity, and it feels so right.

It’s quiet, but it’s the nice kind of quiet. The demons in your head are hushed, but if you know they’re probably just slumbering, you’re still overwhelmed with a newfound sense of comfort. The source feels like it’s meant to flow infinitely, and you smile—until you don’t. You remind yourself the virtue of never taking more than you can bother to use, so as you turn your head, watching him soak in the light once again, it takes so much inside you to remember that and fight back the urge.

“Don’t you have practice tonight?” you ask, curious.

His sports bag was placed beside him, and it takes you a little while to notice that he’s decked out in his training gear. The time on your clock tells you it’s six forty five, and you’ve always known that practice started at five.

“I do,” he hums.

You turn in response, poking his cheek before pinching it. “Then go.”

Atsumu sighs, in a too-dramatic-voice for a man who was well beyond those years, but you suppose that that was just one of his charms. “Wanna stay actually,” he pouts leaning his weight against yours, to which you’re quick to groan at, nudging your shoulder to try to get him away.

His chin settles on your shoulder anyway, but his other arm is quick to anchor you around the other side, making sure that he’s still holding you up, more than you holding him up. Atsumu’s face is close to yours, as is yours. It’s a position he’s always liked. When he looks at you, he can see the little dots on your face that other people never could get to see unless they were this close. When you blink, you do it slow, like you’re savoring the sight in front of you, and his heart thrums in a tender sort of happiness because even if you never looked much like the sentimental type, he knows you well enough to know that you really are that.

Atsumu juts his bottom lip, like he’s tired, and you laugh.

“Tsumu, go.”

“Tsumu,” he counters. “—stay.”

“Actually,” he corrects himself, shaking his head. “Lena,” he smiles. “Stay.”

-

“You don’t have to do anything,” he adds. “Just stay.”

His words hit you before you could even try to pull your walls back up, knowing that it’ll hit a spot you aren’t exactly keen on confronting just yet.

Just stay, his words echo in your ear, and you suppose that that’s really all you could do. Moments like this where love overwhelm you the most has you fearing love the most, if you were being honest with yourself. There was a fear that comes with love, because at the root of it all, love will always just be a risk.

The higher the climb, the harder the fall they say. The more you give, the more the world will take. You look at Atsumu, who faces you with his pouted lips and sunset painted across two pools of baby brown. He closes his eyes and leans forward, knowing that you’ll kiss his eyelids before you even say it. Like the earth letting itself pulled by gravity, you’re beckoned towards the sun, falling into orbit as time—the human concept of it anyway—begins to move slow and all you can do is spin in circles and marvel at the being that is the light.

“I love you,” he says, and he’s honest.

What terrifies you is the honesty in your voice too, when you reply with an “I love you,” of your own.

The higher the climb, the more painful the fall, you think. When Atsumu opens his eyes and allows for the silence to remain and blanket the piece of the world that is yours and his, you see that you’ve already made it to the highest summit.

The more you give, the more the world will take.

But the thing is, you don’t know what you’ve given him. Your hands are empty beside his, but he holds them anyway. You’re so fucking in love and it terrifies you because what is the earth next to the sun? It stays in a distance so it doesn’t burn, but now, even as you’re face to face with the being that embodies the essence of the light and life itself—you aren’t burning.

Then it hits you.

He is your everything.

You gave yours, so what else could the world take other than him?

-

And because love also wields the power to make you more fearful than you are in love, you admit to yourself that you’re fucking scared. Atsumu says “I love you,” again, and holds your empty hands in his that holds nothing but still feels all the ways full at the same time. It’s suddenly hard to swallow, and you’re cold.

The summit is beautiful, but you are cold.

You close your eyes, walk forward, lose your footing, then just freefall.

The scary part is, even if you do that, you know Atsumu will just think of it as an adventure and jump right after you—riding the current with you, even though you’re venturing into what’s unknown.

Still, you close your eyes.

You pull the parachute first, imagining that you’ve hit the ground before the winds would even get to you.

-

(March 13, 2021)

The funny thing about heartbreak is, Atsumu thinks, is that you recognize its presence before you see its face.

He felt you fading.

Fading from something, but it never fathomed to him that it was from him. You never pulled away when he held his hands, because he made it a point to consciously remind himself to wipe them clean beforehand every time so he supposes it wasn’t that.

“Are we okay?” he asks anyway, when you’re in his car, staring out the street that’s a couple ways from your house. Six-thirty’s already passed, and the skies are in shades of grey instead of the marmalade and amber the sunset always brings.

Atsumu’s voice is a break in the atmosphere, that you think wasn’t tense, but the way his voice quivers in the way only you can point out has you thinking otherwise.

You swallow.

“We are.”

Atsumu exhales, and at the way his voice seems to sound a little more amplified than usual, you realize that the engine’s turned off. Regardless of the nagging voice in your head to stop dragging this out, you turn away anyway.

You love him, and love to love him. You love kissing his eyelids when he naps on your thighs and associating him with the little things just because.

(You turn away, prolonging the inevitable, because you don’t want to associate him with the end—just yet.)

You think to yourself that you don’t deserve this—him—because he deserves better, but you want to have just one more bite. Fists clenched in the pocket of his hoodie you wear that still smells like him, and you want to cry.

Atsumu sighs again, tired. When you look at him, he’s already staring at you, for god knows how long now, and you wince because he looks exhausted.

“Are we?” he asks again, and when you open your mouth to try to find a couple words to string together as a reply, nothing comes out.

“Lena,” he says, and his voice is loud.

He’s only been whispering this whole time, and you’re aware of that, but it’s still loud. His car’s in park; the engine’s off, and when you shift your position from side to side to try to find your place, you can hear the fabric ruffle against each other.

“Len,” you hear again. “Lena.”

“Talk to me,” Atsumu says, and you’re baffled at the way that his voice sounds like a plea.

“I am talking to you,” you mumble. You shift again, but you’re still not comfortable; you don’t want to look at him. You don’t think that you deserve to look at him.

But his voice still comes to you, soft. He’s saying your name; again and again, but it still sounds like a fucking plea. Your shoulders shake, but you still it before he notices. The bullet points that come after the list you write left to right, from the top going to the bottom doesn’t give you an answer as to why he’s fucking pleading.

“Please look at me,” he’s whispering now. (Still loud.)

What is there to plead for?

“What’s wrong, Tsumu?”

“Babe, you gotta talk to me.”

The zipper drags across the plastic of the door, and makes a sound. Internally, you flinch right as you shift your position again because you’re still not fucking comfortable.

You look at him, then blink. He’s staring at you, desperate for words you don’t have, and suddenly your hands feel so empty.

What do I give you?

He shivers when a breeze floats in through the window, while you don’t. Then you blink again. Right, you think. This is his jacket that he gave you. He’s sitting beside you, at 23:10, half an hour away from his apartment, knowing full well there’s traffic in Tokyo regardless of the fucking hour.

Your thoughts, a battle between what can I even give you? and look at what you’ve given me.

“Tsumu I think this is it,” you suddenly whisper, the feeling of being so out of place finally dawning on you.

You keep shifting, uncomfortable in your position, because you’re not supposed to be here. You buy yourself a slice of cake after a job well done, but when you look at Atsumu—what have you done?

What have you given for you to receive so much?

His hoodie’s still warm, and your fingers clutch onto the fabric.

Atsumu stares at you, and even if you want to look away, you can’t. He holds your gaze like he’s held your heart for years now, and you know this won’t be a situation easy to break out of. His grip had always been solid despite the lack of bruises that tell the world of its presence.

“I think,” you sigh, swallowing down the urge to say it’s a joke, to take back your words.

“I think—“ you say again, but hesitate. Atsumu watches you nod your head, the look in your eye so far he doesn’t know if he can catch up by now. You’re whispering your words, the most of what you say phrases he can barely even understand, but he listens to you anyway.

You want to cry again, the tightness in your chest increasing tenfold, and the feeling of discomfort reminding you that you’re not supposed to be here. You don’t deserve this slice of cake, but you’re greedy.

Balled fists, hazy thoughts, and you’re cracking. You aren’t breaking, but you’re cracking.

The fallout is the same.

You nod your head again, and Atsumu watches, his eyebrows scrunched up and drawn together, as you seem to arrive at a conclusion without even letting him in the conversation. The haze clears from your eyes, and by the looks of it you’ve already rooted yourself someplace you don’t even want to stand in.

He tries to say your name, but you’re still shaking your head.

Then you’re shrugging off his jacket. Atsumu opens his mouth, still fucking confused because what are you doing?

You held his hand yesterday and kissed his eyelids goodnight three fucking hours ago.

“What are you doing?”

You hear him, but that’s all there is to it. You know you should be listening to him, but only the definition of the words register in your head. The meaning to be deciphered in the situation remains unseen, when the only thoughts in your head revolve around the fact that your hands are still so empty.

You think about what he says, though.

What are you doing, Lena?

He watches you unzip the zipper from the front, and hear the audible click when you unbuckle your seatbelt. He’s still watching, mouth parted in the silence in disbelief at what he thinks is the goodbye scenario he’s always avoided thinking about. You’re leaning forward, then it’s the left arm out before the right.

A breeze comes again, and even if your eyes are elsewhere, you catch a glimpse at him from your peripherals as he’s shivering—again. Frustration bubbles up in your chest, welling up into tears, but you don’t cry.

You remind yourself that you shouldn’t cry.

Balance was what kept the world in orbit, so therefore, you must only take, if you give.

Rewards are reserved for accomplishments, but what have you fucking offered?

Atsumu’s given you the world, but you still face him with empty hands and just an I love you.

Love was your certainty and your lifetime kind of truth, but what else is there? When Atsumu tells you he’s all yours, it’s enough, but when you do—why does it feel so little?

You take the risk, then the plunge, and look at him. When he blinks, and keeps his eyes shut just that while longer, you have to fight the urge to kiss his eyelids like you’ve always done. His hoodie’s folded on your lap now, but you still smell your honeydew on it.

How many times does he have to wash it to get the smell out? you think.

Atsumu swallows his words, his retaliations, because he knows you’ve anchored yourself before you even hit the water. If you had always been anything—other than the fact that you are always his everything—it was the fact that you are resolute.

So he lets you speak.

He already offers you his love even though he looks at heartbreak in the face.

And it’s your face he sees. Faraway eyes, your shoulders tense, and a shiver that makes your fingers tremble in the slightest. He sees every detail play out in slow motion, and even if his heart is hammering in his chest, just as yours probably is, he thinks to himself—you’re beautiful.

You, as the face of love from the hello, and still you, the face he puts to heartbreak as he listens to you say, “I think I have to let you go.”

‘Let what go?’ he thinks. When you let go of something, it’s to get rid of the bad—the dead weight.

Was he the dead weight?

“It’s for the best,” you say. (For your best, you think.)

“I don’t think we can keep doing this anymore.” (I don’t think I can keep doing this to you anymore.)

“I think this is the best for us.” (For you.)

“What—“

“Tsumu,” you say, cutting him off. Your voice doesn’t quiver but your hands hidden from his point of view clench then unclench.

“Atsumu,” you say again, this time with a smile. It isn’t forced, because you don’t think that you ever had to force a smile for him, but at the sight of him watching you, heartbreak written across his face, your heart can’t help but crack in the same pattern.

It runs a little deeper, you think. The kind of deep where you aren’t sure if even the scars will fade overtime.

“Lena—wait—“ he tries to interject, but you’re already opening the door and walking outside.

He knows your look when you’ve decided, and he knows that it looks something just like this. Still, he bites his lip, hoping that this would just blow off come daylight. He knew you had always been the type to feel the things that come, but never really dwell on it enough to process it. There was hesitance when you accepted things from others, and it never escapes his line of vision when you’d just duck your head a little lower when you didn’t have anything to offer back.

When he says I love you, he means it in both the verbal and in the silent way he tries to communicate with you.

Like leaving traces of himself in every little piece of everything, so that it’s there for you to have and just know.

“I love you,” he says again, and again.

In the silence, but you don’t hear it. On the walk home, you feel it but you turn away.

 -

This is the painful part of love, you think. You know that you’re frustrated, and that everything you hate which unfortunately comes with love is brewing so strong in your chest, that no words come out.

You tell yourself that you’re mad, but when you look at the mirror you turn away.

“My name is Lena,” you say, and you begin. In the world—or your world at least—chaos is swirling so in order to find organization for it, you close your eyes and center your thoughts on the first fact to keep you grounded.

“I like to eat cake, when I deserve it, because I still am victorious,” you say, then add, when a flash of pale yellow comes to mind, “—sometimes.”

“Yeah,” you say, then turn the corner to walk into the kitchen so sit at the table. You remember the slice of cake you bought this morning, meaning to save it for tonight, remembering that you just finished your exams after cramming for nearly two weeks.

In hindsight, you really should have expected it though. Your sister did mention that she just started her period the day before, and usually you never minded when she ate a couple of stuff that wasn’t yours—and you know this is isn’t the reason why you’re crumpled down on the kitchen floor with one fork in hand and no cake in the fridge, but you are.

You’re crying, and flustered, and the words that come out of your mouth sound more gibberish than coherent. You think that you’re saying Atsumu’s name, beside an apology, but truth be told you’re letting yourself go and blank out.

The cold air from the opened fridge hits you on your knees, and you really should be getting up by now to shut it close before your sister comes home and pokes at you for it, but you really can’t be bothered to think about caring.

This is the fall that comes with love, and what was taken was what you were given.

It’s you who gave him back, because the thoughts in your head are busy telling you that even if love was enough—was it really?

Were you enough was the ugly question you don’t face, so you close your eyes and convince yourself that you’re crying because of a fucking slice of cake and not because of the sun.

You ignore the memory of walking home, and still feeling Atsumu’s presence watch you with eagle eyes as he slowly drove with you down the sidewalk – “just so I know you’re home safe, at least give me that.”

-

Give, you think.

There was nothing that you had given him, and Atsumu had deserved something even greater than eternity itself.

-

It’s in the same hour of that same night where Miya Atsumu, who wore red eyes and slumped shoulders, that was standing outside the bakery an hour and fifteen minutes away from his place, wondering which kind of cake you’d like the most out of the thirteen in the display.

-

(September 13, 2021)

Time moves at a weird pace.

Yesterday feels like yesterday, and today feels just like today. It doesn’t move slow, because you know the clock keeps ticking, but still you move. Sunrise comes before sunset, but you stopped looking up and watching the in-betweens colors before that final stroke of marmalade, or even five thirty’s golden hour.

Gold reminded you of the sun, so you looked away. Love had you blinded, and you wanted to look at the world with the lens of practicality instead of the colored ones this time around.

Atsumu was still around, for the most part of it.

Graduation came, then summer, and you know even without you he kept blooming. Towards the end of the year, right before graduation, you still saw the posters on the wall, and heard his name in the announcements. There was always a congratulations right before, followed by a “we’re proud of you,” that never flew past your line of attention.

He deserved it, you think.

Miya Atsumu deserves the whole cake, and not just a slice, because he continuously still gives—his good deeds going well past just the title of a job well done.

You, on the other hand, both kept your distance and thoughts in order in the beginning.

He still said hello when you passed by him in the halls. The awkward timeframe right after a breakup didn’t spare either of you too. With you, opening your inbox and rereading the old messages; debating whether you should just archive the whole conversation or delete it altogether, then seeing Atsumu typing something for a whole five minutes before the indication stops and a message is never sent.

Where you’re stuck wondering what he could have said, because you know Atsumu’s always been the type to not only wear his heart on his sleeve, but rather, shout it out instead.

You never fit that bill, but you (love)d him anyway.

If you were being honest—at least to yourself—it took long, before Miya Atsumu became just the name of a contact in your phone, the text history buried at the bottom. Seven months’ worth of texts piled above his last, “hey, i’m outside,” that you never could bring yourself to delete.

For a while, you think, you deserved that slice of cake.

Just a slice, and not the whole thing, but for that while—it was all yours.

-

(December 2021)

Akaashi Keiji didn’t come into your life until another three months after you shut the book and pretended you never read its contents. You say you know the end, but really, you never flipped past page 223 despite the book ending at 416.

The end was a page that was skimmed over, and never really read through. A dog eared fold on the corner, instead of a bookmark, for the sake of it sitting on the shelf, looking finished. In the moment, you know it isn’t finished, and you’ll probably stumble upon the book again at some point, later down in time, but perhaps if you give yourself enough patience, you’ll forget that it was left to be unfinished in the first place.

Miya Atsumu was a story you started, where you read the start in a third person POV, then left it midway when you took the reins and rewrote what you think the ending would be from a first person perspective.

I am not enough for you, you said. I will take off this jacket and leave it here, because I haven’t offered you anything.

I will leave, and let you go because you deserve more.

(But it’s I love you, as the thought, that still will always remain.)

-

You have your books and bullet point notes, the days after today written in a list: from top to bottom with just a couple of scribbles along the margins. Akaashi met you like serendipity used to dictate, and this new book started like how it should have.

“Hello,” because that’s how it should start. Followed by a “how are you?” because that’s usually the next thing to say.

The conversation’s light before it dives deeper, and you think to yourself that you like it like that because it follows order. Atsumu gave you half his bento box two hours after you first met, while Akaashi offered you a napkin and his extra fork when yours fell.

Often, your friends would tell you that it probably wasn’t a good idea to compare the dynamic of the two, and you agree because if you were outside this situation you would be advising the exact same, but when you do things from first person, a lot of things become that much harder just because.

This wasn’t love, nor was this the replacement of love, but you can’t help but admit that Akaashi Keiji was the prince charming you wrote about in your diary when you were a kid. He was the ocean eyed prince charming every teenager dreamt of, and this was the slowburn kind of pace that love should be.

Atsumu barreled into you and made himself be known as the yellow in the color wheel opposite of your purple, and even if it didn’t clash, nor blend, it had a presence.

You think to yourself that Akaashi was all the shades of ocean blue, while you were that kind of purple right in between lavender and periwinkle.  You could stand next to him at the train station, or be squished next to eachother in the train during rush hour, and people would take one glance and assume you’re together.

Situating yourself beside the shade next to yours in the color wheel felt right. Blue to purple, or purple to blue. It worked. Neither of you had to jump far, or take a leap across the wheel, but only take a step and you’re right there.

He wasn’t love, but you didn’t let yourself think that he could be.

It’s two more years of this until your master’s is done, so you suppose reading a side story wouldn’t hurt much.

Only that this side story was getting a little more complicated than you initially just planned out. You jumped into this story without the thought of grabbing a bookmark, and Akaashi Keiji had been the type of person you knew hated dog eared bookmarks.

“What are your thoughts about this?” he asks you one day though, so completely out of the blue that it has you whipping your head to the side to stare at him, wide eyed. You’ve known him for a while now, and he was okay. Perhaps just the word great, at best, because whether you looked at this from a first person point of view or a third, your words would still be the same. Objective thoughts led you to thinking of coming to a conclusion based on the rubric of your childhood, and Akaashi fit the bill.

Maybe not your bill now, but he still fit it.

Akaashi Keiji was who your should have been prince charming looked like, with the ocean blue eyes and poetry for words.

Even though he asks you that now, when you’re seated in the passenger seat of his car parked outside your apartment building, you still can only bring yourself to just blink. You stay true to the fact that you are surprised, and you do admit that, but that’s all there is to it. Nothing feels like it’s leaping out of your chest, and there’s no flutter of anything in your stomach.

His words register in your head, but so does confusion.

“This?” you parrot, trying to find meaning through the limited context he provides.

Akaashi nods, hands still at 10 and 2 on the wheel, while his foot hovers over the brakes. You can see that the car’s in park, but he’s tense. He lets a couple more seconds pass—that felt like it was stretching a lot longer than what it really is—before inhaling and turning to face you.

“Yeah,” he nods, looking like he’s saying it to himself rather than towards you. “This,” he confirms, then after it looks like he convinced himself, he looks at you, and nods again.

You stare at two pools of the sea, that immediately has you wondering if it’s either the Atlantic or the Pacific. Your feet that had long been digging into the warmth of the sand on the shore are suddenly hit with the first cold kisses of the water, and you’re caught.

“This,” you sound out, and by now you’re already well aware of where the conversation’s headed. The both of you still skirt around the words anyway, the silence quickly settling in.

He’s breathing in and out, steady, and tapping his finger against the steering wheel—steady. You’re sat beside him wearing a jacket that’s always been yours, and the AC in his car is just the right kind of cold. When you shift, you’re not exactly comfortable enough to want to stay, but you aren’t uncomfortable to the point of wanting to leave right away either. The space between the both of you feel appropriate, and you know even if he leaves later, his place is only a ten minute drive away.

Convenience, you think; it’s an appropriate word to describe this.

So you turn to face him.

Ocean meets earth, and you’re aware of the cold waves touching your ankle now. You’re nodding your head when you hear the click of his seatbelt unbuckle, then keep your eyes on him when he leans close.

It’s like staying on the edge of the shore, hesitant for the long while, before the moon beyond the daylight loses patience and calls for the tide to favor the yearning of the sea as it grants the tips of its waves to reach further inland.

From your seat, you watch as the ocean comes to you.

Your hands are empty, still, but you did finish that paper two days early so you suppose a slice of something is okay.

“This is convenient,” he finally hears you say, and Akaashi wants to say something else, but he shuts himself up when he sees you finally look at him, like you found an answer to a question that’s boggled with your head for a while now.

He knows there was always something unanswered that bothered you, but he never had it in himself to breach past the boundary the both of you had situated right in the middle just for the sake of asking.

He was curious, but they did say that curiosity had its ways of killing the cat.

Akaashi doesn’t want to be killed—and because he didn’t want this to be killed either—he chose to keep his silence.

Still, he still has it in him to hesitate. The moon can only push the tides so much, and the water will only go so far to where it rarely ventures before it must recede back to where it should be come daylight.

It’s daylight that you yearn, and he sees that.

A faceless kind of sun—that he can only guess is the answer to all the questions he knows you still have.

What’s above the both of you is the gleam of moonlight now, he reasons, so he goes as far as he can and waits. You’re still standing by the shore—still sitting completely still—until he watches you break out of the hesitation laced with your thoughts, right as you move.

“What are we doing?” he hears you whisper, so Akaashi begs for the moon to push him forward just a little closer.

(He hopes you don’t pull away.)

“We’re doing what’s convenient,” he offers, a set of words strung together at the very last second that he knows is just a crafted lie, then prays for the best.

You’re nodding your head, and you give yourself just those few more seconds as you weigh your thoughts, deciding what’s still okay and what isn’t.

You think back to the bullet points of your journal, and mentally recite the facts written in an organized list.

You like to eat cake, and treat yourself a slice after a job well done, because that’s only when you deserve it. You (love)d Miya Atsumu for a whole novel of your life where the reason fell under just because instead of the specifics you try to fit in places for the sake of accuracy and detail. Miya Atsumu was the sun that was always with the sky, and you were never blinded even if you did always stare at him directly in the eye. (Next to that part is always a quickly scribbled why—but you don’t know the answer to it just yet.)

(You say you should really be getting back to it later, to fill in the blanks, and give it some closure—but you aren’t ready for a closure.)

(You aren’t ready to open page 223.)

Then next on the list is Akaashi Keiji. You had two classes with him and went to the same university for your masters and the most you know about him is that he likes his coffee with just a splash of caramel. He lives just a ten minute drive away from you, and he’s okay enough to share a laugh with on weekdays and breakfast with on weekends if you had class together that day. He’s okay with 7am lectures, even if he did have bags under his eyes, and he’s the type to always carry a bookmark with him or at least just a scrap of paper to fit in between the pages because he hated the idea of just folding the corners as substitute instead.

It’s not that he’s convenient, but rather this is convenient.

You got along well, and you suppose that you’re comfortable enough with the ocean to wade deep within it and still not drown.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” you hear him murmur, so you take a step and wade in a little deeper.

Ankle deep, and you’re unbuckling your seatbelt as you shift and fully face him.

Ocean blue, and the waves are swirling, swirling, swirling—you’re pulled in. Waist deep, and the water’s cold enough to wake you up and remind you that it’s fine. You’re fine, and you can breathe; you aren’t overwhelmed, and when you stretch your fingers and try to feel for the sand beneath the waves, you can still feel it. There’s a certain security found in being grounded, then you’re thinking to yourself that whatever this is, is okay.

You try to stare down, and face the waves, and will yourself to not think of the sky.

There’s no daylight, and the sun slumbers, so the waves around you heed to the call of the moon and move back and forth, in motion, but still, around your waist.

So it’s you who buckles your knees in waist deep water and pull yourself under.

It’s the feel of the water, cool and not exactly cold that greets you, as you push yourself forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt before pressing your lips against his.

Akaashi sighs against your lips, as if he’s already discovered the ending to a story he conceptualized himself but never really had the courage of writing out.

He’s kissing you right back, and it feels good—for the moment.

You try not to think of the nagging feeling that pokes at you again and again, saying that the warmth of the sand under the sun in daylight feels much more like home than the cool feel of the water.

-

You’ve always known to yourself that there was the undeniable contrast between Akaashi and Atsumu.

Comparing the two wasn’t a bright idea—it was stupid, if anything, and didn’t help with shit, honestly speaking. (You always were honest to yourself.)

Akaashi hummed his praises, and never was the type to really shout them out. He called you when he’d pull up to your building, instead of wait outside the door and surprise you with a couple pieces of chocolate and a cheesy grin that you swore to hell and back you hated to boot.

Atsumu was everything unpredictable and freeing, but Akaashi was predictable in the way that eventually grew sentimental. He, alone, had forever been great. You knew well that there was so many things he could take pride in, and never bothered to hide your compliments when it came to his achievements, because you knew he deserved the recognition.

Akaashi spoke to you in metaphors, while Atsumu told you like how it is. You admit to yourself, that even if there were some days where you liked the challenge of trying to understand what was written underneath the underneath—the days where you just wanted to hear it as it just is were just as equal.

For the next few months after the first, time still moved okay. Sixty minutes was still an hour, while twenty four hours was still one whole day. Whether Akaashi’s hand was on yours, or if his lips were on your neck in the car, time still just moved.

