#with posts ahead of time hating on him and saying the intention

[dotthings]

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[charlotteking27]

Pursuing the Journalist

Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: Max makes his intentions clear, that he wants to pursue you, so much so that he's already planning your future with him.

Warning: This is part two of The pretty Interviewer.

The next morning in Monaco, the paddock buzzes with energy. You barely reach the Sky Sports tent before your producer rushes up to you, smiling like she just won the constructors’ championship.

“Don’t look now,” she says, “but there’s already a crowd outside. They want to see if Max will charm you on live TV again.”

You bury your face in your notes, trying not to blush. “He’s just playing with the media. He loves stirring things up.”

Your producer laughs. “Right, and I’m really Toto Wolff. You two broke the internet last night. Even the official F1 account is in on it.” She holds up her phone, showing you a meme: Max in his race suit, captioned, “Find someone who looks at you the way Max looks at the Sky Sports reporter.”

Suddenly, the crowd outside parts with excitement. Max appears at the paddock entrance, scanning the area until he spots you. Before anyone can react, he jogs over—helmet in hand, a big grin on his face.

Reporters and fans begin to murmur, cameras turning your way. Max doesn't care. He reaches you in an instant, taking your hand, warm and confident. The world seems to pause as he pulls you beside him, walking through the paddock together, fingers intertwined as if it’s perfectly normal.

Cheers and whistles follow you like confetti. Someone shouts, “Go on, Max!” He just squeezes your hand, glancing down with that charming, lovestruck smile that makes your heart skip.

“You didn’t think I’d let you handle this chaos alone, did you?” he whispers, just for you.

Your producer’s jaw drops. The Sky cameras are rolling. It’s Monaco, and for a moment, it feels like the whole world is watching Max Verstappen stroll hand-in-hand with you to the biggest race of the year.

You’re still groaning when Max shows up, surprisingly relaxed for someone about to race in Monaco. He flashes you a grin that promises trouble—except this time, there’s a softness to it, one that doesn’t fade when the cameras are on.

“Ready for your exclusive?” he asks, keeping his eyes on yours, ignoring the crowd of reporters pretending not to listen.

You try to remain professional. “Max, you’re starting on pole for the Monaco Grand Prix. Any nerves?”

He leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne. His eyes linger on your face just a beat too long. “Only if you’re nervous. I think that’s the only thing that could throw me off today.”

Your producer, clearly done with professionalism, whispers in your ear, “He’s got it bad for you.”

You push on. “What’s the plan for turn one? It’s usually chaos.”

“Stay ahead, avoid chaos, and maybe—” he pauses, giving you a slow look that makes your cheeks flush, “convince you to have dinner with me again after I win. Monaco’s stunning, but you make it unforgettable.”

You choke, and Max’s grin spreads wider. He leans in, his voice dropping, “Honestly, I’d race here every weekend just for a chance to see you.”

“I’m trying to do my job,” you hiss, covering your mic.

He shrugs, completely unruffled. “So am I. Just… my job’s a lot more fun when you’re around.”

The interview becomes a blur—a mix of technical talk and playful flirting, with Max teasing hints about post-race plans and you doing your best to act like you haven’t already agreed to a late-night stroll by the harbor. When it ends, Max lingers as if he’s forgotten there’s a race to win.

“You know,” he says, lowering his voice, “I used to hate interviews. Now I look forward to them. You’re the only one who makes me nervous.”

Your stomach turns. “Because you enjoy being the center of attention?”

He shakes his head. “Because when you look at me, I feel like I’ve already won.”

Before you can say anything, he strides back toward the garage, leaving you flustered and the entire F1 Twitterverse moments away from a meltdown.

The race is pure Monaco: tight, intense, impossible to predict. Max leads from the start, but a late safety car changes everything. You watch, holding your breath, as he navigates through the turmoil, the world focused on him.

He wins. Of course he does.

As the Red Bull zooms past the checkered flag, Max’s radio crackles with his engineer's euphoric shouts. He barely catches his breath before grabbing the radio, his voice filled with adrenaline.

“Max, you legend! Monaco winner! That’s how you do it!” his race engineer exclaims.

Max’s laughter is full of disbelief, almost boyish. But then he shifts his tone, warmer and more thoughtful. He knows everyone is listening—his team, the fans, the world.

“This one’s for someone special,” he says, steady as can be. “I want to dedicate this win to the Sky Sports reporter who survived my flirting all weekend. You know who you are. Thanks for making Monaco unforgettable.”

The team erupts with cheers and laughter. The crowd, hearing the dedication over the loudspeakers, goes wild.

Max grins into the radio, barely hiding his mischief. “Honestly, the car’s quick, but not as quick as my heart every time you ask me questions.”

His engineer groans, half-laughing, “Max, mate, you’re killing us.”

Max just laughs, a bit smug. “What can I say? She’s my lucky charm. That dinner offer still stands, by the way. Monaco’s beautiful at night—almost as beautiful as her smile.”

The paddock buzzes with chatter. Social media is already going crazy.

When he finally walks into parc fermé, covered in champagne and smiling, he looks right at you. The world’s cameras may be on him, but he finds your eyes first.

Later, the post-race interview turns into a frenzy. Reporters jostle, microphones wave, but Max waits, arms crossed, until you stand in front of him. Everything else fades away.

“Congratulations, Max,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Thank you.” He gives you that look that has sparked countless tweets. He leans in close enough that only you—and possibly millions of viewers—can hear. “You know, if I’d known winning Monaco would get me this interview, I would’ve tried even harder.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You just won Monaco. Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your team?”

Max shrugs, still only focused on you. “I’d rather celebrate with you. Maybe you’ll finally say yes to that dinner. Or do I need to win another race?”

He leans in, whispering in your ear with that grin. “Careful, or I’ll have to dedicate every win to you. Might make the other drivers jealous.”

The cameras capture it all—your laughter, his easy smile, the way he leans in as if he’s about to share a secret. The clip is already being shared, meme’d, and picked apart by the time you both slip away from the paddock, hearts racing, the world watching.

By midnight, Monaco’s streets have quieted down. You and Max stroll along the harbor, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of the sea. This time, there are no cameras, no microphones—just two people trying to figure out what happens next.

He stops, gazing out at the yachts bobbing on the dark water. “You know, everyone’s going to have an opinion about this.”

You nudge his shoulder. “Since when do you care about everyone?”

He laughs, soft and genuine. “I don’t. I only care about you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already leaning in, gentle and certain. For once, you forget about the world watching, the noise, the chaos, and the next race.

What began as just another paddock interview now feels like the start of something entirely new.

And you wouldn’t trade it for pole position—not even on a street circuit.

Taglist: @bowielovesyou and @lilypat

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: Your favourite things about your future spouse ✮⋆˙

✧˚. How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

✧˚. If you enjoyed this reading, get your own personalized paid reading here!😊🦋

✧˚. For personalized 18+ readings, click here!

✧˚. My Ko-fi link: here 🫶🏻

✧˚. My Masterlist🫶🏻

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE I

Cards Pulled: High Priestess, the Chariot, Judgment, Justice, Knight of Wands and oracle cards

Okay, honey, welcome to this pile 1!! Let’s see into what you’ll be lowkey obsessed with when it comes to your future spouse hehe. Before I start this reading, I just wanna mention something really crucial here, UHM......... y'all are LUCKY AF. 😭😭like TF. Also for people who chose this pile, the person described here is sooo similar to the character of Sang Yan from the C-drama The First Frost. I haven't even watched that drama yet, just saw it all over tiktok and insta reels and it's soo crazy how I was constantly thinking about him throughout writing this. The way he carries himself in that drama and SPECIFICALLY HIS EYES. THIS PILE IS LITERALLY HIM. PERIODT.

First off, this person? Mysterious AF.

Like you know when someone doesn’t post on social media but when they do, it’s in black-and-white with a cryptic caption and you’re like “HELLO? What does it mean??” Yeah, that’s their entire vibe. The High Priestess is the main character here, and this person is dripping in silent depth. It’s not that they’re quiet, NO NO, they’re intentional. Everything they do feels like a sacred ritual, even if it’s just tying their shoes. You’re gonna love how they somehow make you slow down and listen more, not just to them but to your own damn intuition. I’m getting this image of you two sitting on the floor, legs touching, and you’re rambling about your day while they just watch you like you’re a rare eclipse. And they’ll say something like “You feel like the ocean right before a storm,” and boom. You’re ruined. Forever.

And OMG don’t even get me started on the emotional depth… because wow.

Yeah, I got CHILLS. Literal chills. ? Bestie, your future spouse doesn’t just love you, they DROWN in you. There’s a softness to them that feels ancient. Like they’ve lived a thousand lives and chose you in every single one. Their love language? Definitely some spicy combination of telepathy, forehead kisses, and knowing your exact comfort food without you saying a word. And yet, they’re not soft in the doormat way. HELL NO. Baby, this person moves. When they decide they want something? Game over. They’re a force. You’ll love how they’ll be gentle with your soul but a literal wildfire for your protection. Someone stares at you weird? They’ve clocked it. You’re nervous to speak up in a group? They smoothly redirect the convo so you shine. It’s that ride-or-die loyalty with a spicy side of “Don’t mess with what’s mine.”

Your future spouse has transformed by the time they meet you. Like… phoenix out of the ashes levels of rebirth. I’m seeing someone who may have had to break out of their own cycles, maybe even some shadow work that slapped, but they did the work. That’s something you’ll absolutely adore about them: their self-awareness. You’ll be so drawn to how they hold themselves accountable. They’ve probably been the villain in someone else’s story, and instead of playing the victim, they faced it. Shadow work? Check. Therapy? Likely. Apologies? Given when needed. They’ve done a full spiritual exfoliation, and now? They’re GLOWING. AND they treat you with such intentional fairness. They don’t play games, they don’t breadcrumb, and they sure as hell don’t ghost (WHEW. thank god cuz i hate that shit) What you’ll cherish most is how they show up for you, consistently. Every little action feels like, “I see you. I honor you. I’m choosing you, even on the messy days.”

And um, can we please talk about how HOT they are when they’re PASSIONATE??? Because the Knight of Wands is coming in LOUD with main-character energy and It’s giving “I’m dragging you into the hallway to make out because I missed you for two hours.” FJNIDNSBTRVIH There’s a bit of chaos in their passion, but like… the fun, flirty, seductive kind. You’ll catch yourself staring when they’re focused on something they care about, eyes lit, words flying, and it’ll hit you: “Damn. That’s my person.” Like they could be talking about some weird niche topic, idk, the ethics of time travel or why a band’s debut album was superior, and you’re just sitting there like, “Okay, philosopher.” It’s hot. It’s brainy. It’s unhinged. And it’s so them. (did i just describe my type here?) 

But here’s the real one, your potential most favorite thing? It’s how they love you through your shadows.

It tells me that they don’t just love your highlights, babe. They’re the one who knows about the parts you try to hide, and loves them deeper. You’ll feel so safe being raw with them. Like crying-on-the-floor-at-2am kind of safe. They’ll be the person who doesn’t try to fix it, they’ll just sit with you in it. You’ll finally feel like, “Oh. I don’t have to perform here.” Also, minor side message that just smacked me: they might help you release a generational wound. Yep. It’s giving “breaking ancestral chains with one good relationship.” I’m not saying they’re your healer (you’re healing yourself, boo), but they are a safe space that lets the healing happen. And the ocean symbolism? BABY. Their love is like the tide, constant, natural, overwhelming in the best way. You might not even realize how deeply they’ve rooted into you until one day they’re not there for a few hours and you’re like, “Why does the air taste different???”

Okay, a few more spicy psychic messages which I got throughout the reading I'll drop here before we close because the tea is still hot:

You’ll love their hands. Like, obsessively. Spirit keeps showing me images of their hands wrapping around yours, brushing your hair back, gripping your waist, yeah, you’re gonna be down bad. They have a “hidden” creative side. Music? Poetry? Painting war miniatures? IDK 😭but it’s something they keep private until they trust you, and once you see it? Prepare to melt. 🫠 They’re a consent king/queen. In the bedroom, in arguments, in making plans, they’re always checking in. Always making sure your voice is heard. It’s HOT. You’ll laugh together in the weirdest moments. Like cracking up during a serious movie or turning a grocery run into a full-on comedy sketch. The emotional intimacy? Unreal.

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𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE II

Cards Pulled: Death, Ace of Cups, Four of Cups, Five of Pentacles, Knight of Cups and oracle cards

OKAY BESTIE… buckle the HELL up. This pile??? This pile is literally a love letter from the universe, and it’s about your future spouse in a way that’s got me gasping and screaming into the void. Like, if you’ve ever wondered what it would feel like to be truly chosen, truly adored, and truly transformed by love??? this is THAT reading. I’m already sweating more because the cards are kinds big ones as you can see😭 . This ain’t a crush. This is main character's energy meets divine rebirth through love . And your favourite thing about this person? Oh honey... it's EVERYTHING they awaken in you. But let me explain because DAMN it gets DEEP. 💀

this pile is all about how utterly devoted and obsessed he is with you, but in that controlled, sexy, lowkey psycho but make it romantic way. He doesn’t say much, but when he does?? It cuts straight to your soul. He makes you feel like the only person that’s ever existed. And when he touches you? The world fades.

Okay so first of all, this love is not soft-launch energy. Actually there’s no soft energy here. It’s not the kind of love where you post a blurry arm on IG stories and call it a day. No no. This is Death + Ace of Cups type of sh*t. This person literally drags you out of a fog you didn’t even know you were in. Like, imagine going through life feeling fine, maybe kinda meh, autopilot vibes, and then BOOM. You meet this person and suddenly, colors are brighter. Food tastes better. Music hits differently. You’re like, “Wait, am I ALIVE again??” Yeah. That.

You don’t just fall in love with them. You fall in love with yourself through their eyes. Because they see you in this way no one ever has before. They don’t pedestal you in some weird, unreachable way, but they mirror back your rawest essense. And you start to remember who TF you are. ✨ Like, you start off this journey feeling a lil rejected, a lil disillusioned (Four of Cups + Five of Pentacles energy… hello loneliness my old friend), but through this love?? You rise. You blossom. You reclaim your power. The crown was always yours, you just forgot. They don’t give you your power back, babe. They just remind you where you left it. And that?! That is your favorite thing about them: they activate the version of you that had been buried under years of rejection, doubt, and disconnection.

Bestie, I’m not gonna sugarcoat, this is NOT some sunshiney, fluffy past you’ve been through. You’ve known the ache of being left out in the cold. Maybe you’ve been the one always giving, always chasing, always hoping for scraps of love from people who didn’t even deserve to speak your name. You’ve had your heart cold-stoned and ghosted and breadcrumbed, and you were probably starting to believe that maybe love just wasn’t in the cards for you. Enter: this person.

They don’t just walk in with roses and pretty words (though they absolutely do that too, Knight of Cups energy is full-on poetic simp vibes 😭). But more importantly?? They SHOW UP. When you expect abandonment, they stay. When you push them away, they lean in. When you flinch at love, they don’t take it personally, they just hold you through it. You’re not their project. You’re their equal, their mirror, their muse. And you’ll find yourself sobbing randomly, “Wait… this is what it’s supposed to feel like??” Because for the first time, love isn’t a battlefield. It’s a sanctuary. It’s not conditional. It’s safe. I’m not kidding when I say this person is the Knight of Cups in every form. So with this person prepare to also see the perfect blend of this combination. prepare for random voice notes at midnight because they saw a cloud that looked like your side profile. Prepare for forehead kisses, poetic ramblings, playlists that sound like your soul. But also?? It’s not performative. It’s not just vibes and aesthetics. It’s intentional.

They speak your love language fluently, even the ones you didn’t know you had. You like thoughtful gifts? Boom, they kept the receipt from your first coffee date and made it into a bookmark for your favorite book. You like acts of service? Baby, they’re doing your laundry and ordering your comfort food on a day you can’t get out of bed. You like words of affirmation? They’re sending full monologues about how divine you are. Honestly, at some point you’re gonna be like, “Can you STOP being obsessed with me for five seconds?” But also you’ll be like, don’t stop. Ever. 😭

Let’s circle back to that Death card because whew… this is the CORE. Your favorite thing about this person isn’t just what they do, it’s who they are and who they inspire you to become. You literally go through a soul transformation in their presence. They don’t fall in love with your mask. They fall in love with your shadow. With the parts you thought made you unlovable. With your mess, your moods, your madness, and suddenly, those parts stop feeling like flaws and start feeling like facets of your magic. And in turn?? You’ll start holding them that way too. You won’t be idolizing each other. You’ll be liberating each other. This love isn’t about being perfect, it’s about being real. It’s about death and rebirth. It’s about watching each other burn and saying, “I still choose you.” They are going to be your favorite revolution.

"Wear your power proudly and unapologetically" is not just advice, it’s what your future spouse pulls out of you. You’ve spent so long shrinking. So long waiting for permission. And this person? They’re gonna hand you the crown and go, “You were born royalty. Act like it.” And the best part? They don’t do it for clout. They don’t flaunt you like a trophy. They cherish you like you’re made of stardust and war paint. Your softest parts are sacred to them. Your weirdness? Worshipped. Your power? Encouraged. Like babe... you will feel both feral and safe in their arms. Do you know how rare that is????

Okay this is so random but it came through SO clearly, I’m getting this image of you hating Mondays your whole life, until this person shows up and suddenly?? You’re excited for the week. You’re looking forward to slow morning texts, coffee runs together, messy buns and “just 5 more minutes” cuddles before they leave for work. They re-sensitize you to the beauty of everyday things. And that is so underrated. They make your life feel like poetry again.

 Final random Favorite Things You’ll Obsess Over:

The way they say your name like it’s a prayer. Youll love listening to your name from them. Their ability to sense your moods before you speak. That would be their superpower, honestly. And also the contrast of their softness in private vs their strength in public.

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𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE III

Cards pulled: Six of Swords, The Empress, The Fool, Five of Wands, Ace of Swords amd oracle cards

OMG This pile? This is the rom-com-meets-healing-arc-meets-delulu-dream-guy-you-manifested-during-a-Lana-Del-Rey-retrograde kinda situation (don’t ask me how i came up with this😭). This is raw. This is “you didn't know you were starving ‘til he fed you” energy. Wow that was deep LOL.He LOVES the full spectrum of you. Your sensitivity, your rage, your need to cry during commercials, he eats it up. Encourages you to take up space. He celebrates your chaos. And the banter?? UNMATCHED.

So first off, let me just say this: I legit felt like I was watching one of those dramatic K-drama slow burns when I tapped into this spread. Like ep 1 is you emotionally limping out of some messy chapter of your life, and ep 16 is you soft-smiling while they brush hair from your face and say, “You’re safe now.” I’m crying just thinking about it 😭 but I digress—

Now let’s start peeling back the layers of this absolutely BONKERS beautiful energy: your fave things about this person? Oh honey. It’s not just their looks (although, side note, the way they carry themselves? That quiet “I know who tf I am” swag? Oof. HOT). But no, what melts you? What gets you twisted in the sheets and emotionally raw in the car at 2AM? It’s their consistency, their emotional maturity, and the fact that they’re lowkey your safe space after a lifetime of chaos. Yeah, I said it. The trauma you didn’t even realize you were still carrying? They help you walk that ish to the river and let it go. Six of Swords style.

And listen. This person doesn’t swoop in and fix you, don’t get it wrong. They don’t love you despite your wounds, they love you with them. Like “hand-in-hand with your demons” type love. They don’t run when things get messy. They lean in. You’ll sit there anxious and they’ll hand you a blanket and be like, “Keep talking, I’m not going anywhere.” THAT kind of presence? Yeah, bestie. That’s what you’re gonna worship. But don’t think this is some therapist in a man’s body situation either lmao. There’s a whole wild side to this person too, like, this person challenges you. HARD. Five of Wands energy was screaming at me like “YUP WE FIGHT BUT MAKE IT FOREPLAY.” 😂 They’re gonna debate you for fun, tease you just to make you roll your eyes, push your buttons not to be toxic, but because it turns them on to see you all passionate and fired up. The intellectual banter is chef’s kiss. Your fave thing about them? You never get bored. They don’t just nod along, they’re present. They got opinions, they got a backbone, and they’re not afraid to go toe to toe with you when you are acting up (and honestly? You love it).

This pile is all about liberation. Your fave thing about him is how he reminds you of who you are before the world made you smaller. He gives you permission to laugh too loud, cry too much, and dream too big. And he’s gonna do it all right beside you.

Now The way they see you… like, you're not just a person to them. You're a literal universe. The way they look at you when you’re ranting about something random? Or doing your skincare? Or just existing in oversized pajamas and a bonnet? They’re gone. Fully GONE. And because of that? You start to see yourself differently too which is honestly the best part. Like, your favorite thing about this person is how they love you into softness, into full self-worth. They speak to the parts of you that felt unworthy and whisper, “More. You deserve more.” You start walking different because of how deeply they hold space for you.

 Baby😩 This person is your reset button. The Fool here isn’t naive, it’s liberated. You’ve been carrying so much emotional weight from past relationships, maybe even from family crap, old fears, toxic exes, and here comes this person like… “Why are you still dimming your light?” this is literally them encouraging you to live a little, say yes more. Take the leap. Splurge. Cry. Yell. Make a mess. Be too much. They LOVE that you're extra. They don't flinch when you're chaotic. They jump off the cliff with you, giggling. (that one was a little exaggerated but nvm😭)

Like, your favorite thing about them is how much they let you take up space. Not just tolerate it. They encourage it. “You are worth every desire, every dream. Demand what is yours.” And this person? They believe in that. They fight for that. Ace of Swords slicing through the bs like “You’re not going back to that old version of you.” And I’m telling you right now, they’ll probably be the one who drags you to that dream vacation you were too shy to plan, or who makes you apply for the job you think you're not good enough for. They see your power. They know your value. And it becomes your favorite mirror. 💅

And YESSSS, there’s a sexuality to this pile too. Bestie. Don’t lie. I know you saw The Empress + The Fool and went 😏. SAME. This person? They worship your body like it’s art. Like a damn temple. And it’s not just hot passionate nights, it's playful, explorative, curious, FUN. That “I can’t keep my hands off you but I also wanna laugh in your neck while doing it” kinda vibe. 😭That alone could’ve been the whole reading LMAO. But here's the secret sauce: the emotional intimacy hits harder than the physical. It's the way they look at you when you’re vulnerable. When you’re quiet. When you’re in your dark. The Ace of Swords says this person cuts through the noise, you don’t need to over-explain yourself. They just get you. Like intuitively. You’ll be like “I didn’t even say anything” and they’re already making you soup or running you a bath or telling you to block that toxic friend. HOW DO THEY KNOW??? Idk, babes. Soul contract things. 💀

OH and one more image i saw, there's this moment I saw like clear as day: you're going through a rough patch emotionally. You're bawling, maybe imposter syndrome, maybe an old wound opened up, idk, but this person? They stop everything and hold your face and say something brutally honest but loving like: “You forget who you are. Let me remind you.” And it floors you. Floors. You. ���

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[dissimul0]

SAY IT

remmick x fem!reader

Summary: On your way home from Bible study you run into two boys looking for trouble. Thankfully, Remmick's there to help you out. But he wants some... compensation, for his help.

wc: 4.1k

smut warning: dom!remmick x fem!reader. second-person pov, fingering, manipulation, blood, biting, violence, death, oral (fem receiving), mentions of religion, mild harassment, idk i think thats it

a/n:  before watching sinners i hadn't written anything in MONTHS, and remmick was so incredible fine he cured me of writers block, because after the movie i went home and started writing this. this is also my first time posting on tumbler so, hiii (ignore how the tense doesn't stay consistent, i hate writing in 2nd person pov)

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

The sun was swiftly sinking beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape. Its vibrant hues of orange and pink painted the sky, gradually deepening into richer tones as the evening approached. The light dimmed as shades of deep blue and indigo crept across the horizon, enveloping the landscape in a cloak of darkness.