Your heart skipped a couple beats, when his thumb would always caress the corners of your lips before and after he kissed you, and your cheeks would bloom into all the shades of scarlet when he’d whisper your name in between the kisses that never felt rushed.

But it was just that.

You felt the rush of what love was supposed to be—the hype that it never failed to bring—in the car.

At 11PM, in the parking lot of your apartment building, the height of love thrived on the fumes of serendipity for an hour or two every couple of nights, and would trickle fast when you’d open the door and tell him goodnight.

Atsumu was goodnight, my love, with the cheesy smile and your montage of eye rolls but secret blushes when you’d turn your back and make your way inside your house. Akaashi, on the other hand, you think is just your goodnight, then go, because at the end of the day—because of convenience—the both of you are somehow dragging out the goodbye.

So you part from him, wipe your lips, and try to ignore the way his thumb lingers just a little longer on the corner of your lips. You turn away when the look in his eye turns softer, because it shouldn’t, and pretend like you didn’t just see the shift the both of you have been trying to get away from.

Just two years, then goodbye, you tell yourself.

This isn’t love, Akaashi thinks to himself, hand on the wheel and foot on the gas pedal instead of the brakes. He watches you walk past the hood of his car, the hand that was just balling up the collar of his shirt only moments ago raised to give him a goodnight wave as you walk past, and shit, he thinks.

He still smells honeydew even after you’ve shut the door, and he can’t help but notice how silent the car feels despite the low hum of the air conditioner blasting inside his car.

Akaashi sinks into his seat, forehead pressed to the steering wheel, before he sighs his deep exhale.

“Ah,” he mumbles. “Shit.”

This wasn’t supposed to be love.

-

If there was one thing he excelled at above the rest, and kept as a constant since day one, for Akaashi it was playing it safe.

This route was set to be the one he’d take when he’d drive home, because it was safe. Traffic was inevitable in the city, but this on had the least turns. A couple stoplights, and some convenience stores would be in every corner as well as a gas station at every couple of miles was convenient.

Safe, like choosing just plain vanilla for his cake flavors ever since he turned old enough to pick out his own cake, and safe, like just a splash of caramel in his coffee to lessen the bite of espresso.

You were what challenged him to walk a little ways outside the circle he’d always deemed as safe.

He didn’t run away from it, on the other hand, because he realizes that it’s curiosity that made him take the bait. You weren’t just the girl who shared a couple subjects with him and wrote her notes in the same order, the letters written in print instead of scribbled with questionable cursive.

Truth be told, it was before he even took the risk that night and begged for the moon to let him reach just a little further in the shore for him to unconsciously begin redesigning the face of love into the contours of your face.

You looked like love.

What it could just possibly be at the start, until he waded too far into the shore for that thought to turn into the beginnings of certainty.

And when Akaashi Keiji was certain, he took no time in looking for somewhere to bury his roots as deep as he can possibly go in.

It started with noticing that some weeks you prefer red velvet over chocolate mousse, then making a mental note to himself that you prefer the bakery on the east side of campus than the one on the west. You never made too much conversation with the teenagers that worked there part time, because he understands that there’s never really a point in doing that when you could just be on your way, but he took note of how you’d smile a little more towards the uncles that trimmed the hedges on the garden outside.  

In his eyes, not only did you look like the textbook definition of love, but you also looked like his dream of what love is supposed to be.

It’s supposed to be looking at someone, doing something so mundane, and realizing that having a name beside you written in a book that was supposed to just tell your journey wasn’t all that bad—at all.

And all it took was a Sunday morning, on the twenty first of some month he can’t quite recall in the moment, for him to catch a glimpse of you making your way to the library with a cup of what he knows is just boba in a coffee mug in hand. The sky behind you looks like it opens, as if there’s something with it that’s always been with you, and even though you’re at a distance—in his eyes, you’re glowing.

You smile at the uncle who’s trimming away at the hedges to your right, then right before you make a turn, you’re raising your hand as a good morning and giving him a smile.

And fuck, Akaashi thinks.

He holds a heart that beats, where for the moment it’s not because of the fact that he still needs to breathe.

He’s okay, and this is okay.

He thinks to himself that there’s a chance, because the both of you work. So it just means to say that this, can too.

“Okay,” he exhales, the whisper more as a reassurance to himself than to anyone else. The world covered in daylight slumbers at his words, and as he stands, his own schedule in place, he wishes for the blessing of the moon to push him with the tides back into the shore again.

“Tonight,” he texts you, instead.

“I’ll pick you up tonight.”

-

(March 13 2022)

In shades of grey, Akaashi Keiji loves you.

Grey car, oceanic yes that look grey under the stormy nights you’d always meet him in, and the rainclouds of tonight blending the skies into the muddled shades of one palette. Making out in his car, a couple times a week, because even if he wanted to hold your hand and kiss you out in the world—you always did pull back.

But he has this, and for an hour and some minutes, has you.

Your palms on his chest, where his breaths are huffed out and fucking heavy. There’s smoke out the engine, the air conditioner’s blasted in just the way he knows you like, but it’s those hazy eyes of yours he could never read that stare at him.

Or towards him, rather.

Akaashi thinks to himself that it’s always looked as if you mean to be staring at someone else other than him, living through the moment that was somewhere else but here. He knows love is meant to be screamed at the top of his lungs, so he tries to at least do that.

He’s never really thought the rest of the world should know, because all he really wants is for you to know.

Words don’t come out, and his hands are under your shirt before they even try to run through the skin of your neck like he usually does. Cold palms flat against the curve of your back, and you’re confused. Akaashi’s staring at you, breath held as he holds onto your smell of honeydew for as long as he can like it’s the lifeline he needs. Your eyes are even hazier, looking like you’re even more lost, and he’s frustrated.

He kisses you again, pulling you flush against him, until eventually you’re pushing at his chest when the center console begins to dig into your skin a little too much.

“We can go upstairs?” he usually tries to suggest, and now, looking at your red lips and mused hair, he wants to ask the same question again, but because he thinks he knows you like the back of his hand, he also knosws that you’ll just wave him off with a half hearted no chuckled out instead.

This is just a pit stop, and he knows. He is just your pit stop, and even if the agreement was the same on the flip side, it bothers him that he fucking knows.

“Someone will see us,” a thing you say, because he’s just your for now.

Akaashi Keiji, in your head, is going to be your almost mistake, almost enemy.

(And you don’t want to hate him. It’s not that his limbs have been too entangled with yours for you to come up with that decision, but rather, it was just how you just didn’t want to hate someone you shared slices of your truest you with.)

“Someone will see us, Keiji,” you warn again, ducking a little when a group of people make their way out of a building and head in the general direction of their car.

Akaashi knows that you’re aware of the tinted windows he had installed just two weeks before, and that they fucking worked, so why were you still hiding?

What is there to hide?

So it’s him saying, “I don’t care,” that lights a kind of flame in his gut. They travel up to the veins, reminding him of their existence.

It’s a risk, he thinks. He holds your face in between his hands, shaking. You allow yourself to finally tremble with him, because broken has been the only side of you that he’s ever known.

Akaashi’s frustrated, again, because watching you watch him in the dim—despite the haze of your dark brown, he still tries to jump at the chance that perhaps this could be love.

He wants to know what you look like in every shade in between black and white. There’s a lot of pastels and violet blended in with your choice of wardrobe, so it fits.

Akaashi wants to hear the sound of your voice at twenty three, and not just at a zero or a hundred. He knows your heart breaks a little more when October 5 around the calendar, but he wants to know why.

“Someone is going to fucking see,” you’re hissing now, but you still don’t pull away.

Akaashi knows he’s just the getaway car, but he still keeps his foot on the pedal, always ready to go when you are.

He sees the look in your eye and recognizes the tendrils of goodbye before it’s even completely thought out from your end, but he shuts his mouth, swallows his own doubts, and kisses you like you’re his.

(For tonight, you are.)

(Under the moonlight; away from daylight; within the waters, ever drowning in the depths—you’re his.)

So Akaashi locks his doors, starts the engine, and kisses you again and again and again and again like the world within this little space is all the world will ever be. He drowns out the voice in his head that tells him to pull away; to push you and himself away, because this isn’t okay—but tonight he is selfish.

“I don’t fucking care,” he repeats; in between the kisses and the façade.

“Lena I don’t care.”

You don’t understand, but at the same time you do.

You’re still kissing him anyway, and leaning into his touch. You only look at him when he opens his eyes, to pull yourself back into the water and away from the memory of daylight and sun and fucking sand because not yet—you think. You don’t want to think about the word deserve, just yet. There’s a fire that’s been lit in your veins, and the world feels like it’s kicking you off of somewhere again so you could just soar.

It’s not the same, the voice in your head cries.

And it’s not.

Love, is Miya Atsumu and daylight. He’s the whole tier of cake always put on display that you mean to buy, but never do because you feel like what you carry with you would never be enough. He’s the masterpiece against the skies, against the backdrop of your world, and he deserved nothing short of the greatness that he is too.

Akaashi’s lips are on your neck, where he mumbles your name, once, then twice, but never enough to feel like he’s endgame. There will never be a number to match to that what could be enough, you think, so you let it be and leave it at that.

Akaashi Keiji isn’t a secret, but you still shield whatever you have from something. You think you shield it from the sky, but some days has you feeling like it’s really meant to be understood as working like the other way around. He’s kissing you, still, then when his lips move to kiss the side of your forehead you still.

You know he means to leave a kiss on your eyelids, but you keep your eyes wide open—staring at him. It’s the ocean blue, but you’re not being pulled away, swept out to sea this time, because there’s no current. Within the depths, you see a reflection of the skies that always watch, and the clouds above look like they mean to weep.

Your toes hit the sand underneath the waves, and you take one step back—closer to the shore.

You’re not there, yet, but you’re headed there. Akaashi looks at you, looking a little more broken than whole, and while there’s an apology at the tips of your tongue, he beats you to the punch by saying “What’s wrong?”

He knows he’s asking a question he knows the answer to, and he probably shouldn’t be doing that, because it will only bring more harm than good at this point, but he says it anyway. At every chance that falls on his hands here he can at least try to make his presence be known, to root his name and him into the grounds of your earth, he’ll do it.

Pinpricks that poke and prod at his chest before they dig a little deeper, and a whole lot fucking deeper when you turn away from him and pull away, taking with you your traces of honeydew and love.

“Nothing,” you answer. A lie. You both know, but neither of you confront the clear sins of the other. “Nothing,” you say again, solidifying your answer.

The list comes reappears in your head, and the facts that you’ve been gathering lay themselves side by side beside you in the most cohesive order.

You like to eat cake when you did something worth celebrating for. Fact.

Your name is Lena, and there’s a lot about the lyrics to Ayahuasca that sends you spiraling. Fact.

Fruit tarts over cheesecake, because even if you didn’t mind cheese all that much, cheesecake felt weird. Fact.

Miya Atsumu, forever and always; spring to winter, will always be love. Fact.

You let him go because he deserved better. Fact.

You mark the pages of a book you haven’t finished reading by folding the corners of the pages into the little triangles resembling dog ears instead of buying an actual bookmark, while Akaashi Keiji, does the same. Fact.

Your truth is that even if he stares at you right now, with the eyes of a man in love, you know that the sinking feeling in your stomach is the fact that you think as if he’s just meant to be with you in the moment, but not after it passes.

“Keiji, I’m sorry.”

-

It’s the way you looked as you said the words instead of the words itself that sticks in Akaashi’s head the most. He’s up, awake at 2 in the morning, tossing and turning in bed, frustrated. There’s a misplaced sense of anger inside, but he knows it isn’t towards you.

He isn’t angry at himself, nor you, nor the two fucking words that sounds like a consolation prize if anything.

Akaashi sits up, back against the headboard and ponders to himself if this is the kind of extremity Bokuto had to face whenever he was going through the motions. It’s the kind of fire that bubbles up but never explodes. First, he remembers. Then, he’s angry. Next, he’s swallowing down the words he wants to say because the problem is—he doesn’t know who to say them to.

He could call you and ask what your fucking deal was, but he knows that’s out of pocket. Your deal had always been the black and the white. He knew you as someone who appreciated it most when things fell into what was in accordance to the list you always write in order. It’s always been either this, or that, and he should have drilled it into his head at the very least.

Then after those thoughts eventually settle into his head and accumulate into a pile in front of him, the anger that already had rose to the neck area suddenly simmers down.

Then, finally, Akaashi realizes, as the exact moment settles in—he’s just tired.

He’s a little sad, and tired. Slumped shoulders, tired eyes, and thoughts a whirlwind of just you, you, and you.

This wasn’t part of his norm, he thinks, but he thought you were. He thought all there was to you were boba or juice shoved in a coffee mug and friendly hellos to the uncles who trimmed the hedges. You were the color lilac despite having a love for all the shades found in the rainbow. There was probably a semblance of love, in your life, before him, but he knows that inn this part of your life—he was bound to meet someone who’ve had endings of their own.

He sighs again, realizing the truth that he doesn’t want you to be just an ending for him to reminisce over with a group of strangers some time later.

And of course, Akaashi Keiji was the type to demand answers, because it’s only minutes later here he finally makes up his mind, standing up in a rush and picking up his phone as he dials your number, the digits memorized despite your contact having been long saved.

You don’t pick up after the first ring, but it’s only two am and he sees your game activity on discord so he knows you’re up. He’s tapping his foot, a little impatient, but because tonight he made the abrupt decision to suddenly be selfish—just this once—he didn’t care.

The second ring still rings, but there’s silence. Your status changes from online to do not disturb, and by the third ring, he hangs up, and grabs his keys.

-

To be fair, you did count down from ten to one.

Akaashi’s at your door before you can even say hello. He doesn’t look like he’s lost much sleep, taking into consideration the fact that you already are well aware of how little he even sleeps, but it’s you who leans by your door and says hello anyway.

He shifts in his place, left leg supporting his whole weight before the other. You watch, somewhere between amused and indifferent as he parts his lips once or twice, shutting them close each time before he eventually just settles with looking away and murmuring, “Wanna go for a ride?”

“To make out?”

He looks at you, then sighs. “Just wanna talk.”

-

And to be fair on your end, even if he did say that, there really isn’t much talking going on. The both of you are only wearing your pyjamas, just a couple hops away from going to bed—until this—obviously. He’s driving around the street of the neighborhood park nearby in circles; the one with the two stoplights on either ends, and just one corner as the only way that lead to your house, while his route was the turn a couple more ways ahead.

He misses the turn to your home every time. It’s a fifteen minute walk at best, and truth be told, if you were already sick of this, you would have long gotten off and started walking already, but you suppose that tonight you were a little more patient.

There’s a lot of factors that have to deal with Akaashi being patient with you too, so you could guess that it’s safe to assume that this was just a give and take situation.

You give him your words, while he gives you his.

He gives you his time, then you give him his.

There’s a balance that needs to be maintained, so while he gives you silence, in return, you do the same.

Until he breaks it, saying, “What happened back there?”

“It is what is is, Keiji,” you hum, head turned to face the window to your right.  

“We were working out,” he reasons, and you widen your eyes, looking at him, baffled. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought we had an agreement, Ji,” you retaliate.

“We didn’t say anything, Lena,” he scoffs.

Scoffs, you think. Then it fucking dawns on you that he was actually already wading in the deep end, too fast, too hard.

You shake your head, always having been resolute with your decisions, as you were transparent with your intentions. Akaashi, on the other hand, seemed to just squint right through it and look at the mirage instead of the actual desert that was right there.

“But it was still said,” you tell him, and when he stops the car near the sidewalk just to gawk at you, it really fucking hits you that he was way too deep in something that was only waist deep in hindsight.

“That’s what you think,” Akaashi tells you, but he doesn’t sound angry. He doesn’t sound tired either, so it messes with you in a weird way to realize that this is just his truth.

“I can’t tell you what you can and can’t think just like how you can’t be putting words in my mouth that I never even said, Keiji,” you bite back, flustered and frankly a little appalled at the bluntness off his words. When you stare at him, you try to give it some reason that maybe he’s just tired, or maybe he just had a bad day and was spewing shit out of his mouth at best, because at the moment, absolutely nothing is making any fucking sense.

But then he’s sighing, tired. The back of his head thumps the car seat headrest when he leans back and loosens his grip on the wheel. The streetlights flicker, but stay, while the stoplight with the corner that has your turn on it signals yellow.

You bite the bullet and turn to him, but still slow yourself down.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean—“

From his peripherals, Akaashi sees the stoplight further up ahead that leads to his turn blink from green to red.

He pauses.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m—fuck. Fuck, okay,” he continues, pausing to rub his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, Len, I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

“I think,” you begin, exhaling, and frankly feeling a little more worn out. “I think we were looking at different stoplights this whole time.”

Akaashi laughs, finding it a little out of your character to be speaking in metaphors, especially knowing that that was always his sort of thing. He nods, anyway, a little past worn out, and just fucking tired at this point. It dawns on him that it is three in the morning, and he’s pulled you out of your apartment just to try to find a common ground in something that had been completely one sided from the start.

You’re yawning, in your spot just beside him, but you still look at him anyway with blinking eyes that look more sleepy than anything, but he supposes he’d rather take that kind of look over frustration or sadness.

He fights the urge to tuck in the strand of hair behind your ear, looking away when you blink a little too long, because he knows that his lips will never find a home against the skin of your eyelids he knows he’ll still periodically think about from time to time when nostalgia decides to visit him a little later down the road.

He remembers his stoplight’s at red.

“This kinda feels like a breakup,” he laughs anyway, giving himself this little bit to stay in the moment and pretend like car rides with him, and you, will still be an okay thing for tomorrow.

“Does it?” you smile, slowing down, and thinking of yellow.

Yellow.

He smiles, but doesn’t say a word, and the conversation ends just like that.

“Let me drop you off at least,” he says, and you shake your head, eyes cast towards your stop light as the countdown to green begins to tick.

“I think I wanna take a walk.”

“At three AM?” he prods. “Alone? In Tokyo?”

It hits green, and you stifle a laugh, a little drunk on the kind of adrenaline that doesn’t make you feel like running, but rather, soaring, instead.

“Yeah,” you snort. “At three AM, alone, in Tokyo.”

He knows he probably should have said something to at least get you close enough so that your building can be seen, but by the looks of it, your mind’s already long made up as you open your door, and walk out, shutting the same door softly behind you. Akaashi’s quick to lower the windows on that side, tilting his head as you do the same, leaning down give him a little smile.

“I really don’t mind dropping you off just so that I know you’re safe,” he says.

“And I really am okay,” you laugh, waving him off. “No need to be so nice, I just probably broke your heart.”

“Probably’s an understatement,” he laughs, but waves you off when you look like you’re about to say something.

“Why are you being nice to me? I didn’t do anything to you,” you laugh again.

Then you watch as Akaashi shrugs, smiling the kind of smile that you think he does when he’s alone as he looks at your stoplight turning to green ahead instead of the one on his. “You don’t need to do anything for anyone to get stuff, Len.”

“—You really don’t.”

-

It isn’t as much as looking at heartbreak straight in the face, Akaashi thinks to himself. It was really just a matter of pulling his head out of his own ass and realizing that the first look of a break of his mundane isn’t what fate has in store. Serendipity works weird, he realizes. People say it’s the happily ever after you’re supposed to be craving for, but he realizes it’s a lesson.

You were a lesson, to which the exact words he can’t exactly have a solid grasp of as of now, but he knows in time he’ll find them.

The reality of heartbreak is that it just comes, for the sake of being there. It doesn’t trickle slow, or give a warning. In his case, Akaashi realizes that it’s just there because it’s the result of something.

He’s driving down a street, passing your turn, where he has to peel his eyes away at the sight of you walking past a no U-Turn sign, because it just hits him that you were never for his to cradle to begin with.

There’s not much about you, but he can just about tell that you look like the kind of woman who holds on to the best kind of book, shoving it away during the best part, because you’re afraid of the inevitable that the story will still end.

He taps at his steering wheel, coming to another stop at the red light of his street, where he turns on his signal to turn to the right when he’s given a go. For a moment, his eyes flicker towards the passenger seat, where you were just hours ago, in the exact same moment where he was high on something and thinking that the world was just made of 2.

Akaashi looks at heartbreak in the face, but it’s just fragments of you, and a couple sentences he can’t connect to each other, and just like that he knows that this little slice of your life will just be a piece of a puzzle he isn’t a part of.

It’s okay.

It will be okay.

But right now the light’s red, and he allows himself to feel that it isn’t. He tells himself that it’s not because he isn’t enough, but rather, he’s not enough for the kind of fulfillment you were looking for. Perhaps love and happiness looked like the skies, and not the seas, because that would explain why most of his memories with you always involved you facing the clouds, as if caught in a daydream.

Akaashi laughs to himself, a little dryly, when the lights turn green and he’s easing off of the brakes. His world will always be in motion, and he’ll always be headed towards something—but right now he thinks of the moment as a metaphor that he’s heading out of something.

Out of the first phase of love; where it’s just an idea and not exactly it.

He was the getaway car, but it was okay. In shades of grey he supposes he’ll always see you, but perhaps one day he’ll find the perfect shade of orange to let the blue in his eyes finally come into a full bloom.

-

It’s in the exact same moment that you pass by the no U-Turn sign that you’ve always just ignored on your street, where a lot of things hit you.

First is the memory of Atsumu.

At first, you feel bad, because you know you probably just walked out of a situation that had to deal with you breaking a heart instead of healing it, but your truth had always been your truth and there was no point in sugar coating something whose end was prewritten right from the start.

So you shake away the thoughts, and remember Atsumu again.

It’s undeniable, that who he was had always been your truth regarding what love would always be. Miya Atsumu as the gold to your lavender, and even if the color wasn’t just your neighbor in the palette, standing beside him fit.

It fit, but just saying that it does doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

The No U-Turn sign stares at you in the face, so you stop.

You’re standing in the sidewalk again, like all those years ago, and even if you’re pretty sure that you just broke a heart only some moments ago, the only name running through your head in the moment was Atsumu’s.

Love was as ugly as it was beautiful. Selfish as it was selfless.

No U-Turn, so you keep walking.

You pull back from the waters, and ignore the moon, and stare at the skies, pretending that you’re in the presence of the sun where the sky that blankets your side of the world is bathed in the colors of daylight. Every shade of the sky saturated, where the sun looks more of a gold than a blinding yellow.

You laugh, briefly recalling the time when he decided to let you be with the spiral of your thoughts, and it’s tonight where you come into a full realization that he only did that because he knew this was the something you needed to go through yourself before even letting him in.

Your thoughts drift, and you look up to the sky, searching for the big ball of light, because in your heart, you’re calling for love. You’re alone in the streets, at three in the morning just loitering around in your pyjamas that don’t match in any angle, but love is what drives you to keep walking home.

No fucking U-Turn, and it hits you like a damn truck.

Miya Atsumu will always be the love that you’ll still find in the silence. In every shade of yellow and gold, and every walk home. He’s the presence—or a fucking entity, you laugh to yourself—that drives slow next to you who decides to take it slow and just walk home, talking the long route on the sidewalk.

There are streetlights that glow in the distance like fireflies, and you’re suddenly thankful for the burst of light.

Light, like your Atsumu, who will always be the face of your love.

You don’t know if you deserve it, but it truly had to take reading a damn side story and coming into terms that the most you could ever give the rest of the world was an honest I’m sorry.

“You don’t need to do stuff for anyone to get stuff,” you hear Akaashi’s voice chorus in your ear again, so you smile to yourself, not exactly changed, but a little enlightened at most.

Change and acceptance doesn’t happen overnight, but like love, who came into your life like a rush, epiphanies also held the nature of just arriving without warning.

The tears that begin to dribble down your face afterwards worked sort of like that. You recall sitting on the floor of your kitchen, tears on your hands, down your cheeks, on the floor, and on your shirts. You told yourself again and again that you were crying because of the cake and not because of how unkind you were to yourself, because even if your hands were empty—you know that word is only subjective at best.

You’re walking down the streets now, along the streets with the lights that look like fireflies at three am and you could just feel Atsumu smirking beside you if he was here.

Tears that feel warm, but it’s liberating.

Nothing strikes you one minute, only to change you a whole 180 in the very next because it just doesn’t work like that, but what does stay is Akaashi’s words. They swirl in your head again and again, like a broken record that has you realizing isn’t playing such a bad song at all.

Love is as selfish as it is selfless.

You loved Atsumu selflessly, but now you want to hold on to a semblance of him again—albeit it just being a memory, for now, and love with the intention to take.

It’s to accept, he would correct you, if he was there, but then again, those will always just be the words that you are yet to hear.

But for now you walk along the sidewalks and reminisce. You reminisce the view of the summit, and the feeling of being so high up. You think of Akaashi and the ocean blue eyes you thought were just great at best, and whisper another apology into the universe you pray will deliver your words to the rightful ears, because right now, you just want to love selfishly.

There’s a book on your shelf with a dog eared bookmark on page 223, and you think that tonight you’ll pull it out and at least dust the cover.

When you look in the mirror, you know that you’re in love and that fact alone is as undeniable as the truth that your name is Lena.

It’s okay to be in love, and a little broken, and it’s okay to eat a slice of cake just because.

You’re crying still, when you stumble out your door again, Atsumu’s hoodie around your frame, as you drive to that only bakery in town, forty five minutes away, because you know that they sell the best kind of red velvet.

The funny thing about epiphany is that once the smallest bit of it strikes you, it keeps coming. Reality is messy, you think, and your eye opening moment doesn’t happen like how it does in the books where every moment plays out one before the other in perfect order.

There’s a method to the madness that is life, where the order is called spontaneity because the very nature of it is to defy just that.

Serendipity that’s always found you through the face of Miya Atsumu and the amber skies that were yours and his every six thirty. Eyelid kisses and I love you, just because. Climbing from one straight to a hundred, and even a fucking thousand that quick because love is as much of a whirlwind as it is a slow burn.

You tell yourself time and time again that all you do is take without giving, but at this point it’s the universe that wishes for you to understand that there is no such thing as ever giving too little.

Love, as selflessness and purity will keep giving because even if you open your hands and offer it nothing, it will only smile back fondly, telling you that you are always deserving—as you are.

You surpass the word enough—as you are.

You are loved—as you are.

There will always be someone who will sit behind the door and eat cake with you in the silence.

-

Right now, it’s just you, but you make do anyway.

You’re in the driver’s seat of your car, frankly a mess, primarily because of three things.

The first, you’re finally feeling everything you’ve told yourself you shouldn’t be feeling—all at once. Second, the cake is really good, and you don’t feel guilty about eating it this time around.

And third, the auntie selling you cake commented that there was a gentleman just last week who wore the exact same kind of jacket that you’re wearing, buying all thirteen flavors of cake and taste tested each one on the table by the window. She asked him if he was waiting for someone, and apparently he’d always say that he is, but she was just taking her time getting caught up in a little something, but “she’s worth the wait,” he’d repeat.

“She’s worth a lot of things, so waiting a little bit is okay.”

Apparently he would buy everything but cheesecake, even if he did stare at the piece a little longer, looking like he wanted to try.

You’re crying at the thought that there was still a piece of him that was all you, even after all the one sided conclusions you didn’t even talk him through with.

“Okay,” you say, whispering to no one but yourself in particular. The container with your one slice of red velvet is on your lap, while there’s an unopened one that’s the mango cheesecake you would never in a million years order, in the passenger seat of your car.

“What do we do now?” you say again, looking at the reflection of yourself in the reflection of your windshield.

You’re nodding your head, the words to write beside the bullet points in your head already listing themselves out in a neat line, written in print. You shake your head afterwards, for the first time without the presence of anyone really, overwhelmed with all the things you thought would be your end, showing you all the epiphanies you’ve been pretending you never saw all this time.

There’s a comfort found in listening to the sound of your own sniffles in the car, your own arms around you like the anchor Atsumu’s have always been, and just like that you break down again because not only are you in love with him, you’re also giving yourself the kindness your soul has been needing to realize that you need to love yourself just as much too.

It’s not easy, but it’s tangible.

Accepting love, as the selfless something, and not just a factor that worked like the give and take system was also not right here, but in time you’ll be right there with it where it’s tangible.

“I’ll eat cake today, just because,” you finally say, and at your first bite of red velvet, the weight of your demons lessen just a little bit.

 -

April 16, 2024 | New York City, USA

-

Miya Atsumu has always thought to himself that love worked in an oddly sadistic way. It came without explanation, stayed without boundaries, then would just fucking up and leave like it didn’t just build a whole world and there would be no consequences.

Thankfully for him, love was the one thing that never left.

He saw you through a myriad of what you think are your lessons, and Atsumu smiles at every candid memory of you.

He saw you think to yourself that you were falling for ocean eyes, then saw you again, a few months after what he assumes was the fall out, at your graduation.

You wore your cap the other way the first time, and he chuckles, snapping a photo from the distance—to which you rapidly turn your head towards his direction at—a feat of yours that he can never guess how it was made possible. He was there, from a distance, cheering when your name was called, and you walked to the stage. Lilac flowers and every slice of chocolate was something he dedicated forever to you, and every time he’d close his eyes before a serve he would lightly tap at his eyelids reminding himself that that will always be yours and his.

-

The future is where time moves slow, and then it doesn’t.

The demons are there, but you suppose that it’s because they’re sort of a lifetime deal. Somedays you’ll still look away from the slice of cake you’ve been meaning to eat after a job well done, but the better days also come right after the plunge where you’ll drive yourself to the auntie’s bakery located in the OK part of New York at three in the morning just because.

You were connected to the world, despite your demons, and it was okay.

New York had went from just a postcard on your wall to the skyline that greeted you every morning before you went to work.

The smell of coffee and the feel of sunlight at 9am. Love, as the something you can still hear in the silence, because it works just like that.

Silence, as the word that’s nothing more than the absolute contrast to what New York is, but it was you dulling even the noise that comes with Time’s Square to realize that this is the kind of atmosphere good for you.

-

And because serendipity works like a bitch, it really shouldn’t have surprised you when through the crowd, it’s still Miya fucking Atsumu who you see staring back at you like he’s found you far longer than you found him.

(Perhaps there’s more than just truth to that.)

You don’t think you want to cry, because the love that’s always been there still feels the same, and when you walk towards him, a pace like your usual, you feel weightless.

There’s a comfort about meeting smack in the middle, and you think that this is it. You gave your twenty steps while he gave his. Maybe some days he gives you a little more than just twenty, and maybe some days you’ll find yourself in bed, taking zero steps while he’ll go as far as flying some thousands of kilometers just to be with you.

You let serendipity be, as you stand before him, feeling like no time has passed.

A little over three years has passed, but see the same streaks of amber in his eyes of earth, and you think that love, also has a face that looks timeless.

And it’s this.

It’s you, and it’s him—in a city that uses noise that works like silence.

It’s New York and the sea of lights. Miya Atsumu and his dopey smile, that somehow still crossed more than just a couple oceans to a land foreign to him, and he still managed to come to you halfway, like a whirlwind.

An unprecedented presence that you welcome anyway, because love, you suppose, will forever be so many things.

It’s one face that one name that holds all of that though, Atsumu thinks.

He’s looking at you, where in his head he’s already laughing because your lipstick’s smudged on the left side, the culprit obviously being the piece of croissant looking a little lame in your hand.

“I love you, still, but I think you know that,” he says immediately, as if he’s just continuing a conversation.

(In a way he is; the last you talked to him, you never really heard a reply. You said goodbye and then you left, and Atsumu never got a chance to get a word in.)

And as if he read your expression, he laughs, hands low on his waist as he stands in front of you, present. “I wanted to tell you that then so I’ll say it now too I guess. My voice has got a little deeper so it probably has more effect now.”

You shake your head, already past the state of disbelief considering the rollercoaster that is your life. “It still has the same effect,” you mumble, croissant long forgotten.

You think that you want to cry again, but Atsumu’s grinning and you feel breathless.

It’s like mercy that greets you after you think you’ve done nothing but sin—you’re breathless but your lungs feel full.

So it’s Atsumu walking up to you, looking at you like you’re his daydream, saying “Hi Lena, what’s your name?” that grounds you back to the earth after freefalling from the summit.

The world has always looked different from the view at the very top, and even if you closed your eyes throughout the fall, there was a certain comfort you realize only now and that’s the fact that the whole time you were falling—it was the sky that held on to you and never let you go since.

“Hi ‘Tsumu,” you say back, closing your eyes when you lean in halfway as he reaches forward and pulls you the rest of the way, towards him—towards love, and towards home.

“I’m sorry I don’t have something with me right now to give you,” you mumble out anyway, and your heart bursts at the feel of his hand stroking the back of your hair, as his voice anchors you down again to keep you from floating right by your ear.

He kisses your eyelids, then your forehead, and the white noise of New York has you feeling both connected and safe.

“You’re okay,” he says. “You’ve always got me like how I’ve got you, and I’ve never thought there was anything more that I could try to ask for other than that.”

“You are everything that love will always ever be and that’s it for me, Len.”

He smiles, and while things still don’t fully click into place because healing has a habit of doing just that—you also let yourself feel the lightness of just this.

“You don’t need to do anything. I got you,” he says. “You got me too,” he reassures, and you believe him.

[harrypotter-imaginess]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!

A/N: maybe two more parts after this

Commission info for a Love Letter from your favorite HP character here - close 3/10/21!

You sigh as you lean your head back on the arm rest of Draco’s couch

You can see him extending a glass of wine towards you, and you take it gingerly into your hand

“I think I want to quit my job”

He doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow and takes a seat in the arm chair next to the sofa you’re sprawled over like you’re at the therapists office

“Planning to coast along on your good looks?” He finally says, trying to keep his face as stern as possible.

Despite himself a smile arch’s onto the corner of his mouth

“I’m being serious!” You say, sitting up.

Draco openly laughs now, and he doesn’t stop until you throw a pillow at him.

“Well what do you expect when you say somethin’ like that out of nowhere.” He manages to say between bursts of laughter

You both have been dating for a while now, almost a year- you even brought him to a company holiday party

Life has been good

Having to hide his wizardry from you isn’t all that hard, he just had to completely reprogram the way he operates as a human being and now he’s fine

...

It’s been a little challenging

You sigh, a hand threading through your hair, eyebrows threaded together

Well now he’s a little worried, he figured you were just joking around but-

“Did something happen at work?”

Did someone say something to you- or maybe someone did something to you

Draco’s already running a list of curses in his mind by the time you sigh and shake your head

“Nothing that hasn’t been happening- not really.”

The cruciatus curse seems a little to far, maybe boils? No that’s too obvious

“It’s a nice place to work, I have it really good, it’s just-“ your eyes flicker from your glass of wine to Draco

“I always figured once I had a steady income life would be exciting yknow? And I would travel and be making memories but-“

You should be grateful, you have a good life. A comfortable job, a cozy house and-

Your eyes flicker to him, taking his impeccably handsome face, that ash blonde hair, and vibrant grey eyes

And you’ve got Draco

But even though you have all these things, you can’t help but feel like life is just passing you by, and before you know it you’ll be 80 on your death bed having done nothing at all

Draco’s quiet for a moment, picking up on the unspoken sentiment

Maybe you shouldn’t have unpacked on him like that- he’s got his own problems too after all

“Let’s go on Holiday”

Huh?

Draco picks up on your confusion and elaborates on his reasoning

“You’re just a little burned out, you need a break.”

It happened to his Dad all the time when he was a kid, he’d get caught up in all of his dark magic council meetings and his board positions and wonder if this is just life was- an endless power struggle

And that’s when his Mum would swoop in with an elegant family trip to some exotic location, and they would all come back like new people.

Right now you need someone to show you the joy in life. That it’s not just going to work for fifty years and dying

There’s a long stretch of silence between the two of you

And Draco starts to wonder if maybe his Mum had it all wrong

Maybe he should have just offered to make you his spouse, he makes enough money for the both of you- you don’t have to work if you don’t want to when you’re his

He’s internally rehearsing his proposal speech, picking out which moments he should highlight

Which is pretty hard because every moment with you feels like a highlight

“Where would we go?”

Your voice is soft, almost hesitant, but Draco doesn’t overlook the twinkle in your eye

He grins

“Anywhere you want”

You find out pretty fast that Draco is a meticulous planner- everything is carefully decided

“Alright we’ll get off the flight, and we’ll get one of those mu- I mean we’ll get a car from there so we don’t have to worry about transportation-“

Literally everything is reserved, the hotel you’re staying in the city at for the first few nights, the car you’ll be using while you’re in France, the bed and breakfast Draco found out about in a small village in the French country side, even all the restaurants you’ll be eating at

Which is totally fine, some structure isn’t a bad thing

It’s just Draco’s never struck you as someone who plans everything out

“Is everything alright darling? Is this a personality trait of yours I’m just going to have to grow to love?”

You wrap your arms around his torso from the back, your chin resting on his shoulder to glance at the travel documents he’s reviewing

“Oh I never do this when I’m traveling alone- I don’t even take a travel bag most of the time, I can just buy whatever I need when I land- one time I didn’t even take my wallet because your phone is a wallet these days.”

You raise an eyebrow, what a little rich boy

You can’t think of all the times your family packed everything they could possibly need when going on vacation so they wouldn’t have to pay for anything when they got there

“So what’s the difference this time?” You ask, has hitting the quarter of life struck him with a lightening bolt that’s transformed him into a dad now?

“Because I’m going with you”

So everything has to be perfect. You’re taking a whole two weeks off of work, he’s got to make sure you don’t regret it, and give you the best time possible

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on proposing”

You’re only joking, but the disgusted look that crosses Draco’s features makes you flinch

You know it’s probably a little early to mention marriage, it’s only been a year after all, but you would be lying if you said that didn’t hurt

“I would never propose in France (Y/N), I have taste”

That whole country is just overhyped, and Paris is way too dirty - like most cities.

But it’s where you want to go- you like art museums and fresh baked bread so here he is

Going to god damn France

But he’ll be hexed before he proposes to you in that god forsaken country

“Oh so there’s going to be a proposal?”

“Of course there is” he says off handedly, verifying that both of your passports are up to date

And then he realizes what he just admitted and feels a ruby red blush creep onto his face from his neck

“W-wait-“

He turns around to face you, face bright red, only to see you smiling like you’ve just won the lottery

And he should be hopelessly embarrassed,

he’s been trying to play it cool for the last year, to play at your pace in terms of relationship development

Only to let it slip through his fingers in a single moment

But you look so happy to know he see’s a future with you

“Alright, sounds good. Just give me a heads up a few weeks before so I can get a spa appointment to look pretty for all our pictures”

You’re joking.... kind of

You don’t put it past Draco to have a photographer follow you both around and take pictures of the whole engagement thing

Draco’s actually taking your joke quite seriously though, a dopey grin on his mouth

“I’ll give you a hint the weekend before”

That should be enough time to get all your affairs in order

It’ll also give him enough time on how to break to you that he’s a wizard and well- his parents probably hate you

You’re smiling, an embarrassed expression crossing your features as you change the topic to which places you’ll be visiting

But there’s a shadow on Draco’s face

He sighs when you leave, saying you have to go back to your house to pack-

It’s always so lonely when you’re gone

He collapses on his arm chair, twirling his wand so that there’s a glass of fire whisky in his hand

He’s going to have to tell you soon- not just about his wizardry, but also about his family

His Mum’s already got half a guess there’s something going on here - but he bets the worst she believes is that he’s dating someone beneath him, maybe a muggle born at worst

Certainly not an actual muggle

His father’s clueless as always - too busy with his council positions and appearances

His mother will be fine , she would be upset of course, but she would come around eventually

His Father would disown him

He’s fairly confident about that

The second he says he’s in love with a muggle- it’s over for him

His dad might actually curse him when he finds out he’s marrying a muggle- bringing dirty blood into their bloodline

And Draco might curse him back

Because they can say whatever they want about him, but not about you-

Nothing about you is dirty

You’re the purest, kindest, loveliest person he’s ever seen

And he still can’t believe you’re his

You shouldn’t be surprised when you find out Draco booked you both first class seats

Or when you get to the airport and see a Mercedes convertible waiting for you

Or even when you get to the hotel - which turns out to be The Ritz

The tipping point is when you find out the “room” Draco booked is actually the penthouse

“Well that was exhausting, should we take a nap before going to the Louvre?”

You’re sitting on the sofa in the living area, your head in your hands

Draco doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy pouring Perrier into two crystal glasses.

“Draco, love, do you remember before we went on this trip, that I insisted paying my portion- even though you said there was no need?”

Draco looks up from the Perrier. But you’re still staring at the ground

“And then when I asked why my portion was so low- you said you got a really great economy deal from a travel package.”

That was the excuse he used wasn’t it

“Well there was a discount travel package, I just didn’t book it.”

Honestly he’s not sure what his end game was here- honestly he was just hoping you would believe this was all included in the package

Your palms are pressed together, your head resting against them

Draco extends a glass of Perrier towards you

You look at it for several long seconds,

he probably got it out of the mini fridge that charges 10x mark up

“I’m paying for our next trip” you say, accepting the glass with a sigh

Draco only grins

“So there’s going to be a next trip?”

You almost snort laughing

“Are you seriously asking me that after you basically proposed to me last week?”

Ah, you’ve got him there

You smile as you tug his towards you, pressing a kiss to his mouth

“Of course there will be you dork”

He smiles as he holds you close, kissing you again

Being in Paris is really cool

You go on a tour of the catacombs

“Watch your step” Draco says, offering his arm for support

“Thanks” you hold his hand as you make your way through the dark space

And the Louvre

“Am I supposed to be feeling something right now?” He asks

You’re both looking at the Mona Lisa, and you’ve got tears in your eyes, feeling very small

You’re almost humbled being in her presence, the painting that has withstood centuries

“Yes” you sniffle, taking the handkerchief Draco’s extended towards you

“You’re a rich kid, aren’t you supposed to be super invested in art and stuff?”

He gives you a mischievous grin

“I look at you everyday don’t I”

You manage a laugh, lightly smacking him in the arm

Things are going really well, you’re both having a really good time, and then something happens-

It’s your last day in the city before you head out to the french countryside,

you and Draco decided you would spend the morning souvenir shopping before heading there in the afternoon

You’ve put in an order for some macrons for your friends and the people at work

“Do you think they’ll still be good by the time we get back home?”

It will be at least a week until you head back, and longer until you see any of your friends

“I think as long as we freeze them” Draco assures

He’ll put a charm on them for good measure

“Malfoy?”

The second Draco hears that voice he goes rigid

You see, being with you for a year has been utter bliss.

Draco’s had a good year, the best year of his entire life-

The thing is though, he got so caught up in who he was becoming-

that he completely forgot who he used to be-

Until this moment

“Weasley. Granger”

Weasley looks the same as ever, flaming red hair and a splatter of freckles across his nose and spilling onto his face

Still that tall, lean, but muscular build he had when he last saw him.

Granger looks great though, she’s got her curls framing her face, smooth dark skin glistening against a clean cut pant suit

“Lovely to see you both”

Draco seems composed

But on the inside he’s on the verge of having a panic attack

Maybe they’ll just give a wave and be on their way

Yes that’s entirely pos-

Nope. They’re walking over to you two

F*ck

“Are you going to introduce us?” You ask with a teasing smile

Oh crap, he forgot the social protocols a situation like this calls for in his panic

“R-right, (Y/N) this is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger-“

“Actually we’re both Weasley now” Ron says with a proud grin

“- well she was Granger now she’s Weasley too, we um-“

Were sworn rivals. Mortal enemies. Fought on opposite sides of a great and tragic war.

“Went to school together”

He can honestly say that isn’t a lie.

They all did go to school together

A magic school in the mountains of Scotland, where they rode brooms and befriended magical creatures

Somehow he gets the feeling that’s not the type of experience you’re picturing though

To his surprise things are going pretty well, the conversation is mostly revolving around Paris, you and Granger seem to share a similar love for Mona Lisa

“And when you stand in front of her-“ Granger starts

“It’s like she’s judging you!” You finish

The two of you are only a moment away from embracing

Weasley looks like he couldn’t care less about Mona Lisa

And for once Draco thinks they’re in agreement

Maybe it’s because they’re from pureblood families

Because something surviving 500 years isn’t all that big of a deal to wizards

Not when the average wizard can live a few hundred years, his great grandfather even lived until the ripe old age of 652

“So are you two on Holiday?” You ask and Granger shakes her head

“No, we’re actually here for work on behalf of the Au-“

“On behalf of their museum I’m sure” Draco cuts in quickly

He was so comfortable in the fantasy  where his previously sworn enemies might become causal aquantinces that he completely forgot there were three wizards and one muggle in this conversation

“”They um-“ Draco clears his throat giving a meaningful look to Granger and Weasley before lowering his voice “they actually work for a rival museum. Managed to get an exhibit from right under me”

The lies just seem to stack on one another.

Draco’s not sure what’s worse- that he’s getting better with coming up with these lies-

“Is that why they aren’t invited to your hangouts with Blaise, Theo and Pansy”

Or that you trust him so much you wholeheartedly  believe each and every lie

“That is exactly why they’re not invited”

Some force in the universe must like him, because luckily enough that’s when your order number is called.

“Oh looks like it’s ready, I’ll see you in a bit darling” you press a kiss to his cheek before making your way towards the counter

And Draco’s so caught up in the subtle affection you’ve just shown him he’s completely forgotten all about the situation at hand until Granger clears her throat.

Ah yes, the mountain of lies he’s haphazardly built.

How could he forget

Granger looks like she’s got the gist of the situation,

Weasley on the other hand looks just as dumb as Draco remembers from school

His mouth agape

“Are they a muggle??”

Draco flinches at how loud Weasley says the word Muggle

“Yes, they are could you please keep your voice down”

He looks in your direction

Oh good it looks like you didn’t hear

He turns back to his old enemies

They both look like their mind is broken

“But your family they hate-“

“That’s my parents, that’s not me” Draco snaps quickly

But it was him, wasn’t it

All those times he tormented muggle borns at school, the dark magic artifacts he toyed with-

He looks at Granger

All the times he called her mud blood

He’s not as bad as his parents

-but he’s still not good

“Since I was there I got yours too-“

The second you’re back you can tell something is off

The tension hangs in the air like fog

Draco looks like he’s just seen a ghost, face pale and thin pink lips trembling

“What’s wrong?” You ask

Draco was a monster, that’s what’s wrong

“Nothing,” he puts on his most believable smile “we should get going or it will get dark before we get to the manse”

You nod, taking his hand in yours

It’s trembling

“It was lovely meeting you, maybe we’ll see each other again soon”

Granger who’s been awfully quiet for this whole ordeal smiles

“Yes, I hope we do”

The look Granger gives you is genuine and warm

- like she already considers you a friend

and it makes Draco feel twice as bad

It’s not like anything has really changed as you two drive through the countryside

You’re still joking like you always do,

Draco’s driving and he stops in several places on the way there so you can take polaroids in the French country scenery

But something feels...off

Like he’s just pretending to be happy

You really shouldn’t be surprised when you roll up to a large iron gate,

Draco types in the code into a keypad and they creak as they open revealing a rather impressive winding drive

At the end of which is an absolute unit of a mansion

“This isn’t a bed and breakfast is it?”

For one there’s not even a parking lot, Draco gives you a fleeting look before taking your bags out of the car.

“This is my family’s manse, we would come up here during the summer for vacation”

He was on the fence about bringing you here, but his Mum always had a rule that all dark magic artifacts would be kept away from their vacation home

His father could have free reign over the manse near London, but not here when they were on vacation

“You grew up here?” You say, taking in the fountain, the thirty windows you see in the front face alone, and the massive rose garden to the side

“Not really, we would just come here to vacation, it was really for my parents. I spent most of my time climbing up trees-“

And playing with the house elves, which his mother would later reprimand him for

It was always worse for them though

At least Father pays them a wage now, however meager it may be

“There’s no servants right now though, so it will be just us”

He says it as he leads you through the manse, passing the drawing room, a rather impressive parlor, up a long pair of winding steps into the east wing into a rather lavish room

“I hope you don’t mind staying in my old room, my parents used to use the master and that just seems... icky”

you laugh And he gives you another smile, and this time you know somethings wrong.

“We can go to the village nearby and grab dinner, or we can stay here but I doubt the pantry has-“

“Draco,” you stop him mid speech about getting dinner “What’s wrong?”

Draco does his best to smile for you

“Nothings wrong-“

“No, something is wrong” you cut him off quickly, taking his hand in both of yours

“You’ve been...sad”

that’s what it is, the emotion he’s been trying to cover up

He thought he was covering up his internal turmoil pretty well

Draco won’t lie, the fact that he’s more transparent then he thinks hurts

“Ever since we saw your old classmates at the bakery”

The way he flinches when you mention it tells you all you need to know

You feel a protective flare swell inside you

“Did something happen? Did they do something to you?“

you’re already thinking about how you need to protect you Draco from them, they work in the same industry so they’re bound to cross paths. Maybe-

“I’m the one who did something to them.”

Draco breaks you away from your thoughts

“What?”

“I-“

Draco looks into your puzzled face, and his heart squeezes

He didn’t want you to find out, not like this

Pretty soon you’ll be thrust into his history headfirst-

His hand is held in both of yours,

your eyes are so warm as they look up at him.

And all he can think is that he doesn’t deserve any of this

The truth is he didn’t want you to ever know

“I wasn’t a good person” he croaks

He knows he’s just as much a victim as the others, he’s got the scars and the death eater mark to prove it- both things he didn’t really want

It was coercion, they told him.

He grew up in an environment where he was punished for showing any original thought, his therapist had said

He’s a victim too

But that doesn’t mean it was okay for him to treat people like that- for him to call people that word-

“I was a bully, a monster, I was-”

Draco’s cut off when you pull him into a hug

Draco stumbles back when you throw yourself at him,  wrapping your arms around him

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that.” You say

He doesn’t understand why until he see’s  the tears drop onto your hair

Oh, he’s crying

“Shh, it’s okay” you hum, holding him close as he sobs into your shoulder

And you two stay just like that for a long time

“I just don’t want you to think less of me” Draco murmurs, you’re both on his bed now, you’re both sitting cross legged across from each other

He looks so ashamed, it’s like he’s admitting he killed someone

In all honestly, you figured something like this might be the case.

Draco’s a rich boy, he doesn’t seem like someone who’s experienced financial struggle,

He’s  someone who experienced life with a sense of entitlement

You look at him, rim of his eyes tinged pink and swelling. The almost pitiful sniffle he lets out

But the Draco in front of you isn’t like that, not anymore at least.

His kindness is still a little rough...but it’s there

You know that, you see it every time he picks up on your mood, every time he comforts you when you have a bad day

You’ve seen it during this trip, where he catered everything so you would have a good time

You just have to make him see that now

“All of that, it’s in the past now Draco” you squeeze his hand, and he finally stops looking down and up at you

“You have a past, I do too” you give him a warm smile. “but that’s all behind us now, all that matter is where we’re going from here”

Your reassuring expression and tender words make him feel like he might cry again, but this time for a different reason

“We don’t have to talk about it, not until you’re ready” you tell him

he feels his eyes sting

“I don’t deserve your kindness”

And from another man you would think it’s a plot to earn your sympathy, but looking at Draco you know he means every word

He looks like a broken man

Like he’s haunted, worn down to the bone

So you do the only thing you can think to do, knees pressing into the mattress you hover over him. Your hands cup each side of his face, tilting it up so those brilliant grey eyes are looking at you

“You deserve every part of me my love” you murmur, peppering his face with kisses

Scattering them across his cheeks, his hairline, down his thin nose, and across his jaw

Before finally catching his lips, your mouth gently caressing his

“(Y/N)-“ your name leaves him in a breathless voice- half in want and half concerned

His hand caresses your face, stopping you as you kiss down his neck

He wants to tell you that You don’t have to do any of this just because he’s feeling emotional

But he doesn’t have to say anything, because you understand immediately, giving him a kind smile

“I’m doing it because I want you-“ you take his hand , pressing kisses to the end of his fingertips

“Do you trust me?”