You were heading home from Bible study, which ended much later than you had anticipated. The air was thick with the oppressive summer humidity, one of those evenings where the heat lingered even after the sun had set. As you distanced yourself from the busy part of town, the streetlights became sparser, and the shadows deepened. You hastened your pace, your heels tapping against the rough pavement, eager to reach home.

It was almost kind of peaceful. The nighttime chatter from the town gradually faded into soft murmurs, creating an almost soothing atmosphere. Until, of course, a couple of idiots had to ruin your night.

Two figures stepped out from a dark alley up ahead — and you barely had time to react before they were already blocking your path, grinning like they owned the damn street.

“All by yourself, baby cakes? Ain’t that dress a lil’ short for that?” One of them whistled, licking his teeth all nasty.

You took a step back, holding your Bible tightly against your chest as if it were a shield. “I-I don’t want any trouble,” you stammered.

“Naw, of course you do,” the other sneered, taking a step closer to you. “You over here dressed like trouble.”

Your eyes flickered anxiously as the two boys edged nearer, their strides slow yet certain, their intent unmistakable. You took a step back, and another, feeling the space around you shrink, the world closing in as they advanced without a word. They spread apart slightly, moving to encircle you like wolves to prey.

God, help me.

A voice sliced through the tension like a blade through fog. “There a problem here?”

It came from behind you, sharp and unexpected, shocking the air with its presence and freezing the moment like a flash of lightning. The two boys stopped, surprise flickering across their faces as they cut their eyes in the direction of the sound. You turned, eyes meeting a man standing a few feet behind you.

His hands, nonchalantly tucked into the deep pockets of his trousers, accentuated an air of indifference perfectly matched by his carelessly practical attire. The rumpled shirt, slightly untucked, and the well-worn shoes suggested a disregard for convention. He didn’t seem like he belonged, not in the slightest.

There was something about him, an intangible aura, that sent a shiver of unease through the air. It was as if he carried an invisible weight that pressed heavily on those around him, making them shift uncomfortably without knowing precisely why.

“Who the hell are you?” One of the boys called out, his voice a wavering mixture of uncertainty and defiance. The other shifted awkwardly, unsure of how to size up the strange figure before them, and more unsure of what reaction to expect.

“Why don’t you answer my question first?”

You glanced between your harassers, the adrenaline that had spiked through your veins at the sight of those two creeps faded, replaced by a different sort of tension. Your throat went dry. You wanted to say something, to stop this and just finish your journey home, but you just couldn’t.

When you locked eyes with the unfamiliar man, your stomach twisted in knots. There was something about him—someone familiar but unplaceable—that set off your instincts, urging you to flee.

One of the creeps let out a laugh, a high-pitched, mean-spirited cackle, his mocking grin wide with menace and delight. It was like you were long forgotten, their attention now elsewhere. They crowded around the man, jostling shoulders and nudging elbows, and one of them spat the words like a challenge: “Little white boy thinks he’s got spunk!”

The man’s eyes shifted from the boys to you, slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey. “Now, now. I just wanted to make sure this young lady was alright,” he said, his eyes glinting with a steely resolve that cut through the tension like a knife.

The boys didn’t quit though, repeating their threats like taunts, brutal little chants in the fading light. They surrounded him, shirts loose, untucked, grins mean and prowling the way packs do.

The strange man didn’t seem to be intimidated; In fact, he looked past the boys, giving you an almost…sympathetic look. “You might want to close your eyes, darlin’.”

In a flash, he lunged at the nearest boy, a blur of movement disrupting the circle. The act was savage and swift, his teeth sinking into his soft neck with a feral intensity. There was a stunned silence, a moment where the world seemed to hold its breath, and then a scream. The boy screamed, high-pitched and frantic, red blooming on his white collar, voice shredding the dusk as he stumbled back.

Blood, hot and streaked, spilled down the boy’s chest as the man held him tight, his face smeared. Frozen by the violence seared through the darkening street, the other boys’ eyes went wide, his shouts dying in his throat. 

The grip seemed relentless, inhumanly strong, the boy’s knees buckling, and then, with a quick flick of his arm, the man sent him crashing to the pavement. The boy writhed, clutching at his neck with a gurgling sob, while the other could only stare in mute horror. It was as if the man enjoyed their terror, a gleam in his eye as he turned his ferocious gaze on him, daring him to fight or flee, hungry for his next move.

The second boy stood frozen, his face a mask of horror as he watched his friend collapse to the ground. For a heartbeat, he seemed paralyzed, caught between flight and fight, his body trembling with indecision. Then, with a strangled cry that was half rage and half terror, he fumbled at his waistband and pulled out a small pocket knife, the blade catching the dim light as it snapped open.

"You—you fuckin’ psycho!" he screamed, his voice cracking with fear. He lunged forward with the knife held out, a clumsy, desperate attack born of panic rather than skill.

The strange man sidestepped the thrust with almost lazy grace, a small smile playing at his bloodstained lips. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the boy's wrist and twisted. The crack of bone was audible even over the boy's shriek of pain, the knife clattering uselessly to the pavement.

"Bad choice," the man whispered, his voice almost gentle as he pulled the struggling boy closer, like a lover drawing in for an embrace. "Should've run when you had the chance."

The boy's struggles grew frantic, his feet scrabbling against the ground as he tried to wrench himself free. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the sweat of exertion and fear. "Please," he sobbed, all bravado gone, "please don't—"

His plea was cut short as the man's teeth found his throat.

You couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Your lungs seized as if gripped by an invisible hand, the Bible slipping from your fingers and hitting the pavement with a dull thud that seemed impossibly distant. The world narrowed to pinpricks of horrific detail: the blood spray painting the concrete, the wet, tearing sounds as flesh gave way, the gurgling screams that didn't sound human anymore.

Your knees buckled. A wave of nausea crashed through you, bitter bile rising in your throat as you pressed your hand against your mouth. The taste of your dinner threatened to return as your stomach convulsed. The edges of your vision darkened, tiny black spots dancing like static.

"Oh, God," you whispered, the words barely audible even to yourself. Your body trembled violently, uncontrollably, like you were standing in Arctic winds rather than the summer night's heat. The scene before you refused to make sense—it couldn't be real, couldn't be happening. People didn't do this. People couldn't do this.

But he wasn't people, was he?

You stumbled backward, one foot catching on the other, nearly sending you sprawling. The movement seemed to happen in slow motion, disconnected from your will. Your chest heaved with shallow, rapid breaths that didn't seem to deliver any oxygen to your brain. The metallic smell of blood hung thick in the air, coating your tongue, inescapable.

Somewhere in the fog of your shock, a primal instinct screamed at you to run, but your limbs felt leaden, unresponsive, as if the horror had severed the connection between your mind and body.

The second boy's body crumpled to the ground with a sickening finality, joining his friend in a spreading pool of crimson. The stranger straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a dark smear across his pale skin. His eyes found yours, and the world seemed to contract to just the two of you standing in the night.

"Yer still here," he remarked, sounding almost surprised. His voice was different now—smoother, more controlled, the earlier tension gone from it. Blood dripped from his chin onto his shirt, blooming like dark flowers against the fabric. His eyes held an unnatural red gleam in the dim light.

Your legs finally remembered how to work. You stumbled backward, nearly tripping over your own feet, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The Bible lay forgotten on the ground between you and the carnage. "Demon," you whispered, the word tasting like ash in your mouth

He laughed, the sound startlingly normal, almost pleasant. “You go on home now.”

You remained frozen, disbelieving of your apparent reprieve.

"Go," he repeated, more firmly this time. "’Fore I change my mind."

Your legs moved of their own accord, carrying you past him in a wide arc. You couldn't help but look at the bodies as you passed, their forms already seeming less human somehow, more like discarded dolls than the threatening figures they'd been minutes ago. You ran, your footsteps echoing in the empty street, not daring to look back again. The night air burned in your lungs, and tears streamed down your face, but you didn't dare look back.

You just kept running. 

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

 You couldn't sleep that night.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw it all again—the blood, the strength, the way his teeth tore into flesh like it was nothing. Sleep was impossible. You sat on the edge of your bed, trembling hands clutching a mug of tea that had long gone cold, staring at nothing.

The day after felt like hell on earth. The morning light was harsh and unyielding, striking too brightly through the windowpane, but you made no move to get up to close the curtain.

You were too tired, too... worn out. Your legs felt like jelly and your eyes were swollen from crying, and there was a pain in your chest, an ache so deep you could have been bleeding, if only it meant relief.

But you were just numb.

You didn't even go down for breakfast. Just layed in bed. You laid there until the insistent throb of hunger became too much to bear. Only then did you involuntarily get yourself out of bed, muscles aching.

As you made your way to the kitchen, the aroma of breakfast lingered in the air, and your eyes landed on the remnants of the morning meal scattered across the table.

"Thought you'd never come down," Mom remarked, her voice carrying a hint of amusement as she looked over her shoulder from her spot at the sink, hands submerged in soapy water.

"Guess I was pretty tired," you replied, a yawn stretching your lips as you slumped into a chair, reaching for a piece of cold sausage. The temperature was irrelevant; it was the savory flavor of the meat that captivated your senses, grounding you in the moment.

"Where's your Bible?" Mom's voice cut through your thoughts like a knife, her eyebrow arched in that familiar, questioning manner. Her hand poised on her hip, she awaited your explanation with a knowing look.

Your chewing halted, heart sinking as last night's events replayed vividly in your mind. You opened your mouth to respond, but words seemed to falter and die before they could form.

Mom clicked her tongue disapprovingly, disappearing into the living room, only to return moments later. She placed your Bible on the table with a gentle thud, the sound echoing in your ears as your heart plummeted further, eyes reluctantly meeting hers.

"W-where'd you find this?" you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

"Found it on the front porch. You must've dropped it on your way in last night," she replied, her tone a blend of concern and reprimand.

You swallowed hard, the events of last night swirling like a storm in your mind. You hadn't dropped it on the porch; you had left it behind, abandoning it on the ground as you ran, thoughts in chaos. "I guess... I must've," you stammered, forcing the guilty lie out.

"Mmhm. You best be more careful next time. You know this Bible was a gift from the Pastor," she reminded gently, yet firmly, turning back to the sink, the sound of running water a soft backdrop to the tension in the room.

You acknowledged your mother's words with a quiet hum and a nod. Your eyes settled on the Bible lying on the table, and you reached out for it with hesitation.

As your fingers traced over the embossed letters, your mind wandered back to the previous night. The vivid nightmares nearly made you recoil. You closed your eyes tightly, giving your head a slight shake to dispel the dark thoughts.

—————————————————

The day rolled on, hours slipping by in a confused haze. Tasks that needed doing bled into others, all mundane, all repetitively the same. Towels to fold, clutter to corral—each chore like the next, stretching out endlessly. Words were exchanged, hollow, drifting and weightless in the air.

The day felt longer than it had any right to be, its passage still haunting, leaving only a weary fog. A great heaviness set in, like a weight on the eyelids, as evening wore on.

While everyone else slept, you're wide awake. Sitting on your bed's edge, you face the window. The pale, blue moonlight casts its glow on you as you sit there, gazing out at the front yard.

You're unable to tear your eyes away, as if something or someone might be out there. You rise from the bed, cautiously approaching the window. With a finger, you unlock the latch and lift the window, which opens with a slight creak.

Leaning on the windowsill, you peer outside, eyes fixed intently for any sign of movement. But nothing unusual occurs; only the breeze and the rustling trees accompany your breathing.

This is pointless.

You pull away from the window frame and turn to head back to bed, but a snapping branch halts you. Slowly, you turn back, step toward the window, and shut it with frustration.

Resting your head against the cool glass, you close your eyes, feeling its chill against your skin.

After a moment, you reopen your eyes and gaze into the yard once more.

Tiny pinpoints of light flicker among the trees, and you squint, searching the darkness. Still cloaked in the forest's shadows, the two points of light draw nearer, stopping just a few feet from your window. You blink, and the lights blink back.

Your heart hammers against your ribs as those twin points of light remain fixed on your window. They're eyes—you know they're eyes—glowing with an unnatural red luminescence that no human could possess.

Slowly, a figure detaches itself from the darkness. He steps forward, moonlight gradually revealing him inch by inch: first the outline of broad shoulders, then the familiar rumpled shirt, now stained dark with what you know is blood. His face comes into view last, pale and beautiful in its terrible way, those glowing eyes fixed unblinkingly on yours.

It's him. The man from the street. The monster who tore out those boys' throats with inhuman strength and savage teeth.

He stands perfectly still at the edge of your yard, hands in his pockets just as they had been before, casual as if he were merely a neighbor stopping by. But there's nothing casual about the intensity of his gaze, the way it pins you in place even through the glass and distance between you.

A small, knowing smile curves his lips, and he raises one hand in a gesture that might almost be friendly—a little wave, as if acknowledging an old acquaintance. The simple humanity of the gesture makes it all the more chilling.

You want to scream, to call for help, to wake the household—but your voice is trapped in your throat. Besides, what would you say? Who would believe you? And what if your cries only invited him in?

He takes a single step forward, then another, moving with deliberate slowness toward your window. Each footfall is silent on the grass, predatory grace in every movement. The distance between you shrinks with each passing second.

He doesn't stop until he's merely inches from your window, eyes boring into yours. Your breath hitches, and you try to step back, but you can't. It's like you're frozen.

His breath fogs the glass between you, a reminder of the thin barrier separating you from whatever he is. He raises one pale finger and traces a pattern on the window, the squeak of skin against glass making your skin crawl.

"Y'know," he says, voice muffled but still audible through the glass, "there are rules to these things."

You remain frozen, unable to speak, but he continues as if you'd asked a question.

"I cain't come in uninvited." His eyes—those terrible, beautiful eyes—crinkle slightly at the corners, almost amused. "Old magic. Very inconvenient."

He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching the glass. "But you could invite me in. Just a few 'lil words. 'Come in.' That's all it'd take."

Your throat constricts with fear, but you manage to shake your head slightly.

He sighs, a surprisingly human sound. "I saved you. Those boys—" he makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, "—they had very specific plans fer you. Nasty ones." His voice drops lower, more intimate. "I could've let 'em. Would've been much easier fer me."

The memory of those boys blocking your path flashes in your mind, their leering faces, their threatening postures. You shudder.

"See? Y'know I'm right." His finger traces another pattern on the glass, almost hypnotic. "Just a little invitation. A thank you for my... intervention. That's only polite, ain't it?"

Something in his tone shifts, grows harder. "Or I could wait. I'm a very patient man, sugar. I could visit every night, watchin' you. Waitin' for that moment when you step outside alone after dark, or when you get home late from bible study." His smile widens, revealing teeth that are too sharp, too white. "Wouldn't it be better to just... get it over with? On yer terms?"

You feel a strange pull, a desire to reach for the latch, to open the window wider and speak those fatal words. Your hand even twitches at your side, as if it might move of its own accord.

"Just say it," he whispers, eyes boring into yours. "Invite me in."

Your fingers tremble against your thigh, caught in a war between reaching for the window latch and clenching into a fist. Something shameful and electric pulses through you—a feeling you don't want to name.

There's terror, yes—raw and primal—but beneath it lies something more disturbing. A fascination. A pull. Your eyes can't help but trace the sharp angles of his face, the fullness of his lips now clean of blood, the way his shirt clings to the contours of his body.

"This ain't right," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

His smile deepens, knowing. "Few worthwhile things are."

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you hate yourself for it. How could your body betray you like this? How could you feel anything but revulsion for the creature who tore out human throats before your eyes? The memory of violence should repulse you, drive you away—instead, it mingles with his current gentleness in a cocktail of confusion that makes your head swim.

You close your eyes, trying to block him out, but that only intensifies your awareness of him—his scent somehow reaching you through the glass, something ancient and dangerous. When you open your eyes again, he's watching you with a patience that spans centuries.

"Yer afraid," he says softly. "But not only afraid."

Your cheeks burn hotter. He sees through you so easily, this predator at your window. The worst part is the thrill that runs through you at being so thoroughly seen.

"I don't want this," you say, voice barely audible.

"Ohhh sure you do, darlin." His head tilts slightly, curious. "Your heart says otherwise. I can hear it—racing not just with fear, but with somethin' else."

You press your hand against your chest, as if you could quiet the betraying organ. "You're a monster."

"Yes," he agrees simply. "And yet, here you are. Still lookin'. Still listenin'."

He's right, and you hate that he's right. You should be running, screaming, praying—anything but this strange, suspended moment where you can't tear yourself away from his gaze. "You know I can't..."

He takes a deep breath, clicking his tongue in thought. "Yer really gonna make me beg for it, huh?" He said, his voice dropping to a conspiring whisper. "I can make you feel so good, lampkin. You just gots to let me in."

"I won't."

"You will."

Your hand trembles as it hovers near the window latch. One simple motion, one whispered invitation, and he would be inside. The thought sends shivers of fear and anticipation down your spine.

"What would happen?" you ask, your voice barely audible. "If I let you in..."

His eyes gleam in the darkness. "Aw, don't be coy, now." He continued, his voice low, "Aincha tired? Of playin' the good girl?"

"I ain't playin."

"Then let me inside."

Your jaw clenched, and you pressed your lips together, like if you opened them, you wouldn't know what would come out. But, God, you wanted to. You wanted to just say that one word to let him in and receive all the pleasure and indulgence he was promising. But your silence hung loud. You were afraid.

And you could tell he knew it too.

His hands tightened perilously around the frame of the window, a cage of fingers desperate to pull you in while keeping him locked out. The tendons in his wrists flexed like claws. His breath caught, a raw rasp in the air. When he spoke, his voice was shredded with wanting: "Open this window. And. Let. Me. In."

His words dissolved the fragile armor you had tried to build against him, slipping silently into your gut like a seduction turned weapon. It was over; you knew it then. A warning shrieked from the rational recesses of your mind—run, hide. Yet something deeper, something primal and inexplicable, whispers that perhaps death isn't the worst fate imaginable.

You shuddered beneath the weight of your own surrender, and a tiny gasp escaped your lips. "Come in," you finally caved, voice barely even audible. With a trembling hand, you reached for the latch and started to open the window for him.

He climbed through the window almost as soon as you opened it, his movements quick and jerky. One moment he was outside, the next he stood before you, close enough that you could feel the unnatural coolness radiating from his skin.

His eyes never left yours, that unblinking gaze holding you captive. The red glow had dimmed somewhat, but still flickered in their depths. His lips curled into a satisfied smile, revealing just the barest hint of those terrible teeth.

"There now," he murmured, his voice somehow more intimate, more dangerous in the confined space of your bedroom. "Was that so hard?"

The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity as he took a single step closer. You instinctively backed away, your calves hitting the edge of your bed, but there was nowhere left to retreat. He raised his hand slowly, deliberately, giving you every chance to flinch away—but you remained frozen, caught between terror and that inexplicable, shameful fascination.

His fingertips brushed your cheek with unexpected gentleness, cool against your feverish skin. The contact was feather-light, almost reverent, yet it sent a jolt through your entire body as if you'd been struck by lightning. Your breath caught in your throat, and your eyes fluttered closed for just a moment, your body betraying you once again.

"So warm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "I'd almost forgot what it feels like."

His touch traveled downward, fingers trailing along the column of your throat where your pulse hammered wildly against your skin. He paused there, feeling the rhythm of your fear and anticipation beneath his fingertips, a small smile playing at his lips.

Then his mouth was on yours, crushing, demanding. His body crowded yours, a solid wall of desperate need, pinning you against the momentum. Tongues tangled, a frantic, messy collision – less kiss, more claiming. He tasted your surprise, the faint saltiness, a familiar sweetness underneath. He pushed harder, fueled by years of starvation, a blind drive to consume. The world tilted. Balance lost. You went down in a tangle of limbs, hitting the floor with a muffled thud.

SMUT WARNING!!

He landed mostly on top, the impact insignificant. Air sawed in and out of his lungs. Below him, you. Your eyes wide, lips swollen, glistening with saliva – his saliva. The sight sent a jolt straight to his groin, his trousers suddenly, painfully tight. A trace of drool beaded at the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin.

You gazed up at him, eyes shimmering with pent-up desire, chest heaving with each rapid, anticipation-filled breath. "You're droolin'," you ogled.

He smiled.

"It ain't my fault you taste so good." He crawled over your body and caged it under his with his pelvis slotted between your thighs, "I want you to beg for it. Beg for me." Between layers of your nightshirt and his trousers, his cock ground into your mound while his clawed hand slid along the warm skin of your thigh. Your nightshirt rode up, until he reached your hip where the fabric of it bunched, its soft flesh dimpling in his bruising grasp.

"Say it," He crooned into your neck, breathing in your scent, his red eyes dilating beneath eyelids that fluttered closed. "Say, 'Remmick, please give me what I need.'"

Remmick. That was his name?

You let out a whimper, quickly biting down hard on your lower lip in a desperate attempt to muffle the wanton sound. "P-please... Remmick," You begged, staring up at him with pleading eyes.

A sinister laugh rumbled through Remmick, the sound dark and gravelly as it shook against your chest. "Atta-girl," he growled, nipping sharply at your earlobe. His hand, clutching your hip, slipped between your thighs, where he discovered you were bare under your nightshirt, and he hummed delightfully. He dropped his forehead against your shoulder as a groan rumbled deep in his chest when he found you wet and swollen, teeth grazing the skin on your collarbone.

The tip of Remmicks nose skated along your sweat-slick neck until his lips found your ear and brushed against the shell of it as he spoke. "Yer soaked." He whispered, fingers finding your clit and circling it with torturing slowness, rolling the slick bud beneath the pad of his fingers.

You gasped, back instinctively arching on the floor as you craved more of that sweet friction. "S-stop teasin' me," you whined

"Why? Did you need somethin'?" He taunts. You want to snap at him to go faster, but getting irritated would only delay it more. "Use yer words, sugar." He sank his middle and ring fingers inside you, grinning devilishly against your neck, before delivering a sharp bite.

You let out a strangled moan, turning your head to the side to try to escape Remmick's' sharp teeth and scorching breath. "What do you need?" He asked, words muffled as they sawed between his teeth and your flesh. He curled his fingers into the bundle of nerves at the front of your walls. "Say it."

You clenched your thighs together, trying to trap his invading fingers, but the slick heat of you only allowed them to sink deeper. "I need you," you writhed, unable to keep still.

Remmick's fingers never ceased their brutal pumping, plunging in and out of your soaked, clutching heat. As he worked he watched you struggle, your nails digging into the wood floors. For a few minutes there's nothing but the obscene sound of your arousal, mingling with the creaking of the wood floors and your increasingly ragged breaths.

Your spine twisted into knots at the bottom of your back, hips bucking to meet the angle of fingers. The muscles in your stomach clenched, and your head lolled back, eyes closed, unshameful moans of pleasure quietly resonating through the room. Just when you felt the consistent building of your orgasm about to release, insides twitching around his fingers, he withdrew them, lifting his head up just enough to meet your gaze.

Looking up at him in confusion, your eyes followed his fingers as he brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a predatory hum. He removed them with a wet pop, grinning wildly as he saw your lips part in protest.

"What? You want'a taste?" He teased, saliva-soaked fingers glinting in the dark light. He brought his hand close to your mouth, stopping when the pads of his fingers grazed over your lips. "Open wide."

The tips of his fingers pushed past your lips, and your mouth parted farther, making space for his digits to wedge further inside. He leaned in lips brushing against your temple and he buried his nose in your hair and breathed. He groaned, fingers pushing deeper into your mouth. You choked quietly, but that didn't stop him. He watched as you struggled to take his fingers, your lips around him.

His cock throbbed at seeing you like this. Quivering and needy. It was almost enough to make him come right then and there.

Remmick slowly pulled his fingers out of your mouth, smearing the spit across your lips.

He captured your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his smoldering red eyes as he loomed over you. His own gaze was dark with lust and a twisted sort of affection, his pupils blown wide and dilating as he looked at you, drinking in every expression and breath.

HIs other hand slid up from your hip, claws raking lightly over the soft skin of your belly before cupping the swell of your breast. He could feel your heart pounding beneath his palm, could feel the way your nipple pebbled against the thin fabric of her nightshirt. He tweaked the sensitive nub between his fingers, rolling and pinching it until you gasped, back arching off the floor.

"It feels good, don't it?" He murmured, his breath hot against your neck. His lips found yours, claiming your mouth in a demanding kiss. His tongue pushed past your teeth, invading, conquering, laying waste to any resistance you might have left.

He could feel you melting, could feel the fight draining out of you as he touched you, kissed you, filled you.

He broke the kiss, leaving you gasping and panting beneath him. "Now," he said softly, almost gently. "I'm gon make you feel real good."

He positions his arms on either side of you, and lowers his mouth onto your neck. The sudden feeling of his lips made you whimper, and he chased after the sound, trailing down your throat towards your chest... down your stomach... down your thighs.

As he pulled closer to your heat, you couldn't help but squirm under him. He gripped your thighs and lifted them off the floor, getting on his knees and lowering his head between your thighs. He slowly made his way upwards, breath hot against your skin.

When he reached your core, there was a pause before he pressed his mouth against you. You let out a pathetic moan as his tongue licked a warm, wet strip to the center of your cunt. Your head lolled back as the feeling of him lapping at you was so overwhelming you didn't know what to do.

He drags his tongue up your clit, wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking. Hard. You practically scream out in pleasure before slapping a hand to your mouth, remembering where you were.

You feel him grin into your pussy as he sucks harder and you twitch. Your hand flies into his hair, gripping the strands and pushing his head deeper as you chase your climax. He doesn't seem to mind it though.

"I'm gonna - fuck," you said, breathless as you feel your orgasm building inside you. You clench your thighs around his help, but his grip on your hips tightens, spreading them apart again.

"Remmick - wait," you said, but he doesn't stop. He wanted you to come undone in his mouth.

He watched you hungrily, eyes on your throat as your head fell back, restless whimpers falling from your lips. He delivered one finally suck, the pressure driving you over the edge. You let out a ragged cry, legs closing around his head. Your hips shoot upwards, grinding into him as you ride out your orgasm.

You lay, worn out, chest heaving. You stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy, hands falling to your sides. Remmick stayed between your thighs, dragging his tongue around your skin to clean you up. "You alright?"

You let out a drowsy hum in response, eyes following him as he climbed on top of you. You watched as he smiled down at you, lips brushing against your temple tenderly. He kneeled back, observing you lying there. Without warning, he lifted you up.

You murmured in protest, but he hushed you softly, "Shhh, stay quiet." He carried you to your bed and placed you gently on the mattress. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, feeling unexpectedly calm given the... circumstances.

"I've gotta' leave now," he said softly, brushing your hair away from your face.

"And why is that?"

"'Cause I just have to." You let out a small huff, but he merely laughed quietly. "Best you sleep now." He stood up straight, taking a step backwards towards the open window. "But, I'll be back soon enough." 

A shiver coursed through your body, not of fear, but of anticipation. It was as if the very air around you had changed—charged with a new energy. The weight of fear had lifted, replaced by a sense of exhilaration and readiness that warmed your core. Something had shifted within you, and you realized you were no longer afraid of him. Not even in the slightest. 

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Wanna make out?

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, suggestive? just reader being bored lol

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You’re bored 2.0

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rafayel was lounging sideways on the sunroom sofa, sketchbook balanced on his knees, blue-pink eyes narrowed in sleepy concentration. He had a brush between his teeth, hair messily piled up with a seashell clip you left lying around. Every so often, he dipped the brush in water and swirled in pinks and blues like he was dreaming them onto the page.

You walked in with absolutely no intention of letting him finish whatever masterpiece he was working on. Wearing your tiny frilly shorts and one of his oversized shirts that barely clung to your shoulders, you leaned on the doorframe dramatically like a princess burdened by too much free time.

“Raf,” you said, blinking slowly.

He hummed a distracted, “Mm?” without looking up.

“Wanna make out?”

The brush dropped. Literally. Fell from his mouth and onto the page.

He blinked at you. “What?”

“I’m bored,” you said simply, strolling over like a cat with nothing to do. “You’ve been ignoring me for like… hours.”

“Pearlie,” he muttered, setting the sketchbook aside with a thud. “I’m painting you a seascape for the bathroom wall. A gift. From my heart.”

“Okay,” you said, plopping right onto his lap, straddling him. “Wanna make out?”

His fingers curled at your hips like he physically couldn’t say no, even if he had a sliver of resolve left.

“…You can’t just weaponize your boredom like this,” he whispered, voice low, eyes fluttering down to your lips.

You leaned forward until your nose brushed his. “Mmhm, I can. And I do. Because I’m spoiled.”

He groaned under his breath, head falling back against the couch. “God, I hate you. You’re evil.”

“Is that a yes?”

Instead of answering, Rafayel grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you like you’d just rescued him from a shipwreck. Messy, deep, possessive, the way he always kissed when you initiated things, like he wanted to remind you who you belonged to even though you’d been married for ages.

His sketchbook slid off the couch and landed with a quiet thud.

You were too busy giggling into his mouth to care.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Zayne was at his desk in the home office, pristine white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, fingers gliding across his tablet as he reviewed post-op notes and signed off on casework. He looked so serious, brows drawn, jaw tight, the pale glow of his screen lighting up those sharp hazel-green eyes.

You stood in the doorway in your plush slippers and soft silk robe (the one he bought you after you whined about wanting to feel like “a princess on vacation all the time”), clutching a smoothie you didn’t even want.

“Zaynieeeeeee,” you sing-songed.

He didn’t look up. “Sweetheart, give me twenty minutes, I’m almost done.”

“I don’t have twenty minutes,” you said, stepping into the room with a dramatic sigh. “I’m bored.”

“I told you to rest, remember? You said your stomach was hurting—”

“I’m healed now,” you declared, crossing the room until you were behind his chair. You looped your arms around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Wanna make out?”

He paused. Stylus still. Head slowly turned toward you.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered.

You smiled sweetly. “And you love me.”

“I’m in the middle of reviewing a cardiothoracic surgery.”

“And I’m in the middle of a crisis.” You leaned closer, lips brushing his ear. “Of boredom.”

He stared ahead for a second like he was weighing the cost-benefit ratio of kissing his wife vs finishing work.

Then, with a soft sigh, he set the stylus down and tugged you around to sit in his lap.

“You’re incorrigible,” he murmured against your lips as he leaned in. “Completely shameless.”

You beamed. “Well, you made me quit my job. What else am I supposed to do?”

His kiss was slow and steady, like he was savoring every second. One hand cradled your jaw, the other wrapped firmly around your waist. And the way he kissed… like he was re-centering himself. Like you were the only break he needed.

Eventually, you pulled back, breathless. “Still mad I interrupted your notes?”

Zayne ran his thumb across your bottom lip, eyes dark and fond. “Ask me again in twenty minutes. We might not get any work done today.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Xavier was curled up in the reading nook again, barefoot and soft-faced in a loose ivory shirt and grey linen pants, knees drawn up while he scrolled lazily through data logs on a holographic screen. He looked like some divine painting, silvery hair falling in strands across his eyes, cheek resting against the cushioned wall, expression unreadable.

You padded over silently, your frilly babydoll dress swishing with each step, arms folded as you watched him from across the room.

He didn’t even glance up. “What’s wrong, bunny?”

“How do you know something’s wrong?”

He flicked his gaze toward you, soft and slow. “You’re standing like a neglected cat. The dramatic kind.”

You squinted at him. “…I’m not neglected.”

“You’re pouting.”

“I’m bored.”

“I told you to nap.”

“I don’t want to nap.” You walked over, crouched by the edge of the cushion. “Wanna make out?”

He blinked.

Paused.

Then gave the faintest smile, the kind that made his lips tilt, barely visible unless you knew what to look for.

“You do look kissable,” he murmured, like he was weighing a moral decision. “But you’ll distract me. I was decoding Farsector coordinates.”

“I’m literally your wife,” you said, crawling up onto the cushion beside him, legs swinging over his lap. “You should be honored that I want to make out with you.”

He set the screen aside with a flick of his fingers and cupped your jaw with one hand, thumb tracing over your cheek slowly like he was making a decision in real time.

Then he pulled you in.

Xavier kissed you with the calm intensity of someone who wasn’t in any rush. Deep and unhurried, one arm around your waist, the other buried in your hair. He kissed like he was tasting starlight. Like he was grounding himself back to reality after floating somewhere too far off.

You pulled back with a dreamy sigh, sprawled half-across his lap. “Better than Farsector coordinates?”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Infinitely.”

“…Wanna do it again?”

A pause. Then:

“I’ll pretend I’m weak to your charms,” he murmured, already kissing your jaw, “if it makes you feel powerful.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

Sylus was in his sleek office upstairs, lounging behind the glass desk in his black-on-black designer shirt, sleeves pushed up, red eyes flicking over security reports and quarterly projections like he was skimming a children’s book. His silver hair was tousled from how often he ran a hand through it while deep in thought. His legs were up on the desk, fingers twirling a platinum pen.

He didn’t look up when you entered, too engrossed in reading.

“You’re quiet,” he said dryly, sensing your presence. “What did you break?”

You stepped around the desk slowly, fingers trailing the edge, silk robe dragging behind you like a little train. “Nothing,” you chirped sweetly. “Just bored.”

“Hmm.” He tapped his pen twice on the desk. “Didn’t you just buy twelve new perfumes to play with?”

“Already sniffed them all. And the tiara you ordered me came in two days early, so I already did my princess strut through the halls.”

“I saw. The staff almost bowed.”

You reached him, sliding onto his lap without asking, like you always did. His arm instinctively curled around your waist, keeping you there.

“Wanna make out?” you asked innocently.

That got his attention. He tilted his head slightly, sharp red eyes narrowing with slow amusement.

“Excuse me?”

“I said I’m bored,” you repeated, curling your fingers into his collar. “So. Wanna make out?”

He smirked. The slow, dangerous kind, like you’d just challenged him to something he already planned to win.

“You are so inconveniently irresistible,” he muttered. “You know I have meetings in.”

“Don’t care,” you said, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He pulled back just slightly, watching you with that glittering, calculating look. “Are you seducing me because you’re bored? Or because you know I’ll drop everything the second you ask?”

“Yes.”

“Mm.” He set the pen down. “Manipulative little thing.”

Then he kissed you, rougher than the others, a little indulgent, a little possessive. His hand gripped the back of your neck, the other cupping your thigh like he had no plans of letting you move for the rest of the day. His kiss tasted like control and submission all tangled up, because he knew exactly who had the power in this moment.

When you pulled back, dazed and flushed, he ran his thumb along your lip, amused.

“Go on then,” he murmured, “ask me again, kitty.”

“…Wanna make out?”

His laugh was quiet, dark, and indulgent. “Keep asking and I’ll cancel the rest of the week.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Caleb was seated on the couch in your penthouse’s main living space, still half in uniform, jacket unzipped, dog tags clinking softly against his chest as he typed out reports on his holopad. The sun was setting behind him, casting a warm orange glow on the glass walls. His brow was furrowed, jaw tense, purple eyes locked in deep concentration as he worked through mission debriefs.

You were sprawled across the ridiculously plush daybed in front of him, wearing one of his shirts and nothing underneath, flipping lazily through a fashion catalog without really absorbing anything.

Eventually, you sighed dramatically.

No response.

You tried again, a little louder. “Ughhh. I’m dying of boredom.”

He didn’t even look up. “I told you not to drink three espressos back-to-back.”

You rolled onto your stomach and stared at him. “Caleb.”

Still typing. “Pips.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Wanna make out?”

That got his attention.

He looked up so fast it was like someone yanked a string in his spine. “What?”

You blinked at him innocently. “I’m bored. Fix it.”

He gave you that look, the one that flickered between exasperation and adoration, like he knew he was being manipulated and couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, setting the holopad aside with a sigh.

You grinned. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately for the state of my productivity…” He rose from the couch and stalked toward you, eyes dark with something hungry and amused. “I do.”

You let out a little squeak as he bent over you, caging you in with his arms.

“So this is what happens when I let you live the pampered life,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours. “You get clingy. Demanding. Spoiled.”

You tugged him down by the collar. “And you like it.”

His lips were on yours before you could say another word, deep, hot, utterly consuming. He kissed you like he’d been waiting for you to interrupt him all day. His dog tags clinked against your chest as he pressed his body flush to yours, one hand cradling your cheek, the other sliding under your borrowed shirt like he owned every inch of you.

When he finally pulled back, breathless, he hovered over you with flushed cheeks and a crooked smirk.

“Still bored?”

“…A little.”

He grinned, wicked and boyish all at once. “Let’s see if I can fix that.”

[microsofttothemax]

the resentment leo would have with splinter post-krang. i genuinely think they would take a bit for them to recover and be comfortable around each other

why do i think that? here’s some reasons. this is gonna be a HELLA long analysis so be prepared. sit down, grab some popcorn, and let’s dive in

in the movie, after raph was taken, leo goes on a whole rant about how he got the key, he gets the answers, and he will get raph back. yes this is irrational and brash, but not in leo’s eyes. in his eyes, this is a foolproof plan that will work

splinter attempts to intervene, and tell him like it is. “it’s not your plan, you need to work with your team.” however, it comes out as a sharp sting to leo’s previous attitude

“My son, listen to your team. This is not about you.”

it’s meant to be sensible and wise, but to leo, it’s a jab at him. it’s a stab at his cockiness and self-centered attitude, and it reminds leo of why they’re even in this position in the first place. which he hates

most of all, it’s splinter saying it. it’s his father telling him that it’s not about him. because to leo, he’s always been last place to splinter’s affection, and it’s like splinter’s confirming it here

don’t believe me? here:

splinter talks to leo, and it seems that for a minute, he listens to his father’s words. that maybe he should really stop and listen. maybe he should stop and think of a plan, listen to his brothers’ input.

but the second splinter says it’s not about him? leo shuts down. he pulls away from splinter, and refuses to listen to him. and while splinter may be right, it was something leo never wanted to hear

it’s obvious that he has a somewhat testy relationship with his father, and splinter is trying to make up for it by giving leadership advice. but to leo? this is the guy who made him leader to seemingly mess with him, never bothered to give him attention or praise on his accomplishments, and never truly knew leo beyond his “acting as the best to save face” charade

which brings me to another reason. no, i do not think splinter was ever abusive or purposely neglectful to leo, or any of the boys for that matter. but its clear theres a bit of a rift between him and leo. i think that he kind of resents leo a bit (without meaning to) because he sees himself in him. he sees the irrational movie star who never thought ahead, and made too many mistakes to count

an example would be when leo got punched by lou jitsu two times. none of his brothers got punched, why just him? and sure it could be a running gag, but i find it also to be intentional

maybe deep down, splinter still resents leo for being so much like his irrational, unreasonable younger self. that every time he sees leo, he sees his stupid past self, and without meaning to, he at times hates leo because of it. and if he doesn’t hate him, he seems to resent him to some extent

splinter also has plainly stated that donnie was the funniest one to him, (s1ep 1, mystic mayhem) and outright laughed when leo asked if he was the favorite son (rottmnt wake-up alarms on youtube, timestamp 1:59) leo also staight-up said that he was splinter’s least favorite (s1ep 4b, down with the sickness)

so yeah, i can see the resentment leo may have for his father deep down. it could be pretty apparent post-krang, hidden behind his jokes and teases

now don’t get me wrong, they have their moments of bonding, and i do love to read little drabbles and fics where they hug and heal. however… realistically speaking, it would take a while for them to get to that stage of father-son bonding post-krang. with splinter naming him leader out of the blue, to the missing lou jitsu posters on the walls of leo’s room in the movie — and we’re definitely talking about that in a later post, trust — i would bet their relationship as father-son pre and post-movie would be extremely rocky.

another reasoning for this could be that splinter often underestimates and undermines leo’s abilities and accomplishments. far as i’ve seen, the most reaction splinter’s given to leo’s accomplishments is an eyebrow raise

for example, when outsmarting big mama, leo was genuinely proud of spending time w his dad and showing him his abilities. he genuinely thought they were working together. however, splinter didn’t say he was proud or anything, just complained he wished he’d brought donnie (s2ep 2, many unhappy returns)

“I knew I should have brought Purple.”

ouch. that mustve hurt a bit

and yes, i will admit, leo was being a bit of a little shit in this scene, and yes, he could’ve told splinter of the plan before starting to yap and blab to big mama about the plan he cooked up. however, the response splinter gives is not much better. essentially, he’s saying, “i don’t like this kid or his plan, so therefore i think i should’ve brought one of my favored children to solve the problem better.”

and before you go and tell me donnie could’ve outsmarted big mama the way leo did, think for a moment. leo fully admitted to manipulating and lying in an episode before

“I don’t lie, I just… change the truth.”

whereas donnie cannot tell a lie to save his life. i love him, but the guy is a shit liar. he has failed multiple times at it

“We are just typical normal humans.. who got lost in the middle of our normal… everyday human lives— nailed it.”

“Uh… nothing. Just having a typical, normal, mystic-free day.” “What? I said mystic-free.”

“Why aren’t you guys more upset?”

“Oh. This… hurts me. Uh… I’m very sad…?”

raph & mikey aren’t much better. mikey straight-up started sweating when he had to lie to splinter about piebald, and raph has so many different stinks/scents to him that it’d be easy for others to tell he was lying

also, mikey has doctor delicate touch. who does not know what lying or “don’t be blunt” means

and donnie’s really only being extremely straightforward with what he thinks or about what’s going on around him. so it makes no sense as to why splinter would want to bring donnie along to outsmart big mama, unless he genuinely doesn’t enjoy leo’s presence, which seems to be the case

now all of this is evidence to point towards a very unsteady father-son relationship with these two. yes, splinter seems to be a very lenient father, and i genuinely think he wants to be a good dad. however, oftentimes that leads to miscommunication and misread moments, empty promises, and overall neglecting behavior on his part, all without meaning to

so while he does try harder to be there for his sons later in the show, it’s pretty obvious that one brother — who thrived off any attention possible — probably stopped caring about that validation after all that he went through. splinter gives, but leo doesn’t take. he doesn’t bother to, because he thinks it’s either a prank of some kind, or because he just genuinely doesn’t care for his father’s input anymore.

(this was based on that one post about splinter & leo by @midwesternvibes, i just figure i revisit that bc i’m thinkin about it again)

[david-talks-sw]

Part 2 of the 4-part post series interweaving George Lucas' words in a curated meta post. Here's PART 1, here's PART 2.5.

In George Lucas' words: The Fall and Return of Anakin Skywalker

- Episode II -

Anakin's status quo at the start of the film.

In Episode II, Anakin is a teenager. A petulant, whiny, pain in the ass teenager, and I hate to say it, but that's what a lot of teenagers are!

He is a little cocky, a little sure of himself, and constantly chafing a little bit with Obi-Wan. That said, it's worth pointing out that Obi-Wan and Anakin actually like each other.

Their introduction scene was, in fact, a reshoot, that came from George wanting to emphasize the fact that the two are partners and friends, and even though there’s a little bit of tension between the two of them, throughout the film, where they're at each other's throats, they do have a history of warm friendship, off-screen.

Even though Obi-Wan is a "stern taskmaster" and mentor, he still cares about Anakin. And he’s more frustrated with their relationship and Anakin’s unwillingness to go along with the rules, whereas Anakin feels he is being held back by Obi-Wan.

They both have a point. Because while Anakin is indeed a gifted person, very talented, there is a constant dichotomy of "Anakin's lack of discipline vs his natural talent" at play.

In every set-piece, we think that [Anakin's] gone a little bit too far and made a mistake, and then you realize that he’s actually very clever. And then, sometimes, it's the opposite. We think he's got this, and actually... he doesn't.

The fact is that, being the Chosen One, Anakin is slightly more powerful than other people, which means he is slightly ahead of himself at all times.

We also get a little sense that Anakin has some relationship with Palpatine and that he likes Palpatine, his other mentor figure. 

The chancellor's place in Anakin's life isn't helpful, as we can see that Palpatine is sort of boosting his ego to make him feel that he's better than possibly he really is.

A lot of Anakin's philosophies and some of Anakin's dialog later on - about how he should be allowed more freedom, more assignments - come from Palpatine.

So on the one hand, things aren't perfect. For someone in Anakin's situation, the ability to do evil is much easier to come by. The issues he struggles with are the same issues that everybody struggles with, the fact that sometimes they don’t consider the consequences of what they’re doing because it’s not expedient.

On the other hand, Anakin is still essentially a good kid, and he's determined to be greatest among the Jedi. It's not that he has evil intentions, but in this film we see how he's under some pressure and we start to realize that some new temptations are coming his way.

These new temptations come in the shape of:

the nightmares of his mother

and the reunion with his beloved Padmé.

Anakin & Padmé - from attraction to love

When Padmé re-enters his life, the film shifts into a story about Anakin's dealing with his emotions, the difficulty of his being torn between his duty as a Jedi who swore to serve the Republic, and his emotional needs, which relate to Padmé.

Back in Episode I, Anakin had a crush on her when he was little. She dismissed him because he was just a little kid, but she liked him, like as with a puppy. Now, she’s grown up. And she's beginning to see him as an attractive young man.

As they are paired together, we go back and forth between them - as two young people having feelings for each other - and them, in the context of her position as a Senator, and his position as a Jedi.

She's more disciplined, whereas he's naive, especially around her. He's never been in a situation like this before, so he’s falling in love, but he doesn’t really know it. And it is forbidden.

There are social barriers that have been put up and there's a practical reality of what would happen to them in the future, if they were to let their emotions run wild. 

They're both government officials who have made a commitment toward the Republic and its citizens. Seeing as neither of them is willing to quit, duty dictates that they renounce their love, and dedicate their lives selflessly to carrying on with their responsibilities.

After he spills his guts out to her and she refuses to go along with him, Anakin does realize that, yes, this would not be a good idea… because it would jeopardize his career, it'd jeopardize her, and it probably wouldn't be a good thing.

But they do love each other. They’re truly in love with each other.

It’s the issue of "true love over duty." It’s really the "Romeo and Juliet" aspect of it, of a doomed relationship, in more ways than one really.

And eventually... they give in. This culminates with an idyllic situation on Naboo, where Anakin and Padmé are getting married in what appears to be a somewhat happy ending.

But Anakin and Padmé's marriage is not gonna work. It is a complex, slightly dysfunctional relationship because, to Anakin, she’s much more than a wife. And it will only become clear too late to Padmé that she married the wrong guy.

It's only when you put it in the context of the bigger story that you see the handwriting on the wall.