And Draco, who doesn’t trust his voice, can only manage a nod

“I’m going to be good for you” you murmur against his hand, and you feel him shiver underneath you.

Draco’s made love to you countless times, felt your burning skin against his hands so many times he’s lost count.

But it’s never been like this

It’s so....

He looks at you underneath him, your eyes are warm as you look up at him, and full of so much love

It’s.....Comforting.

This time making love to you is comforting.

Your hand presses against his lower abdomen, right above the place you both are connected, and it earns an involuntary shiver from him

But you don’t stop there, your hand trails up his stomach, across his chest, fingers lightly brushing against the nape of his neck before resting on his face

The action, mixed with that warm look in your eyes, feels so tender

“You’re so pretty” You murmur, your thumb rubbing tenderly across his cheek.

Caressing his face.

“My pretty boy Draco”

And he feels emotion well up within him once more.

A tear slipping down his face as he leans down to kiss you

He doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve your love

But he’s so grateful that he has it

That he has you

“Being good for him” extends past the bedroom it seems, because the next morning he wakes up to an empty bed, his body littered with kiss marks, a hot bath drawn for him with flower petals scattered across the surface, and a note

‘Took the car to the village, will be back soon. P.S take a bath and relax until I get back, I have your favorite tea in the kettle for when you’re done.’

Draco can’t help the goofy grin that spreads across his face

“I really don’t deserve you”

You come back only fifteen minutes later, while he’s still soaking in the tub.

You walk over to him wordlessly, rubbing his shoulders as you lean against the rim of the tub.

“How are you feeling today darling?” You murmur, kissing his temple.

“Better now that you’re here.” And he means it, he loves what you’ve done for him, but it’s always so lonely when you’re gone

He takes your hand in his, looking up at you with shining grey eyes.

“Will you join me?”

You laugh, your other hand caressing his face

“I have to go get things ready for our picnic- I thought it might be nice, there’s a place the locals told me about- a hill a few kilometers away from here.”

“That can wait can’t it?” He asks, and when you make no move to undress he adds -

“please?”

He looks like a little boy, and you find yourself relenting, pulling off your sweater with a sigh

The tub is massive, probably half the size of your bedroom, so you give Draco some room, sitting on the other side of the tub

Last night was intense, for you and for him, you don’t want to overwhelm him with too much stimulation

But Draco doesn’t let you stay far away, beckoning you to him. Only satisfied when your back is pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your chest and stomach

“I’m sorry-“ he starts, but you silence him with a simple squeeze of his hand

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for”

And it’s true. How many times has Draco comforted you- bringing you dinner when you pulled late nights at work, or kissed your tears away?

“It’s nice. Seeing another part of the person I love” you reassure

There’s a moment of silence before Draco opens his mouth again

“When I was in school, I-I -“

“ you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to” you reassure,

the two have the rest of your lives to talk about these things, there’s no rush

But Draco shake his head, and offers you a small smile

“I want to talk about it, I want you to know”

And so Draco tells you as much as he can without giving away his secret

He tells you his family comes from old money, and he internalized certain messages from that

“It’s not an excuse,” he clarifies, “but it’s part of the story too”

He tells you how he was a bully all through this childhood and into adolescence.

Even early adulthood.

How he basically tormented the people he bullied-

“Granger... I was terrible to her.” He admits, you’ve since moved away from the bath tub, and you’re sitting in the garden, drinking tea and eating scones. “I called her terrible things”

He means he called her a mudblood, the greatest insult a person can get

You’re thinking he probably called her a b*tch or a c*nt.

Honestly I’m not sure which version is worse

“Did you have a crush on her?” You ask, and Draco sputters. His cheeks blooming red

He remembers being jealous of Granger, she was always at the top of their class, and he always came in second to her.

He remembers getting lectures for it everytime he came home for the holidays

His Father always fuming how Draco  was so inept that even a ‘mudblood’ could surpass him.

And some of that did transfer to his dislike for the person

He does remember thinking she looked awfully beautiful at the Yule Ball though, in that pink dress

“She’d look better in green” he had thought and then realizing what he just thought blushed and looked towards his date.

“Maybe I did.” He admits to you, almost a decade later.

And you laugh

“I bet you were a cutie” Draco only blushes even more

What you wouldn’t give to see a teenage Draco, you wonder what it would have been like if you met him when you were younger

How different would things be?

You watch Draco flush bright red, trying to cover his embarrassment with a sip of his tea

Well, the way things turned out isn’t so bad either

You spend the rest of the trip at Draco’s family’s manor, in domestic bliss

You stand on your tip toes, trying to reach a pair of mugs on the top shelf

“Here let me get that” Draco says reaching them with ease while standing behind you

You drink tea in the garden

“Draco darling, will you pass me the preserves?”

You’re both dressed like something out a a historical drama, he’s in a suit and you’ve got on a tilted sun hat and white gloves

Playing like you’re nobility vacationing in the Parisian countryside

Which... Draco sort of actually is

.... let’s not think of that

And go on picnics on the nearby hill

“Oh no” you mumble

“What’s wrong?” Draco asks while setting down the picnic blanket

“I forgot to bring glasses for the wine” you sigh

Draco shrugs

“We’ll just drink from the bottle”

You make a face and he laughs

“What does the thought of an indirect kiss make you nervous?”

You lightly shove him with a laugh

And late nights spent in their family library

“Your family sure has a strange book collection” you say holding up a book titled ‘witchcraft in the mid-1800’s’

Draco scrambles towards you

“Y-yeah that’s probably my dad, he’s kind of interested in that occult stuff...for fun, not like, because he’s apart of a cult or anything”

Not anymore at least

“I wasn’t thinking that he was apart of a cult... but I am now” you joke

You’ve moved on, scanning the rest of  their collection, but Draco’s looking at you-

This last week has been like something out of a dream

He can’t imagine how happy he would be to have this everyday

He watches your hand brush against the spine of a book

He extends a hand over your own, stroking your ring finger

“Make sure this finger is empty for me, okay?”

[simpingforsoftboys]

Ways They Say “Ily” W/out Actually Saying It

Ft. Iwaoi and UshiTenSemi 

!G/N reader!

So this will definitely be a series! Next up is BokuAka and Kuroken followed by SakuAtsu and SunaOsaKita.

Iwaoi

Hajime always has a supply of yours and Toru’s favorite snacks/foods on hand at any given moment

He knows how much of a hassle it can be to have to purchase your fav. “pick me up” snacks on a bad day- so he takes restocking very seriously

Speaking of food

Every once in a while he’ll make your favorite meal for dinner- just because he has the extra time, he claims- but in actuality making you your favorite food makes him feel closer to you

He’ll also do your laundry and put it away too! As well as perfectly iron your work uniforms and/or dress outfits

He’ll even wash your guy’s shoes and polish them too, but not say anything about it 

If ya’ll don’t thank him, he won’t be sad, but he wants to at least hear that you noticed!

Toru is an Olympic athlete and you’re their lovely s/o- he’ll be damned if you two look anything less than like a model off a magazine

One last thing is how he lets you two cuddle up to him in the morning- after his second alarm has rung- and during his morning run time

It’s the way that he holds you two close and steady in his strong arms, letting you hear the thrum of his heartbeat and/or his calm breathing

Hajime won’t show his love verbally, most of the time it’s shown through little acts of service/skin ship

He’s a quiet but domestic sort of lover

Toru is... pretty lazy in terms of household chores

He’s not really one to care too much about mundane things

His love needs to be shown in big, extravagant ways

Like he’s the type to take you to the beach in summer, just to rent a gigantic lounge float- the type that’s main use is for day drinking- instead of taking you to a bar

Yes it’s relaxing but at this point why not just go to the local pub or something? It’d be cheaper- oh right because he needs to show Instagram that he’s an exceptional lover *cue eyeroll*

Nah, it’s actually because he wants to give you the best of both worlds- that of comfortable luxury and drunkenly passionate intimacy

Sometimes it annoys you and Hajime with how open he is with his love life on social media

But I promise it’s only because he loves you two so much and feels the constant need to brag about you

He does show it in smaller ways too

Like by holding the door open for you two, carrying your bags when shopping and paying for your purchases before you get the chance to even try

He’ll also take note of you and Haji’s current interests and occasionally buy you something *really* nice that he thinks you’ll love

He’s an open guy, but for you two he’ll willing indulge in the quiet moments of life

It’s okay if the rest of the world doesn’t see these moments- the ones where it’s just you three- like when you’re all in a bubble bath sipping that expensive champagne that costs way too much- and enjoying the way the tubs jets massage your back muscles. 

Or when it’s 3 in the morning and he wakes up feeling hot and sweaty, only to find himself trapped between the loves of his life- and not having the heart to wake you up

Not even when Hajime drools on his shoulder, or when your hair tickles him through his shirt

Toru is loud and outspoken but it’s his quiet moments that really show his love for ya’ll

UshiTenSemi

Wakatoshi doesn’t really perceive things like most people

This includes romantic actions

He’ll do something if he feels it needs to be done- not out of love, but because it’s the most logical thing to do- and you three know that

I think his unspoken way of telling you he loves you is when he goes out of his way- logic be damned- to do something specific

Like that one time you wanted to buy the newest gaming console but all the pre orders were sold out, making the only way for you to get one “first come first serve”

This man decided that for you, it was okay if he didn’t follow his routine to a ‘t’

He said goodbye to his sleep schedule and awoke at 2:25 in the morning to make his way to the nearest Yamada Denki to stand in the freezing cold for nearly 6+ hours until the store opened.

He beat majority of the crowd and got you your console, even though he was 51,896 yen poorer, and his sleep schedule would take the rest of the week to get back on track, he decided it was all worth it to see that wide smile on your face

When he’s home he’ll wash some fruits and veggies for you guys and serve them to you on little snack trays to curb your appetite until the next meal 

Speaking of food- he definitely cooks a light breakfast for ya’ll before he leaves for morning practice

Husband material right here-

Toshi’s love is like gravity in a way

There’s set laws of nature that applies to it- unquestionable and unchanging; something you’re perfectly understanding of- but the slightest change of it is so noticeable that it leaves you in a state of surprise, making you appreciate all that he had done before in a new light, and looking forward to seeing more of it during your daily life.

Satori is a sap and for what-

Like he’ll make all of you delicious little chocolate treats (but Wakatoshi’s is made differently so that it’s more healthy... because he’s an athlete and needs to watch his diet)

On that same note Eita can’t have much chocolate either... since it’s actually able to cause phlegm... oh well more for you I guess

When you oversleep he wakes you up by digging his long, w i g g l y fingers into your sides and TICKLES you

It’s a really nice way to wake up actually- laughing your sleepiness away

He loves seeing your laughter induced teary eyed gaze and wide smile in the morning- it fills him with more energy than a triple mocha frappe.

Something else he likes to do is have you lie on top of him and trail his fingers up and down your face

I mean this guy probably has A L L of your facial features memorized- but he really just likes to look at you- and see you gazing back

That last one is something only you and him do- Eita gets too flustered if Satori even tries, and Ushijima would just... kinda smile oddly, stare, and lay really still? Yeah as much as he loves your awkward miracle boy- it’s not as fun when he’s still as a statue and not relaxed

When he’s not being cute, Satori is dragging you three into his random adventures

Like it could be literally 1 am and he is up and raring to go to the beach

Ofc he won’t force anyone to come with him- but it’s not quite as fun without someone accompanying him

Occasionally he can convince Toshi and Eita to join- but for the most part it’s just you and him

Ya’ll always have a blast and make a bunch of fun memories

Did I mention that he comes to you first before your other two partners when he wants to go adventuring? Because he does-

Sometimes you go to watch the sunrise in his car but binge watch anime while waiting for the sunrise

He’s a spontaneous, fun lover- and he has the most fun when it’s with you

Eita is... surprisingly romantic too?

Like damn he writes love songs about your foursome RELIGIOUSLY

Hell over the course of your 5 or so years together he has written nearly 7 full albums dedicated to ya’ll-

Guess you’re an inspiration or smth

Even if you can’t sing WHATSOEVER this mans rose colored glasses effects are so prominent that he could listen to you for hours on end

No but seriously he is so obsessed with everyones voices (not that he’ll say it but like it’s obvious at this point)

I mean ya’lls vocal ranges are just so different!

Obvi Toshi has a bass voice, Satori has more of a baritone one (though he really does try to pass off as a tenor for some reason)- and then there’s you- it’s so interesting to him to hear you guys talk to each other (and sing-) because of how your voices overlap

He’s the type to buy you roses whenever he’s feeling extra appreciative and maybe a new set of lingerie or some silk night wear

I don’t know why but despite his extensive collection of leather EVERYTHING, he really enjoys seeing you in expensive, clothing

And then he won’t shut up about how attractive you are XD

Oh but he’ll also buy all four of you matching silk robes too so you can be comfy together

But don’t be posting about it on social media or anything- these are for your eyes ONLY! No one else should get to see his partners like this but him

Don’t even get me started about date nights

Because he’s insisting that everyone wear something of his

Dude you only have leather clothing wdym-

Unfortunately there’s a slight issue since everyone’s different sizes so he does the next best thing

He commissions custom made leather jackets for ya’ll

They have your initials and everything

Black leather with white and lavender print- reminiscent of Shiratorizawa days long passed

Eita appreciates all of you in his own cute ways, and loves seeing little bits of him on you because it makes him feel connected to you even more

[be-ace-write-crime]

Lovely Bride (Ch4)

The search for the stone is on as time gradually slips away for you and your husbands. If you cannot find the stone in time, your husbands will be forced into a thousand year slumber, while your mortal self is forced to perish.

Whatever happened to this Santana they speak of? What project is so important it has been consuming all of Kars' daylight hours? Is time really the only enemy still working against you?

“Wamuu! Come, I have something to show you!” you said, a grin almost splitting your face as you took his hand and guided him towards the river bank.

“Has your training born fruit so soon, beloved?” he asked, following obediently as you’d requested. You had been practicing your hamon while your husbands were out and while you couldn’t really say you’d gotten better at it in the two days you’d had it, it was getting easier to use.

“Well, rather, there’s a trick I wanted to show you,” you said, focusing your energy and stepping onto the water. You sank in about an inch or so, but were effectively walking on top of it.

“Incredible,” Wamuu breathed, his voice filled with awe as he continued to follow you. “You have advanced to the point of such a divine feat already!” he gushed.

“But this isn’t even what I wanted to show you!” you said, pulling him close. The water was up past his knees, and while the stream didn’t hinder him at all, he couldn’t tread on top like you did. You were almost smirking when you tilted his chin up with a single finger and got to lean down to press your lips against his.

The warm chuckle you got when he realized what you’d brought him here for made you giggle right back. “All this for a kiss, my darling? You could have just asked,” he said, his arms draped around your hips when he moved to hug you closer.

“This is more fun,” you said, pecking his forehead. He let out a deep sigh and you felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders.

“I wish I could stay with you longer like this,” he said, leaning in to rest his head against your chest. “I fear for you out there by yourself in the daytime. Humans are no less vicious than vampires if given the chance.”

“I won’t be alone,” you whispered softly, carding your fingers through his hair. It wasn’t nearly as soft as Kars’ flowing mane, but the short, bristly strands felt so nice running between your fingers. Their height, Wamuu’s especially, was an obvious part of what made them so glorious to behold, but something about holding your lover this way and having him let his guard down because he felt safe in your arms just filled you with warmth.

“Right, Aries will be a worthy companion to you on your journey, beloved,” he agreed. “I’ll see to it a meal is ready for you when you return. Please be careful,” he warned, lifting you onto your horse’s back and seeing you off before he returned to the temple.

You were dressed inconspicuously for this journey. Your clothes were of a finer make, but modest and plainly colored. You had finally gotten Aries to submit to your reins and a saddle and the massive black horse should deter anyone from trying to get too close.

You had enough money to simply purchase the stone, as it would be considerably harder for you to steal it than it would be for your husbands. You took great care to hide the money you had and disguise the jingling of coins in your purse to avoid being robbed.

Plenty of women in the capital were left unattended by their husbands if their husbands were traveling merchants, sailors or soldiers, but they would usually have a chaperon or at least a handmaid to escort them. You didn’t feel unsafe per se, but you knew a rich woman by herself, carrying a great amount of valuables, invited trouble.

The ride to the capital was easy enough. A well beaten path led the way and no one paid any mind to yet another stranger on a horse. At most some children looked and pointed at the massive steed, but no one stopped you. Aries might have been better suited for one of your husbands to ride, given his size, but he responded well to your calming presence and went wherever you guided him.

There were plenty of merchants selling jewelry by the side of the road and you stopped to examine their goods a handful of times, but you had seen enough gold and gems by then to tell these were mostly just trinkets and given their quality the red stone couldn’t possibly be among their wares.

You’d made it down to the docks with no luck, telling various lies as to what you were looking for and why. “My husband has been commissioned by a senator to create a great art piece.” “My father’s estate was stolen and the stone is a treasured heirloom.” “A servant stole it and my husband will be furious if I do not retrieve it before he returns.”

It didn’t help. No one knew of the red stone and while they could point you to the parts of town where you might find such a pricey gem, they had never even heard of an Aja.

It was late afternoon, going on in the evening, when you tied Aries down to rest and drink for a while before returning home. Everyone around you seemed to be gathering in anticipation of the departure of some imperial vessel, so you were left alone.

“I’ve never been here. How will I find some jeweler who is wealthy enough to have the red stone…?” you pondered out loud, sighing tiredly. “The stone isn’t just beautiful and rare. It’s a weapon in its own right. Like master Esidisi said, it would garner attention if anyone were trying to sell it, so why hasn’t it?” you mused. Then a thought hit you and you almost smacked yourself because it was so obvious.

“They’re not trying to sell it. It’s already been sold to someone who intends to keep it for themselves! Someone rich and powerful enough to wear such a gaudy and massive gemstone…” you said, grinning at Aries. “No merchant will know about it, except the one that sold it, because it is no longer for sale! It’s sitting in the collection of some affluent statesman or scholar,” you concluded, untying Aries and mounting his back as soon as he had finished drinking. He could rest all night once you had returned to the temple to discuss your findings.

The crowd of people parted easily for a horse his size as you made your way back to the main road, passing the caravan that was to be boarding the large roman war vessel that docked a few minutes prior.

“The stone is with someone powerful and rich who could afford to buy something so precious and also wear it without getting killed for it. Someone… Someone like…”

You were passing the lead of the caravan’s formation now, a group of soldiers riding horses that matched Aries in size to bear the weight of them and their armor, when your gaze was met by the coldest, most vicious eyes you had ever seen on a human.

Time almost seemed to slow to a crawl and you needed every second of it to tear you gaze from that icy, indifferent stare, for it to land on the very stone you had been searching for. It was the brilliant, glittering center piece of an amulet larger than your palm and there was no mistaking what it was, or who it belonged to.

“Someone like the emperor of Rome…”

When you returned you passed through your village first, finding your husbands there, rather than at the temple where you expected to find them.

“It is already dark. You are late,” Kars said.

“Lord Kars was becoming worried,” Esidisi said, noticing the way you flinched at being scolded. You could tell some of Kars’ more obvious signs of nerves at this point. His sitting on the edge of his seat, tapping his fingers, the pinch in his brow that made the markings around his eyes look sharp and threatening. He would sooner express his concern for you through discontent than affection, but you saw it for what it was and weren’t offended.

“Aries was tired. I didn’t want to push him too much,” you explained, glad an abundance of hay had been laid out to feed him already.

“If he is tired, that means he has served you well today,” Wamuu said, petting the horse’s flank. “How was the capital?” he asked.

Before you could answer Kars stood and scooped you into his arms, carrying you over to sit on his lap, making you smile. “It was fine. No one tried to hurt me, masters,” you assured him.

“They better not, or their head would roll before the next sunrise,” your master huffed bitterly at the thought. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and you returned the gesture in the hope of calming him down.

“I have… some good news and some bad news,” you started.

“Let’s get the bad news over with first,” Esidisi sighed. He probably figured you had found nothing, as they had found nothing for the past few days. He couldn’t fathom what the good news might be.

“The red stone has left the continent by sea…” you answered, noticing the harsh shift this statement brought in their demeanor. Something anxious and bordering on the rage they never wished to show you, but you had their full attention now.

“How do you know this?” Kars asked.

“I saw it. The stone is part of an amulet worn by the emperor now. I watched him board an imperial vessel and was told its destination was to be the city of Alexandria…” you said, wringing your hands together nervously. If only you could have taken the stone then and there, but obviously you would have been killed if you had tried that.

“Are you sure it was the red stone?” Wamuu asked. You nodded.

“I wouldn’t have said this if I wasn’t completely sure. It was a super Aja the size of my palm at least. The way it shone, it couldn’t possibly be anything else…”

“It would explain why we found no one advertising such a treasure… But the stone departing by sea is the worst thing that could have happened,” Esidisi groaned.

“We can traverse land far more quickly than any humans so long as we can avoid the sun, but to cross the ocean we would be bound to the speed of a human made ship. It is impossible to swim across the ocean to Alexandria in a single night and there would be nowhere to hide from the sun... “ Kars said, near shaking with rage.

“It takes a week to sail from Rome to Alexandria,” Esidisi said.

“It takes only five if we depart from the southernmost point of Sicily,” Kars said, standing up.

“Aries isn’t fit for that journey tonight and I see no other way for (Y/N) to keep up,” Wamuu said. Neither of you wanted to leave him behind, but your poor boy was exhausted after a full day of traveling.

“I have a solution for that. Prepare to depart within the hour,” Kars announced, vanishing to retrieve whatever the four of you might need on this journey.

“Will we be coming back here?”

“Unlikely,” Esidisi answered, looking up at the temple. “Best you gather anything you would like to see preserved. This may be the last time you see your home at all,” he professed gravely.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and asked Esidisi to bring you up the mountain. Your belongings already consisted of very little. Of course, of the treasure your husbands had gathered you wished you could bring all of it, but you wouldn’t have much use for wealth. It was so jarring to think you might never see your home again. Some other humans would find this shell of a village and move in eventually, but a thousand years from now, would any of it still be there? Would anyone know about your people?

You gathered all the things that had become significant to you. The wreath you had been given by your people, the dagger you got from Wamuu, the scrolls detailing the use of hamon and your people’s history from Esidisi, and the vial of antidote from lord Kars. That and whatever clothes you deemed worth packing. Kars emerged from his chamber with a large bag hanging from his shoulder, a single stone mask with a hollow fit for the red stone and a small wooden box. Your candle barely shone into his large bedroom, but you could see the faint glittering of gold and the numerous maps and tapestries that he left behind.

“Have you gathered all you needed to?” he asked. You nodded, holding the somewhat heavy bag with both your hands. It felt like a lot to bring along and yet far too little if it was all that was going to be preserved of your entire way of living. You kept reminding yourself if only you could find the stone in time this wouldn’t be the end.

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring anything else?” you asked, just to be sure.

“I remember everything that is written in those scrolls and drawn on those maps. If we are forced to sleep those would turn to dust before we return and we have no use for material goods like humans do. I am only bringing items that may serve a purpose or cannot be easily replaced,” he said, taking your bag and slinging it over his shoulder as well.

Esidisi had gathered up enough money to buy a small country and a single change of clothes for Wamuu and himself. None of them were very sentimental about worldly possessions it seemed. It made sense, given their immortality, to not get too attached to material things, but your little mortal self still felt a pang of hurt leaving the temple and all that was left there behind.

“Is there anything else in the village you wish to bring, dear (Y/N)?” Wamuu asked. He’d made the effort to gather roughly a week’s worth of food for you on your journey and the supplies to care for Aries, but your boy still looked tired and ready to get his saddle off and rest.

“No, there’s nothing here that would be sensible to bring along. I’ll miss it, but it’s alright,” you said, forcing a smile.

“Lord Kars, you had a way for Aries to endure the journey to Sicily tonight?” your first husband asked. Kars opened the box he’d brought along, showing a very different stone mask from the ones you’d seen before. One made to fit the face of a horse.

You stared at him for a moment, slack jawed. A vampire horse?!

“I’ll ask your permission, but really, you’ll need a proper mount for this journey and either you let Aries be transformed, or you’ll have to leave him behind,” he said, holding the mask out to you. The stallion still liked to nip at your master or try to when he got too close. He preferred Wamuu and yourself as his caretakers.

“That’s alright,” you said, stroking your horse’s neck and ears. To you it didn’t matter much if he was transformed. You’d feel guilty for depriving him of the sun, but in exchange he would remain by you and your husbands’ sides forever as an immortal creature of legends. If he did have to eat meat from living things you wouldn’t mind, so long as he didn’t turn his appetite on good humans. “I love you so much, sweetie. This will hurt for a moment, so please forgive me,” you said, placing the mask over his face. Esidisi kindly spilled just a few drops of blood on it and a series of spikes dug itself into his skull with a loud crunch.

Aries staggered and cried. Wamuu pulled you back and you winced in sympathy for your sweet boy as his hooves slammed down like a sledge on an anvil and he shook off the mask. His teeth were razor sharp and he seemed even bigger and more imposing than before. There was a clarity in his now blood red eyes, like he understood he had been changed. For a moment you were scared, thinking he might turn on you for allowing him to be hurt now that he was a vampire, like the wretched old man you’d been forced to kill, but Aries settled and bowed his head, nudging you gently like he’d done the night you first met.

“The transformation went over well. Better than I expected,” Kars said, reaching over to stroke the horse’s head, but Aries still snapped at him and now he could have likely taken several fingers off. Your master yanked his hand back and scowled. “Still as temperamental as ever, I see… He retained his overall memories and attitude. He’ll have the stamina and speed required for this journey now. Are you all ready to leave?” he asked.

“Yes, my masters. I’m ready,” you answered.