You notice flaws in Anakin's personality that are going to sink him in the end, as hinted by his metal hand, and the fated "Darth Vader influence" it implies.

Anakin & Shmi - from love to attachment

When we're talking about Anakin's flaws, many of them are established in Episode II.

His emotions run amok... moreso now that he's falling in love.

He's undisciplined... as teenagers tend to be.

He's arrogant... but with exceptional powers like his (and the constant egging on from Palpatine), it's easy to see why.

However, there is, one flaw that comes back to haunt him, all the way back from Episode I. Anakin has a fear of losing things, namely the fear of losing his mother.

The fact that everything must change and that things come and go through his life and that he can’t hold onto things is a basic Jedi philosophy that he isn’t willing to accept emotionally.

And as a result, he wants to begin to control things, he wants to become more powerful. And these are not Jedi traits.

Part of the reason for this flaw is because he was raised by his mother rather than the Jedi.

He started to be trained so late in life, that he had already formed these attachments. And for a Jedi, attachment is forbidden. You can love people, but you have to love them unconditionally, in terms that you can’t hold on to them.

If he’d have been taken in his first year and started to study to be a Jedi, he would have been trained to love people without getting attached to them.

But Anakin has confused possessive love with compassionate love.

Because he was unwilling to let go of his mother, because he was so attached to her, he committed this terrible revenge on the Tusken Raiders. This is the first act that ultimately takes him on the road to the Dark Side.

And in the aftermath of this... he is very sad and depressed. Horrified at his actions.

But what he’s really upset about is the fact that he’s not powerful enough. He voices jealousy and anger at Obi-Wan, he blames everyone else for his inability to be as powerful as he wants to be, and he hears all the time from Palpatine that he will be.

He tells himself that "if he had more power, he could’ve kept his mother, he could’ve saved her and she could’ve been in his life."

Down the line, he will also become attached to Padmé and these things are - for a Jedi, who needs to have a clear mind and not be influenced by threats to their attachments - a dangerous situation.

Because whereas a good Jedi overcomes their flaws and kinda goes above the normal human tragedy that most people have to experience, Anakin doubles down on this crucial flaw, which feeds into his fear of losing things, and grows into greed and wanting to keep his "possessions," and things that he should be letting go of.

Sources:

Attack of the Clones Commentary Tracks #1 and #2, 2002

Mythmaking: Behind the Scenes of 'Attack of the Clones', 2002

Primissima, p. 32, May Issue, 2002 

LA Times, 2002

CNN, 2002

Attack of the Clones, “Story” Featurette, 2002

Starlog Magazine #337, 2005

Rolling Stone, 2005

The Star Wars Archives: 1999-2005, 2020

[cyjammy]

Vox and Alastor’s Dynamic is so FUN

Hazbin Hotel Season 1 Episode 2 Spoilers ahead!

I have to talk about Vox and Alastor’s “rivalry”. I love how Alastor just couldn’t care less, he’s witty, he’s emotionless and that makes him all the more powerful.

Well, not emotionless since he does express outward disgust towards anything digital, but the fact he can keep himself composed because he knows he is the shit and that’s what makes him my absolute favorite.

That showed through in the pilot and the show didn’t fail to deliver. I love how he’s handled. Viv’s characterization is wonderful.

Most fics I have read with Alastor have shown him as vunerable despite the story never alluding to that and it’s such a breath of fresh air to have canon content of Alastor being his authentic self.

My god do I love a character that’s strong and not swayed by emotion, but they can be handled well too. I.E. VOX oh my god. Every fanon had him pegged down as the victim to Val’s wrath, but he’s the mastermind behind the scenes. A complete subversion of everyone’s expectations. And that’s for another post I’m about to go crazy on, but I digress.

Vox is a man up in his ivory electronic tower with villainous intentions, but he falls short because of emotion!

Handling Velvet’s demands to get Val together? A quick pep talk with himself and he’s got it.

Addressing unforeseen circumstances with concerned sinners? Easy.

But Alastor?

He sees RED. He let Valentino have it when he even thought about going on a rampage over a sinner under his thumb.

When it comes to Alastor, Vox goes on a hate campaign and makes a fool of himself.

Meanwhile, Alastor was minding his business, and Vox couldn’t deal with that.

So much so he causes a blackout in the Wrath ring!

Why? Because of his rejection sensitivity.

He is this all powerful overlord with companions in his rule and when he asks someone of similar station to become his equal he gets rejected.

It’s unheard of for him. He cannot fathom it.

Because that makes Alastor a factor he cannot control.

Val says that Alastor “almost beat him”. Val may not have witnessed that fight and Vox spun it around to claim he came out on top.

But if he did, he definitely wouldn’t let Alastor get away.

Valentino and Vox have known each other for a long time, as shown in a photo in the background in the episode.

So either this spat began before they had met and Vox lied or Valentino witnessed it. I'm excited to see which way that goes.

In terms of influence, Alastor seems to win that battle. Vox is in charge of electrical currents and anything in the digital space.

Alastor is so far removed from that Vox has no influence over him. He refuses to be involved with new technology.

But with Vox having an army of sinners under his wing through subliminal messaging, he had security and power.

With Alastor’s return he brings CHARISMA and he’s doing it SO FUCKING WELL.

This is not a battle, it’s a slaughter, and Alastor is WINNING. With television there are so many ways to captivate a viewer but with radio all the host has is their voice and personality. It all has to be shown in a medium that doesn’t have many options for uniqueness.

Alastor defends himself with grace. He throws out compliments to his fellow overlords while still having it be a slight to the man who began the fight.

THE Vs ARE PREENING AT HIS PRAISE. THIS MAN IS GOATED.

It's night and day, but that's probably because Valentino and Velvet are tired of Vox's shit. I love this parallel so much!

Vox needed to be the person he was with Valentino at all times if this is a battle he wants to win, but he’s so bitter he will never see that.

He’s stubborn and that’s his main flaw.

And I fucking love it.

Alastor knows what he’s thinking and how to avoid it.

Always a step ahead. And their duet showcases that perfectly.

Alastor uses his opponent’s power against them, seeing the slanderous TV campaign and immediately going on air.

He does that in the pilot as well and seeing that this has become a habit for him is so fun to see.

Alastor is not to be messed with and I feel like people decided to gloss over that. But it’s so in your face you cannot deny it.

Alastor is TERRIFYING with a chilling deposition that will give you nightmares if you dare cross him.

Give him the respect he fucking deserves.

And the music and the visuals of the song — A whole fucking masterpiece.

I’m in love with their dynamic so far and I can’t wait to see where it goes.

So far Vox is the obsessed fanatic that couldn’t handle rejection.

There has to be more than that.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Every Inch of You

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: reader is fighting demons (insecurities), very specific descrpitions of body image related insecurities- like the reader is literally picking herself apart in a mirror, hella praise, body worship, fingering, edging, multiple orgasms, creampie, cockwarming, pseudo voyeurism/exhibitionism (he fucks her in front of a mirror idk) I think that's everything

Genre: starts off pretty angsty, we transition to smut and end with fluff!

Summary: Insecurities can be quite rough on you but your boyfriend has no intentions of letting you go through it alone

***

You frown at your reflection as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Today has been a rough day. Nothing in particular happened. You went to work, you ran some errands, you did normal daily things, but for some reason you've been in such a weird mood and now you're stuck in a vortex, picking apart yourself apart in the fucking mirror. You really ought to go to the gym more often, or- stop snacking at night, have your pores always been so noticeable? Since when do you have so many stretch marks? You can't see your toes over your stomach- god that's embarrassing. You let out a long sigh as you bite back the tears stinging the back of your eyes. You hate this. It doesn't usually get this bad and the worst part is you know it's not real, you know you're not some hideous monster but it doesn't stop that nasty voice in your head from warping your perception some days and when that happens nothing you say to yourself changes it. But man does it suck, because most of the time you have all the confidence in the world, you've worked very hard on it. Days like this make it feel like you're still some lost little kid desperate to find your place in the world with no sense of self. You should just walk away. If you can't see yourself, you can't pick your appearance apart. But your feet feel glued to the floor, as if they can't remember how to move, as if it's the most impossible task you've ever been given.

"Alright that's enough. You'll lose your mind standing here." You tell yourself, shaking your head in hopes of getting out of this dreary mood. You finally step away from the mirror and head to your closet to put on some clothes post shower. You throw on a hoodie and some shorts and leave your room.

"Babe?!" You hear as you walk down the hall. Sounds like your boyfriend's back.

"Hey love, welcome home." You meet him by the door and he kisses you on the cheek.

"Hope you haven't made dinner yet beautiful because I brought take out." Luke tells you holding up the bag with an excited grin.

"Take out's good. You wanna shower first or dive straight in?" You ask him.

"Would you mind terribly if I showered first?"

"Not at all. Go ahead." You take the food from him and nod your head towards the bathroom.

"I'll be quick!" He kisses you once more and jogs down the hall. You set the food on the living room table and watch TV while waiting for Luke. You hope you're able to keep it together for the few hours you'll be spending with Luke before bed. Considering its a weekday, you don't have to keep the mask up for that long. True to his word, Luke is quick to return, maybe 15 minutes pass by the time he plops down next to you on the couch. "Alright! Let's eat!" He announces, opening the takeout bag. He hands you your food before digging into his own.

"How was work today?" You ask him.

"Fine, tedious. Was mostly doing paperwork today." He shrugs. "How was your day cupcake?"

"Work was work and then I ran some errands. No fun stories here unfortunately. How's everyone?"

"Well, Spencer was giving a guest lecture today so he wasn't around since we didn't have an actual case. Garcia was telling me about some woman that seems to have his attention at the uni though."

"Is Pen keeping tabs on Spencer at the college? He'll literally hate that when he finds out." You frown.

"That's what I told her but you know how she can be. Especially with how sometimes things- go wrong when we meet new people."

"I mean if she's just a coworker, Penelope's getting ahead of herself don't you think? He probably hasn't even made a move on her." You say.

"He hasn't. You're right but it's not like she can be stopped." Luke chuckles.

"Yeah I guess so." You hum.

"Alright, what's wrong, princess?" Luke frowns.

"What do you mean?"

"You've barely touched your food. Did you think I wasn't gonna notice you've only been picking at it? Do you not like it? Do you want to eat something else?"

"No it, it's fine, I just- I'm honestly not all that hungry I guess." You sigh.

"What do you mean you're not all that hungry? What've you eaten today?"

"A bagel for breakfast and a salad for lunch." You shrug. Luke checks the clock in your living room.

"Lunch was 8 hours ago, all you had was a bowl of rabbit food and you expect me to accept that you don't want to eat your favorite food? Come on, spill it baby what's going on with you?"

"Nothing's going on. I dunno I just- feel weird." You mutter, avoiding his gaze. Dating a profiler is so irritating sometimes, can't he just ignore your body language for once?

"Weird how?"

"We don't, have to do this. It's not a big deal babe." You mumble.

"You're not eating y/n it is absolutely a big deal."

"Luke-" you sigh.

"Don't 'Luke' me, what's going on?" He frowns.

"I'd really rather not discuss anything there's no need, seriously."

"Baby, don't shut me out. You can't shut me out. We're in this together, always. You've gotta tell me what's going on in your head." He caresses your cheek gently. You sigh, unable to justify holding out on him when he speaks so softly, with such care.

"I've just been having a bad mental day. Nothing's happened, but I, just feel uncomfortable in my body, and it's hard to deal with let alone talk about." You say, tears burning behind your eyes again.

"Baby," he says, concern contorting his features.

"It's fine, I'll get over it. Today's just been a rough one. It happens. Sometimes my insecurities flare up out of nowhere but that's life, I don't want you to worry." You shake your head.

"Do you know me at all princess?"

"What?"

"My baby, my darling, the love of my life, my reason for being, is stuck in her own head hating her body, the body I live to worship, the body I can't get enough of and you want me to simply 'not worry about it'? That ain't happening." He stands up.

"Luke." You grumble as he grabs your hands.

"No no no no, no complaining, up you go." He pulls you off the couch and lifts you into his arms.

"Ah! Luke what are you doing?" You ask, throwing your hands around his neck as he princess carries you down the hall.

"Well if that nasty little voice in your head wants to lie to you, I'll simply have to remind you myself of all the reasons ever inch of you is perfect." He says matter-of-factly.

"I do not like the sound of that." You tell him.

"And I don't like the sound of you feeling uncomfortable with yourself." Luke shrugs.

"Well that's not-" You stop yourself with a sigh, not even sure what your comeback would be. In your bedroom, Luke carefully lowers you to the ground in front of the mirror with your back facing him.

"I want to help you to see yourself the way that I do." He says softly. He kisses your neck lightly and gently lifts your gaze to meet his in the reflection. "Ask me how I see you." His fingers brush against your thighs as he speaks.

"How do you see me?" You whisper hesitantly. You're not sure you even want to know, but his lips against your throat and his hands on your skin are rather persuasive.

"You, mi amor, are the sun at the center of my universe, if ever I was asked to describe perfection I would simply describe you." Luke slides his hands up under your hoodie caressing your skin.

"Luke." Your brow furrows. This can't possibly be sexy for him, he's only touching your stomach to comfort you, he'd probably prefer it if-

"Relax baby." Luke whispers. You didn't even realize you'd sucked your stomach in against his touch unconsciously, as if you could hide from him your size. You slowly untense your muscles, cringing at the way you fill his large hands. "I'm going to take this off of you, is that alright baby?" He asks.

"Well," can you really handle looking at yourself again?

"You can say no if you want princess, but I need you to stay with me."

"I'm not going anywhere." You say.

"Physically maybe, but I can see your mind wandering off." He kisses your temple. "Don't go."

"You can take it off." You whisper. Luke tugs the hoodie over your head not a moment later, tossing it somewhere in the room, out of sight. He lets out a sigh as his eyes trail over your body through the reflection. You can still feel the heat of his gaze in the mirror and weirdly enough it feels undeserved. He looks at you like that all the time but, tonight you just can't understand what would make him look at you with such want.

"God, you're gorgeous." He sighs placing his hands on your hips again. Luke places kisses on your shoulder. "Your skin is so soft, I can never get enough of touching you, kissing you, holding you." He says. He slides his hands up your sides to cup your breasts. "So perfect, I love the weight of your tits in my hands." His thumbs stroke over your nipples and the light stimulation makes your breath catch in your throat. He twists and tugs at your nipples, enjoying the little whimpers you let out. "You make the prettiest noises when I touch you baby."

"Luke-" you whine, your head lolling against his shoulder.

"Uh uh, head up princess, you've gotta watch. Watch me touch you, worship you, and watch how your body reacts to me, see for yourself how captivating you look." Luke gently shrugs his shoulder to push your head forward. You force your eyes to focus back on your reflections in the mirror, the sight of his hands kneading your breasts with rough fingers toying with your nipples to create hardened peaks only serves to make you squirm more against him. He keeps at it until your breathing is heavy, then one hand slides down, pausing to rub your tummy, "You may not believe me but this, I love this. Growing up it meant you were eating well, taken care of. And I like to think I take good care of you. I want it to show." He says kissing your neck. "Plus it's excellent for cuddles." He winks with a smile that makes you giggle. "I like that sound even more than your little whimpers, but I'm about to get a lot more of those." Luke's hand continues down, pushing your shorts down enough for you to kick them off. His hand caresses your thigh.

"You're teasing." You pout.

"You look cute when you pout." He chuckles. "But I'll be nice." His voice drops as he slips two fingers between your folds. You arch you back against his touch as his digits toy with your cunt. Luke knows your body maybe better than you do and his hand makes quick work of bringing you to the edge. Your head tips back again, instinctively and his movements slow when he catches it. The sudden change drags your gaze to his in the mirror, a silent question in your eyes when you whine. "If you want to cum pretty girl you have to watch yourself do it."

"But-"

"No buts, keep your eyes open and on the mirror." He says stroking you faster now that your attention is back on your reflection. Again when you feel your orgasm creeping up your spine your head drifts back and again Luke slows his hand almost to a stop.

"No!" You cry out as your release slips away.

"I already told you princess, your eyes have to stay on your reflection." He says waiting for your breathing to calm slightly before his fingers work you again. This time, you manage to keep your head forward, but your eyes still slide closed from the pleasure. Unfortunately for you your boyfriend is very observant and closed eyes still break the rule, so his fingers slow again.

"Fffffffffffffuck me." You grit out, frustrated from his edging game.

"I'll keep doing this until you get it right mi amor. Keep your eyes open." He says beginning again. This time, you steel yourself. You don't think you can handle another denial. The signs of release return quickly with his hands on you and though your lids desperately want to close you keep them open even as they threaten roll back in bliss as you finally cum with a breathy moan. "That's it, so fucking stunning." Luke says as he strokes you through the aftershocks. Your legs are still shaking and your chest is still heaving when Luke lifts you again. "I'm not finished with you yet, but this next bit will be easier in the bathroom. So you have something to hold onto." He says carrying you into the bathroom. He sets you down facing the large mirror over the sink. "I'd do this in the bedroom but you won't be able to see yourself if I fuck you right up against the mirror." Luke says in your ear and the words send a shiver down your spine. "Place your hands on the mirror sweetheart. Let me show you how badly I crave every inch of you." He says with a hand stroking your ass. You lean forward enough for your warm hands to touch the cool glass. Your eyes follow Luke's in the mirror as they trail over your skin hungrily while he frees himself from his sweatpants. He wastes no time sinking into you with a groan and though he gave no warning you moan at the stretch of him filling you. The look on his face as he settles into your heat can only be described as euphoric and it's one you could never get tired of seeing on him. After a moment his eyes peel open again and catch yours in the reflection. He gives you a smirk before his hands tighten against your hips and he sets a rhythm that explains why you needed something to hold onto. His thrusts are harsh and deep and have moans spilling uncontrollably from your lips. Luke's eyes are locked on yours in the mirror as he fucks you. "God you're beautiful, perfect, you've got the- prettiest eyes that sparkle when you laugh, and look so good rolling back when I make you cum." He hums.

"Oh Luke." You moan part of that was sweet, part if it made your walls clench around his dick.

"You're perfectly soft for hugging or cuddling and it doesn't hurt that I have plenty to hold onto when I wanna fuck you stupid." Luke says and if he weren't currently doing just that you might've laughed at his words, but the moaning makes it hard. "If I could spend all my days wrapped in your arms, buried in your heat- you have no idea how quickly I'd do it." You can feel your cheeks heating up from his, mostly, sweet words, so contrasting from the way he's railing you. "God I love you so much." He groans.

"I- I love you too Luke, more than- more than you know." You pant out.

"Fuck I'm close." He grits out. One of his hands wraps around your waist and finds your clit. It doesn't take much, a few well focused circles of your sensitive bundle of nerves and you're shaking as your orgasm hits, your walls clamping down so tightly around Luke's dick it pulls his orgasm from him too. His hips stop flush against yours as hot spurts flood your inner walls. You practically slump against the bathroom counter as the waves of your release die down. You're not quite sure how he manages but Luke turns you around and lifts you in his arms again somehow without fully pulling out of you. He walks you both over to the bed and lays down with you on top of him, soft dick still buried in your heat. Luke lifts your head from his chest to get your attention.

"I love every part of you with all that I am." He says.

"Thank you. I love you too." You say softly.

"I know insecurities are no easy battle but, yours is a body the Greeks would build statues for. It pains me that you see yourself as less than idolized."

"I'll admit it's much harder to feel that way when you react like this."

"Well I'll just have to make a habit of it then." He kisses your forehead.

"I- can't say I'm opposed to that suggestion." You hum.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And where we on food? Did your appetite come back any?" He asks, hand stroking soothingly down your back.

"Yeah but- I'm too tired to move." You mumble into his chest and he laughs.

"Don't worry I won't make you get up now. I'm sure after a nap your body will convince you to get up and eat, until then let's just lay here."

"Perfect that's exactly what I planned to do." You sigh as you snuggle closer to him. Maybe your insecurities will beat your ass every once in a while, but you smile knowing Luke will be there to fight them with you and that is more than enough for you.

***

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 8

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19

Sanji

Explain, Commander.

Commander 2

We’d been keeping tabs on Doflamingo like you wanted. But since your… performance… in Sabaody Archipelago, he’s disappeared from our radar completely.

Law didn't look too impressed hearing this. 

Law

You've known where to find him all along?

Sanji

Of course I do. Or…I did.

Oh, don't give me that face, doctor. Remember, Doffy and I have an alliance. I only wanted to make sure that he doesn't know that I'm sneaking around with you until we find out more about Corazon. My intel on his whereabouts all but benefits you. However, please understand that it's all on a need-to-know basis. I still have a duty to protect his privacy.

The doctor glares at him, sneering especially after being reminded about the blonde's partnership with his sworn enemy. He's starting to have doubts about saving the man's life.

Zoro begins to wonder himself what this means about the recent development in his relationship with the blonde.

Sanji turns his attention back to the blue-haired commander.

Sanji

So there's nothing at all? Nothing in the usual countries and islands? …At home even? Are any of our agents compromised?

Commander 2

I have in good faith that the reports are accurate and untapped.

And… I really hope he’s not wandering somewhere in the castle. I don’t know if I can sleep like that.

Zoro crosses his arms and legs at the foot of Sanji’s bed, listening intently and observing the stranger. He notices that the blonde's relationship is somewhat domestic with this man, even with the formal titles. 

Sanji

Hold on. How in the world did you find me?

Commander 2 pokes the side of his head.

Commander 2

Distress signal. Did you die?

Sanji

Uhm… no?

Law

He did.

Zoro looks at the doctor with a horrified expression but Sanji and the commander look unbothered by the news. Law picks up on the swordsman's concern so he follows up quickly. 

Law

Relax. He's still alive, isn't he? We lost him for less than a minute. His heart stopped beating but we got it under control.

Commander 2

That would do it.

Sanji groans, his head falling back against the pillow that's propping him up.

Sanji

I forgot about that damned thing. The last time this happened was when the Marimo sliced off my arm.

Zoro frowns at the memory.

Zoro

You… died then?

Sanji

So I've been told. I only remember feeling like shit. They told me that I bled out from the fight, love. You got me good!

Zoro frowns at the comment as Sanji chuckles casually about it. To him, it’s starting to make sense how the blonde was able to slip away and survive certain arduous battles against him before.

While he can't see the commander's eyes, he could sense that the man is watching him like a hawk behind his thick goggles. Zoro returns the glare with just as much intensity.

Sanji

I think the signal still activates if we hit a critical condition.

Commander 2

Which wouldn’t have happened if you had your Raid Su–

Sanji

DON'T. Start.

The commander closes his mouth shut and tuts to himself, resisting to openly show any signs of disapproval in front of everyone. 

Law

Mr. Prince-ya, is there something you want to tell us? We can't have a tracker on you while we're trying to stay under the radar ourselves.

Sanji and his commander share a look. After a brief pause, the blonde speaks.

Sanji

It's a bit complicated, doctor.

Commander, it’s okay to tell them. We need to prove that they can trust us, and that hasn’t changed. Even if the doctor and dear Doffy are enemies.

Commander 2

Fine. I hate that guy too anyway.

Law smirks at the commander’s comment. Sanji can't say that he's not glad to see that they have found common ground at the very least.

The commander turns his attention to Law, then proceeds to explain.

Commander 2

It's Germa tech–a safety precaution, nothing more. The signal isn't something that can be intercepted by anything, including black snails. It can only be sent and received by people who have undergone the procedure to install the proper modifications, and it’s tied to our genetics.

Sanji

Our father had kindly ordered his scientists to open up our skulls when we were very young. It made sense at the time, what with softer heads and faster recovery rate. It’s useful, but we have no control of it.

The blue-haired man nods then follows up quickly.

Commander 2

It's similar to an automatic reflex.

Now that we’ve matured, I believe it will prove fatal to have the mods removed. We can’t do anything about it.

Zoro felt sick at the thought. He wonders what sort of monster Sanji had been raised by. Then he realises something. 

Zoro

Curls… are you two brothers?

Sanji stares at him for a second, then laughs out loud, making him and Law look at each other in confusion.

Sanji

Yes! I forget that I haven’t told you anything about my family!

Marimo and doctor, this is my brother, Asshole. Asshole, this is Marimo and doctor.

The commander snarls at Sanji, gritting his teeth.

Commander 2

My name is Vinsmoke Niji, Prince and Commander of Germa.

—

Zoro was selfishly hoping to continue spending time with the recently woken up blonde but this prince commander, Niji, had completely taken over Sanji's time. The swordsman didn't fully understand the conversation that followed but it was a necessary one as it involved the blonde's health.

Niji had provided Law with what looks like a compact first aid kit specifically tailored for the Pirate King. He went on a detailed explanation about how their bodies differ from regular human bodies, pointing out that Sanji, while being one of the Vinsmoke children that had been modified to have superhuman capabilities, is especially unique compared to the rest of his siblings having the only one who retained his emotions.

Hearing the science behind it felt clinical and too much information for the swordsman to fully absorb. He felt like being in the room while Law and the commander spoke about Sanji's body the way they did was too personal and he shouldn't be there for it.

When Zoro tries to leave, he feels a hand wrap around his own. He looks down and finds that the blonde is holding onto him, as if asking him to stay. So he does.

To conclude, Niji proceeds to go through the contents of the kit. One of which is a tubed cream that he demonstrates with. He applies a small amount on the blonde's ripped tendons, miraculously sealing the open wound closed in an instant.

Sanji looked satisfied with the result. He wriggles and stretches his feet poking out of the blanket, smiling at it happily. Now there are scars where the gashes once were, adding to his ever growing collection. Niji's face looks unfazed, but he straightens up and puffs out his chest a bit like he's proud of his work.

To ensure Law's continued interest in working together, Sanji provides him with even more valuable information about himself and his kingdom, offering them as gifts in good faith. He reveals that his four most trusted commanders are actually his siblings, and should anything happen to him, one of them will take over to rule Germa. Their collective efforts ensure that the Pirate King’s reputation is upheld and his orders are enforced by each one of their varying specialties. It gives the illusion that the Sanji is in multiple places at once, and makes sure that his influence and power over the North remain unchallengeable.

Law

Why are you telling me all this?

Sanji

My dear, you haven't played this game much before, have you? I'm laying it all out for you. Don't waste it.

Niji

So you can use the information against him if he's being a dick. He's offering his trust to you for yours.

Maybe sharing a bit too much detail, if you ask me. A lot of people have lost their lives trying to learn what you just did in the last five minutes.

Sanji

Commander Niji, you ass! Let him figure it out! How else is he going to learn?

Niji

He's not a player. Look at him.

He's too soft.

Law

Sh–shut up! I'm not!

So, is this how you hide your whereabouts? By overwhelming everyone with information that is all technically true?

Sanji nods, smiling. He looks almost smug at his own cleverness.

Sanji

Carefully curated truth, doctor. I don't reveal everything, but I give away enough to keep people off my back, or you know, just for fun. I do prefer to work in the shadows.

Law

The Underworld?

Sanji

For the most part. If you're nice, I'll tell you more about it all later.

Sanji gives Law a cheeky flirtatious wink. Zoro rolls his eye in reaction.

Niji

This doesn't explain why you blew your own cover in Sabaody Archipelago with that charity show.

Sanji

Oh, it was all part of a heist but I’ve always wanted to show off my legs in those video shows. I completely didn't see the Celestial Dragon coming and I know that I should have known better. How hot did I look in those heels though?

Niji

Ugh….

Zoro quietly agreed about Sanji's appearance but he's not about to announce that.

Law

There's something I don't get….

Sanji

Ask away.

Law

I come from the North Blue myself. The Marines say that after you killed your own father, you enslaved your siblings, and they are never seen again.

Sanji

Ah.

Law observes Niji's features, taking notes of his curly eyebrows and similar facial structure.

Law

If what you say is true and this man is your brother, then the story from the Marines is false.

Sanji

Bunch of liars, those lot. They're worse than me.

Law

What's the real story?

Sanji glances at Niji then proceeds to explain. This time, his pace is slow, as if trying to make sure that he says the right word every time.

Sanji

Vinsmoke Judge was… there's no way around it–he’s an ass.

Niji

You can't deny all the scientific and military progress he'd made though.

Sanji

Yes, well…thank you, Commander.

Let's just say that I wasn't exactly his favourite. See, that, I could deal with.

But I killed him because he wouldn't let me visit our own mother's grave.

Zoro raised his eyebrows at that. He could tell that the doctor is intrigued by the story himself.

Sanji

I did force my siblings into custody at that time, but I only kept them under lock and key until I named myself ruler of Germa. Then I didn't need to.

Niji and my other siblings are hardwired to follow Germa’s current king or queen's demands so I made them my commanders. They didn't have to like it, but their loyalty is unquestionably clear. They physically can't disobey my orders. All thanks to dear father's hard work turning them into the perfect soldiers.

A lot of our father's faithful followers are against me being in the throne so to protect them, we had to hide their identities for a while. I guess it stuck.

Law

Figures your own father saw you as a threat.

Sanji

No…it's the opposite, actually. He locked me away when we were very young. He said I was uhm…

Sanji trails off at that and looks down. His grip on Zoro's hand tightens.

Niji

A failure. The word you're looking for is “failure”.

Sanji

Yeeees, yes. Thank you, Commander. Ah yes, how could I forget?

Niji 

Don't mention it.

Niji is smirking with a broad grin.

Sanji's body trembles in anger for a moment, but it subsides when Zoro gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. He takes a deep breath then turns to Law again after composing himself.

Sanji

He kept me out of sight, to make sure that I didn't ruin his reputation. Until one day he didn't feel just as merciful and threw me away.

Which brings us to the topic of Doffy…. I know you've seen my mark by now. You must wonder why I'm closely allied with a Celestial Dragon–another slaver, for that matter.

Law leans against the far door, crossing his arms.

Law

On the contrary... I don't think Celestial Dragons are all bad. Doflamingo is a special case though.

Sanji

Hah! You can say that again.

Are you aware of his SMILE factory?

Law

All too well.

Sanji

Right. The entire span of its outer walls are lined with Seastones. I needed a steady supply of it and I knew Doffy had his sources.

The stone's unusual properties allow my siblings to feel emotions but they're… heavy and awkward. And with all the combat my brothers and sister go through on the regular…

Law

You constantly need them for maintenance… and Doflamingo is milking your every worth.

Sanji nods affirmingly.

Sanji

I need pure condensed ones to make something more compact and permanent but they're extremely rare. I'm not even sure if that Celestial Dragon in Sabaody knew what they were. We've been gathering everything we can find for years, and finally we may have enough after Sabaody.

Doffy said he'd help with the supply of the regular ones while I go find them but he's proven to be… demanding.

Niji

Demanding is an understatement. Also, he's a fuckin’ pervert.

Sanji

Hey, he's my fuckin’ pervert.

Zoro

Curls…

Sanji

Ah, shit. I'm sorry, love. This is going to take some getting used to….

Law

But the other Vinsmokes are already hardwired to obey your commands. That doesn't make sense. Why would you change that and give them emotions? Everything about it benefits you.

Sanji remains quiet. Law speaks after the sudden realisation.

Law

…Because that's not what you want.

Sanji

You're getting it now….

Law

You want them to have a choice.

You want to give them the freedom of will….

Law eyes the helmet tucked under Niji's arm.

Law

Why aren't you wearing it then? I assume it works whenever you put it on. This means you can choose to abandon your Pirate King anytime.

Niji

A tempting idea. Not that I already didn't think about it.

Law

You… choose to stay? You choose to wear it whenever you want, and you decide to stay by his side?

Niji shrugs, his mouth curls a scowl.

Niji

Don't put it like that. You make it sound gross.

I wear it to gain empathy. My brothers and sister wear it for their own reasons. It gives us better judgement when we need to make critical decisions.

Sanji

And Germa thrives for it–thanks to those decisions.

Niji doesn't look him in the eye, but that way he puffs his chest when he's proud of himself happens again very slightly.

Sanji

The helmet's not the prettiest. And it's heavy. They don't have a good quality of life dragging it around, being stuck with it.

Once this is over, I'll take all the condensed Seastones that we have see what we can make of it.

Speaking of, Marimo…please tell me you have them.

They all turn to the swordsman, who procures the bag that Sanji had given him from under his sleeve. The blonde sighs with relief at the sight and takes it, holding the bag close to his chest.

Sanji

Thank you…

Zoro nods in acknowledgement as Sanji secures the bag away in one of the drawers of the end tables next to his bed.

Law

Mr. Prince-ya…

Sanji

Yes...?

Law

You're… surprisingly... not unkind.

Sanji blushes up to his ear. He pulls his blanket up to cover his face.

Sanji

Yeah, well…what good does that do if they're stuck with those ugly things?

Zoro grabs the blonde's hand that's gripping the blanket and pulls it down. He smiles at him with a softened look in his eye, feeling touched by the story.

Zoro

So you are a decent man after all.

Sanji

NO–!

The blonde swings a leg and hits the swordsman at the back of his head. The momentum sends him to fall face first on the tiled floor. Zoro gets up with a furious expression on his face, a tear in his eye and a couple of large bumps on his head.

Zoro

WHAT WAS THAT FOR?! I WAS TRYING TO PAY YOU A COMPLIMENT!!!

Sanji gets on his feet, blanket dropping to the floor and begins yelling back while in full nude. A drip of blood flow down his nose.

Sanji

YOU CAN'T SAY SHIT LIKE THAT, YOU BASTARD!!

Zoro

WHY DIDN'T YOU HIT TRAFFY TOO?! HE STARTED IT!!!

Law

Don't bring me into this….

Niji

Tch.

Sanji

And what are you tutting about?!

Niji averts his gaze with an unimpressed frown on his face.

Niji

I just find it ironic that the person you decide to be with is a brute with green hair.

Sanji glares at him with a growl at the back of his throat. He stomps towards him, looking like he's about to throw a punch.

Zoro quickly gets up and hoists the naked blonde into his arms.

Sanji

Oi!

Zoro

Don't even think about it. Your feet are fine now but your heart isn't.

Sanji mimics Zoro's last line in a high pitched, mocking voice. The swordsman lays him gently back on his bed, ruffles his hair then proceeds to pick up the blanket to lay it over the blonde after dusting it off.

Niji watches the interaction between the two carefully. He notices their closeness and how they can't seem to let go of each other's hands again when Sanji finally settles in.

The commander reaches under his arm and with one smooth swing, he equips the heavy metal helmet over his head with a ding, covering the entirety of his face but the eyes behind his goggles.

Sanji's eyes widen in horror.

Sanji

That can't be good.

Commander, what are you up to?

Niji keeps his hands on his helmet, staying silent as he's processing information in his head.

Law notices a glint of his eyes behind the lens of his goggles. He thought that he saw a hint of concern on his face but it went as quickly as it came.

The blue-haired commander finally slides his hands off his headwear as he turns to face Sanji. The way he scrunches his face tells the blonde that he's grinning wide behind the metal plate that covered his lower face.

Niji

I think I'll stay, Your Highness.

Sanji

NO.

Zoro and Law

What?!

Niji

Due to recent events, I have come to the conclusion that the best course of action to ensure Our Majesty's survival is to remain at his side for the duration of his trip. At least until you reach Skypiea anyway.

Sanji

FUCK OFF, NIJI!

Law

I don't get a say in this, do I?

Zoro

Calm down, Curls. This isn't good for your heart.

Sanji

He's not good to my heart.

Take it off and go home, Niji.

Niji

Hmm… nah.

Sanji

Nah?!

Niji

You always did say we need to bond more like a proper family.

Niji opens his arms, as if challenging the blonde. Then he speaks mockingly.

Niji

Let's bond, brother.

—

Niji 

What the hell is this?

Sanji has dragged Niji all the way to their shared bunk room where mountains of laundry are scattered throughout the floor, waiting to be folded. Zoro is trying his best not to snicker behind them while the blue-haired man stood still, too stunned at the sight.

Sanji

Bonding. This is bonding.

Niji

This is not–

The blonde pushes the blue-haired man into the room.

Sanji

If you're going to stay here, you have to make yourself useful.

Niji

This is servant stuff!

Sanji hurdles over a couple of piles to get to their wardrobe. When he does, he strips off his borrowed hospital gown and starts putting on his casual wear.

Sanji

Yes, you're right. And I hate to break it to you but… you are one.

Niji

I'm a prince!

Sanji smirks as he pats himself down, satisfied with his choice of clothing.

Sanji

And I'm a king and yet, here we are. Stay here, and get some headway.

Keep Penguin's stuff close to the door in case he runs in looking for clothes post-shower again, otherwise everything else gets wet. It's the one with the penguin doodle on the inside collar. Shachi’s ones have shorter sleeves than the rest. Ikkaku’s has a smaller cut overall but sometimes I get it mixed up with Hakugan’s….

To Zoro's amusement, Sanji goes on a long list of do’s and don'ts for each and every one of the Heart Pirates clothes, overwhelming the blue-haired commander.

Niji 

This is bullshit. You're just making this up. There's no way you remember that for all twenty of them.

Zoro

No, he's actually pretty spot on. Also, there's twenty-one. Law's too shy to ask so he sneaks in his stuff in the middle of the night. It should be around here somewhere….

Sanji

Watch the feathers on one of his coats! Don't ruffle it up or it will lose its natural shape.

Let's go, Marimo.

Niji

Wait–where are you going?

Sanji quickly grabs Zoro's hand and rushes out the door.

Sanji

Uh–king business! Very busy. Don't follow!

Niji

Fuckin’ hell, San–

The door slams close behind them.

Little did Zoro know that he was about to have the best sex of his life.

—

Thanks to the collective power and experience of the passengers aboard the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates and their guests are an unstoppable force. They travelled through the Grand Line and covered almost half of the world in the matter of weeks as opposed to years. They dove deep underwater for any potential threat that they wanted to avoid, and having Niji onboard meant that they had eyes and a driving force in the skies whenever they needed it.

There were a couple of reports from the blue-haired commander that Law had stowed away in his memory banks to worry about later. The first one being the sighting of Kaidou’s forces nearby. He wonders what business they possibly could have all the way in the Grand Line.

Secondly, something has upset the merfolk. Whatever it is, Niji reported that fleets of Prince Fukaboshi’s army can be seen on the move from afar. Law makes an effort to keep their sub at a distance so as to not get caught up in their affairs.

The doctor also noticed that the blonde especially took interest in the latter, asking if there's a sighting of the mermaid prince himself but his brother came back without good news for him.

—

They reach the boundaries of the island Jaya at high noon. The Pirate King insists not to step foot inside its village of Mock Town as Doflamingo is known to have men in the area. As per agreement of their alliance, Sanji is not allowed to send his own men or any one of his associates in his territory unless the tall Warlord is notified in advance. Naturally, the blonde didn't care much about it and tells everyone that they can get on the island if they want as long as they don't get seen.

With that information, Law decides to skirt the ship around and dock at the other more isolated side of the island, away from prying eyes, in the boundaries of South Grove.

Once settled, they stretch their legs and sunbathe on the deck for a while until Law orders his men to forage in the forest or fish in the waters to stock up ahead on food, warning them to stay away from the town that Sanji had mentioned earlier.

Law

And try not to show up in the news this time, will you?

Law singles out Sanji, looming over him as the blonde relaxed on his sun lounge chair in his swim trunks. Zoro is laid on the floor beside him.

Sanji

Don't tempt me, Traffy-kun.

Law

It's “Trafalgar.”

Zoro

Traffy, can you stop telling him what to do? This is how it started last time.

Niji

So you're to blame for that, huh?

Law

ACK–

The Heart Pirates all boo in unison, telling off their own captain–all demanding to be left alone, including their favourite Chore Boy, accusing him of overworking everyone and for being too strict.

Law throws a venomous glare at Sanji.

Law

This is mutiny! You've rallied my own men against me. Are you happy?

Sanji giggles, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving Law to walk off grumpily and scout ahead in the forest with a handful of his crew.

Zoro sits up from the floor and leans an arm on Sanji's lounge chair.

Zoro

I'm getting some beer. Need anything?

Sanji plays with his goatee, then smirks, placing his hands back behind his head and closing his eyes for a quick snooze.

Sanji

Would you be so kind as to get me a glass of Pina Colada? I premixed some earlier today. Should be in the fridge.

Zoro

Do you want just a glass for yourself?

…Or the whole jug?

The swordsman gives him a smirk, emphasizing the last word in that sentence.

Sanji snaps his eyes open at the idea, then gazes to the side and sees Penguin and Shachi already looking at them while they fish together by the railing. They grin widely and give them the shaka sign.

Sanji

Fuck yeah. Get the jug.

—

Zoro makes his way down to the kitchen to do exactly that. He knows that the blonde likes making stuff pretty, so he makes an extra effort to garnish the drink with a small umbrella and a slice of lime on the side of the glass. It takes a lot longer than he anticipated but he wanted to get this right to impress him.

There's a sudden nagging sensation somewhere behind him–he senses danger and it’s aiming for his head. In one smooth motion, he spins, safely placing the cocktail on the counter with one hand and whips Wado out from its sheath with the other, blocking the oncoming sword attack just in time.

Niji

You know, I’ve just had enough waiting for the right moment when you’re not snogging each other.

As the blue-haired man spoke, their blades shook and rattled from the constant push against one another. Zoro hovers his now free hand over one of his other swords, readying himself to deliver a counter attack.

Niji reads his movement ahead of him and swipes a low spinning kick against the swordsman's ankle. He doesn't realise that he misses until he sees a shadow above him where Zoro had flipped overhead with ease to dodge his attack.

Zoro

What's your problem?

He unsheathes a second blade at the moment he lands on the ground. He stands firm with a basic stance.

Niji

You are, Demon Warlord.

Bending low, Niji stomps on one leg, creating a powerful surge of electricity from the base of his foot. As it spreads up to his thigh, Zoro's hair on his entire body stands on end and the lights throughout the Polar Tang flicker.

When the room dims for a few milliseconds, the blue-haired man disappears from sight.

The swordsman crosses his swords over his chest to block, and receives a powerful electrical kick at the X of his blades, barely seeing the other man’s movements. Zoro holds his body firm but the momentum sends his feet sliding until his back hits the wall.

Niji jumps and raises his own sword high above his head to bring it down on him.

Before the blade collides with his head, Zoro pushes himself off the wall and uses his own forehead to hit Niji square on his face. The man’s thick helmet bends at the mouth plate then shatters from the stress. Zoro's direct hit fractures both lenses of his goggles and breaks his nose.

The blue-haired commander staggers back but manages to regain his balance. The two straighten up almost at the same time. Niji cracks his neck, then removes broken off pieces of his helmet from his face with his free hand. He grabs the broken bridge of his nose to force it back into place with a loud snap, then spits out leftover blood from his mouth.

Zoro stood expressionless as blood trickled down his face from his forehead.

Zoro

Tough one, aren't you?

Niji

And I thought you'd be stronger.

They exchange another round of hits. This time, it felt more methodical to the swordsman, like he was being studied.

At one point, the aftershock from one of Niji’s kicks nearly tips Sanji’s drink off the counter. As if they had an unspoken agreement, they pause the fight so the blue-haired commander can catch the glass just in time before it falls off. They continue their barrage of attacks then.

Zoro

Enough of this.

The swordsman bites down Wado, enabling him to unsheathe a third sword.

Niji

That's more like it–!

Before Niji could finish speaking his thoughts, Zoro is suddenly in front of him.

Niji

What the–

The swordsman disarms the commander with one sweep of his blades. Without giving the other man much of a chance to counter, Zoro brings his swords across all together to deliver a powerful push, sending the other man flying to the far end of the room, damaging kitchen furnishings along the way.

Niji crashes against the wall with a choked grunt but doesn't fall on the ground. Instead, he catches himself on his knees, wheezing after getting the wind from his lungs drawn out of him.

Zoro

Ready to use your words?

Zoro approaches the man and points the tip of one sword to his neck.

Zoro

Or are you going to give me a reason to kill you?

Niji smirks, then slaps Zoro's sword away from his face casually.

Niji

You couldn't, even if you tried.

Zoro

I would have sooner if you had ruined Curly’s drink.

Niji

Trust me, I'm not the one who ruined it.

Zoro

What the fuck are you talking about?

Niji pushes himself up, swiping a leg at Zoro's direction.

Not wanting to do any more damage to the kitchen than he already has, the swordsman jumps back to avoid the hit.

Zoro

Seriously?! What is your problem?

Niji

My sources are right. You're not that bright, are you?

Zoro

Excuse me?

Niji walks to pick up his sword from the floor. He gives it a suave swing in the air and points the tip at Zoro's direction.

Niji

You actively sought out to kill our king for more than twenty years. And the next thing I know, he's involved himself with you? What a fucking joke. 

You may have seduced our brother, but I'm not buying that shit, Warlord. What's your game here?

Zoro's eyebrows furrow at that. Of course Sanji’s family is protective of him. He takes a moment to think about his next move, then finally he makes a decision. He eases his stance and throws down all of his swords between him and Niji.

Niji tips his head up slightly at the gesture. He takes a step forward, charging a ball of electricity in the claw of his hand, then lunges at Zoro.

The swordsman closes his eye and keeps his arms down.

The air suddenly stills. And everything was quiet.

When Zoro opens his eye, he sees the commander's hand hovering just an inch from his face, the electrical surge gone from it.

Niji

Tch. This is just boring now.

Niji puts his sword away then turns to walk to the kitchen sink. He digs through one of the broken cupboards and fishes out a dishtowel which he throws to Zoro who catches it.

The blue-haired commander runs his own towel through the water then cleans himself with it, including the blood off his face. Afterwards, he abandons the cloth on the floor. Without turning to face the other man, he speaks.

Niji

Tell me, swordsman, what are your intentions with my brother?

Zoro's eye narrows as he wipes the blood from his forehead with the cloth.

Zoro

We don't need your blessing to do what we want to do.

As they talk, Niji begins to open cupboards, taking out a chopping board and a knife. He begins to work on something that's out of Zoro's line of sight as his body is in the way.

Niji

Really now? Did he say that?

Zoro

Not exactly. But knowing him, he'll just do whatever the hell he wants to do.

Niji pauses his movements for a second, then continues with his work.

Niji

Do you really think you know who he is and what he’s like?

Zoro

We have known each other for a long time, we've been travelling together for months since Law sought us out, and you know that we're… involved.

Niji

Yes… I am well aware.

Zoro

So what's your problem?

Zoro hears a bang and a squelch from the kitchen counter. Niji gives the knife a spin in his hand then stabs the chopping board with it, leaving the knife sticking out. He turns to face the swordsman.

Niji

If you truly know him that well, then tell me, Roronoa Zoro….

Niji emphasized his name as he pushed himself off the counter. He approaches Zoro slowly and stops just a step away from him.

Niji

What’s his name?