Truth be told, you were tired. You’d been up before sunrise and out all day, but sleeping was the furthest thought from your mind right now. Hoofbeats came down like rolling thunder in the night's darkness. The new moon left the path enveloped in shadow, but Aries galloped straight ahead wherever he was led to, never hesitating or fussing to show fatigue. You were hardly guiding him; you didn’t know where you were going, but you could sense your husbands nearby, even in the dark. Brief flashes of light or warmth, or the wind whipping unnaturally, told you they were close.

“Are you alright?” Wamuu asked you at some point. You’d completely zoned out for a while now, only focussing slightly when you passed through the occasional village. You were aching from how long you’d been riding for, even with hamon to ease the strain on your body, and exhaustion was taking its toll.

“Are we almost there?” you asked back. It felt like you were going so fast you might be, but you wouldn’t get your hopes up too much. You jerked as you felt yourself being suddenly lifted out of your saddle, but calmed down quickly in the familiar embrace of your husband’s arms. He’d taken your place as the rider, cradling you in his arms instead. “Isn’t both of us too heavy?”

“Normally, yes, but Aries is a vampire now. He can easily carry both of us,” he assured you. Esidisi had once told you the strength of a vampire was between five and ten times that of a human. If the same applied to vampire horses carrying both of you shouldn’t be a problem. He was certainly big enough for Wamuu to ride as well. “You seem tired,” he pointed out.

“I am,” you sighed. “But more than that, I’m nervous,” you said. Being held in his arms eased the aching of your legs and back, but you couldn’t relax completely just yet.

“Come what may, my shining dawn, we will persevere,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Very soon we will reach the ocean to cross onto the island of Sicily. We will travel along its shore until we can go no further and from there we will take a ship to Alexandria,” he explained, helping you sit up. You knew the plan already, but still couldn’t keep a grin off your face.

“You want to show me the ocean?” you asked. You did remember asking before, but you’d almost forgotten about it already.

“I realize it’s not exactly what you intended, but I would like you to enjoy it regardless,” the wind god answered. “I remember first seeing the ocean myself. Lord Kars and Esidisi hadn’t bothered to explain it to me and proceeded to laugh when I asked which way would take us around this lake the fastest. My brother Santana tried to drink from it. That was a very unpleasant surprise,” he told you, making you laugh. “Lord Kars says a great thinker should be able to imagine an ocean from seeing a single drop of water. I suppose that is why he is a philosopher and a scientist and I am a warrior,” he added.

“You possess wisdom in different walks of life, my love,” you said, leaning your head against his chest. “Whatever happened to your brother? You’ve mentioned him before, but I’ve never seen him. Where is he?”

You couldn’t see very well in the dark, but you could tell Wamuu’s mood fell instantly with that question.

“Lord Kars killed every member of our tribe who rejected his views, nearly all of them. Most because they sought to bring him down, but many simply because he didn’t deem them worthy if they only strived to wait out eternity underground… Santana and I were children when this happened and for many years we resided where our tribe had once lived while lord Kars sought to perfect the stone masks. Eventually he came to the conclusion mere stone would not suffice and we would leave in search of a catalyst that would perfect his creation and us in turn. Santana and I were… adolescent at that time, he was younger than me by a thousand years or so, but old enough to make his own choices,” he explained, voice tinged with sadness. “When lord Kars said we would cross the ocean and not return, he rebelled, deciding he would rather remain by himself in the ruins of our old tribe by himself. He and lord Kars had grown somewhat indifferent to our training in favour of their… our pursuit of the stone… Master Esidisi thought it a childish rebellion. He persuaded lord Kars to wait for his return… We waited on that shore for a decade. The human population was dwindling. We left and that was the last I saw of him. About 3000 years ago,” he explained.

You swallowed a lump in your throat, bracing yourself to ask the next question. “I-Is he alright? The sun… were there hamon users on this continent as well…?”

“Hm? Santana was young, but strong and smart enough to stay out of the sun. There were no hamon users there and enough stone masks that I am sure he is alive and well!” he said, although he sounded like he was trying to reassure himself as much as you.

Aries pace began to slow. Over the sound of his heavy breathing and the trot of his hooves you could hear the subtle lull of waves dragging over the shore. “Best not mention this to lord Kars or master Esidisi. They will deny it, but the loss of my brother has caused them great pain.”

You nodded, standing on shaky legs as you were let down onto the sandy shore. Kars had killed all who didn’t share his views, yet he waited on Santana for ten years. Clearly this testified to some sort of greater love, even if they hadn’t chased him when he left. If after ten years he didn’t come find them, he likely wouldn’t have changed his mind about the search for the red stone if they had. Even you knew Kars wouldn’t be dissuaded from his plans, so perhaps it really was for the best that he stayed behind somewhere familiar. You hoped the stone masks meant he had some kind of companionship, although you were pretty sure Wamuu meant to imply he had plenty of vampires to turn into food.

“I warned you riding that horse would slow it down,” Kars said. You could just barely make out his face in the dark, but your eyes were caught by something possibly more beautiful than that. The ocean was as smooth as a mirror and the stars illuminating the sky reflected off the pitch black depths like an infinite cosmos.

“Forgive me, lord Kars. Our dear bride looked like she needed some company,” Wamuu explained, followed by a sound like a whip cracking and an uncharacteristic sound of surprise from your first husband. You were sure you’d never heard him gasp for anything, but that’s what it sounded like.

“Don’t use her as an excuse, Wamuu. You were the one craving company,” his master corrected him and you snorted a laugh while he put a hand over his sore backside where he’d been struck.

“Hah! You have not resorted to physical reprimands in a long time, my lord. Don’t be so harsh on him. I’m sure he just wanted to spend some time with someone a little closer in age,” Esidisi said and you bit your tongue hard to a barrage of comments and questions to yourself. You usually prided yourself on being able to keep secrets, but this was a lot to take in, let alone keep it there.

“He can do so without telling lies. There is a ferry that will take us across to Sicily. From there it will be about two more hours to the southernmost point of the island. We’ll need to secure a ship before dawn breaks, so don’t waste any more time on pleasantries,” he warned back.

“Understood, master,” Wamuu said. “I’ll recover the time I wasted by blowing wind in your sails. I’ll swim across easily,” he said. You could only make out this ‘ferry’ by the sails blocking out the stars in one spot.

“It’s impossible to blow wind in the sails when you’re on the vessel with us?” you asked. “I mean it seems unlikely, but the god of wind…”

“His control of wind is a physical ability, not some divine magic from human myths. It might create some motion, but more likely it will damage the mast,” Kars answered, picking you up and lifting you onto the ship.

“I still don’t fully understand your powers or what you are. You’re not the gods of legend I was taught to worship. Since your arrival, I don’t know what to believe anymore,” you said. You were hurting all over and couldn’t see a thing, so that was probably best you let yourself be carried. It would also give you a brief window to talk to Kars away from Wamuu before you would be confined to a ship together for a week. Aries made the leap aboard almost as easily and Esidisi was right behind you when a sudden torrent of wind disturbed the mirror-like surface of the ocean and the ship jerked into motion.

“We were born from two parents each, just like humans. We were always immortal, living vicariously through the living things around us, but the masks I made gave us the powers you would call magic or miracles. We have seen hundreds of human communities, all worshiping their own gods and sometimes worshiping us as well. We never did encounter any of your human ‘gods’ and in many cases they seemed to worship perfectly natural things as miracles. I for one don’t concern myself with any gods, unless they should attempt to stand in my way,” Kars explained.

“And there is no one else like the three of you?” you asked. You didn’t expect him to give a straight answer, but you didn’t expect him to lie either. You were curious either way.

“There is one more like us. A youngling by the name of Santana, who still resides on the continent we hail from,” Kars answered, pausing for a moment. “Perhaps you will meet him when we have obtained the stone. Besides him there is no one,” he said simply, handing you off to Esidisi before you could ask anything else. “The crossing will be swift, so restrain yourself. The horse has done enough to bruise her loins tonight,” he warned, making you blush.

“My loins are perfectly fine,” you insisted in a huff.

“I could fix that,” your second husband promptly offered. Luckily he could see your flustered expression in the dark and just laughed. It was true it was your legs and back that were hurting, but you were in no mood to spread your legs in any capacity. “You were wondering about Santana?”

“Yes,” you admitted. “Wamuu asked me not to press the matter, but if you’re the only ones left from your kind… Even lord Kars said that once you have obtained the stone…” You trailed off as your hand was brought up to your lover’s face and you could feel the hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I treasure him and Wamuu as I would my own children, dear (Y/N),” he murmured, clearly holding back worse tears. “He was becoming so strong and I had nothing left to teach and he took this as neglect… When Kars decided we would depart from our homeland where we were worshiped as gods in search of some way to further advance the masks it was the last straw… Ten long years we waited, but he never came around… I knew in my heart of hearts he lives, but…” Esidisi trailed off, his shoulders shaking with heaving sobs and you quickly hugged him, letting him soak the fabric of your dress with tears.

“Esidisi… my king of flames, you will see him again… Soon you will have the stone and when you do-”

“Will he still want us in his life after all those years? Will he forgive us for leaving? It’s been so many years, he’ll have grown up and I will never get those moments back~!!!” he sobbed, partially muffled against your chest.

You gently pat his head, shushing him softly while he wailed.

“He’ll still love you. It’s true you can’t change the time you spent apart, but you can’t change the centuries you spent together either…” you tried to remind him. You didn’t want to tell him to stop crying. He had never once told you to stop crying, and you had cried a lot. However, you weren’t supposed to bring this up and now Esidisi was in hysterics.

The ship jerked to an abrupt halt, the wooden boards creaking from the amount of force dragging the vessel onto the shore.

“That was quick…” you noted, blinking in surprise as Esidisi’s crying stopped just as abruptly.

“Ah, yes. It is a short distance and Wamuu’s winds are exceptionally strong. Thank you for allowing me to vent these thoughts and emotions with you, my darling,” Esidisi said, standing and lifting you up with him. “I am glad to have you, my dancing flame, to ground me when my emotions run too high.”

“Y-You’re welcome? You calmed down very quickly,” you said, a little confused. You winced as you were lifted back into your saddle. This ride was not going to be a pleasant one.

“Relieving pent up feelings through crying like that keeps me in control of my emotions when I need to be. Now is no time for crying or we won’t make it before sunrise. Come on, let us hurry!” he said, a light smack to Aries’ rear spurring him into a gallop as he gave chase to your husband.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Wamuu to catch up?” you asked. Riding along the beach shore would be easier. The sand was easy to ride on and the water’s edge gave you a rough idea of where you were headed, instead of riding blind.

“That would defeat the purpose of the head start he gave us. When we arrive at our destination, we still must secure another vessel and hope the wind turns more favorably,” Kars answered.

Logically you knew it would be alright. Even if you didn’t make it before dawn, you would reach Alexandria in a few days. Finding the emperor of Rome shouldn’t be too hard and you had no doubts your husbands could take the stone easily.

Still, you were uneasy. What if you didn’t make it in time and your husbands got burned in the sun? What if something happened while you were out at sea? What if you had made a mistake, and you wasted your husbands’ time for a gaudy piece of red glass? What if you didn’t find the stone at all?

These uneasy thoughts plagued you. If this all turned out to be for nothing, you would have no one but yourself to blame. They would have no one but yourself to blame.

The coming day colored the distant horizon a pale blue and the stars flickered out one by one against the dark sky. The threat of sunlight loomed in that distance and you were so ready to just collapse.

Exhaustion began feeding into your worries. They hadn’t made you a vampire so you could help them find the stone and what good would you be if you failed at that?

Esidisi might have had the right idea about crying the way he did, but crying to him about this would mean openly admitting to your worries and fears. You would have to tell them and you simply couldn’t bring yourself to, so these feelings stayed cooped up inside you.

You could already see clearly when you made it to a harbor town on the southern cape of the island. Fishermen were getting ready on smaller boats and you and Aries followed your husbands at a calm trot as they slowed to board the largest vessel on the small dock. It was another ship belonging to the imperial navy and it was guarded, but your husbands walked almost right through them onto the ship. You still flinched seeing it, those soldiers didn’t even know what hit them before they died.

“How much do you know about sailing a ship like this?” Kars asked you as he and Esidisi began preparing for departure like they had owned it for years.

“My family didn’t think I should be outside of the kitchen. I don’t know a thing about sailing…” you answered. Why would they teach you anything about finding your way if you were never supposed to leave your little village?

“Right. I expected as much. You see where the sun is rising? That’s the direction we’re heading in. By noon the sun should be behind you. We can teach you how to properly navigate later,” he sighed. You wanted to sigh back at him, because you needed to rest. You could go a single night without sleep, but not a night like this one.

“Yes, master… Do you not get tired at all? Ever?” you asked, standing at the ship’s helm.

“I get tired of waiting,” Kars remarked snidely. For someone who supposedly didn’t get tired then, he sure sounded like someone who hadn’t had his coffee after four hours of repeatedly interrupted sleep.

That being said, you were getting worried. The sun was almost up and there were no mountains or trees, or anything that would provide shade for them to walk safely.

“Is Wamuu going to be here in time?” you asked, looking for reassurance.

“If I’m being honest, he might not be here before dawn,” Esidisi said, getting Aries settled below deck and out of the light. You jerked and sputtered for something to say, but they both laughed.

“Wamuu has been working on a new technique to get around his vulnerability to the sun’s light. He wanted to surprise you with it, but I suppose it would be better to tell you now than to have you fear for his life once the sun rises,” Kars said, joining Esidisi in the shadow of the ship’s hold. You were stunned at how casually they brushed off the risk, or rather the inevitability, of their companion burning in the rays of the sunrise.

The ocean current and a strong breeze were already pulling the vessel away from the shore and you had no way of controlling its pace, only its direction. The horizon was set awash in a blaze of red and gold, sunlight reflecting off the surface of the waves to the point where it was almost blinding. The light was warm, but all you felt were cold chills as you clutched the ship’s wheel to stay upright, looking out across the beach where you still didn’t see Wamuu.

You felt yourself about to start crying again, when your tired, bloodshot eyes noticed something moving rapidly towards you. At first it looked like it was just the wind, carrying a gust of dry sand with it, but it was too oddly shaped. It took until the strange creature leapt into the air, over you, and onto the main deck that you understood what was happening. Wamuu had encased himself in a tempest strong enough to have the vapor in his currents refract and reflect light away from him, essentially creating his own shadow from wind. While it certainly wasn’t the glorious sight of the morning sun washing over his bronze skin, to have him stand beside you in the daylight made your heart leap with both relief and utter joy.

“I-I’m so glad you’re safe! That’s incredible! You’re incredible!” you almost yelled.

“I’d say that puts us even for yesterday morning,” he chuckled.

“Heh, only if I get a kiss!” you said with a big grin.

“Later. Best not to break these winds in the light of day,” he said, a little gust of wind dancing through your hair and making your skirt flutter like a playful caress before he went to join the rest of your little family in the dark hold of the ship.

Relief from having him safely in your care was enough to unwind the knot of anxiety in your stomach and you could finally relax somewhat. Your already shaky legs were getting used to the rocking of the ship. There was something slightly surreal about being the only one on deck like this, watching the sunrise, steering a ship of this size.

It was also a little surreal to think of the three pillarmen and the vampire warhorse below deck as your family. You made an odd combination. Three man eating demigods, a forsaken sacrificial bride, and a carnivorous horse, but you couldn’t have wished for a better family looking back.

Thinking about family brought back the memory of your sister and her two girls. Your nieces. You had no way of telling what they were up to right now, or if they were okay. Your sister was a fighter, always had been, but it was one thing to keep herself standing as a widow in your village and another entirely to be all alone in the world.

The day seemed to drag by slowly and when the sun was high you had grown hungry. You locked the ship’s wheel in one position and headed over to the hatch that led down into the hold. Your husbands had created a den of sorts that bordered on a massive nest in the area that would have been designated for a crew to sleep in.

You had no cargo to move and no crew, so the hold was spacious enough that Aries could stand and walk around and your husbands could lounge around on the extra pillows and bedding like kings.

“Hungry?” Kars asked knowingly. You nodded and grinned when you noticed Esidisi holding a steaming pot with some kind of soup. For a second you worried he might burn his hands, but then you realized he was probably the reason that the pan was hot in the first place. Probably a good idea not to start fires inside a wooden cargo hold.

“I wanted to ask something,” you said between bites, scarfing down half the meal in record time. Your husbands didn’t eat very gracefully either, and putting it all in your mouth looked sort of odd to them whether you minded your table manners or not. “After we find the stone… Would you mind if I tried to seek out my sister and her children? By now you must be sure I won’t leave you and even if I can’t convince them to swear allegiance to you after what happened, I would like to see them again,” you asked, looking up shyly and waiting for a response.

“Hmm? You’ll be free to pursue whatever your heart desires once we have obtained the stone. Go wherever and do whatever you want, within reason,” Kars answered, returning his focus to a new stone mask he was carving.

“Within reason?” you asked. Your definitions of reason and reasonable had become incredibly flexible in recent weeks, given the invasion of vampires, marrying three gods, learning to fight vampires, walk on water, riding a hoofed demon to the end of the continent in pursuit of the roman emperor to steal a magic stone, etc.

“Avoid things like orgies or stealing humans, killing human monarchs unplanned, that sort of thing. Meeting with your sister isn’t counted among such things, obviously,” Esidisi said.

You almost choked on your food and snickered. “Oh, and I had such great plans!” you joked. “I just hope they’re okay… They’re the most precious humans in the world to me and I miss having them around…”

“They’re ours as well, dear (Y/N),” Wamuu said. “As far as humans go, they’re important to us as well, right after you of course.”

More so than even the meal, his words made you feel warm inside. To know that what was important to you was important to them was such a blessing.

“I’d like to have a larger family again,” Esidisi said cheerfully. “Say, do you think our family will continue to grow?” he asked, his gaze falling on your stomach and you took a solid five seconds to process the implications of that question.

You hadn’t even considered you might get pregnant. You hadn’t really thought much beyond the month you had been given on the night you got engaged, but obviously you were planning further ahead now.

You should probably not indulge that line of thinking before at least six hours of sleep, but the idea was in your head now. Could they get you pregnant? How long would that take given how long they lived? Would you be raising a child like them or would it be human? Would it have to live in darkness with them or would they be putting a stone mask on a baby? You had slept with all three of them, so would there be a way of telling whose child it was? Would that even matter? Was there a chance you were already with child?

“C-Can I even… We’re not exactly the same species, right?” you asked. “Lord Kars?”

If anyone would know it was him. Kars seemed to be as caught off guard by the question as you, looking up and staring almost blankly into space for a few moments, but then looked back down to his work, his brows pinched together as he tried to regain his focus. “No, you won’t,” he answered simply.

You’d been a little scared of the prospect at first, but somehow being told that it was impossible to bear any of your husbands’ children was worse.

“Why not?” Esidisi asked, pulling you into his lap. He felt hot all around you and you guessed this was another way in which his emotions showed.

“Is there nothing you could do to make it so?” Wamuu suggested, a tinge of hurt shining through in his own voice.

“Our species aren’t incompatible by any means. The child would be most similar to us, before we were changed by the stone masks, however -” Kars explained, casting a harsh look at them. “No child of either species responds well to blunt force trauma or extreme heat while it is in the womb. You can’t expect to father any offspring through battering and boiling her insides,” he scolded them, making the three of you flinch collectively.

“But if… uh… maybe…” you trailed off, unsure of what you were really asking.

“You’re in good health and if you don’t attempt anything more violent than what you have done so far, you’ll be able to bear as many children as you please when the time is right,” Kars assured you. “In the meantime, try to practice your hamon. It is the best way for you to endure mating and remain healthy. If you wish for a child, you shall have it, but by the stars don’t ask me to give you one right now,” he sighed, having too much to deal with already. You chuckled and nodded.

“I understand. Thank you, master,” you said, Esidisi dragging you onto his lap to cuddle. “Now would not be a good time for me to be pregnant. It might actually be better if it doesn’t happen until we’re in agreement it’s a good time.”

“The fact most humans don’t even consider that is the reason they’re such an invasive species,” Kars mumbled. “If we are forced to sleep I expect the population of humans will have grown tenfold across the globe, if not more,” he huffed.

“That many?” you asked. “There are already so many who starve and wars over territory…”

“And those will be even greater by then. Trust me, humans are more persistent than rats in that regard,” he said. You wanted to argue, but were unsure how. You couldn’t exactly disprove his claims, but it was hard to wrap your head around what he’d said. You’d seen so little of the world before and lived such a short life in comparison to them.

“Whether we sleep or find the stone, we’ll live long enough to see,” you decided eventually, figuring he’d either be right or you could tell him he’d been wrong later.

“If we find the stone and become gods I fully intend on culling the worst of the human population. Starting with its greedy oppressors and ending with each and every one who so much as looks at a dog wrong,” Kars muttered. It sounded harsh enough to make you flinch, but you couldn’t disagree with the types of humans he’d want to get rid of. Being a god it really was his call to make.

It was a strange process, coming to accept this, realizing there really was no one who could stop him or challenge his authority on who he was allowed to live. It was hard, but the more you got to know the three of them the more you trusted him to actually make that call.

Your people worshiped several gods who had done worse things than wipe out a single village that opposed them like yours had. If they did conquer the sun and decided they would decapitate the emperor before his senate, what else was there to be done, except bow to their wishes?

“I can’t help but notice, beloved, that you said we ,” Wamuu pointed out.

“If you’ll have me that long, I’m sure you’ll find a way for us to stay together,” you said with a small shrug. “I trust you.”

Those words brought smiles to their faces. It was a comfort to know you no longer feared them the way you had when you first presented yourself as their bride and you finally viewed yourself as being worthy of your status as their bride.

“You should get back on deck and adjust our course. The ship has been pulling north. After sunset we will take over and you’ll be free to sleep,” Kars said.

You groaned loudly and leaned back against Esidisi, who’s unnatural warmth was beckoning you to fall asleep for a while now.

“It’s an important job that only you can do,” he said, moving you from his lap, which felt like the height of treason. Would he also push a tired kitten off his lap?!

“Hmm, I know. I’m going. Maybe before becoming immortal, you should be mortals for a day. Just feeling tired and having headaches from not drinking enough water and inexplicable stomach gurgles from eating the wrong thing, like the rest of us,” you said, relishing in their expressions of absolute horror and disgust as you climbed the stairs.

“Maybe we’ll give you a stone mask and you can live hiding in a cave like the rest of us,” Kars yelled after you in retort, but you knew he wouldn’t.

“With my three husbands who can still go outside and 200 vampire servants? I’m in!” you called back jokingly, letting the hatch fall shut as a means of ending that debate.

You wouldn’t want to become a vampire, but if your husbands were going to be keeping you awake for two days straight while dragging you around a thousand miles, you might as well remind them the sun was the only part they were missing out on in the human experience.

You were so ready to sleep by the time the sun was setting you didn’t even speak to your husbands for the rest of the day. You were offered the captain’s quarters, but refused, choosing to sleep in the nest they had constructed in the hold. You thanked the stars you were apparently the kind of person to not experience sea-sickness easily, actually finding the rocking of the waves very soothing as you went to sleep.

It was almost dawn when you woke up, feeling infinitely better than you had the night before. You climbed out onto the deck after you had changed your clothes and fixed your hair, surprised to hear a faint sound of music.

Kars was laying back on the railing, plucking the strings on a lute with his eyes closed like he was Apollo himself. Wamuu was the one standing at the helm and Esidisi was seated at the opposing railing with a fishing line cast.

“I didn’t know you played music…” you said. Kars opened one eye and chuckled.

“These past millenia would have been awfully boring without it. There are many things you don’t know about us,” he said, while you leaned against the heavy wooden railing.

“Such as?” you asked, watching his fingers carefully dance along the strings in a playful melody.

“Esidisi is an excellent poet,” he offered, to which the fire god nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Don’t tell her that! In our language, yes! But certainly not in this one!” he complained.

“I could translate! Why don’t I tell her what you were saying while she slept before?” Kars said, smirking like the evil bastard he was.

“Do NOT tell her that!” Esidisi yelled, which only made you more curious.

“Lord Kars is especially fond of birds and dogs,” Wamuu interjected. “And he was the first to devise a compass, many centuries before humans thought to. Why don’t I show you how to read it while our masters coordinate their serenade?” he suggested, picking you up and taking you out of the crossfire that was about to ensue between his elders.

“An excellent idea, Wamuu. Esidisi, get over here!” Kars called out.

You felt a little bad for abandoning him, but your curiosity won out. Besides, you needed to learn how to navigate properly. He pointed out which stars in the sky to follow to your destination, how to read the compass and then went into which ropes held up which sails and when to lower or raise them. You’d have some serious calluses on your hands by the end of this trip, but you were still grateful to learn.

The lesson was interrupted when you noticed something had taken the bait on Esidisi’s fishing line.

“Were you fishing for me?” you asked curiously.

“You can have it if you’d like, but that wasn’t the main reason I wash fishing, beloved,” he answered, gutting the struggling fish that was about the length of his forearm. He dumped the blood and guts overboard and it expectedly drew some larger predators to the surface near the boat. A shark made the mistake of leaping out of the water and was promptly caught by your husband through the use of his extended veins.

“Aries! Dinner time!” he called out, hauling the shark onto the deck. Aries gracefully ran over and bit into the still struggling shark. You’d never heard the noise a shark made. You weren’t sure how to describe it, but it made some kinda noise as the horse consumed it whole, the entire ordeal accompanied by Kars’ upbeat strumming in the background.

Wamuu and Esidisi snickered at the shocked expression on your face as you began to sputter something about your horse devouring a shark. They ignored most of your indignation, you’d get used to it, and Esidisi asked if you would still like to have the fish before the sun came up.

You listened to Kars play for a little while longer at the top of the hatch as you ate and watched the sunrise. Esidisi recited some of his poetry at your request and Kars translated. It sounded beautiful the way he said and according to your master it meant something along the lines of how the blazing sun looked so gentle in your eyes and like the sun his love would burn eternally. You hid your grin behind your hands, blushing bright red at the explanation.