Zoro frowns at that question. He opens his mouth to respond immediately as if it has an obvious answer, but then he slowly realises that it doesn't. He digs through his memories–the blonde’s Marine file that he's read and made reports for a thousand times, their time spent together travelling, and all the instances when they've fought, fucked or both–and come out with nothing. He can’t recall a time when he’d used his first name or learned it. All he remembers is a list of nicknames and titles that he and other people have given him, and that his family name is Vinsmoke. 

There and then, the swordsman starts questioning if that even is the case.

Niji tilts his head slightly, waiting for an answer. Zoro sees a glint of deep blue eyes glaring down on him. The other man looked unimpressed. With a lick of his lips, he finally breaks the silence.

Niji

Let’s reiterate what you said, shall we?

You have known each other for a long time. You have been travelling together for months since the doctor sought you out. And now, you’re apparently… “involved”.

Did you ask him even once about it? It seems like a simple question that you ask everyone.

Zoro

I…

Nothing. The swordsman had no good reason to justify why he hadn't asked the blonde for his name.

Niji

Your silence is reassuring.

Do you know why you don’t know his name?

Zoro remains quiet, already feeling berated and extremely guilty.

Niji takes another looming step closer, nearly closing the gap between them. He hovers his angry face in front of his.

Niji

Because, all these years, you either don’t care or he doesn’t trust you enough with it.

Which one is worse, do you think?

The swordsman doesn’t have any good answers to that question.

Niji takes a moment to read Zoro’s defeated face.

Niji

I think I’ve figured it out. It's both. You do care. But mostly, just for yourself.

The blue-haired man stomps to where Zoro had made Sanji’s cocktail. He grabs the drink and downs it in a couple of big gulps.

Zoro

Oi!

Niji wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then steals a fresh glass from the station. He begins to busy himself around the kitchen.

Niji

If he hasn’t given you his real name, then I wouldn’t bother too much, Warlord. You’re nothing but a phase to him. Eventually, he’ll get bored and find a new plaything. Unless you get lucky or have something more to offer like Doflamingo. Once he’s had his fill, he’s not going back for more.

When he turns around, he holds a fresh, more presentable Pina Colada in his hand garnished with pineapple fruit, its leaves and a single piece of cherry on top. It even has a matching straw that complemented the tiny umbrella. The drink has a nice amount of crushed ice in it too. Overall, it’s much better looking than the one that the swordsman made earlier. Niji approaches Zoro and hands it to him. Reluctantly, he takes it.

Niji

This is a warning for your own sake, Demon Warlord. I frankly don’t give a shit what he does to you. You could die in a hole for all I care. But if you hurt even a single strand of his hair, I will personally come down to your doorstep, pull each and every one of your fingernails and teeth, then shove your own balls into your mouth. That’s assuming you actually survive me beating the living shit out of you first.

At that, Niji walks off, leaving a stunned swordsman in the middle of the wrecked kitchen and a fancy drink in his hand.

After a moment of silence, Zoro takes a deep breath.

Zoro

…You can come out now, Bepo.

Bepo opens the pantry door where he had wedged himself in. He looks shaken.

Zoro

You uh… are you okay?

Bepo

You guys are scary when you fight….

—

Zoro finally re-emerges on the deck of the ship with a cocktail in his hand and a jug of premixed Pina Colada in another. Bepo followed closely behind him holding a bunch of glasses in a tray.

Sanji

Took you long enough! Did you get lost in the ship again, Marimo-kun?

Laughing, the blonde sits up and gives them a cheerful smile. When he sees Zoro and Bepo’s faces, his expression drops.

Sanji

What’s wrong? You two look like someone died.

Zoro sets the jug down under the shade of Sanji’s sun umbrella, following Bepo with the glasses. The swordsman bends down in front of the blonde, forcing a smile, offering him the drink that he could have made himself.

Zoro

Nothing happened. Just a little accident in the kitchen. It just took a bit longer to clean, that’s all. 

Sanji

Wait, is that for me? How did you know to put it together exactly how I like it?! It looks perfect, thank you!

Sanji grabs the cocktail from Zoro’s hand and gives his cheek a long loud smooch. He returns to sunbathing in the sun lounge chair and happily drinks from the glass. He hums in satisfaction.

After seeing their arrival, the remaining Heart Pirates onboard cluster around them and start asking if they can have some. Sanji waves them to form a line and wait for the swordsman to prep the drinks.

Sanji

Well, whatever it is, if this what came out of there, I say it was worth the trouble.

Zoro works quietly as he tries to get his head back to how it was earlier that day, only to find that he can’t shake Niji’s words off his head. He busies his hands, but not before realising that the blue-haired commander is sitting on the roof of the upper levels of the sub. It looks like he's fixed his broken goggles but he's still sporting the heavy fractured helmet on his head as he watched them closely.

Sanji

Did you get your beer?

Zoro

…Shit.

—

Law stood in the middle of the Polar Tang’s wrecked kitchen, his eyes dark behind the shade of his spotted cap. His knuckles turn white from gripping the sheath of his sword too tight.

Everyone stood behind him near the door to make a quick escape should they need to. Zoro and Niji are at opposite sides of the room after seemingly having an unspoken agreement to keep things quiet after their fight. Bepo looked nervously left and right between them.

Law

I was only gone for an hour….

The tone of Law’s voice sends chills up the Heart Pirates’ spines.

Law turns abruptly and looks at Bepo face to face.

The polar bear freaks and screams. He jumps back to hide behind Sanji, who is the next victim of Law’s hard stare.

Law

I come back… to find everyone tipsy drunk… and my kitchen in disarray….

Sanji

Don’t look at me! I haven’t stepped foot in here since breakfast!

There was a moment of silence. Law takes a step forward. Bepo visibly shakes from fear.

Zoro

It was me.

Everyone turns to the swordsman who’s currently busy digging into his ear with his pinky. Niji watches him straight-faced.

Zoro flicks the dirt from his finger, crosses his arms then looks at Law properly.

Zoro

I tried to make Pina Colada for Curls.

All eyes bore on him. Some looked at him in confusion, some started snickering and Bepo felt relieved to not need to confess anything to his captain. Niji huffs quietly, looking away.

Sanji scans the room, trying to picture the scene that unfolded.

Sanji

Oh, Mellorine…. This is not how you make a drink….

Zoro is banned from the kitchen from that day on.

----------

I'm going through some design reiterations for the Vinsmoke helmets now that the story's more fleshed out and I have a better idea of how they serve the story. I'm thinking, if Sanji's is making them them and his siblings have a say about the heavy things, they'd actually put some effort in making it look cool, and potentially add some extra mods on them. The new designs are meant to really show that Sanji respects and trusts them as his best and highest ranking officers.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Forgotten and the Remembered

Gates Of Hell

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, amnesia, the usual monsters, angst ofc, the biggest warning is that this isn't proof-read bc if I didn't release this soon then I was gonna start tweaking

[A/N: Writer's block is currently kicking my ass but I REFUSE to be beaten!! Posting at 3am!! No one can stop me!!]

The Forgotten and the Remembered

“Can I be the first to say that I seriously hate this apocalypse?”

Eddie shoves the dead demodog off of his torso with a groan, a small and grateful nod directed to Steve for killing it before he was literally dog meat.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re the first.” Steve says, offering a hand and pulling him to his feet.

“Ugh, we can braid each other’s hair later, let’s get moving.”

Excluding Billy’s childish remark, Steve had to agree with his urgency; it was getting pretty dark already and if they didn’t speed up their footsteps, they would never make it to the Radio Shack.

The mission was as simple as it could be, drawn out on an out-of-date map with no contingency plans if it all went wrong. Which, as Steve goes over it all in his head, was a terrible mistake. When has anything ever gone smoothly for him?

They needed to get to the Radio Shack for nightfall, grab a spare walkie and contact their respective groups to alert their survival. Steve wondered if they'd be happy to hear his voice. After all, his absence was probably a relief considering how suffocating he had been lately.

Next, they were to trail around the outskirts of the centre, hopefully avoiding bigger hives of monsters on the streets. Eddie stated that getting to the edge of the mall was vital to the final part of the plan.

And, finally, the crucial part: Eddie will guide them to the delivery bay and lead them straight to the supplies. In and out. It should be simple.

If they even made it there, that is.

“I still don’t get why you don’t just leave, man.” Eddie reiterates for the thousandth time since leaving the camp. Steve’s head was starting to ache with the constant pestering.

“Because we can’t.” Steve sighs, rubbing his temple. Up ahead, he caught the subtle shake of Billy’s shoulders, indicating that he was very much amused with Steve’s distress.

Asshole, Steve thinks as he rolls his shoulder. The last demodog attack forced his swing too hard, leaving a dull ache that did not help his discomfort at all. No sleep, migraines, and now a bruised shoulder. It wasn’t his day, that’s for sure.

“But you have the perfect opportunity-”

“Can we talk about something else?” Steve suddenly snaps, not in any malicious intent but it came out more stressed than he wanted. “Please.”

Eddie sounds a low whistle, widening his eyes. “Sure, man, my bad.”

“Thank you.”

To the joy of his thrumming headache, Eddie was quiet after that. Rather than speak, he quietly kicked around a small stone, sometimes humming a strange tune. Steve felt a little guilty, but maybe silence was what they needed right now.

It didn’t last as long as he hoped.

“Who else is here?” Eddie questions just as they pass the abandoned Steelworks building. Steve always found the place to be a little creepy.

“Like our group?”

“Yeah. I realised I never asked and I think it would be nice to know who I’m risking my life for.”

“Well, there’s us, obviously.” He runs a hand through his hair, spotting the old inn in the distance. They were getting closer. “Then there’s a bunch of kids. Six of ‘em. And a girl from high school. Nancy’s there, too.”

“She the one dating the Byers’ kid now?” Eddie asks innocently enough, assessing Steve’s reaction. “Is he there too?”

“Uh…”

A pained gasp hits the air like a sobering thought, stilling his aching body. It didn’t belong to him.

In his silence, Billy throws a look over his shoulder and clears his throat.

“Not anymore.” He says, and Steve swallows the thick lump in his throat. Eddie merely nods, choosing not to pester further.

“No. No, his, uh, his mom is, though. And his brother.” He nods himself back into the confidence to have this conversation, smiling to hide his hurt. “There’s a fair amount of us, I guess. Hopper takes care of them, though. Kinda his thing.”

"Hopper? As in Chief Hopper?"

"The very same."

His eyes flicker with distaste. Steve can only assume Eddie and the chief hadn’t gotten along over the past few years, especially with the whole drug-dealing career Eddie found himself in. 

"Who, uh, who else is with you guys?"

"No, that's pretty much it." Steve frowns at the way Eddie's usually animated features suddenly drop, clearing his throat. "Why? Are you also looking for someone?"

"Uh, no, nothing like that- Wait… also?" Eddie's eyes narrow when he pulls Steve to a stop, leaning in so Billy doesn't overhear them. "I'm sorry, are you telling me that you've dragged me out here because you're looking for someone? What happened to the whole 'we're dying and need help' situation?!"

"Okay, firstly," Steve yanks his arm back, a small mumble of an apology flowing from Eddie's lips in return, "I'm not technically telling you anything, but yes. I- we are looking for someone. And secondly- dos -  we do need supplies. Without them, we can't find the person we're looking for. Now you might be upset with me for that but I didn't ask you to come out here. You led us all on your own, so maybe you should be thinking about why you seem so desperate to get away from that camp instead of blaming me for it."

Steve clears his throat, taken aback by his own words.

A small exhale of breath escapes Eddie's lungs, his mouth snapping shut. He wore a look of guilt, one Steve has borrowed and made all throughout his life. For a single moment, a slither of regret binds knots around his stomach. But it merely lasts that, a moment; he doesn't have time to care for others feelings when he still hasn't found you.

“Steve!” Nancy shouts, but what else could he do? He wasn’t fast enough to stop this.

His eyes fly shut once the dagger is closer than comfort, awaiting the painful stretch of metal into his flesh. Unfortunately for someone else, he didn’t have to.

A pained gasp hits the air like a sobering thought, stilling his aching body. It didn’t belong to him. It belonged to Jonathan.

Nancy starts to scream as blood pours from his mouth, his legs losing their power and stumbling him back into a hoard of shapeshifters. Steve watches as they grab at him, pulling at his clothes. They throw a hand over his mouth and drag him away, looking satisfied in their assault.

And there it was again. Even with his shifted morals, the guilt kept returning, embracing him like a mother would their child. Or, at least, he assumes a mother would. His negligence of other people's feelings seem to be almost as identical to that of his parents, and it was far deadlier in this apocalypse.

"Whatever." Eddie grumbles, snapping him out of his haze of self-hatred. "We've got about another 20 minutes so let's speed this up, yeah?"

He charged ahead, leaving Steve behind to stand in contemplation before he begrudgingly followed. Steve sighs. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

“Hello? Can anyone hear us?”

“Is anyone there?”

“I repeat, is anyone there?”

Your knuckles were white with the grasp you had on the microphone, throat tightening with every communication you tried. It had been a couple of minutes, and there hasn’t been a single response.

Once you and Jonathan had navigated the maze of hallways, you had been quick to usher him inside the comms room and lock the door behind you, ensuring at least some kind of security in your mission. Jonathan had assured you he could send out a signal to your friends, and you had immediately began your search for an exit using the camera system Brenner had set up in here. The only problem was that you couldn’t see an exit, and no one was responding to your call.

“It’s Y/n. Y/n Hopper. I’m here with Jonathan Byers. Can anyone hear us?” You try again, sharing a look with the boy currently fixated on the radio system. “We’re stuck in a bunker, and we need help. Over.”

The device eventually rests back on the table’s surface, along with your hope of a response.

“I thought you said they were monitoring the stations?” You ask Jonathan as he fiddles with various dials.

“They are.” He says with determination, shaking his head at the machine. “Dustin basically built on some radio extension, they should be able to hear us. Maybe it’s a problem with-”

His voice falters as he peers behind the table, momentarily ducking down. “I found the problem.”

Before you can ask, he sits back up with a frayed wire in his hand and a frown on his face.

“Shit.” You breathe and he can only nod, inspecting it with disdain.

“Looks like someone tampered with it.” He sighs, leaning back in the chair. “Can we guess who?”

“Probably the same person who removed any trace of a door from the camera feeds.” You say, resting your head in your hand as you continue to click through the screens in front of you.

You had seen what felt like a million hallways and rooms, an unnecessary amount of security in a deserted bunker, but not one single way out of here. It was starting to mess with your brain, wondering if there was even an exit at all.

“Maybe he knew we were gonna escape? You know, just ruined the radio and removed the camera on the front door so we couldn’t leave.” You offer, resisting the repetitive click of the mouse by pushing away from the desk and resting your hands between your thighs.

“How would he know that?” Jonathan frowns, looking lost in thought. “He’s crafty, I’ll give him that. He’s supposed to be dead so I guess nothing can surprise me now.”

You slowly nod along to his words, not really retaining anything here or there. Jonathan explained to you who Brenner was just moments prior to accepting defeat with the technology surrounding you. It turns out he wasn’t a complete stranger after all; Hopper had been hunting him down for years. But there was only so much Jonathan could tell you about him.

You still didn’t know why he took you here in the first place. Or why Jonathan was locked up in a random room with medical equipment.

While Jonathan continues to mutter about the possibilities of escaping, your eyes catch a series of tapes lined across shelves, noticing that very few are marked with a subject.

“What do they say?” You point above him, cutting off his spiel about seeing if there was a weapons room.

“Uh…” Jonathan abandons his seat and peers at the shelf, tilting his head to read the tapes. “There are a couple that say ‘Lab’. Another says ‘Experiment 8’... this one is creepy. It just says, ‘I saw you’.”

A chill runs down your spine as his eyes meet yours with matching concern. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Play it.” You say with more confidence than you expected. 

Jonathan doesn’t object, slipping the tape into the player and watching the screen brighten with the image of a furnished room.

“What’s this?” He frowns, looking to you for some sort of answer. Your face had dropped, eyes glued to the screen.

“No.” You whisper, watching yesterday play out in front of you for the second time.

The camera feed suggested it was hidden in a vent closer to the ceiling, metal lines obstructing some view, but the subject was still clear as day. You watched as Owens talked to you on the couch, holding your breath. Even in a grainy exposure, you could still see the fear on his face.

“What’s happening?” Jonathan asks quietly just as Owens ushers you to the closet.

“He’s saving me.” You state and Brenner walks into the room. From this angle, you can see the gun he’s hiding behind his back, and it makes your stomach churn.

“What…” Jonathan’s question cuts off with the flash of a bullet, a gasp leaving his lips as Owens falls to the ground and lays in a pool of his own blood. “He killed him.”

If the screen weren’t so big, you would’ve missed the way Brenner turns his head to the vent, eyes staring directly into the camera. He doesn’t smile, or speak. He just stares. Like he knew.

Because he always knew.

“There aren’t meant to be any cameras in there.” You say, shaking your head. “He- he knew Owens was telling me everything, he knew I saw what he did.”

“So why didn’t he kill you too?” Jonathan asks the million dollar question. Why didn’t he kill you too?

“Play the other ones.” You nod. “We have to figure out what he knows.”

The tapes didn’t relax your anxiety. You and Jonathan watched three before you felt like you could throw up if you continued.

Each one was a different shot of the Hawkins lab, following the lives of your dad, the kids, everyone. There wasn’t any sound, but it was pretty clear what each person was doing; patrols, planning. He had been watching all of you this entire time.

“There’s more.” Jonathan says, pulling out notebooks from one of the drawers he had curiously opened while you were flicking through tapes. “He’s been writing about us.”

You flick through a couple of pages, frowning. The writing was messy and cursive, detailing different notes about conspiracies, almost all about Hopper and his whereabouts. “Why? Why does he care what we’re doing?”

“Maybe he doesn’t like that we’re trying to find a way to close these gates.”

“What possible reason does he have to keep them open?” You ask just as you discard another book, laying your eyes on the last in the pile.

This notebook was eerily familiar to you. It seemed worn, a couple scratches and stains. They were almost comforting, especially in a stark clean place like this.

You turn the first page and fall into realisation, observing the scrawl of handwriting that fell from your own fingertips. It was your notebook.

It contained information about monsters; their strengths and weaknesses. Like you had been observing them for a while, not that you could remember. And it contained a small diary entry every few pages. Nothing seemed of importance, mostly details about feeling ill or wanting to go home. But one word was scribbled across these pages with such care, catching your eye with every letter.

The most important piece to the puzzle.

"Steve." You manage to whisper out before turning to the screen with haste when you hear your own voice muttering through the screen. This video had audio.

“When was this?” Jonathan asks, and you look closer.

You and a boy are standing at a railing, staring out of a giant glass window with one of the gates staring back at you. Steve. You were with Steve.

“I don’t remember.” You frown, trying to listen to yourself.

“… I’m glad I got to see the real Steve Harrington, even if it was just a few days, but… but that’s not enough time to really know each other. You don’t know me.”

“Looks like the day the lab exploded.”

Everything around you was either burnt or burning, small flames dancing along the ground and chasing after screeching vines.

The lab had exploded, you realise, shoulders dropping. It was gone. And it took the gate with it, only a large crack against the surface left in its demise.

You turn to see Steve already standing beside you, taking in the scene just as you had, his hard stare softening into defeat. There was no going back.

“What now?” You whisper, afraid if you say it any louder the realisation of what you had done would come crashing down, taking away that last remaining piece of sanity with its tide.

“I…” Steve frowns, slowly meeting your eyes. He didn’t have a plan this time, no positives to share. You were both stuck in an alternate dimension, your exit blown to smithereens. “I don’t know.”

“How the hell did I forget that?” Your hands find a tighter grip on your notebook, pulling it closer. “I… I should have remembered.”

Jonathan offers a sympathetic smile. “Y/n, you’ve been missing for weeks. If Brenner’s been feeding you those pills this entire time… it’s gonna take a while for you to remember everything.”

But I should have remembered him.

The way Steve smiled, or how he fiddled with his hair when he was nervous. Each mole painting his skin, or the way he’d huff when he was upset in the most adorable way. The way he’d hold your hand, the sweetness and care behind every kiss. It should have been easy to remember, because your heart never truly forgot.

Your eyes drift up to the screen, watching as Steve leans closer to you. The strain on your heart was loosening with the memory of him, but your stomach tightened with guilt. He would never have forgotten you.

“They don’t need me, Steve.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t.” You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “You’ve been doing this shit long before I was ever in the picture. If anything, I’ve just ruined it-”

“Why do you do that?” He cuts you off, flickering between your eyes with a look of concern. “Act like you aren’t someone important, when you most definitely are.”

“Y/n?” Jonathan brings his chair closer, ensuring a respectable boundary between you two.

You almost turn back to him in defeat when you find yourself staring at the red beam of light behind you and Steve. Reaching forward, you click the mouse and pause the video, leaning closer. The gate was glowing a crimson fog onto the window, eerily beautiful despite its dangerous contents. But, most importantly, you remember that glow post-amnesia. In the room you met Owens.

“Oh my god.” You breathe out, leaning back into your chair to let the dread flood your body.

“What is it?” Jonathan glances between you and the screen, peering closer at the image as if he could use it to read your mind.

“It’s not a door.” You state with a whisper, repeating it louder when you realise he can’t understand you. “It’s not a door. Our exit. It’s a gate.”

You grab the mouse and start flicking back through the live camera feeds, rapidly searching for evidence of your claims until the image presents itself, eliciting a gasp from the boy beside you.

The room you had encountered Owens in for the first time was exactly as you remembered it. Small machines lined the walls and shutters blocked out what you assume to be a large window to your exit. The camera quality wasn’t the best, but it didn’t need to be perfect to see the red light peeking out from the cracks.

“Does this mean what I think it does?” Jonathan asks, arm leaning on the desk beside you as he peers over your shoulder, holding his breath until you answer.

“Yep.” You slowly nod, meeting his eyes. “We’re not just in a bunker.”

“We’re in the Upside Down.”

Almost as soon as the terrifying truth breathed from Jonathan’s mouth, a shrill screech of sirens started to echo around you, startling you out of your seat.

Brenner knew you were escaping.

“Shit, time to go.” Jonathan gasps, spinning around and spotting an old satchel under the desk. He quickly grabs it and starts shoving in evidence; notebooks, tapes, even an old recording device Brenner had left on the shelf.

Before you leave, you ensure your notebook is a part of the collection before unlocking the door and throwing it open to reveal the flashing white and red hallway of your nightmares.

“Which way?!” Jonathan yells over the alarm and you grab his arm, tugging him left into a sprinted run, racing against the clock.

But it didn’t matter how fast you ran. You couldn't outrun time.

Darkness fell over Hawkins like an omen, plunging everything into a deep, dark, black.

The red hues of the clouds above would cast a bloody visage on the buildings whenever lightning should clash, but no thunder followed in its wake. This weather wasn’t normal. It was silent, and it was very, very deadly.

Hiding after dark was the only solution in a world like this now. Unfortunately, sanctuary was getting harder and harder to find. Steve, Billy, and Eddie, learnt that the hard way.

“I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but, uh…” Eddie’s finger waved to the ceiling, gulping.

The problem with the ceiling? There wasn’t one.

“Shit.” Billy runs a hand down his face. “Something ripped that roof clean off.”

“Maybe we should head next door?” Eddie offers, but he knew any suggestions were useless. It was pitch black and Steve was pretty sure the windows of the building opposite were smashed into pieces.

“We can set up a camp.” Steve nods slowly, looking around the store. A couple of shelf stands were still upright. Maybe if they set up their tents behind them, it’ll shield them from anything in the sky. He could shudder at the thought of something flying around right now, but it wouldn’t surprise him.