“He’s quite the romantic,” Kars chuckled, getting hit with a pillow by Esidisi, who looked so red that pillow might catch fire.

“Please return to the helm, if you would, my lovely flame? Lord Kars and I have something to discuss,” your second husband instructed, to which you nodded and ran off, giggling like a little girl.

If this was how the rest of your journey would go, you’d be alright.

For the most part it did. With little you could do in the lay of training and nothing else to occupy your time you found yourself with your three husbands vying for your attention throughout most of the nights. During the day you had taken to copying the scrolls detailing your people’s history, planning to leave the originals at the library of Alexandria when you arrived there.

You knew your husbands had noticed, but they hadn’t stopped you. Maybe they saw some value in preserving your people’s history and ways, or maybe it was just a small show of sympathy to you personally. It was reassuring to think the good things you had experienced with your people wouldn’t be lost forever and you could do them this small service.

You once told Esidisi maybe it was right for you to pass on as your people had. Maybe that was more fair. He’d called it survivor’s guilt and insisted you didn’t need to justify your survival, least of all to people that would have sent you to die, but the feel still gnawed vaguely inside of your chest.

Throughout the night it would be a contest for who got to have you to themselves. Kars liked to veto your attention whenever it looked like you weren’t busy, so you had to try to look busy with your first two husbands. It wasn’t all that hard, Esidisi was happy to let you touch his hair or cuddle, so was Wamuu but you would normally just sit in his lap or talk about animals.

You in turn had had your hair braided in all sorts of ways and would talk about flowers or animals that were only around during the daytime.

When Kars had you, he would have you read to him as you sat in his lap or as he read aloud one of Esidisi’s poems. Shamelessly stealing his partner’s thunder in that regard. Many of his scrolls were in languages that you couldn’t read and he would translate for you, so that you might learn some of the wisdom they had gathered over centuries.

At your master’s suggestion you had also taken to learning more intimate practices from them. Wamuu didn’t have much to contribute there except second hand knowledge. You were his first as he was yours.

Esidisi had more to add, and in a stolen moment of private time, he taught you the proper techniques of pleasing them, aided by your hamon breathing. It helped that he didn’t mind when you choked or the one time to actually gag and bit him. You could only marvel at his patience with you. Something both the other pillarman lacked as they disturbed you in several compromising positions repeatedly, at which point you threatened to get off and walk to shore come sunrise and finally you were allowed to finish.

They didn’t mention it directly, but Wamuu took great care to remind you he was always glad to help you ‘practice’ in any way.

You wrote down what you learned from them. The history of your people gaining a new chapter about the erotic arts that could be performed with hamon and the techniques to please your immortal lovers. Future generations might get some use out of them. You took care to keep these texts and illustrations separate though, as you didn’t want your history to end up burned and have your tribe labelled as obscene.

On the fifth night your husbands emerged after sundown and Kars perched himself on the bow of the ship without a word.

“What’s happened now..?” you asked worriedly. You could tell something was up, but it was safer to ask your companions first.

“The winds have not been in our favor this journey. We should have made it to Alexandria by now. It’ll be another day at least…” Wamuu explained. You knew this well, as you had been the one single handedly hoisting and lowering sails and steering the ship during the daytime. You could heal the blisters on your hands, but not the calluses that roughed up your palms and the pads of your fingers.

“The imperial vessel that departed from Rome will have travelled a different route and had a head start by a good 16 hours. It may have arrived already,” Esidisi agreed.

“He’ll be easier to find once we do reach our destination,” you tried to reassure them with a soft smile.

“We know, darling. It’s just that with what seems like the final leg of our journey approaching, we can’t help but grow restless,” Esidisi explained, flexing his fingers. “My joints are growing stiff. That’s always the first sign. The petrification of our flesh will set in about a week from now if we do not uncover the stone.”

The idea itself made you shudder. To slowly turn to stone while you were powerless to stop it.

“It won���t come to that,” you said with all the conviction you could muster. In the distance on the horizon you could see nothing, but Kars’ shifting gaze told you there were likely other ships and sandbank islands you passed.

“Your determination is admirable, dearest (Y/N). Thanks to you, we will soon have the stone at last,” Wamuu said, kissing your forehead.

Food was starting to run low on the ship too. You hadn’t really thought about it, but staying awake as much as you did had led to you eating more without even realizing it. You were also getting a slight cabin fever from sharing such close quarters. On the ship you were always within earshot, given their heightened senses and they never slept. Their presence didn’t make you feel anxious the way it once did, but a week without any sort of privacy was wearing you down.

“Maybe you could distract Kars from his worries a little while?” Esidisi suggested, kissing your cheek and taking over at the helm.

You approached the bow of the ship quietly, but Kars knew exactly where you were and what you and your other husbands had been saying.

“I don’t need your attempts at comforting me. I’ll be perfectly content once I have the stone…” he huffed once you were a few feet behind him, not bothering to look over his shoulder.

“Standing there won’t get us to Alexandria faster,” you pointed out.

“Neither will your creature comforts,” he responded, staring out across the dark ocean impassively. “I promise you, you will spend eternity in my arms as a goddess, but I can’t afford to lose my focus now,” he said, finally casting a look over his shoulder. “You should go take the antidote now. You have waited long enough. I don’t question your devotion.”

These words went through your chest more violently and painfully than having your wedding ring forced into your heart in the first place. Was he doubting himself? No, that was far too unlike Kars. He’d wanted you to keep the ring as a physical proof of his ownership of you, of your bond. You had plenty of other tokens now, but none as powerful as the one inside your heart. The one that would take your life in ten more days.

“I don’t need it,” you said, climbing the bow with him.

“Stop being petulant. There is no sense in carrying around poison in your heart.”

“Then why do you?!” you asked sharply, glaring at him. Before he could answer you jumped overboard. You couldn’t see the water’s surface, so you still ended up getting wet.

“What on earth are you doing?” Kars demanded.

“Helping!” you responded, grabbing a rope and focussing your energy as much as you could to solidify the water’s tension. You felt like Sisyphos pushing a boulder uphill, trying to pull the ship forward. Maybe it was fitting. A punishment for hubris thinking you knew better than a god. It kind of worked, much to your shock.

“(Y/N), stop this nonsense immediately!” Kars yelled, pulling at the other end of the rope to haul you back on board. You tried to keep pulling, but that tug of war game was never going to turn out in your favor and you ended back right where you started.

“I’m tired…” you complained, nearly in tears.

“Then go to sleep instead of wasting your energy trying to pull this ship like a stubborn mule!” Kars scolded.

“I’m tired of chasing that damned stone, Kars!” you clarified. “I know it’s important… That it’s the most important thing… It is to me too. How could it not be when it determines if we’ll have a future together, but… If we only have one month, I don’t want it to be dictated by the hunt for the red stone constantly… I want to be with you… I want us to be happy together in the time we have… I want you to look back and think of me fondly when I’m gone…”

Kars sputtered, expression flitting across his face in rapid succession, ranging from sorrow, sadness and pity, to pure unadulterated rage. He trapped you between his arms, gripping onto the railing of the ship so tightly it splintered in his grasp.

“I… love you… and I don’t fear dying as you do, but I fear eternity without you more than the sun itself…”

“Same difference,” you said, tears running down your cheeks. Gods, you hated arguing and arguing with Kars was the absolute worst. Why couldn’t you just scream and be angry? Why did you have to cry? “Death would be eternity without you. Of course I’m scared…”

“Which is precisely why we need the stone…” Kars hissed like you weren’t understanding. “I wouldn’t mind sleeping another thousand years. I’ve lived this long already! I could have gone to sleep after exterminating your wretched kin if you hadn’t made me love you, you naive beguiling witch…” he spat, the floorboards under his feet cracking as well now. “I can’t give you the life you deserve if I fail… One mistake and I’ll lose you forever… I already treasure you beyond what any poetry could describe. Don’t give me these tender moments to long for if I fail you…” he pleaded, and for the first time ever you heard his voice crack with grief and uncertainty.

You threw your arms around his neck and by now Wamuu and Esidisi had been hovering just behind you, ready to step in, but you waved them off.

With Santana Kars could be sure he was alive and safe somewhere. With you he didn’t have the same luxury.

“What did I just tell you not to do, you defiant little welp…?” he asked.

“I’m positive we both feel fucking awful and there are no fond memories to be made, so I can hold you as much as I want, you headstrong, ill tempered brute…” you answered, fisting a hand in his hair and standing on your tiptoes for a kiss. “You won’t fail me… Kars you are a god to me and I have absolute faith in you, no matter what…” you insisted.

He let out a long sigh, holding you against his chest.

“My glorious, foolish little sun… Come here...” he murmured. “I hadn’t intended to give you this so soon, but to know you have it would ease my mind greatly,” he said, bringing you back down into the hold with a lantern Esidisi had lit for you. “I have been working on this since the night you recovered the Aja your people had tried to keep from us,” he said, opening a box to reveal a small stone mask of smooth marble, with far more delicate features than the ones you had seen. At the center of the crown like headpiece across its forehead rested the Aja you had offered him so many nights ago. The mask was carved from the slab of marble he had ripped from the god’s throne in his rage.

“The stone is too small to be of any use to us, but you are smaller, more delicate, and your body is already receptive to the light of day,” he explained. “This mask shall grant you eternal life, without taking the sunlight from you or forcing you to feed on the life of others,” he explained, closing the box and putting it away. “The catch is that I haven’t tested it yet. Decidedly few human women have ever been subjected to the stone mask at all and the brain is a delicate organ,” he explained. “I wouldn’t wish for you to change. It is your kind and merciful nature that compelled me to fall for you. If you were made to be any less than the goddess you are right here and now it would be on par with killing you and I could never forgive myself,” he explained.

You could feel yourself trembling where you stood.

Kars was ruthless, cold and dare you say selfish in nearly all his endeavors. Yet here he offered you every single thing he had dreamt of for the tens of thousands of years he had been alive. The power he sought for himself, which he’d struggled, fought and killed for, and before it was even within his own grasp he was giving it to you.

“I love you,” you whispered, almost reverently. “And I trust you,” you assured him. “And when you’re ready I’m sure it will be perfect.”

It took a day longer than it should have to arrive in Alexandria, and the sun hadn’t set by the time you arrived. You couldn’t dock the boat alone and certainly not without arousing suspicion, so you lowered the sails and put an anchor out a mile or so out from the coast. Once the sun set you would walk to shore and deliver the scrolls to the library of Alexandria to preserve them and your husbands would find the emperor and claim the stone.

You would meet by the lighthouse come morning and with the stone they would become the pinnacle of creation.

“The time of ascension is almost upon us. Can you feel it, beloved?” Wamuu asked. He was in good spirits and it was a relief to see some glimmer of hope restored to them now that their goal was within reach.

“I can’t wait,” you agreed, gathering the scrolls you had dutifully copied.

“Once we conquer the sun, hamon will be of no consequence to us,” Kars said, watching you roll the parchment and stow them in a bag.

“Well then, maybe once you do, I’ll have something to teach you,” you offered. Kars startled by the idea and Esidisi and Wamuu laughed.

“I suppose that might be possible. Could you imagine, lord Kars? The three of us, hamon users! The fathers of the future hamon tribe!” Esidisi announced.

“Well, you’re not wrong. And I should like the future generations of hamon warriors to be raised to have some respect,” Kars agreed, planting a kiss on your lips. “The sun is setting, my shining dawn. When we meet again, the world will be at our feet,” he whispered. With a flourish he leapt from the hatch, diving into the water with barely a ripple to suggest it had been disturbed, as he shot like an arrow towards the shore.

Wamuu and Esidisi followed with the same divine grace and you led Aries to a small lifeboat, which you could easily pull towards the shore while walking on water. You could see the lighthouse where you would meet at the end of the night and felt a thrill of anticipation.

The library lacked any sort of formal guards, but you received some strange looks when you entered. You were dressed like a wealthy roman woman and they were never unaccompanied, but no one made an effort to stop you. All around scholars were lighting candles to continue pouring over their texts into the night and you knew right away you would be here all night as well, less you were dragged out.

“I have come to submit these pieces to the library,” you said softly to a man behind a desk once you saw him welcome a returning patron.

The man quirked a brow at you, but gestured for you to present what you had brought.

“Family history? Trade records? Poetry?” he asked, thankfully speaking in Latin as well.

“Transcripts on combat and historic records of a tribe that was recently vanquished by the wrath of gods,” you explained, using the most official sounding phrases you could come up with on the spot. The man’s mouth dropped open, but he clacked it shut just as quickly and started unrolling some of the scrolls you had brought.

“These… wouldn’t happen to be from the hamon tribe, would they?” he asked, eyes flying over the parchment as he spoke.

“Yes!” you said, glad he was taking an interest in them. At least you knew the scrolls would be in safe hands and your history would be preserved. Now that your husbands were about to claim the stone, the task had lost its urgency somewhat, but you were thankful to know you were not alone in saving the legacy of your people. News of their demise must have traveled faster than you realized if the scholars of Egypt already knew.

“I had someone… show in interest in such texts… just today…” the man said, plucking at his beard as he spoke and scanned the text. “I will go fetch someone to bring these into our collection officially. Please hold on to them while I do, my good lady,” he said, rushing off and leaving you alone with the scrolls. You tucked them back in your bag with a grin and started browsing different texts to pass the time. Most were in languages you didn’t know and even fewer were very interesting, but in a collection of this size that made sense. You knew you’d spend more time browsing than actually reading, but if you would actually be reading, but if you would soon have eternity to wander around whatever library you pleased, it didn’t matter.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around expecting the old scholar, but who you saw instead nearly had you leaping into the shelf with a loud yelp. Standing there with her beaming smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes and dimpled her cheeks was your older sister. With another cry of joy and relief you fell into her arms, hugging her with a vice like grip.

You’d feared you’d never see her again. Of all the people in your tribe, she and her daughters were the only ones whom you missed and longed for every single day. You’d prayed for her safety to your godly husbands and whatever ethereal gods might still reside in the skies above, and your prayers were answered!

Now as everything was about to fall into place, fate had brought you back together!

“Oh, my sweet mayflower…” she whispered, cupping your cheek and wiping away tears of joy, even as she began to cry as well. “I’ve been so scared for you… I never should have let them send you away. I never… Oh, but you survived and I’m so glad I get to see you again!” she whispered. “And you saved us… That brute who came to…” she sobbed, wiping her face of tears. You couldn’t help but laugh. Clearly your sister would need some time to get used to her new in-laws.

“When he had us exiled, a few others knew something was off… We’re not alone, sweetheart,” she said, proudly hauling the bag of scrolls over her shoulder and taking your hands.

“W-Wait, what? There’s more who survived?” you asked, the implications of that not yet sinking in through the veil of elation. Whatever made your sister happy would make you happy and Kars did say hamon would soon be nothing to them. You might really have it all now. Both halves of your family forever, you thought until the overjoyed smile your sister wore perked into a full on smirk.

“Quite a few! We warned the emperor before he departed when someone saw you questioning jewelers in the capital,” she laughed, pulling you closer into a hug once more. “Those wretched creatures will never have their stone. Come on, (Y/N). Time to go home to our tribe!”

[tinyshe]

What Will Segregated Society Look Like for the Unvaxxed? 

August 09, 2021

Story at-a-glance 

High-profile restaurant chains like Shake Shack and Union Square Hospitality will require staff and indoor diners in New York City and Washington D.C. to show proof of COVID “vaccination,” starting September 7, 2021

Vaccinated-only bars and restaurants have also popped up in Seattle, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Oakland, Philadelphia, Boston, Atlanta, Boulder, St. Louis and New Orleans

A growing number of private companies are also requiring workers to participate in human medical experimentation or forfeit their job. High profile examples include Facebook, Google, Twitter, Lyft, Uber, Saks Fifth Avenue, The Washington Post, BlackRock, Ascension Health, Netflix, Walmart, the Walt Disney Corporation and Morgan Stanley

PayPal is vowing to block transactions and cancel accounts held by “extremists” and anyone endangering “at-risk communities,” which could include just about anything, including anti-vaccine rhetoric

CNN anchor Don Lemon has suggested unvaccinated people ought to be barred from buying food in grocery stores and have their driver’s license taken away

In 2020, the proposition that COVID-19 countermeasures would come to include forced vaccination and vaccine passports, resulting in a segregated society where only those participating in the COVID injection experiment have human rights, was labeled a wild conspiracy theory unworthy of discussion.

Fast-forward to August 2, 2021, and Forbes announces, “No Vax, No Service: Here’s Where Bars and Restaurants Across U.S. Are Requiring Proof of Vaccination.”1

No Jab, No Dining

According to Forbes,2 high-profile restaurant chains like Shake Shack and Union Square Hospitality are leading the way, requiring all staff and indoor diners in New York City and Washington D.C. to prove they’ve received the required doses of COVID-19 injections, starting September 7, 2021.

New York Mayor Bill de Blasio hailed the decision, saying others will follow — and indeed, they did, with de Blasio himself announcing August 3, 2021, that proof of vaccination will be mandatory for all indoor dining, visiting gyms and going to movie theaters in the city:3

“This is a miraculous place literally full of wonders,” Mr. de Blasio said. “If you’re vaccinated, all that’s going to open up to you. But if you’re unvaccinated, unfortunately you will not be able to participate in many things.”

Several New York City eateries were already checking vaccination status, and during the last week of July 2021, the San Francisco Bar Owners Alliance urged its 300 members to require proof of COVID-19 injection or a negative COVID test for patrons wanting to have a drink indoors.

Several Los Angeles restaurants, bars and comedy clubs are also following suit, as are more than 60 establishments in Seattle. Vaccinated-only restaurants have also popped up in Oakland, Philadelphia, Boston, Atlanta, Boulder, St. Louis and New Orleans.

Since COVID countermeasures are a global lockstep operation,4 the same segregation trend is emerging in other countries as well. On the other hand, in Florida, where I live, businesses are prohibited by law5,6 from requiring customers to show proof of participation in the COVID jab experiment.

No Jab, No Job

A growing number of private companies are also requiring workers to participate in human medical experimentation or forfeit their job. As reported by Axios,7 this includes Facebook, Google, Twitter, Lyft, Uber, Saks Fifth Avenue, The Washington Post, BlackRock, Ascension Health, Netflix, Walmart, the Walt Disney Corporation and Morgan Stanley.

As mentioned, Florida prohibits businesses from requiring customers to provide proof of COVID “vaccination,” but it does not bar companies from mandating vaccination for its employees.

For now, Disney’s jab mandate only pertains to salaried and nonunion hourly employees, but according to Yahoo! News,8 Disney is in negotiations with union officials who represent theme park employees and members of its movie and TV production crews. The goal is to extend the vaccine mandate to union employees as well.

In May 2021, the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission decreed that it is legal for companies to require employees to get the COVID shots.9 This despite the fact that the four available COVID injections are only authorized for emergency use and are as yet unlicensed.10 Testing is not expected to conclude for another two years.

No Jab, No Business

Private companies also have the right to not mandate COVID shots, of course, but standing up for workers’ right to choose could hamper their ability to conduct business at all, as PayPal is now vowing to block transactions and cancel accounts held by “extremists” and anyone endangering “at-risk communities,”11 which could include just about anything at this point.

Seeing how the White House is promoting the idea that people who question the safety and effectiveness of COVID shots are “killing people” and the Center for Countering Digital Hate (CCDH) labels anti-vaccine rhetoric as a form of hate speech, is it a stretch to suspect PayPal will start taking down the accounts of so-called “anti-vaxxers”?

Business owners and self-employed entrepreneurs who speak out against other official narratives probably face the same risk. Venture capitalist David Sacks recently commented on the situation:12

“When I helped create PayPal in 1999, it was in furtherance of a revolutionary idea. No longer would ordinary people be dependent on large financial institutions to start a business …

But now PayPal is turning its back on its original mission. It is now leading the charge to restrict participation by those it deems unworthy … [W]e are talking about … shutting down people and organizations that express views that are entirely lawful …

If history is any guide, other fintech companies will soon follow suit … When … your name lands on a No-Buy List created by a consortium of private fintech companies, to whom can you appeal?

As for the notion of building your own PayPal or Facebook: because of their gigantic network effects and economies of scale, there is no viable alternative when the whole industry works together to deny you access.

Kicking people off social media deprives them of the right to speak in our increasingly online world. Locking them out of the financial economy is worse: It deprives them of the right to make a living.

We have seen how cancel culture can obliterate one’s ability to earn an income, but now the cancelled may find themselves without a way to pay for goods and services.

Previously, cancelled employees who would never again have the opportunity to work for a Fortune 500 company at least had the option to go into business for themselves. But if they cannot purchase equipment, pay employees, or receive payment from clients and customers, that door closes on them, too.”

If this trend continues, which it probably will, might people who question COVID shots and/or refuse to participate in human experimentation be barred from having a credit card or a bank account?

No Jab, No Food

Some are promoting even more severe punishment for the unvaccinated. Yet, it’s not enough for some thought leaders that unvaccinated individuals can’t enter a bar or restaurant, and might lose their ability to send or receive money for goods and services using PayPal (and potentially other digital transaction services).

For example, CNN anchor Don Lemon recently suggested unvaccinated people ought to be barred from buying food and have their driver’s license taken away.13,14

Why is fascism so commonly associated with genocide …? It is because it needs a unifying force powerful enough to sweep aside all resistance. ~ Charles Eisenstein

I’d like you to conduct a thought experiment, and think this through from start to finish. What would your life be like if you were:

Barred from driving

Barred from working and earning a paycheck

Barred from sending or receiving money online

Barred from having a bank account and credit card

Barred from eating food at a restaurant (assuming you somehow got the cash to pay for it)

Barred from buying food in a grocery store (again, assuming you somehow got the cash to pay for it)

Are Lemon and countless others actually saying it is acceptable to make half the U.S. population homeless and starve them to death in order to, theoretically, prevent the spread of an infection that, so far, has had a 99.74% survival rate?15

Mob Morality

To understand what’s really happening and what Lemon’s rhetoric is accomplishing, I highly recommend reading Charles Eisenstein’s article “Mob Morality and the Unvaxxed.” It’s an excellent and thought-provoking piece. Here’s a few chosen excerpts:16

“We would like to think that modern societies like ours have outgrown barbaric customs like human sacrifice … we don’t actually kill people in hopes of placating the gods and restoring order. Or do we? …

Not just any victim will do as an object of human sacrifice. Victims must be, as [legal scholar Roberta] Harding puts it, ‘in, but not of, the society.’ That is why, during the Black Death, mobs roamed about murdering Jews for ‘poisoning the wells.’

The entire Jewish population of Basel was burned alive, a scene repeated throughout Western Europe. Yet this was not mainly the result of preexisting virulent hatred of Jews waiting for an excuse to erupt; it was that victims were needed to release social tension, and hatred, an instrument of that release, coalesced opportunistically on the Jews ...

‘Combatting hatred’ is combatting a symptom. Scapegoats needn’t be guilty, but they must be marginal, outcasts, heretics, taboo-breakers, or infidels of one kind or another … If they are not already marginal, they must be made so …

[D]efying left-right categorization is a promising new scapegoat class, the heretics of our time: the anti-vaxxers. As a readily identifiable subpopulation, they are ideal candidates for scapegoating. It matters little whether any of these pose a real threat to society … their guilt is irrelevant to the project of restoring order through blood sacrifice …

All that is necessary is that the dehumanized class arouse the blind indignation and rage necessary to incite a paroxysm of unifying violence. More relevant to current times, this primal mob energy can be harnessed toward fascistic political ends …

Sacrificial subjects carry an association of pollution or contagion; their removal thus cleanses society. I know people in the alternative health field who are considered so unclean that if I so much as mention their names in a Tweet or Facebook post, the post may be deleted …

The public’s ready acceptance of such blatant censorship cannot be explained solely in terms of its believing the pretext of ‘controlling misinformation.’ Unconsciously, the public recognizes and conforms to the age-old program of investing a pariah subclass with the symbology of pollution …

This program is well underway toward the Covid-unvaxxed, who are being portrayed as walking cesspools of germs who might contaminate the Sanctified Brethren (the vaccinated).

My wife perused an acupuncture Facebook page today … where someone asked, ‘What is the word that comes to mind to describe unvaccinated people?’ The responses were things like ‘filth,’ ‘assholes,’ and ‘death-eaters.’ This is precisely the dehumanization necessary to prepare a class of people for cleansing …

To prepare someone for removal as the repository of all that is evil, it helps to heap upon them every imaginable calumny. Thus we hear in mainstream publications that anti-vaxxers not only are killing people, but are raging narcissists … and tantamount to domestic terrorists.”

Dangerous Territory Ahead

If deep down in your gut you sense that we’re speeding into dangerous territory, you’re probably right. The “vaccinated” public are actively encouraged and manipulated both by media and government officials into literally despising and wishing death upon the unvaccinated, and this is indeed a very dangerous thing. It breeds mob mentality devoid of reason and logic, which can have tragic consequences.

“Why is fascism so commonly associated with genocide, when as a political philosophy it is about unity, nationalism, and the merger of corporate and state power?” Eisenstein asks.17

“It is because it needs a unifying force powerful enough to sweep aside all resistance. The us of fascism requires a them. The civic-minded moral majority participates willingly, assured that it is for the greater good. Something must be done. The doubters go along too, for their own safety.

No wonder today’s authoritarian institutions know, as if instinctively, to whip up hysteria toward the … unvaccinated. Fascism taps into, exploits, and institutionalizes a deeper instinct.

The practice of creating dehumanized classes of people and then murdering them is older than history … The campaign against the unvaccinated, garbed in the white lab coat of Science, munitioned with biased data, and waving the pennant of altruism, channels a brutal, ancient impulse.”

The Constitution still offers some measure of protection in the United States, but it may be naïve to assume it will be adhered to in the long term unless we the people demand it. In Australia, military are now roaming the streets of Sydney to make sure no one strays beyond their front door, as the country has implemented one of its strictest lockdowns yet.18

Fanning the flames of anger and hatred, Prime Minister Scott Morrison has stated that vaccinated Australians might be able to regain some of their mobility once the vaccination rate reaches 70%, and broad lockdowns may be avoidable altogether if the vaccination rate hits 80%.

"If you get vaccinated, there will be special rules that apply to you,” Morrison told reporters. “Why? Because if you're vaccinated, you present less of a public health risk.”

A rational person might question whether Morrison would actually hold true to his word. A person blinded by anger probably won’t, but will instead direct their frustration onto the holdouts that prevent the vaccination rate from reaching that magical threshold where they believe freedom will be restored.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Do you have any Riju headcanons? Both romantic and general

I honestly don’t have a lot of romantic head canons for Riju, but recently I was doing what I always do, analyzing the crap out of the world. So why not have some

Patricia the Prophet, Riju’s Sand Seal Obsession, and the Most Honorable Job in Gerudo Town

...Headcanons

Warning: Long post, way too much research, and I won’t shut up about business practices, animal fur, and textiles. TL;DR at the end

She is beauty

She is grace

She got a battle scar on her face

Patricia the sand seal, one of the most important members of Gerudo Town, providing guidance as a wise and experienced walrus, moral support in the form of her cute red bow and companionship with Riju, as well as assisting in the plush sand seal business ventures, which we will get into later. 

Canonically, Patricia was a gift from Riju’s mother, it would be her first and last gift to her before she died. I see this as the reason why Riju is so obsessed with sand seals, not only because she is a child and loves cute animals, but because it is one of her only links to her mother. 

More under the cut:

We can see how clearly Riju loves not just Patricia, but sand seals in general just by looking around town. 

Here is her seat at Patricia’s pen (which we will come back to later) 

Her room 

The booster seat on her throne, along with pillows have sand seals

Her skirt even has a sand seal

Now wait a moment...I think I’ve also seen that logo elsewhere...

Sand seal rental booths, a business that thrives on using domesticated sand seals in order to help people travel swiftly across the desert. 

While the existence of sand seal racing might factor into it, it’s still a bit weird that this rental business is able to survive so well even in a time where travel was dangerous and most people just stayed within their city states. Although, I guess is could also be argued that it is a necessity considering Gerudo women must eventually venture out and find husbands, but that’s still a generational, niche market. And consider that there are really only three places that a Gerudo might need to travel to in the desert, the gate way out of the desert, the outpost, and the ice house, with those last two only being accessible by royal guards. 

So how is a business being funded so well as to have gold plated signs, and enough space to take up large portions of town? I’ll tell you how, it’s because it’s also being financially assisted by Riju

Hear me out, let’s first look at a map of all of Gerudo Town

The red indicates areas accessible to the immediate public, and the gold being areas accessed only by royal guards/the Chief. The blue is areas associated with sand seals. So not only do sand seals take up a third of the general public market, but they also take of a third of the space within the palace, essentially making up over a third of the space within all of Gerudo Town.

Even leaving out Patricia’s personal pen, businesses can’t just go around taking up that much space without profits to back it up, there’s a ratio that businesses have to account for like “profit for square foot” and even general foot/customer traffic costs massive rent. Buying these areas, much less maintaining them, is gonna cost a pretty rupee. 

There’s no way these businesses are surviving all on their own. So that’s why I believe Riju has some influence with these businesses. Now, other than her great love for sand seals, you might ask, “why would she?” I mean sure, everyone loves sand seals, but is she really giving away budget just to fund her hobbies?”

And to that I say, maybe, bUT there is actually a logical conclusion as to why she would do this, as it might not necessarily just be her giving away money, but investing it towards another goal. 

Returning to Patricia’s pen, let us observe the gal for a moment. 

[Side note: I just find it interesting that Patricia has so many battle scars, interesting considering it is only Riju who rides her. The scars are mostly healed, so it’s fascinating to think about what kind of battle Riju and Patricia encountered even years before Link woke up! I mean, Riju is still only 13 in the game...so she was even younger whenever some event happened with her and Patricia. That’s actually pretty crazy when you think about it]

Anyhow, not only do we see further evidence of Riju’s love for Patricia in the fact that she has a special, royal harness, along with a ruby on her bow, but we see that sand seals have fur. 

[In fact sand seals are probably more closely related to walruses, rather than seals, given their tusks and hardened flippers, but walruses still don’t have fur to the same extent. Which is why I’ll be comparing sand seals to desert mammals, cause I doubt they will share much else with their more aquatic counterparts.]

Now fur for desert creatures serve several purposes, whether for climate conditions, protection, and even retaining the loss of water for the body. 

At least that’s how it works for another popular, real life, counter part that is also famous for transporting people across the desert, the camel. (Cause they have similar thick fur, along with the same smaller eyes and thick eyelashes, which is similar to the sand seals thick fur on their face) BUT, I’m getting ahead of myself here 

Looking further through Patricia’s pen, you will eventually find this room next to the stairs.

In this room there is a lot to unpack, much to me delight because yay! Analysis!

This room

is the key to it all.

Firstly, given the proximity to Patricia’s outdoor pen, along with the special royal harnesses, I’d say this room is specifically meant to tend to her. The room also serves to hold a variety of labeled fruits, including hydromelons and mighty bananas, most likely to feed sand seals.

Then, there is a bath area, again, most likely to tend to Patricia, which has a brush, which can be assumed to be used to brush her fur. In addition there is a spear by a bedside, which most likely just indicates that the guard outside who translates Patricia is also the one who comes into this room. 

Finally, and most importantly, there is this desk area, with sewing equipment, and felts, someone was in the process of crafting a sand seal plushie. 

A plushie, that is very familiar...

If you take this all in, a picture starts to form. 

Riju, a young Gerudo Chief, with an unrivaled love and passion for sand seals, finding interest in areas like sand seal businesses. With her power, wealth, and authority, she allows for large sections to be set aside for sand seal rentals, as well and helping to financially fund them, going so far as to even wear a logo on her skirt, or perhaps the businesses took on the logo in honor of her. 

With sand seal rentals thriving, Riju also turns her attention to plushies, pillows, and blankets. Already knowledgeable on sand seal fur, she might use her new found access to several domesticated sand seals in order to commission these items. Notice how Riju is the only one in all of Gerudo Town, nay, all of Hyrule that has any of these special sand seal stuffed animals, blankets, and pillows. All of these, made with sand seal shed fur. 

Which, as we previously established, has very similar properties to camel fur/hair! So their shedding rate, consistency, and usage must also be similar which is important because there are already camels being kept for the purposes of their fur in real life.

And before you tell me something like “sand seal fur and/or camel fur wouldn’t make for good textiles” let me side track turn your attention to my research regarding that. 

Time wise, this is a very reasonable rate for which sand seals could shed in order to hash out the several products that Riju owns. 

Sand seal fur is the only logical way the Gerudo could even craft textiles, as unlike real countries like Egypt or India, there is no cotton plant (and also no British imperialism forcing people to go through the laborious task of harvesting cotton) or alternative plant in order to produce anything else of the sort. 

Before you tell me that the Gerudo trade for such materials, first, this is still post-Calamity so it would be impossible to rely soley on imports while Hyrule is still in such an uncertain state and most city states are more isolated. Secondly, Gerudo specialize in exports, with all their fruits, meats, arrows, and such. Travelers typically come to then to trade, not the other way around. 

And on top of that, after pouring through several articles online on stuffed animal manufacturing for a few hours, I came across this Guide to Textiles which included several sections on felts, inner lining, stitches, and stuffing

And amoung the pages, I found sEVERAL mentions of camel fur and hair, proving that it if camels can, then sand seal fur can be used for the purposes of stuffed animals 

So yeah, sand seal fur is collected in order to make sand seal items. Patricia in particular, given special care, perhaps because we already know she is unique to the other seals so her fur might be more exceptional. We all know the secret ingredient to anything is love. So Patricia even has a special handeler who takes care of her, translates, and uses her fur to custom make sand seal plushies all in that same, preciously mentioned room

(Who might I add, is one of the only people capable of translating the sand seal language, has the honor of living alongside the Chief’s treasured pet who is one of the only links to her mother, as WELL as helping to take Patricia’s fur to craft custom made sand seal plushies for Riju herself? Perhaps only rivaled by Bularia, this guard has one of the most important jobs in the palace and probably gets paid accordingly since Riju values her so much.)

TL;DR, Riju has cornered the sand seal fur market with her power and money, helping the rental business to keep afloat, in order to get access to custom made sand seal fur items, all derived of a love from sand seals that she got from her mother. 

In conclusion, Nintendo, I would like my pay check now. 

[cherryonigiri]

the retrospective: alice’s 1k special || lover masterlist

matchup requests: CLOSED

Anon asked: Congrats on 1k! Your content is amazing and I love reading your stuff❤️🥺 Ok so here’s the matchup info: I’m an INTJ, Ravenclaw w/ Hawk patronus, I’m an ambivert, observant, patient, helpful & ambitious. Hobbies: playing piano, going on evening jogs, dancing hiphop, gaming, listening to classical/r&b music. Go to outfit: leggings & an oversized t-shirt or hoodie. Comfort over fashion for sure lol. Favourite beverage: Mango boba! N E WAYS i’m so proud of u & i hope u have a great day❤️ take care!

A/N: Thank you anon 🥺🥺🥺 omg i’m glad u enjoy my writing apiofjaiwpfji - omg how are you so talented I can barely play one instrument well lolol also I now crave mango boba -Alice

Your matchup is: Kenma Kozume

How you met: You guys met online. One of your passion projects is the stream gameplay - and specifically you’re really good at rhythm games (courtesy of your natural sense of rhythm and beat you built from playing piano + dancing). You stream at night because that’s when you’re free, and one day someone recommends you to Kenma on one of his livestreams. He watches a few of your streams - he finds your reactions really funny - whenever you get stressed trying to clear a hard song/level or when you make comments about how you would have arranged the beat differently - he enjoys your sarcastic personality + paired with your dedication to clearing/playing games. He reaches out via DM and the two of you begin talking. You talk with each other upwards of half of a year before he thinks he might be catching feelings for you.

Your first date: He’s nervous about asking if you want to meet in person - even though both of you show your faces on stream, it’s different from talking online to actually meeting in person. The two of you frequently video call, but haven’t met in person. Also, since he’s a famous streamer, he doesn’t want to draw too much attention to himself when he’s out. One day on a video call, he seems a little nervous/withdrawn, so you ask him what’s up. He pauses for a bit, but you’re patient and understanding that he may have something a little more serious on his mind. After a moment, he asks if you want to meet him at a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop (recommended to him by Hinata, who says it’s hidden away so it’s harder for fans to find). You happily agree and he messages you the address. You don’t really think much of it, but at the end of the call it suddenly occurs to you to ask “is this a date?” Kenma’s a little blushy but he replies “yes” softly. The two of you have a nice chill coffee and he invites you over to his apartment for a games/movie night for the next date (KENMA IS SMOOTH)

Your first kiss: both of you are very patient people who would rather wait until both of you are ready before initiating any new kind of physical intimacy. I think your first kiss would be on the day/night you guys decide to make things official (not publicly, but between the two of you). I think it just comes up in conversation - the two of you were not in a rush to put a label on your relationship, but he asks if he can introduce you to his other friends as his girlfriend. It just happens, after you nod yes he leans forward on the couch to swiftly press a kiss on your lips and then your cheek. 

Anniversary: Kenma is so THOUGHTFUL - in the weeks before your anniversary he quietly observes what you’re browsing online - whether it’s online shops that he can purchase your gift from, or noticing which spotify playlists you’re looping when taking a shower/doing work. He silently catalogues all this information and tries to figure out what kind of gift you would appreciate. I mean we all know Kenma is super wealthy but I think if he bought you something expensive he’d buy it because he knows it means a lot to you or it’s something you’d use a lot! One thing I could see him getting is a set of matching gameboy terrarium/planters for the two of  you so you can both have them on your desks as a reminder of each other. (I found this on Etsy, wakuwakuisland does super cool recycling of old retro gameboy consoles by turning them into pokemon themed terrariums. I love these sm i put a photo of one and one day when I am not broke i WILL order/commission one). I think it ends up being a fancy dinner at home - and the two of you exchange gifts and spend the night cuddling on the couch while gaming. 

(A picture of the terrariums i mentioned:) 

How they propose: So at this point his followers/your followers all know you two are dating so you guys will help with streaming/show up on each other’s streams. Under the guise of asking you to help him film something - he sneakily sets up his surprise. Ofc he still streams like normal, wanting to wait until the last moment and really make it a surprise, but as the game ends he asks if you can go grab him a glass of water from the kitchen. So you pad over to the kitchen, he quickly pulls the ringbox out of his pocket and ends his stream. When you come back he’s already standing in the middle of the room with the box open - silver band glimmering. You drop the glass of water in shock and start crying and nodding and he gives you the SOFTEST hug and the two of you just stand there for a few minutes hugging. (And then you go grab the paper towels bc yes there is water all over the carpet RIP)

What your wedding looks like: small, private ceremony. Probably in a remote chapel somewhere outside of the city. Kenma and you both wanted a day where you could focus on each other without all the hustle/bustle and distractions from the city + you didn’t want the press showing up or nosy people in general. Since Hinata is from a more rural area of Sendai, he suggests a local venue to Kenma who gladly takes him up on his offer, since a bunch of the people he wants to invite are from the area anyways. The wedding is filled with lots of laughter and joy, and just in general it feels good to be surrounded with all the closest people in your life. Ok but also for your honeymoon he takes a full 2 month hiatus and travels the world with you - wherever you want to go you’ll visit. 

Newlywed/domestic hc: Towards the end of the giant honeymoon trip around the world the two of you start to miss home. So when you finally arrive back at your shared apartment (you moved all your belongings in the week before the wedding) it’s the most wonderful sense of relief and wonder ever. It’s like you’re reliving your firsts all over again - your first time going grocery shopping together, your first time cooking dinner together, first time in a while doing a stream together, first time falling asleep in your full sized bed together. After months of travelling, it just feels good to be home again and to be able to revel in the fact that you’re married.

[crazycookiemaniac]

Omg why are you losing so many followers youve been drawing gay shit for forever??? (Or maybe i as a gay was just interpreting it that way)

Because I literally spammed people every day for one week lmao. And also, a lot of people follow others for specific content. The moment I stop drawing that exact thing they followed me for, they unfollow me. There are also accounts that follow just to make you follow them & if you don’t, they unfollow you after a while. There’s people who followed me for haikyuu & weren’t interested in BC content, and there were people who followed me for BC content but got showered in gay art instead and that was not their cuppa tea. 

But mostly, i start appearing on people’s feed the more I post. So having me post incessantly for one week made me show up on feeds that I hadn’t shown up for  a good while, so there were probably people who forgot they had followed me in the first place & me posting was a reminder to unfollow.

Truthfully, follower counts are dumb. Yes, it is important for you to have a high follower count for you to get attention, but the amount of people actually following you if you don’t have a consistent art style & rarely ever post something with different vibes than your usual ones, is equal or less than 1% of your total amount of following.

My instagram tells me I have 43k. I do not have 43k people following me. I’ve had 43k that once saw my account & pressed the follow button, but their feeds are filled up with other people’s accs that interest them more than mine (as well as my own feed does not show all the content of the 200+ something people I follow, unless I scroll down till the depths of hell to find every single post on that day and then do so on the next day as well).

Essentially, 95% of your followers are there because of content. They want to see what entertains them. Most of them don’t care about the artist and don’t interact with them at all. Many of them are scared to, given the high follower count. Social media & big accounts make people forget that there are other, real, living & breathing people that are behind them all.

So, to many, I was just a random artist they found and “lol”ed at one of my comics & pressed follow without thinking about it. Most of them don’t go to my account and see all other art I’ve posted to see if they actually like what I do, or me as a person and as an artist at all.

People who don’t know this get really discouraged when they don’t earn a lot of followers, or when they lose a lot (like I did). And some people think you gotta have hundreds of thousands to be famous. I’ve seen accs going around that paid for ads, that had over 150k followers and less than 1k likes on their posts.

Truly famous, loved, growing and/or steady accounts have an amount of likes per post proportional to their follower count. For example, if someone has 150k followers, most of their posts will vary from 20k to 100k likes.

When I was growing my account because I hopped in the fandom bandwagon and stupid little me didn’t know that would only make me crash later, I had like 20~30k and some of my posts reached more than 20k likes (because people liked my stupid comics). Nowadays, I’m not part of the fandom that made me grow anymore. I’m part of a very underrated one (Black Clover), as well a I am drawing a very underrated ship (LuGna) that above all else is getting hated on. I have everything against me in this, so it’s no wonder I lost so many followers.

They didn’t wanna see gay art. They didn’t wanna see Black Clover. They didn’t even know what the fuck was going on. Not everyone paid attention or kept up with my warnings. Despite me explaining multiple times in multiple posts what the Thunder Flames project was about, a lot of people still didn’t know what I was doing that for.

The thing about being a big follower count is that, unless you’re actually loved for what you do (and to do that, once again, I need to emphasize that you need to keep a steady rhythm, a steady vibe, a steady you. Because people follow you for your first impression on them, and you gotta keep up to that first impression if you wanna keep your followers.

I’m unsteady. One look at my gallery and you’ll see how disorganized everything is. Oh, lookit, a 1 min speedpaint of a random drawing I did on an old piece of paper! And right on the left there’s a stupid random comic I did–on the right there’s this super detailed, shaded drawing I’ve done that actually looks terrible to me and I will 100% archive it later, and then there’s B&W mixed with gray shaded, flat colored and fully shaded characters of different fandoms + OCs from commissions and whatever else. 

The thing is, I made my follower count based on a fandom, and now that I’m not there most of that follower count does not have me on their feed. And most of them do not want me on their feed. Now, I’m trying to build a follower count for who I am as an artist, because the few people who have actually stayed and followed me throughout the years know how inconsistent I am in terms of art style, fandoms and everything else.

A solution to this would me either keep creating/posting the same thing all over again (just in different patterns), or creating original content (which I do plan on doing at some point). But for now? Since my follower count does absolutely not reflect on how many people actually like me and/or my art, I’m going to be as chaotic as fucking ever and do whatever the fuck I want.

So yes, I do find it comical that I lost 1k followers over this and am not fazed in the very least, especially because I literally foreshadowed losing 1k and hit the fucking jackpot.

The only reason I’m talking about this at all is because 1- it’s impossible not to notice my follower count decreasing, especially because every new 1k I thank people publicly through stories; 2- some people were actually worried I was upset over it and I have to 3- show that I am not, while simultaneously trying to show people that just because you’re losing followers doesn’t mean you have to stop doing what you want to create content to please people. It doesn’t mean you should be upset, and it doesn’t mean that what you’re doing is bad or wrong.

It means you’re fucking renewing your followers & you’ll now grow for what you’re trying to grow for, bitch. That’s what it’s all about.

Obviously, people do take a great risk doing this. I am taking a great risk doing this. I could’ve lost 5k, I could’ve lost 10k. But I only lost 1k! And that’s because I believe in the project I worked on; I knew there were people out there who enjoyed what I was doing and it’s on them that I was focused on. On the people who supported me AND my art, not just that one single funny comic post I did 3 years ago.

This answer is 100% a lot longer than what you could’ve possibly expected for and I am typing this while being awake for more than 24h so I’m sure that I’ve repeated myself a lot and that there are a lotta typos or w/e and I apologize for that!! But I’m too lazy to go back to read everything over & turn this into a neat post & I’m pretty sure I could answer your question in the first paragraph.

Oh and also. Yes. Yes I have been drawing gay shit ever since I’ve become an artist because I’m so fucking pissed at the lack of canon gay content in a way that it’s depicted as a normal fucking romantic couple instead of having eeeeeeeeveryone point their finger to the gay couple and scream “HEY THAT’S GAY!!! THIS CAN’T BE PART OF THIS VERY HETEROSEXUAL SHOW WHERE EVERYONE IS OBVIOUSLY HETEROSEXUAL EVEN THOUGH NONE OF THE CHARACTERS HAVE EVER SAID THAT EXPLICITLY BECAUSE WE KNOW THAT THE CREATORS ARE EITHER HETEROSEXUAL OR TOO AFRAID TO LOSE AUDIENCE IF THEY TREAT GAY PEOPLE AS NORMAL PEOPLE!??!! WHAT SORT OF ABSURD NONSENSE IS THAT??!! GAY PEOPLE AREN’T NORMAL!! THEY’RE GAY AND THEY SHOULD HAVE A GAY SHOW JUST FOR THEM IF THEY WANNA GET SCREENTIME” and yadda yadda yadda.

I’m tired of this bullshit. Ever since I was an artist I’ve been rooting for gay ships in shonen manga while knowing they would never happen just because they were gay, and now that we are in our Blessed-By-Satan, Pandemic-Chaotic, What-The-Fuck-Is-Going-On, We-Don’t-Know-If-We-Wanna-Go-Back-Or-To-The-Future-Or-Just-IDK-Fucking-Die year 2020, in which the LGBT community is thriving and being louder than ever to fight for our rights, Me, in my twenty four years of fucking age, having gone through several fucking disappointments ONLY regarding this matter, am sitting here on my ass, hopeful as all galactic, glittery shit that for some fucking reason, my new OTP formed by very underrated characters from this very underrated franchise in the southern and western communities, becomes canon because my stupid eyes can see chemistry between them even though those stupid haters’ can’t. But that’s because they’re stupid and homophobic, and they really should just shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna dream, I want to believe. Let a bitch pray in peace.

But even if I’m getting ready for disappointment, I’m gonna make this project happen and I’m gonna have a shit ton of artbooks from this Thunder Flames project inside my fucking garage if no one wants to buy them. But I am going to invest a shit ton of money in it and I am going to have these artbooks come to life. Because I am spiteful and petty and homophobes should shut the fuck up, and I wanna do what I wanna do bc as an independent artist, I’m building my future with my own two, very toned and buff by now from all the drawing I did, hands. 

God fucking damn it.

Jesus christ I’m just rambling at this point, I’m so sorry. If anyone ever reads this out of context people are going to be so confused.

But that’s fine. They won’t. You know why? Cuz I got almost 11k followers here on tumblr but less than 0.5% gives a shit that I’m here, so I’m safe.

Have a nice day, drink your water and fuck homophobes. Peace

[solastia]

Dear Authornim | 2

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Word Count: 1,862

Summary: You’re a writer of BTS fanfiction. rockstarjin is your favorite reader that you’ve actually come to be friends with…and maybe had a bit of a crush on if you were honest. You’re up for quite the surprise.

Warnings: Not really much this chapter. Single instance of the word whore, but no one was calling someone that. It was just a comment. Semi-vague sort of sexting (you’ll see). 

Notes: I might make a separate chapter after this is done - like a bonus type thing - featuring some comments from rockstarjin, if you guys are interested. I wasn’t sure if everyone would want to see them or if they’d bore you, so I kinda glossed over that. Let me know if that’s something you’d want! Commissioned by @kimseokmomjins

Being a writer - even if it’s simply for fanfiction - you take comments and reviews very seriously. A good comment or review can lift your spirits and leave you smiling for a whole day. A negative comment often leaves you questioning everything and going over your chapters with a fine-tooth comb. The rare unicorns were the readers that took the time to leave long and detailed comments, stating exactly what they liked and disliked about the latest chapter. Many of these were filled with valuable suggestions and helped you decide the path that your stories would take. 

One such unicorn was named rockstarjin, a reader that had been following your work for nearly a year now. His first comment had practically been drabble-sized, and had covered everything from his enjoyment over how realistically you characterized Kim Seokjin to how he was certain he would never use the “W” word (he literally typed out “W” word instead of whore, something you still teased him over to this day). 

That first review of his was only one of many. He took the time to give detailed reviews on every single chapter you posted until you discovered that in your head you were practically writing for him. It had even gotten to the point where several of your stories were ideas that the two of you had chatted about on tumblr for months, working through every detail. He still seemed a little iffy on the smut, but he’d gotten you to consider the idea of writing Seokjin as “Less aggressive” in the bedroom. 

Your friendship had grown until you were now friends on practically every social media app - nevermind that his profiles were always suspiciously void of personal information. The more that you talked to “Rocky” (you started calling him that months ago since he didn’t seem excited about telling anyone his name, though he knew yours), the more you looked forward to interacting with him. 

You couldn’t even explain really why you were getting so attached to some blank face behind the screen. You didn’t even know all that much about the real him, just small observations from chats. Like, you knew that he seemed similar to Seokjin in a lot of ways, which is probably why he claimed him as a bias. 

Rocky was very fond of puns and dad jokes, often sending you one first thing in the morning on KKT instead of a hello or good morning like a normal person. This morning it was, “Why did the tomato turn red? Because it saw the salad dressing.” You were ashamed that they always made you laugh at least a little bit, but it made you happy that one of the first things he thought to do in the morning was send you something. 

He was also fond of talking to you about food and recipes, acting affronted whenever you mentioned not knowing what something was. He would literally bully you into going to the grocery store and buying the ingredients he’d list out, demanding pictures of the final product like he was Gordon Ramsey. You had to admit he had good taste in food, even if you didn’t think your cooking skills were quite on par with his. It sometimes made you wonder if he was a chef, but the one time you’d brought it up he’d claimed to be too damn tired to cook and was living vicariously through you. Of course, that led to you asking what he did that got him so tired and he gave you another vague answer, stating he was in entertainment. Whatever the hell that meant. 

It bothered you sometimes that even after all this time he was disinclined to tell you anything, but you couldn’t help it as your feelings slowly evolved from those of friendship to...well, something more. You were a little hesitant to use the L word, considering you only knew what he wanted you to know, but you definitely had a crush at least. Not surprising considering he seemed to be everything you were looking for. He was considerate and compassionate, funny, creative, and so many other things. However, the fact that he was so very loud and proud about his love for Seokjin made you avoid looking at your feelings too closely. Because while you were over here pining for him, the only person that praised Seokjin more than Rocky was Kim Seokjin himself. And that could mean any number of things. 