And it wasn’t necessarily a shock to him that the roof was gone. He’s constantly reminded of the giant shadow you had seen a while back, a fear in your eye he couldn’t ignore. The worst part was that Steve hadn’t seen it around lately, and that made it so much more terrifying. It suggested that this thing only appeared when it mattered.

So why target the Radio Shack?

Billy was the one to start on the tents, while Steve gathered some old wood from broken tables to throw in a pile. Eddie watches them with uncertainty, uncomfortable with how calm they seemed to be. He knew they’ve probably been through a lot, they all have, but they move with such confidence in a situation that would definitely have him spiralling if he was in charge.

“You sure these radios are gonna work?” He tries to keep himself busy as Steve looks over, nodding.

“Yeah. Not those ones, but I brought one with me. It’s battery powered so I just need any packs we can find around here. And it’s always been a pretty good spot for connections. You know, since it’s a radio store and all.” He assures, pulling out some flint he may or may not have snagged from Eddie’s camp. The boy either didn’t mind or took no notice of it, still fiddling with the radios. “Hey.”

Steve carefully takes the radio from his hand, checking the battery. It definitely needed replacing, and he held it while he assessed the situation. There were more radios scattered about, at least one of them had to have the power he needed. 

“We’ll need to contact them in the morning.” He finally says, responding to Eddie’s wide eyes of disapproval. “Look, we don’t know why but radios are practically useless when it’s dark. Maybe it’s something to do with the clouds, I don’t know. But we also don’t want any of those things out there hearing us. Especially since we don’t have a roof over our head.”

He gently places it back down on the counter, sighing.

“I say we make a small fire. Just enough to keep us warm. And we’ll block out the windows so nothing can look in.”

“What about…” Eddie points to the ceiling, eyebrows raised.

“We can risk it.” Billy finally joins them, looking up at the sky just as a burst of red illuminated the clouds. “Nothing’s seeing us from up there.”

“How can you be so sure?” Eddie asks.

Billy doesn’t respond. Instead, he swipes the flint from Steve’s hand and starts work on the campfire, avoiding their eyes.

Steve has never known Billy to be normal. Not even close. He was an egomaniac, emphasis on the maniac, with an array of anger issues and, frankly, terrible judgement. I mean, this guy saw Lucas Sinclair as a threat, and Steve knew there could be only one reason why Lucas of all the boys was targeted.

And yet, even with all his horrible traits, Steve hasn’t known Billy to act this… weird. He was quieter, motivated, and, above all else, somewhat selfless? He didn’t have to volunteer for this trip. He certainly didn’t have to stay when the plan went awry, and considering the military were moving people out, Billy has every opportunity to leave them behind.

Something was just off. And he couldn’t figure out why.

“So, I know you don’t want to talk about it…” Eddie says after a while, the fire set and his back resting against an old wall. Steve looks over before his breath hitches in his throat.

You sat there once. It was back in the Upside Down, but it reminded him of you all the same. Eddie had that same look of defeat on his face, a cool determination still resting behind his eyes like he was still trying to fight. Just like you did.

God, he missed you so fucking much.

“Why is this person you’re looking for so important?” Eddie finishes and Billy’s eyes briefly flicker to Steve’s, the truth weighing heavy on his tongue.

“Because she is.” Steve replies simply, rubbing his hands together as the cold air creeps between the flames. “And she’s incredibly important to all of us.”

“Why?”

“She just is.”

Eddie tightens his lips, slowly nodding. Even as Steve avoids his eyes, his gaze is hard set on the side of his head, reading him like a book. He could almost feel the thoughts radiating from Eddie’s head.

"You're searching for Y/n, aren't you?"

Everything is suddenly too silent. Even Billy tensed up a little, pausing his efforts to pry open a tin of beans they’d packed back at the camp.

Steve isn't sure how to respond. He wasn't expecting Eddie to make such an accurate guess, especially considering your reputation in high school; Steve risking his life for you wouldn't ever cross someone's mind if they had not witnessed your change in relationship.

Unless it wasn't a guess at all.

"How do you know that?"

Eddie suddenly looks sheepish, eyes darting to the ground. "I, uh... I heard... I heard something."

"Heard something?"

"Your radio." Eddie sighs, still avoiding the boy's glare. "Back at the camp. You were asleep and I was on watch that night. I thought I heard a voice- her voice. It was coming from the radio in your bag. But when I tried to respond, nothing went through so I figured I had made it up..."

"You heard her." Steve blinks, shoulders tensing. "You heard her?!"

"Woah, dude, calm down." Eddie jumps from his seat, hands surrendering. "I was gonna look into it when we got here, try and send out another signal."

"Why wouldn't you tell me?!"

"Because last I heard you guys hated each other! How was I meant to know you're friends now?! I've been stuck on the other side of town for weeks now trying to help my uncle, I don't have time to catch up on the latest King Steve gossip!"

"Stop calling me that."

"My bad, would you prefer ‘freak’?"

"Fucking hell, will the both of you just shut the fuck up?" Billy groans, discarding the tin of beans and looking at them in disbelief. "You guys keep arguing over and over and unless one of you is gonna man up and beat the shit out of the other one, I'm sick of your whining."

Steve blinks. Billy Hargrove was the one telling them that their anger issues were the problem? Considering Eddie's similar expression, he wasn't the only one who realised how insane that sounded. Which only meant Billy was right; they really were a problem.

"Ah." Billy grins sarcastically, leaning back against the shelves, "Music to my ears."

"Whatever." Eddie coughs, snagging the radio from the counter and marching away before anyone could protest, mumbling about trying to find another battery.

"What is his problem?" Steve muttered to himself, not quietly enough to avoid Billy's coarse chuckle. "What?"

"Maybe the dude is worked up because we won't tell him a single thing about anything." He offers, eyes plastered the last remaining flickers of ember in the campfire. "We haven't told him about the Upside Down, forgot to mention anything about the gates of hell that we're trying to track. And now you're neglecting to tell him about how Y/n is trapped in another dimension and needs our help. Dude is gonna be pissed."

"Why does he care?" Steve asks, barely any venom in his words. He was just tired. More tired than he usually gets. Maybe he should have taken the opportunity to sleep when the tents were set up.

"About the Upside Down?" Billy cocks a brow, sending a knowing look. "Or Y/n?"

Steve straightens at the way he said it, shifting uncomfortably at the idea he was alluding to something he wasn't aware of.

"Both..." Steve says with uncertainty.

Billy smirks, almost hidden under the growing shade of nightfall. 

"I'm pretty sure his uncle is dying and he doesn't know how to stop it."

Dread and guilt bubble into their own brew in Steve's stomach, tightening his throat. "How the hell would you know that?"

"By using these things people call eyes."

"Alright, don't-"

"And because you've both been so busy avoiding the truth around each other that I've been noticing things you've both forgotten to hide. His uncle is clearly the most resourceful of all of them back at the camp and yet he's the only one who stays behind to 'keep watch'. Eddie always keeps things private from him like he's tryna protect him. And I'm pretty sure that Heather girl is in on it, too. She was training to be a lifeguard before Hawkins went to shit and is probably the only one with first aid experience. Tommy and Chrissy however have no clue since they're clearly traumatised about what happened to them on ‘day one’."

Steve is speechless to say the least, the darkness shedding a whole new light on his perception of the boy next to him.

"You got all that from just looking?"

"You can notice shit a whole lot better when you become an afterthought." He replies, a quiet anger in his eyes. "Y/n taught me that."

Steve tried to ignore it, but he couldn't help fixating on that last little comment. An afterthought. That's how you've felt this entire time. From realising you had been lied to for two years to assuming your father had left without you, Steve never truly appreciated how alone you must have felt, predicting people's departures before they'd ever arrived. 

"And the reason Eddie should know about what's happening to Y/n is the same reason we're out here right now risking our damn lives." Billy's eyes drift to where Eddie was fiddling the radio now, whispering into the speaker with a false sense of hope. "He cares about her."

"I didn't even know they were friends." Steve sighs, sitting down in defeat. Another migraine began to form behind his eyes. Jesus, he could use some painkillers right now.

"Me neither." Billy shrugs, and Steve looks at him quizzically. "What? Just because I'm observant doesn't mean I'm a fucking psychic. I only moved here last year, remember?"

"Trying to forget." Steve comments, but there was no malice. In fact, if Steve squinted, he could just see the making of a smirk lifting the corner of Billy's lips.

They could never be friends. But that didn't mean they had to hate each other forever.

You taught him that.

The persistent sounds of a warning system were the last thing you needed in such a hasty situation. It was hard enough to recall the layout of a white-walled maze without the constant interference of a building headache, barely remembering to grab onto Jonathan’s arm anytime you made a sudden sharp turn.

Time was running against you now. One wrong turn and it could all be over.

“We’re almost there!” You say aloud, but it wasn’t to ease Jonathan’s mind. 

You recognised the increasing door numbers around you, reminiscent of the days you would wander around this place and only have to worry about your memory.

It seemed that the closer to the gate you were, the quieter the alarms became. Maybe the power was malfunctioning. After all, electricity didn’t exist in the Upside Down. Brenner must be powering it with some external source and the security system had to be using up all that energy rapidly.

“It’s just down-”

As you pull Jonathan around another corner, attempting to lead him to the gate, someone blocks the hallway, gun in his unnaturally steady hand.

The both of you stop dead in your tracks, locking eyes with your captor.

“I can’t let you leave.” Brenner says, unwavering. “My work isn’t complete.”

You shake your head, slowly raising your hands in surrender. “What work?”

He doesn’t answer, but you don’t expect him to, especially not when he looked like that.

Eyes bloodshot and white hair messy, Brenner looked like he had been fighting. There were no bruises or blood as evidence, but his demeanour was wilder than you’ve ever known it to be. He was always collected, calm, unusually so. And right now, he didn’t look like himself.

“I… I can’t let you leave.” His voice trembles this time, alongside a slight tremor in his hand.

Beside you, you can feel Jonathan move closer. He’s obviously preparing for the worst, hoping you both can run before the bullet reaches you.

“You don’t understand!” Brenner yells this time, taking two harsh steps closer to you. You flinch, but he doesn’t pull the trigger. “I can’t- I can’t let him have her.”

That caught you by surprise, your hands slowly lowering back down to your sides. “Who…”

“I could have done great things. I would have.” He begins laughing to himself now, a crazed shell of himself echoing into the hallway. “But she is more important.”

Slowly, his hand lowers, gun pointed at the floor. He starts to stare into the distance, an unsettling smile dropping to a defeated expression. You exchange a look with Jonathan, unsure how to approach him. Brenner was clearly out of his mind and was blocking the only way out.

“Brenner?” You whisper out, taking a tentative step forward much to Jonathan’s immediate distress.

“What are you-”

You shrug him off, tilting your head to hopefully catch Brenner’s eye. You always had a sixth sense about people, about if they were truly good or evil. And right now, you saw a man that needed help. He wasn’t okay, and you hoped that your instincts were right.

“Dr?” You try again, and this time, he looks up.

“I’m sorry.” He says as he meets your eyes, his own glittering with silent tears. “I truly am sorry.”

“Just let us go.” You plead with a comforting voice, holding out your hands. “We’ll forget all about this. You- you need help. We can… we can get help.”

“You can’t leave.” He frowns, face suddenly hardening to stone.

“Y/n…” Jonathan warns, stepping closer to you, but it was too late.

Brenner raises the gun, straightening his stance and pointing it directly at your chest. “I can’t let him win.”

Him? You question, eyes glued to the weapon. You notice the flicker of his index finger on the trigger, and you wish you hadn’t. It meant you were about to die.

Or, at least, someone was.

Before any bullets could leave the barrel, something big lunges out from the darkness and pounces onto Brenner, the gun firing into the wall beside your head.

Brenner yells out in pain as the monster raises its ugly claw, striking down. A scream almost leaves your lips before Jonathan is taking the opportunity to escape, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the horrifying miracle.

You find yourself unable to decide if leaving Brenner was making you feel guilty or not. And you didn’t have time to. Jonathan leads you straight to the red hue seeping from behind one of the doors, throwing it open and tugging you inside with haste.

“How do we-” 

He begins to ask how to open the shutters, but you’ve already launched yourself towards the door on the far end of the room, following the faint hum that has haunted your dreams since day one. He joins you almost as quickly as you left him, standing beside you in the open doorway and staring in at the room that follows.

“Jesus…” He whispers, the gate smaller than the one at the lab but big enough to have him wondering. “We’ve been searching for a gate for weeks. And it’s been here the whole time? How did we miss this?”

The taunting sound of heavy footsteps call out from behind you, something big hitting the door with malicious intent.

Both of you jump inside the room, tipping over a metal unit to block the door before you make a run for it, the shelves you destroyed scraping against the floor as the monster attempts to break in.

As your footsteps echo loudly against the silver steps leading to the gate, the unsettling wave of familiarity plagues you for the last time inside this bunker.

A lab, a gate, a boy. Time was repeating itself, over and over, making you question if your actions ever meant anything at all. You always ended back here, back in a life or death deal with only one realistic option left for survival; run.

You almost slip, but Jonathan manages to catch you, a terrifying crash sounding from the door.

As Jonathan takes your hand in his, the cool skin feels unusual against yours. Your body was aching for some kind of warmth this boy didn't have, reminiscent of a safe grasp.

You didn’t realise what was wrong until you were being pulled through the gate with a gasp, senses thrown off balance as you barely escaped the claws of a close death.

Jonathan’s hand didn't bring the same comfort you’ve yearned for all this time.

He wasn't Steve.

No one really appreciates a roof over their head until they don’t have it anymore.

There was the blinding light of sun peeking through the grey clouds and a horrible sensation of something clinging to his arm when he woke, causing Steve to groan in despair. He barely got any sleep last night, and now he’ll probably be up for another 20 hours. Life sucked right now.

Steve peels his arm away from the lining of the tent, frowning. It felt wet. Why was it wet?

Crawling out of his pop-up quarters, ignoring how uncool he must look right now, Steve’s heart drops as his hand slips into a puddle. It rained. It rained.

“Shit.” He spits, scrambling to his feet and letting his eyes fall across the store.

Any and all electronic equipment was now soaked and useless.

“Shit!” He says, louder this time. His hands were pressed against the top of his head as he paced.

“What’s going on?” Eddie yawns, stepping out of the second tent with much more grace than Steve had earlier. But he couldn’t dwell on that, right now. “Damn. When did it rain?”

“The batteries.” Steve gasped, rushing over to the counter. 

Any radios left were drowned, leaving no promise of what he desperately needed. His hands fumble with the battery compartments, a little piece of his soul chipping away as each battery led in their own pools of rain.

“Steve?”

Eddie’s voice wasn’t a priority. His hands were shaking. He was stuck here, just like in the Upside Down. Just like you. And now he-

“Steve!”

His eyes finally snap up to see his saving grace.

Eddie stood with a radio in one hand, pointing to it with the other. “It’s fine. I found a battery and shoved it into my tent when we turned in last night. And it works, too.”

“Oh, thank god.” Steve sighs, releasing all his anxious energy back into the air.

“You sleep okay, man? You don’t look so good.”

“Yeah, I- I’m okay.” He rubs his eyes, sucking in the fresh air. Well, as fresh as it could be in an apocalypse. “Where’s Billy?”

“Uh…” Eddie takes a quick look around before deciding on a shrug.

“Great.” Steve sighs, rolling his shoulder. There was still a dull ache resting there, flaming whenever he moved his left arm. “I’ll start getting us packed up, you try and contact your camp.”

Eddie didn’t seem all too convinced by his false display of wellness. “You sure you’re-”

“I’m fine.” Steve offers a tight-lipped smile, already taking down the tents with haste that suggested he really wasn’t in the mood to talk about how miserable he was right now. “See if anything else survived. We’ll need some spare batteries for when we’re out of the mall. Just in case.”

“Cool. Back-ups. I like it.” Eddie nods, mostly to himself since Steve had already left his side.

Steve’s hands immediately find solace in disassembling the tents, grateful to be busy. He wasn’t sure what was making him so cranky. Usually it would be from another nightmare he couldn’t control, images of your virus-stricken form weaving into his deepest fears. He didn’t dream last night, but he wasn’t even sure he slept at all.

It was like there was a small nagging pinch of a dagger resting at the back of his mind, occasionally piercing him but mostly leaving a dull ache in his brain. It was almost torture, and he wasn’t sure what was causing it. No sleep, no water or food, could remove it no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe it was all the pressure finally taking its toll on him. The apocalypse wasn’t resting easy on anyone’s mind, but after losing you and leading Jonathan straight to his demise, it was certainly heavy.

Maybe it was something else entirely. Something he missed. He’d been feeling it since that day in the motel basement, where you sacrificed all you had left to make sure he was saved. But he had nothing more than a blackout and a painful memory to evidence his growing fatigue.

One thing was for sure; his only cure right now would be you.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice calls out from the other side of the shelves, making Steve pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something staring at me.”

Steve pauses all movement, eyes widening. His heartbeat raises quicker than usual, a trail of goosebumps straightening the hairs on his arms.

“Is this the demogorgon you were talking about?” He asks, and Steve slowly makes his way back through the store, attempting to catch a glimpse of the window.

“Tall, grey, faceless?” Steve recalls, taking slow steps. He can just see his bat resting near one of the deflated tents, calling to him. The sun above made everything impossible to see, pu

re light reflecting on the window.

“No. It’s, uh…”

When Eddie’s words falter, Steve makes a quick and crucial decision. He steps to his bat and swipes it off the ground, turning to see the boy fully now. Eddie’s face had fallen, fists clenched.

“What?” Steve frowns, afraid to look behind him at the glass pane.

“It’s grinning at me.”

Heart sinking into his stomach, Steve can’t seem to find the words to warn Eddie before glass shatters the earth behind him, a sharp ringing in his ear. It cuts his voice with a sliced gasp through the air as something pulls him backwards until he hits the ground hard.

He didn’t get a moment to recover. A large clawed hand found its way around his throat, pinning him to the ground.

As he chokes for breath, Steve finds himself staring up at the eerie image of a jagged smile, dead eyes glaring down at him with enough malice to turn his body cold. But Steve wasn’t the target. After all, that thing didn’t smile at him.

Pressure relieves his neck and he’s no longer the prey.

“Eddie-” He gasps, trying to sit up when the grinning monster leaves his side. “Run.”

“Shit!” Eddie has no objections as he snatches the radio from the counter and takes off in the opposite direction. And, just as Steve assumed, the monster followed.

A burst of pain seeped from his shoulder and along his spine, a hiss leaving Steve’s lips as he forced himself to stand. Various cuts from shards of glass littered his hands but that would have to wait.

“Billy!” He yells out, eyes struggling to focus around him. 

He doesn’t understand why it didn’t just kill him when it had the chance, but there wasn’t much time to debate it. Billy had the only weapon sure enough to take this thing out with a single blow to the head, and he was nowhere to be seen.

A cry echoes from inside the Radio Shack and Steve’s hand instinctively finds his bat. I guess I’ll have to do this the hard way, he thinks as he rushes to the noise, his only plan resting on the pure adrenaline of fear.

He appeared just in time to watch Eddie’s feet dangle above the ground, his hands scrambling to tear at the thick skin of the monster’s grip around his neck. Steve ignores the pain in his shoulder to lift the bat above his head and swipe it down onto the back of its head with as much force as he could muster.

It screeches, dropping Eddie to snap its head around to where Steve stood, panting. The bat was laced with droplets of blood, but his attack didn’t cause the damage he had hoped for.

Claws swiped at his face, causing him to jump back and stumble directly into old wooden shelves. They collapse into a heap behind him and he loses his footing.

His bat rolls from his grip and his eyes widen just as the smirk of his worst fears approaches him. It only seems to get bigger, the disproportionate body towering over him. It grinned the same way it had at Eddie. He was next.

“Hey!”

The sickening smile still rested on its face as it turned to the intrusion, keen on finding something to rip apart. Steve felt despair for a moment, closed in with a pile of wooden rubble at his feet.

He shouldn’t have doubted Eddie’s fighting spirit.

An ear-splitting scream left the creature’s jagged mouth when Eddie’s spear slotted perfectly into one of its eyes, black blood pouring out from the back of its head as it wobbled from left to right.

Steve manages to scurry out of the way just in time for the monster to collapse into the heap, a stomach-churning squelch of the spear being pushed further into the head with the impact.

“Smile about that, asshole.” Eddie quips, still shaking with fear.

Steve’s wide eyes turn into lights of approval, a trembling laugh erupting from his mouth. “Holy shit.”

Eddie only nods, adjusting his bandana. “Holy shit.”

“You just killed that thing with a spear.” Steve says in bewilderment, still chuckling, but none of it was funny. It was just easier this way, to find the humour in a situation that was very much deadly a few seconds ago.

“I played a lot of DnD.” He replies earnestly, balling his hands into fists. Steve could tell he was trying to pretend it was nothing, to brush it off. “That was… that was the first thing I’ve ever killed.”

“Really?” Steve frowns, brushing the dust from his hands. He was pretty much sitting in a puddle right now, but he wasn’t sure he could stand. Adrenaline wore off pretty quickly. “Well, uh… congrats, I guess.”

“Thanks.”

Steve had a lot of experience battling monsters from the Upside Down. Although, he wasn’t necessarily an expert per say. The normal baseline for experience with these things would be absolutely zero considering they aren’t meant to exist. But he knew the first time facing the reality of a life and death situation was scarring. He also knew Eddie should count himself lucky; not everyone could stand their ground.

Sometimes people run away before they learn that courage.

“Are we sure it's dead?” Eddie asks, peering down at it. Before Steve can reply, the answer presents itself instead.

The thing twitched, clawed hand shooting out to grab onto Eddie’s leg. Bat resting further than Steve would have hoped, he scrambles for a new weapon, hands rooting around the dirty ground for a rock heavy enough to cause some damage.

Luckily for him, he didn’t need to search long.

A heavy shot pierces the air and the next thing he knows, Eddie is splattered with the monster’s blood, the tight grip on his ankle faltering until the thing goes limp and it falls with a single bullet between the eyes.

“Holy shit.” Eddie exhales, looking up with an anxious smile, “That was close.”

Steve can only nod in exasperation, pushing himself from the ground for the fourth time today and dusting his hands free of gravel.

He turns to look for Billy’s smug face, expecting the drawl of condescending remarks to fall upon his ear. He was sorely mistaken.

One glance at the dead monster and he sees it; one tiny, clean, bullet hole. Not from a shotgun.

“Can’t you go anywhere without me?”

“... Nancy?”

Nancy Wheeler stands with her trusted gun pointed at the ground, a relieved smile painting her lips. She was wearing different clothes than the last time he saw her, a new jacket he recognised straight from Jonathan’s wardrobe. She had a satchel resting across her body, but that wasn’t her only accessory.

Behind her, Robin Buckley stood with arms folded, a radio strapped to her hip and paired with a taser on the other side. She didn’t smile, but Steve wasn’t at all surprised. She’d made it pretty clear she wasn’t a fan of his since your disappearance.

The only surprise was the fact they were both here.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He finally asks, posture depleting with exasperation.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Nancy says, retiring her gun back to her belt. “Where have you guys been? We’ve been trying to radio-”

Her voice cuts out when she notices Eddie stood there awkwardly.

“Uh, hi.” He offers a wave, and she merely nods back. “I’m Eddie.”

“Munson?” She frowns, looking between him and Steve before focusing on the latter. “When did-”

“It’s a long story.” He sighs.

“Not really.”