Even when he helped you with smut ideas he got you excited. He had slowly gotten you to lean away from always writing Seokjin as some powerful dom - something your other readers had begun to notice and comment on - and now most of your scenes had him as being the more submissive one. He seemed to like it best when the main character was more of a soft dom, willing to take charge and take care of Seokjin. Rocky claimed that a man like Seokjin who was always working hard and worrying about one thing or another would relish the idea of being taken care of. You had to admit it made sense. 

You sigh and glance at your phone again, noting the lack of notifications. Your morning pun was the last you’d heard from Rocky today, something that had been happening for a few days now. Considering BTS was on tour right now, you’d expected a lot more messages about how he thought Seokjin was especially handsome today. Instead, for almost a week it had been nothing but your morning jokes and once he sent you a picture of his fancy looking dinner complaining about the portion size. You were beginning to really miss him, but you figured he must be busy. 

You wanted to scream with him today, considering BTS was finally going to be in your city in a couple days. You’d bought the tickets months ago, and Rocky had even convinced you to get pit tickets, something you never do because it’s basically a gladiator stadium up there. You were currently waiting for one of the boys to show up on vlive since the last concert before they traveled to your city had just finished a bit ago. It had been a fantastic show and Seokjin had looked as beautiful as always. You hoped he would be the one to go live, but that was rare unless he was with another member. 

Suddenly, your phone beeps and shows a message on KKT. 

Rocky: Kill me

You smile widely, excited flutters starting in your belly. It was ridiculous how pleased you got just to hear from him. 

You: Is there an option B? 

Rocky: We could run away and start a new life on a deserted island. Our descendants will become known as the most beautiful people on the planet. 

You blush and force yourself to cough to cover up the giggle that threatened to escape. 

You: Is that so? 

Rocky: Naturally. They all take after me, of course. 

You: Of course. 

You: What brought this on? 

Rocky: I’m so damn tired. My body hurts and I just want to sleep for a week. 

You: Oh no! Do you have time to soak in the bath? Epsom salt works wonders.

Rocky: I’ll be able to soak later. Right now I’m just forcing myself to stay awake long enough to eat. I feel like a zombie. 

Rocky: Hey, why did the zombie cross the road?

You: Why? 

Rocky: TO EAT THE CHICKEN 🤣

You: 🤭 

You: Really though, take care of yourself. I don’t want you getting sick on me. 

Rocky: How would you take care of me?

You gasped, peering hard at the phone. This was new. Of course, you could be reading this the wrong way, and he’s simply asking to ask. 

You: Depends. Are you asking for tips or in the white boy “What would you do if I was there with you” way?

Rocky: Let’s try it this way. Say I’m Kim Seokjin. I’m tired and hurting after another long night of performing. You’re waiting for me in my hotel room. How would you take care of Jin?

You: Omigosh, are you voluntarily helping with a smut scene? 

Rocky: Sure 

You: Ok, let's see. This scene can’t get too crazy if he’s tired like that. I think mostly I would focus on his comfort. 

So, he’d show up and I’d already have a bath waiting and food on the way. Maybe some aromatherapy candles are lit and some quiet instrumentals in the background. I’d let him soak until the food got there, hang out in the bathroom with him and let him vent to me if he wanted. 

After his meal, I would put a towel on the bed and have him lay on top so I could rub him down with massage oil. Naked, of course ;) 

I’m sure he gets it from professionals, but I think he’d appreciate it right after a concert and bath. 

Then, it would just depend on what kind of story it was. I could either rub him down like that until he falls asleep, or it could go the smut way. There are lots of options for that too depending on the story. I could give him a handjob while I talk sweetly to him, I could ride him and tease him, maybe peg him if he’s into that. Anything that would keep him soft and pliant, because the goal is to get him comfortable and happy. To show him he can just let go with me, let me be in charge of his pleasure. Show him he’s loved and cherished.  

Rocky: Fuck

You: Too much? 🙊 

Rocky: No

The phone was silent for a whole two minutes. Surely he’d heard worse from you, so you didn’t think you’d freaked him out or something. When another message came in you breathed a sigh of relief. 

Rocky: So, I’m gonna be in your city for the concert

You: No shit?! I can suggest so many great places for you to eat!!!

You: Or if you wanted, we could meet up? No pressure and I totally won’t be offended if you don’t want to. Stranger danger and all that. 

Rocky: You know what

Rocky: Let’s meet

[sworn-unbeliever]

23 - Shuffle

((Whew! Once again, a big huge thank you to @abeat for RPing as Jeremy since he’s her character in a way. Also, as a cartomancy fan, I jumped on the opportunity to write about such a thing. Although I didn’t write out the entire spread, I did do a proper reading. The spread in question is the Romany spread and is one of my favourites. The deck the nephew used is the Tarot of the Divine and I used the descriptions from the little white book there. Abeat and I will continue this storyline. If not on Sunday then probably after FFXIVWrite. Anyway!))

wc: 2,982

A gentle chime tingled in Teremy’s ears. Immediately, the miqo’te looked up from his bored daze. “Welcome to Fortunes & Fancies. Let me know if you need help with anything—”

Teremy cut his spiel short when he saw who entered the room.

A miqo’te seeker with Teremy’s exact same face.

“Jer?!” Teremy arched an eyebrow.

The aforementioned Jeremy waved. “Hi aniki!” he smiled cheerfully and looked around the store. A few seconds later, he did a double take. “W-wait, aniki?!”

Teremy switched from Common to his native Hingan. “Yes, little brother. What are you doing here of all places?”

Jeremy also switched back to Hingan. “I could ask you the same thing! I thought you were always busy exploring dungeons and hunting monsters and bad guys, but here you are working in a store...what happened? Are you in debt? Did you get caught up with bad people!? Did you murder someone and you’re on the run?”

Teremy closed his eyes and snorted, smiling. “A lot happened. No, yes-but-no, and yes, in that particular order, and I’m fine. Just taking up someone on their gracious offer to take things easy is all. Anyway, are you looking for anything in particular?”

Jeremy looked around. “This is what you call taking it easy? Isn’t this a furniture shop?”

���Trinkets, stuffed animals, a guildmate’s leatherworker merchandise over there,” Teremy gestured to the large leather backs on top of a couple of cute display carts, “or whatever commission you desire. Gears, accessories, primal weapons, you can afford it, we make it.”

Jeremy ran up to the counter. “Wait. Are you… Are you… crafting stuff?!”

Teremy shrugged. “More or less.”

“Crafting stuff… working behind a counter… helping customers…” Jeremy slammed his hands on the counter and growled. “Who are you?! What have you done with my brother?!”

“Ever the laughs-a-minute.” Teremy smirked and poked his brother on the forehead. “If you’re not gonna buy anything, get out.”

Jeremy pouted. “Awww, don’t be like that. Of course I’ll buy something at my aniki’s shop!”

“It’s not really my shop. I just happen to work here.”

Regardless if Jeremy had heard his brother or not, the younger twin’s tail swished playfully as he looked around the store. Normally to miqo’te such an action denounced irritation; however, Jeremy acted more canine than feline at times, and when Jeremy swished his tail like that, he showed his excitement and interest. Jeremy placed one hand on his hip, the other on his chin. “What do you recommend?”

“You’d know better than me what you’d need. Besides a life.”

Jeremy whirled around, his hands still on his hip and chin respectively, and grinned. “Now is that any way to speak to a potential customer? You should be polite and point out your most popular wares.”

Teremy exhaled. Jeremy was right. This was why Jeremy was better at dealing with customers back in the fish market days. “Well, this week only, the store is having a special on grimoires. Buy two, get one free. You can even get a left-handed book and fountain pen commissioned if you desire.”

The younger brother came back to the counter as Teremy pulled out a large portfolio-style album. Both miqo’te looked down at the assortment of cover images featuring various grimoires, codexes, and other such books.

“You don’t even need to be an arcanist to order these. We can make them just as a notebook itself for notebook’s sake.” Teremy added.

“Hmm.” Jeremy tilted his head back and forth as he leafed through the catalogue. “I could start keeping a journal. Sure, sign me up for the book and fountain pen. This one, this one, and that one. Although I was hoping to ask about… other services?”

Teremy paused and looked at Jeremy in the eyes. “Are you looking to the stars for guidance?”

“Maybe I am. I could use a little starry guidance right around now. If such services are available of course.”

Jeremy’s tail resumed wagging again. No doubt that he had heard of said services from an outside source and came all this way just to heckle his brother about it. Ignoring such a fact, Teremy pulled out a well-worn appointment book from underneath the counter and flipped to today’s page.

“How soon do you require such services?” Teremy asked.

“Preferably same day if possible,” said Jeremy.

Teremy skimmed through the planner book. Conveniently, the entire day had been booked up for Reonora, Rosemary, and Joey, like Nyemia herself had spun her own divine intervention. “Tell you what. Come back to the store after hours, which is—” Teremy looked at the nearby carbuncle chronometer, “18:00, and you’ll find someone that can help you.”

Jeremy grinned. “All right. Thanks, aniki! Exemplary customer service. I’ll come back later. Can I pay for the commission at the same time as the other service?”

“Of course. Thank you for your patronage.” Teremy performed an eastern bow to his brother.

* * *

After hours. Jeremy was nowhere to be seen.

Teremy leaned on the wall beside the currently locked door. Arms folded, he stared off into the horizon and gazed into the sunset. Since he started working at Fortunes & Fancies, he had many quiet moments like this—moments with no customers and nothing to do but listen to the carbuncle chronometer tick. Yet, those dull moments made him enjoy these poignant ones much more. He smiled softly as he gazed into the horizon, admiring the sunset. With Jeremy nowhere in sight, just for now, Teremy inhaled the evening breeze and let in the pleasure of tranquil silence.

“Hey aniki! Where’s this person that’s going to assist me?” blared his voice with the sound amplified times ten.

Teremy jumped, startled. His eyes widened and his tail shot up and frayed. He looked to the side to see Jeremy grinning, one hand on his hip and ears wiggling, completely pleased with himself. Of course. Some things never changed since childhood. Teremy took a long, deep breath to regain his composure. “You’re looking at him.”

Now it was Jeremy’s turn to recoil in shock. “What? You consult with the stars too?”

Teremy nodded. “The store owner has been showing me how to just in case I have to. I admit, this kind of thing isn’t really…” He didn’t continue the sentence lest he insult the deck in his satchel. “I’m still new to this, so be gentle.” Unlocking the door, Teremy held the door open for his brother.

“Man, is there anything you can’t actually do, aniki?” Jeremy asked as he walked inside the store.

“Hey, don’t sing my praises until we’re actually done. Then you can change your mind.”

Teremy entered behind his brother and locked the door behind him. He walked ahead of Jeremy, made a beckoning gesture, and hopped over the counter. Jeremy followed in suit and the two headed downstairs.

“I feel like we’re going into some super shady store dealings, like selling illegally poached hides or something.”

Teremy snorted. “You wish. Unfortunately, all that’s in here are a lot of lights and bohemian.” Teremy slid the oriental partition open and went inside, expecting Jeremy to follow.

And he did. The younger twin looked around at the variety of lamps, bookshelves, rugs and other objects. In the middle of the room laid two ronkan rocking chairs and a banquet style table with a square board in the middle. “Lots of… moogles. Very mystical looking.”

Teremy took a seat at the far end and gestured for Jer to sit across from him. Once Jeremy did so, Teremy pulled out his deck.

A tarot deck.

As he opened the box and tugged the ribbon to make the cards come out, Reonora’s words echoed in his mind.

“Cartomancy has many different systems. Perhaps you are familiar with the Sharlayan system? The method which attunes you to the stars and allows you to draw upon cards in battle? It stands to reason that cards also allow one to divinate as well. The future, secrets, and most commonly, advice. The method my mother had taught me is called Lenormand—a system that relies on creating phrases to decipher meaning. I have given Rosemary and Joey oracle decks, which rely on perhaps a single card or its own individual system. To you, I bequeath this deck. It is a system called Tarot. For this deck, simply put, each card has its own meaning. This is an old system where one can gain much insight. Perhaps I am speaking frankly, but in my opinion you seem like an old soul who thinks deeply. This may be the system for you.”

Teremy had no idea how true these words were. All he could do was shuffle the cards and have faith. As he shuffled, he felt vibrations in his hands as though the cards themselves emitted their own energies. Spirits? He thought to just focus on the task at hand. “What’s on your mind?”

Jeremy tilted his head from side to side. “I guess… What should I do now? Finding you was what drove auntie and I for so long. Now we’ve found you safe and sound, so I’m just wondering what to do with myself now I guess.”

“Like you have no purpose right now?”

“Yeah, that’s what it feels like.” Jeremy leaned his head on his hand. “Like I’m just ambling from one thing to the next now with no direction in mind.”

“Hmm.” Teremy shuffled the cards. ‘Jer’s lost his purpose in life. Can you give him some advice?’

He felt a tingling sensation in his hands—a sensation different than his usual qi. Like spiritual guidance. He felt as though the cards agreed to his request. As he continued to shuffle, Teremy looked up. “For what it’s worth, I’m grateful. I had no idea. Useless Tia said you and Auntie had left on a grand adventure without me. I didn’t know what to think. I feel stupid to have believed him. But what’s done is done. It… made me happy to know you guys were looking for me.” Teremy put the deck in the middle. “Here. You shuffle them and then hand the deck back to me after you’re done.”

“Yeah, typical of Useless Tia, failing to bring up the crucial details as to what our grand adventure was about.” Jeremy took the deck and shuffled in the same manner as his brother. Once finished, he placed the deck back in the middle. “I appreciate this, aniki. I’m really glad we found you safe and sound. I just want to find my own purpose just like you found yours.”

Teremy cut the cards into three separate stacks, then combined them again. With the deck thoroughly shuffled, Teremy now laid the cards in the spread that Reonora taught him.

Twenty one cards.

Three rows.

Seven columns.

The first row signified the past. The second spoke of the present. And the third laid out plans that had yet to happen.

Teremy glanced at the spread as a whole, then scanned the top line.

Wheel of Fortune. Three of Wands. The Magician. The Star. Four of Pentacles. Page of Pentacles. Five of Cups.

‘So far the reading has told him what Jer and I know already, but…’

His instincts couldn’t help but become bothered at one card in particular: the Four of Pentacles.

Hoarding. Possession.

“Hey, Jer, have you been… keeping something to yourself? A possession of some sort?”

Jeremy pressed his lips together. “Well...there is something, actually. I guess you really can read the stars.” He reached into his inventory and pulled out a gunblade, putting it on the table. “I found this awhile ago during my adventures with auntie. We were more focused on finding you so I never did anything with it, but I never told her I found it either. Some thugs we dealt with dropped it and I just hung onto it. I was debating trying to find out more about it but I didn’t want to turn my back on everything auntie’s taught me.”

“Thus in the past, while you were looking for me, you found this,” said Teremy. “And while you set your sights on your practical goals, you felt torn about this discovery. It was like this is a calling to you, yet you didn’t want to pursue, and you felt bad about it.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. I mean I’m sure you or auntie could probably teach me about it if I asked, but I just never got around to asking. I mean I know it’s a gunblade and all but...I dunno.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure what to do. Explore my curiosity? Let it go and sell the thing to a merchant?”

‘Weird. Why would Jeremy want to suddenly sell something he’s been hoarding? Unless he needs the money for something.’ Teremy continued. “The present line doesn’t say anything you haven’t told me already. You put aside your feelings and donned your patience and, well, we’re together. But after that you lost your motivation…”

Teremy’s eyes locked onto the last card at the end of the second row.

The Five of Swords.

Surrender. Violence. Crime.

“Is there something you’re not telling me? Did you get involved with someone?” Teremy asked.

Jeremy folded his arms and closed his eyes. He may as well have just said yes. On the other hand, Jeremy didn’t exactly say any details, either. No wonder Jeremy’s words since he entered sounded so oddly specific.

Teremy scanned the bottom row—the line that read the future. “Did you get involved with bad people? Are you the one who owes money to someone?”

Jeremy looked to the side. He said nothing for a few moments. Then finally, he spoke. “Yeah. I do. I was buying information trying to find you. Eorzea is a huge place, I knew it’d take us forever to find you on our own. So I was basically buying information from a syndicate in Ul’Dah. The prices kept getting higher and higher and I ended up just making interest payments, but I actually owe a lot of money. I’ve still been paying interest, but now that we’ve found you, I guess I’m trying to think of a way to make a lot of money quickly to pay it off entirely. I never told auntie of course. I didn’t want her to know what I was doing.”

Teremy scanned the rest of the reading, but he didn’t have to say much more. His mind already started formulating ideas. Thinking. He did hear Rosemary say something along the lines of that a tarot deck may not answer a question directly, but could show the actual underlying problem. And right now, Teremy saw that example put to action.

“How much money do you owe them?”

“Eh… heh… Um…” Jeremy scratched the back of his head and muttered.

Nevermind. Teremy had heard enough. The elder brother slammed his hands on the table underneath the reading and rose to his full height. “You know what? Nevermind. Forget this. Let’s deal with them once and for all. Even the cards are backing me up on this.”

“W-w-w-whoa, aniki! You’re suggesting we take on a crime syndicate in Ul’Dah?” Jeremy stepped back, his eyes wide in shock. “Not even the Sultana wants to do that! It’s bad enough I owe them money, let’s not start a war with them! I mean it’s five million gil but it’s not impossible, and they haven’t done anything to auntie or I since I’ve been paying the interest on time—”

“I just see my brother in a bind and I can’t just sit here and do nothing. Tell me where they are. I’ll deal with them. And if you don’t tell me, I’ll find out.” In the blink of an eye, Teremy put away his star globe and pulled out a weapon he knew he could count on: his gunblade.

Jeremy stood frozen in his same shocked position. As much as he wanted to talk Teremy out of it, he knew there was no point arguing with his big brother when Teremy had his battle face on. Sighing, Jeremy stood straight and hung his head. “All right. All right. I know that face. The face that says ‘I’m doing this and no one is stopping me.’

“You know me like I know you. Tell me what happened.”

“I basically found people in Ul’Dah who were good at ‘finding’ people. So we started talking and I said I was looking for you, and essentially I asked them to put a bounty on your head. Of course I told them that I wanted you alive and unharmed! But I figured having a fleet of bounty hunters helping out would make things a bit faster.”

Teremy propped his gunblade on his back and looked down, holding a hand to his chin. ‘How did they not find me before? My Grand Company is even in Ul’dah. Invisibility really is a hidden privilege.’ He looked at Jeremy. “Finding your purpose can wait. We’ll deal with this first. I have a plan. It’s a reckless one, but here’s what we’ll do.”

The spread remained untouched on the table as Teremy deliberated his plan.

The fifth column of secret destiny: Four of Pentacles. Justice. Seven of Pentacles. Your days of scraping for money will be brought to justice and you’ll be rewarded for your investment—Justice being your selfsame brother.

The sixth column of immediate future: Page of Pentacles. The World. Page of Wands. Your goal will be brought to completion by enthusiastic rogue energy. Your brother’s plan is reckless but will give you that push you need to put an end to all this.

The seventh column of the far future about to come: Five of Cups. Five of Swords. Nine of Pentacles. Your stagnation and regret in life due to your involvement with the syndicate, you will soon gain your freedom and prosper.

[universal-kitty]

.: Day 1 - F/O February :.

Reverse Self-Ship: You are your F/O’s F/O!!

I’m from a video game series akin to an odd mix of Watch_Dogs and Grand Theft Auto. Things can get a little pervy, hijacking cars is involved, stealth and adventure abound...but so is a bunch of ridiculous, silly things, like a petting minigame that triggers randomly when interacting with my cat.

There’s a single-player mode focused on my background and meeting up with past friends or exes...and is story-based, allowing you to attack and kill them, befriend them again... All sorts of stuff.

Also, the option to adopt more cats and become a crazy cat lady...in spirit.

Shit, romance people if you want! Live life!

Marcus got Wrench (Reggie) the game as a birthday gift. It was mostly a joke, because Reg REALLY thought he wouldn’t like it....and what else do best friends do but give their bffs prank gifts?

Still, Marcus bought it for him new... So Reg boots it up and gives it a chance, anyways.

......holy shit, he actually likes this WAY more than he first thought he would.

First of all, he HATES animals; every one he’s ever met seems to hate him and hurt him, so he’s turned his back on animalkind. However, throughout the game, I’m NOTHING but kind to every animal and suspicious of every person I meet.... Some of which he understands completely. There are some ASSHOLES in this game!!

Also, the way I croon to my cat and get into baby talk... It’s so damn cute to him. Really makes him feel some kinda way, which he flushes over. (Haha, wow that’s embarrassing.)

The point is, he ends up hating animals a little less and starts loving cats a LOT more.

Actually had to put down the controller and walk away from the game when doing a dancing minigame. He could barely focus on the button commands with how cute I was being while doing the dances.

Proceeds to look up people who 100% the dances just so he can save them to his phone. Watch them whenever he wants.

Later deletes them, 100%s them on his own, and THEN saves them onto his phone. Is a lot more happy with them, cause they’re HIS gameplay videos and not someone else’s.

LOVES messing around with outfits. Someone on the staff was either a big fan of cats or just...made that my most out-there personality trait (second only to the games and show in my world that are obviously knock-offs of real-world games), but he’s not complaining. Running around in cat ears and a cat tail? So damn cute.

His personal favorites are the masks I have combined with the matching jackets; it makes me feel more relatable to him...but he’s a greedy man and always eventually takes them off so he can look at my face.

Has SO MANY PICTURES on Facebook of him playing this damn game. Marcus kinda thought he was pranking at first, but now the whole squad knows Reg is a bit of an addict.

They got him the other games on Christmas and he cried. Everyone was....kinda in awe.

Josh got him a t-shirt with my character on it that reads “Bee Paw-sitive~!” on it. He wears it a LOT.

He definitely started up a collection that rivaled....basically no one else in the fandom.

HATES seeing the fandom pairings. And since you can romance anyone due to my sexuality canonly being Panromantic...it’s frustrating.

(Well, he’s Bi, so some of the people he wouldn’t mind sharing with, yeah....but he’s specifically venomous over the people he’s SURE are my friends only. Or are/were super toxic to me in my past. So, so bitter that anyone likes those ships, but holds his tongue only bc he got a figurine of me doing some cutesy pose next to his monitor. It helps him keep his head.)

Literally has a savings account reserved for merchandise. If it exists, he wants to buy it. If it doesn’t, but someone’s commissions are open? He’s gonna buy it.

Has bought art, jumped on art-trades/requests to get MORE art of us together. Has two plushies of me, as well as a body pillow. Continues to seek more things.

Is honestly upset that my size is medium (and so he can’t wear my canonly fitted clothes), BUT that doesn’t stop him from owning a single shirt in my size AND getting items that mimic my wardrobe.

He likes to imagine we can match together....or I can wear HIS version of my fave shirts when mine are dirty~!

Is still debating getting a kitten. Until that day, cat plushes are among the only other plushes he has (aside from mine).

Weird as he felt about it, he later admitted to his friends that he....kinda felt romantically towards me? And was thinking about just being fictoromantic...

Josh was the first one to see no problem with it and fast. People can be hard to work with, so... You do you. (Reg then felt bad about bullying him so much....oop.)

Horatio was also quickly on board. “Hey man, they make you happy. If it helps, it helps.”

Marcus....was a little more confused, but got in the spirit of it, regardless. “man, if I knew you would’ve actually liked it, I woulda got it for you a lot sooner!! Have fun, man.”

Sitara doesn’t quite get it, but.... It sure explains why Reg kept pestering her to tag “Purrfect Anarchy” in certain places and commissioning her for stylized art of him with them.

T-Bone....kinda harasses him about it, but the group stands by Reg. Josh is pretty upset about it, though.

He also follows every piece of news and publicly shares it, after admitting to being ficto. LOTS more pictures like, “Cutie’s got good taste.” [selfie with him sticking out his tongue and wearing one of the replica shirts] “Dinner date with bae!” [screenshot of me looking at the screen of his laptop, dinner and candlelight between us]

Everyone rolled with it more and more over time, so now it’s entirely not uncommon for them to bribe Reg to do things by dragging me into it...

Sitara: Hey, you leaving? Wrench: ...yeah, why? Sitara: Can you get me a coffee while you’re out? Wrench: Wh-? Why should I get you-? Sitara: I bet Rachel would like you doing something like that, y’know. Wrench: .....That’s cruel. You’re cruel. Sitara: I know~! You know how I like it, thank you, and Rachel loves you. Wrench: [sputters audibly and shuffles out the door, muttering to himself, embarrassed]

They don’t do a LOT of crimes anymore, but... Definitely still fuck shit up w/ cops. Reg daydreams a shitton about a masked romance and the anarchy we could commit together... After all, I helped him be braver. So he could help me, too, and then..... So much glorious chaos. Maybe makeouts in his car...

Was literally the type to not give a SHIT about marriage or kids, but now nonstop thinks about our lives together. Anarchy and domestic lifestyle shit can coexist, right? We can be married, have our cute lil’ two story (three, if you count the attic AND a basement), and some kids.....and also go create anarchy and throw bricks at cop cars and cause so much damn trouble..... Right?

He’ll even get a CAT for our home. It’ll be our first kid and not only will he be SO COOL, but they’ll name her (yes, a girl) Princess Leia and I’ll probably cry in happiness!!

Reg is DETERMINED to be the best husband/boyfriend ever. Doesn’t matter which, cause whatever speed I’d like to go at? Hell yeah, he’s down for it. Just as long as he can still hold my hand and gush over how cute I am and-

Has gushed about me and my series before and WILL do so again, prompted or not.

Actually participated in the fandom a little. Mostly does reblogs and such, but has written a few stories (self-inserts are the majority), done some not too shabby art, and prides himself on being the BIGGEST fan of the series with all the merch he has AND commissions bought.

Made a select few friends who also are fans, but... Is constantly anxious about his self-shipping. Either that they might eventually think he’s weird, send more anon hate (he’s gotten some in the past for “being a creep”), or- worst yet- also self-ship with me and he’s still dealing with that idea.

Until then, he’s got a wedding ring he bought cheap at the jewelry section of some store, so.... Coping skills, babey.