Billy finally rejoins the group, the shotgun they had desperately needed a minute ago looped onto his shoulder. His shoes were muddy, hair a little damp from what Steve assumes to be the early rain.

“We got stranded at the library and ran into some other survivors. We camped out with them and then Munson offered to take us to the last place with supplies and, well, here we are.” Billy recalls, folding his arms. “Not a long story.”

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Everyone turns to Steve in surprise. His voice was bitter, a bite in his eye that suggested he wasn’t in the mood to be messed with.

“Took a walk.” Billy says, stoic expression faltering slightly when he finally clocks the dead monster on the ground. “Ah.”

“Ah?” Steve repeats, walking over to him. “Ah? We almost died because you took our only solid weapon on a walk, and all you can say is ‘ah’?!”

“Chill out, it’s dead, isn’t it?” Billy straightens, undefeated by Steve’s dangerous gaze. “Obviously you didn’t need me.”

“I can’t believe you-”

“Woah, okay.” Nancy steps forward, hand guiding Steve away from Billy with an ounce of pressure on his shoulder and he winces. “Sorry. Let’s just… calm down. We can fight about this later, but right now we have bigger things to worry about.”

“She’s right.” Robin speaks up for the first time, tilting her head. “We have a lead.”

“A lead on what?” Steve frowns, stalking away from Billy and cradling his shoulder. It definitely got worse after the attack.

“Y/n.”

If his heart could jump from his chest and strangle him, he’s sure it would have done it just then, throat tightening with a thick set of emotion. “What… what about her?”

“We heard her.” Nancy smiles, nodding feverously. “We picked up a signal yesterday. It was definitely Y/n. She’s- she’s alive. And she’s not alone.”

“Who…”

“Jonathan.” She laughs this time. Complete and utter joy slipping from her lips, a light he definitely hadn’t seen in some time.

Steve can only shake his head. “Wait, but that’s- how could he-”

“I don’t know.” Nancy steps closer, ensuring that he was only focused on what she had to say and not the disbelief running through his thoughts. “But we definitely heard her right. She and Jonathan were saying they were stuck somewhere. We- we lost the signal before we heard anything else, but it’s them. They’re alive, Steve. I know it.”

Confliction rolled around Steve’s stomach until it made him sick. He had so many concerns about this supposed signal, but mostly he was afraid that steering off course for a hopeful miracle would ruin everything. If the signal was wrong, if you and Jonathan weren’t there… then what?

“We’re heading to the new mall. Eddie says there’s enough supplies there to last us another month at least. I can’t- we can’t leave without it.”

“You’re not gonna believe it,” Nancy shakes her head in bewilderment, struck with relief of their luck, “But Hopper managed to track the signal.”

Billy unfolds his arms and Eddie stops slumping. Nancy doesn’t have to finish her words, but she does anyway, letting that hope solidify with a heavy promise.

“They’re in Starcourt already.”

[A/N: the next chapter is coming whenever I'm not rethinking my entire life after three years of university just to end up in a retail job, i hate it here. but ily guys for still reading]

@sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .

@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady . @pansexualhoor .

@kitdjarin1 . @chiliwhore . @carolineesnell .

[unbelenting]

"Never Give Annabelle A Gun" commentary :-)

I was there for the premiere, so this is my SECOND watch-through! I have lots of thoughts on it that I wanna share, because I had SO much fun, but I don't wanna spam. So I decided to compile them into a post like I've seen other people do!

Obviously, spoilers ahead!! And let's get to it YEEHAWWWW!!!

Immediately adored Butch and she remained my favourite character over the course of the play. One of the very few messages I sent my friends after the premiere started:

2. "I was wondering if she wanted to come out" surprisingly didn't turn into a gay joke, but like. I can't be the only one who was thinking about it.

3. "Looking at dresses and findin' ourselves husbands" is rapidly entering my lexicon. It's like a version of "and they were roommates" and "2 bros chillin in a hot tub" but imbued with SFTH greatness. Also real.

4. I love their little gestures and facial expressions, this isn't exclusive to a certain play, but it stood out to me for Annabelle since she doesn't get to talk much at first. They can be so funny and - perhaps more importantly - they make the characters feel so REAL!<333

5. When I got to this part I was genuinely expecting a wolf to show up later in the story. Dinosaur-wielding-guns style.

6. Good thing these are stereotypical /j/ lesbians and not stereotypical bisexuals. Imagine getting triggered every time they pull out the finger guns! Good lord!

-sincerely, a stereotypical bisexual

7. Has anyone been keeping track of how many times Sam's played a bartender on camera? Typecast by fate.

8. Wait... Omg I didn't make this connection. I'm sure a million ppl have already. DANNY the BARTENDER? In the next town over from Death For A Dollar? IS THIS THE SAME DANNY ONLY OLDER????? We've got a "keyboard" guy as well.... I am looking intently.

9. LOVE the helium bit. I especially enjoyed seeing Tom struggle to keep up (and adapting). I also just missed Sam and AJ's Miss Piggy, and well. This is close enough!

10. SING-J!!!!!!!! <3333

11. This fucking screenshot

12. Is this Heathers?

13. Can we get a Tom Mayo "HOOWEE" counter as well? (love it) (second to Ayoyoyoy)

14. I get what Sam was cooking with that one line but it's very funny. Especially after he'd asked "Who else's eyes would you have been watching with?" earlier.

15. He KNOWS he killed that. ("You can see the lights")

16. I hate them (they're my entire world now)

17. Ah yes, real Sam in the livestreams from home, whenever he starts telling family stories and whatnot <3

18. I know we later find out WHY they do bank robberies, but Annabelle also seems genuinely INTO IT and I love her for that. Butch too ofc. Hell yeah girls you're killing it!!

19. AJ's timing with the singing is impeccable every time. So fucking funny. Catch me singing "woooooman with the guuuuuun" for the foreseeable future.

20. I finally get to watch the others in this bank robbery scene lollll. Love Butch tossing that gun over to Annabelle, they're so cute and so cool together. I can't form any coherent thoughts other than YEAHHHHHHHH!

21. The manager twirling after seeing Butch's spinny motion lmaooooo. Also wait, they got DIAMONDS?! Yeah I don't think those 5 dollars are gonna be a problem anymore..

22. AJ inserting a Cinderella element into the story reminded me of him seemingly not recognizing a Beauty And The Beast reference in another video... Also the whole "wolf" thing from earlier, I thought he was gonna make this into a fairytale story to bring that back late into the show or something! No I didn't particularly want that, I was just genuinely convinced it'd happen :-)))

23. "Mama was the same" took me out, 10/10.

24. Her face after the dad says "And y'know, you hang out with Butch an awful lot, and Butch..." AWGHHHH

25. "It's just 'she' daddy" "Oh well, give it time" was SOOOO realllllll. She'll get there if (when) she does <3

26. Love her silly ass

27. The "every time I try to tell her how I feel, what comes out instead is [..]" is sooo goodddd. I just love how ridiculous that is, this entire story couldn't have happened if Annabelle wasn't weird like that.

28. "Oh I'm still wearing [the mask]" reminds me of Mystery of the Midnight Circus lol

29. "Ohh myy godd I'm with a lunaticcc... a musical lunatic.." I love you Butch.

30. I wanna know who this guy is and what happens to him after the villain's dead. Silly

31. "Flirting vs. sexual harrassment" meme. If you've seen Cinderella's Castle, yes we all had deja vu. I don't like the Prince getting excited off of Ella's shoe, but Butch can do it alllllll she wants because DAMMIT, can't a lesbian goofball be a little freak sometimes?? Good for them.

32. "I've been waiting my whole life to find that woman" sir, the robbery happened just a few weeks ago--

33. "Fine, I'll tell you.. Just.... come closer" KILLED MEEEEEE. I love you Butch x2

34. "eh x28" I love you Butch x3 she's so. wueuee

35. I know Tom clarified in the QnA, but I also never would've thought there was a pig CARRYING the helium, so I didn't get his shock at the "pumping helium out of the pig" bit. Is it messed up? Absolutely. But I thought that's what he wanted!!! He said "a pig full of helium!!" Also, Luke ONCE AGAIN being the animal AND the animal handler.

36. "I was just reminding myself who I am so that I remember who I am" and "I'm gonna sit in my chair, which is right here where I left it" might've been the most quoted lines for me if I was still at the peak of my psychosis and dissociation issues........ but thankfully that's not the case! lol (tho I can still appreciate&use it, like some of the stuff in I Killed The Mockingbird <3)

37. Was the piano guy picking at his bellybutton. Hey

38. The scene of Henry trying to persuade (and then force) Annabelle to be with him was genuinely super eerie, both on account of Luke and AJ's acting and how realistic it felt (in my experience at least, not to generalize). The tension, the quiet, the shift from "an excuse to slide into conversation" to intimidation, the slow bubbling rage from both of them. Like damn okay! Really making me want this guy dead if I didn't already! Henry and Henry should NOT be on speaking terms............. Um on a more lighthearted note, how the hell did Henry fit that shoe on top of Annabelle's shoes? Or did she go to Butch's place with one shoe still missing? I can see her walking around barefoot, countryside style, but it's funnier to imagine he's in so deep that he thinks it "fits perfectly" even with her other shoes forcibly stuffed into it.

39. Laughed so hard... And Tom's reaction :-)))))

40. "YOU WANT A GIRL WITH A GUN??" from Butch was AWESOME. Like yeah okay it'd be cool if she WAS the target of his affection, but it's a million times better considering the actual circumstances. So badass, the video description wasn't lying. I love you Butch (again)

41. Awesome lesbian couple vs evil and intimidating foot

42. "As best frieeeendsss..." Butch don't piss me off now. I say knowing damn well I've done the same thing.

43. BEST KISS EVER (hyperbole) (but it's immediately entered my favourites DID YOU SEE THAT CUTOFF??? THEN THE FANCY DO-OVER????? HELLOOOOOOOOOOO i love them so muchhhhh.... d'awwwwwww...)

44. That joke from Sam was honestly perfect (sorry Butch). Really tied it all up nicely.

45. I need to explode. their stupid little hand-holding... Also, Butch looks like SHE might explode as WELL. REAL

46. The tippy toes from Annabelle as well :-((((( I hate themmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

...Aaand with that, we're done. I had an absolutely lovely time and I'm sure I'll yap about this longform in the future, but I just needed to get all of THIS out. Typing this post (and rewatching) took me like an hour so it's time to go to bed.... after looking at everybody's posts as well. I'm so happy!!! I love them! I love this! I HAVE to draw them. I keep saying that but I'LL GET THERE I SWEAR TO GOD!!

Edit before I go to sleep: I would also like to add that my internal monologue now has a southern accent. This has not happened before (aside from me switching between english and romanian randomly) and I have no idea how long it'll last. But okay.

[jeankluv]

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 21

words: 3,9k

summary:While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths. Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you.

warning this chapter: injuries, hospital, abusive behavior

tags:modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

notes: hi, I’m even embarrassed of posting after so long but I’m sooooo busy and I don’t find time to write. Also I said Birdie was going to last till chapter 30 but tbh I think it will reach at least chapter 25, we are in the final part of the story for Satoru and Birdie. The final part of this chapter and the next one are going to be somehow the breaking point for the story. I don’t want to extend the story bc it would feel repetitive and I don’t want to add drama to this story bc it was never my intention with this one, this one was more like a college romcom.

jujutsu Kaisen materialist | ao3

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

“So are you sure you won’t be able to go?” Kyoko asked you.

“Yeah…” You said leaving the books on the table. “Haibara’s sister can’t go, she is getting ready for her college exams and Haibara has the match.” You shrugged. “I told Satoru and even though he is a bit sad, he says that once the summer breaks begins he will make sure to spend time together.”

“Is he taking you somewhere?” Kyoko smiled. 

“He doesn’t want to tell me, but I think he is planning something with Suguru…” You looked at her, closing your eyes a little bit. “So tell me… what do you know?”

“I don’t know much, but I saw on Suguru’s phone something about Okinawa.” She smiled. “Have you been to Okinawa?”

“No, but it’s beautiful, right?” 

“So beautiful.” She smiled. “Ah! If they are taking us there I might actually pass away, this would be our first trip together as couples.” 

“And also for the two of us together.” You pointed out. 

“It’s true! I’m so excited!” She said with a big smile. “I’m so happy for us.” She said in a nostalgic tone. “I’m so happy to see you opening more, and to see this romantic side of you.” She said. 

You rolled your eyes. “You are just exaggerating things.” 

“Not at all.” She smiled. “And I will see it right now, look who is coming.” 

Your head turned and you saw Satoru coming to where you two were.

“There is…” Kyoko said. “That light that you get when you see him.”

“Kyoko shhh…” You said embarrassed.

Satoru then sat next to you, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, making you flushed.

“So cute.” Kyoko said with a mocking tone.

“Enough!” You said back.

“But she is right, you are so cute.” Satoru said. “Suguru is not…”

“I know, he is busy. But it’s okay because I’m enjoying seeing my best friend all embarrassed.”

You rolled your eyes as you shook your head. “And why are we still best friends?”

“Whatever…now Satoru why don’t you tell us about Okinawa?” Kyoko narrowed her eyes as she looked closely to Satoru.

“What about Okinawa?!” His voice came out a bit pitchy, it was clear he knew.

“Yeah…” This time you spoke. “Tell us.”

“I don’t know what you two are talking about!” He stood up. “Let’s go, you need to work.” He said leaving both our you there laughing.

“We will have to look out for bikinis.” Kyoko joked.

“I will see you at home.” You waved at her goodbye as you started to walk towards Satoru.

As usual the ride to your work was filled with laughter and new conversations between the both of you, sometimes you wished those rides could last longer because you wanted to know more about Satoru, hear him laugh all the time. Just simply spend time with him. 

Maybe Kyoko was right, maybe you were losing it due to how in love you were.

“Thank you for taking me to work.” You said taking your bag.

“You are my girlfriend, it’s what I should do.” He said.

“Yeah, but there is no need ‘Toru…” You responded.

“Whatever, I know tomorrow you won’t be there.” He looked to the back seats, searching for something. “And it makes me sad, because I wanted to see you with this and I wanted everyone to see you wearing it, but here you have it.” He gave you a bag.

“What is this?” You said with a small smile on your lips and looking at him. “Oh! Satoru!” 

“It has my name on it.” He smiled proudly.

“But I won’t be there.” You said, with a sad smile and touching his name on the shirt.

“It doesn’t matter, I want you to have it.” He said. “You can always wear it while you are working. That way everyone knows who is your favorite player.”

You smiled, ready to tease him. “Then, you got the wrong name.” 

“Huh?” 

“It should say Nanami here.” You tried not to burst into laughter as you watched his expression.

“Oh birdie, don’t tease me or else, you will be late for work.” He grabbed your chin and looked at you with desire.

You smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I will make sure to wear it.” 

“Okay.” He then kissed your lips. “I will see you.” You hummed in response. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” You said leaving the car and waving at him goodbye. 

You watched as Satoru disappeared in his car down that street. Tomorrow was a big day for him and the entire team. You couldn't be there to support him physically, but you hoped that wearing his shirt during the game while you worked would serve as a lucky charm.

Satoru Gojo POV

Satoru moved his arms as he warmed up. There were about 15 minutes left before the match started. Normally he didn't get nervous, but at that moment Satoru felt something strange. Something that had been bothering him since that morning.

His phone vibrated on his pocket, making him drop his arms to the side and taking the phone out.

A smile appeared on Satoru’s face as soon as he read the notification that popped out on his screen.

It was just two words and one emoji, but it was enough to make him happy and for that strange sensation to disappear from his check. 

“Good luck 🫶”

He stayed staring at that screen for quite some time, finally your classes were ending next week. The project he fight so much to get paired with you, was due on Wednesday and after that you were both free from your classes until the next course, the last one. 

You still needed to work during the summer, but Satoru had everything planned, he was going to make sure that was the best summer for both of you. 

With his blue eyes still locked on the screen he started typing: I wish you were here—

“How cute, the captain all flustered by someone.” Satoru stopped typing as soon as he heard that voice.

“Sukuna…” He said looking at his ex colleague standing in the door. “This is not your team’s room, leave.”

“Why? Can’t I say hi to my dear captain?” He said with a smirk. “I heard you got a girlfriend and that she is not coming today.” 

“That’s none of your business.” Satoru turned around, breaking the eye contact with Sukuna. 

“I hope that’s not a distraction for you.” He kept on talking. “I won’t hold myself up.”

“Sukuna leave…” Satoru said between his teeth. “Or you want what happened last year to happen again?”

“Don’t play silly Gojo.” Sukuna walked towards Satoru. “And don’t threaten me, I won’t be nice today.”

“Ryomen, what are you doing here?” Yaga appeared on the door.

“Oh coach!” Sukuna acted surprised. “Just wishing Gojo good luck for today’s match.” He smiled, as if he was innocent. “Anyways, I will leave you alone, see you in a few minutes Gojo.” 

With that Sukuna disappeared from the room, leaving Satoru and Yaga alone. “Gojo…”

“Nothing, you know Sukuna, he only came here to bother me.” Satoru said. “He is still mad about what happened last year.”

“You know it was not your fault Sukuna was kicked out right?” Yaga said, approaching him.

“Doesn’t matter anymore, now there is a match to win. It’s the end of the season, remember coach?” He smiled passing by Yaga’s side. 

Before Satoru knew it, the clock had started ticking and the sound of shoes, hair and the screams of the fans filled his ears.

Satoru moved fluidly around the court, leading his teammates and setting up plays with precision. His blue eyes always following the ball. The pace of the game was intense, each possession feeling like a battle as the score went up point by point. 

But Sukuna was relentless. Every time Satoru touched the ball, Sukuna was there, pressing hard on defense, Satoru had noticed how his eyes sparkled with mischief and some darkness in them. But Satoru remained composed and continued with the game, keeping his cool even as Sukuna’s taunts echoed around him. 

“Are you sure you’re focused, captain?” Sukuna taunted as they collided mid-game, their shoulders colliding with a force that made the crowd gasp. “Or are you too distracted thinking about your kitty?” Sukuna laughed mockingly. 

Satoru didn’t answer, instead he headed for the basket, evading Sukuna and scoring a perfect shot. The crowd erupted into an uproar and his teammates cheered, clapping him on the back, but he could still feel Sukuna’s gaze on him. Satoru couldn’t hide his anger, his fists and jaw clenched, as he remembered how Sukuna had referred to you. 

During a timeout, Suguru pulled Satoru aside, his voice low but firm. “Don’t let it go to your head. This is just another game. Focus on your game plan, not Sukuna.”

Satoru nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m fine, Suguru…” But he wasn’t, he could feel the familiar spark of rivalry growing. A part of him knew that Sukuna was trying to distract him, but another part, one he couldn't ignore, was determined to show Sukuna that he couldn't be defeated. 

As the final quarter began, the game was very evenly matched. Both teams were racing with adrenaline from one side to the other, exhaustion taking over as each second passed.

But then everything shifted.

Satoru had the ball in his hand when he felt how Sukuna came running to him. Sukuna launched himself at him from the side, his shoulders slamming hard into Satoru’s ribs. 

The force of the blow was intense, unexpected, and he immediately felt blinding pain shoot through Satoru’s body. He staggered, his vision blurred, and within seconds he collapsed to the court, overcome with pain. His head hit the ground, and Satoru started to feel how everything around him began to darken and his name was being called in the distance.

Your POV

You look at the clock that was on the wall as you waited for the lady to give you the money. The match was probably over by know.

You were anxious to know the result and excited to see Satoru’s smiling face telling you they won. 

Your eyes were again on the old lady who was in front of you and who carefully was counting each penny she had on her hands to give you the payment. 

“Here you go.” The old woman said with a smile. 

You offered her a polite smile and gave her her bag with what she bought. “Thank you for coming.” 

The store was once again empty, it was just you and the sound of the machines that store the food as a distant sound. You pulled your phone out from your pocket, expecting excited messages from Satoru and from Kyoko. But you were met with a black screen, your old phone was dead, it ran out of battery without you noticing it. 

A sighed escaped from your lips as you went to the employee’s room and searched for the cable to charge your phone. 

Leaving aside the present you were going to give Satoru once he was there you carefully connected the phone and left it on the side when you heard the noise of the door opening.

Maybe it was him. He came?

You stepped outside the room, expecting to see the white hair of Satoru shining brightly under the lights of the store. But your smile quickly dropped when you saw Haibara and Nanami’s face.

Normally you would be excited but the look on their faces was telling you otherwise.

Before you could speak, Nanami spoke. “Something happened.” 

Something cold run through yourself as Nanami’s words sank on your chest. “What…?”

Haibara called out your name as he approached you. “You need to leave with Kento. I will stay here don’t worry.” 

Your mind was raising, confused and with thousand of questions popping. Nanami took your arm and without a word he guide you to his car. 

“Wait…” You said before entering. “What happened? What’s going on?”

“Hayashi didn’t send you a message?” Nanami asked.

“My phone died, it ran out of battery… doesn’t matter! Why did Kyoko send me a message? What is going on?” You exploded.

“It’s Gojo.” You knew you were losing your strength. “He had an accident during the match.” 

An accident? What?

“He is at the hospital right now…” He continued, but you could only hear him far away from you. Until he called you back. “Geto and Hayashi are there and our coach is also there. But Haibara and I came to pick you.”

“Is he… is he okay?” You trembled, scared of knowing the answer.

“I don’t know, he didn’t look good when they took him out of the match.” The air that was on your lugs once again disappeared as you listened to Nanami’s words.

“But how…? How did it happened?”

“It was a player from another team, he had problems in the past with Gojo and… he took it out today with Gojo.” Nanami explained. “He was unconscious when they took him, Geto asked as to come here for you and take you straight to the hospital.”

You nodded, shaking as every word started to process one by one in your mind. “Yeah… we should get going.”

The car ride was silent, your leg moved up and down as you felt how the suffocating knot that had formed in your stomach now settled in your body, practically leaving you without breathing. You had too many questions, but none of them came out of your lips, it was almost as if you didn't have enough strength to articulate a word.

The ride seemed endless, each second felt longer than the last. Every breath felt shallow and your mind was racing, like you were one of those Formula 1 cars, you were terrified to know its condition and completely angry towards the person who had done this to Satoru.

You felt Nanami’s eyes staring at you and then his voice echoed in the car. “We will be there soon… Captain Gojo is strong…” He whispered the last part as if he was a reminder for himself too.

You slightly nodded, still anxious and distressed. 

When you arrived you didn’t even wait for the car to stop before exiting and running towards the entrance of the emergency room. Nanami’s voice called your name but you didn’t pay attention to him, you searched for some familiar faces, you needed to know his state. See him.

The pulse in your heart went straight to your ears when you saw Kyoko and Suguru’s silhouette not far from where you were. You were afraid of getting closer and hearing what they knew. 

“Oh…” Kyoko gasped when she saw you. “You are here!” She hugged you. “I tried calling you but it said it was off.”

“My phone, it ran out of battery…” You whispered against her. “Kyoko, what…”

“He is stable now…” Suguru spoke this time, his voice was shaky. “They gave him painkillers for his rib and the contusion on the head was not serious. He will be okay.”

You nodded. “How did it happened?” You asked Suguru.

“It was an ex-team member… he… he got in a fight with Satoru last year and after that he got kicked out of the team.” Suguru explained. “And today…” 

“Is he crazy?” You said. “Hurting someone over a…”

“It’s okay…” Kyoko tried to calm you down.

“You can go in.” Suguru said. “I’m sure that he will be glad to see you once he wakes up.”

As you followed Suguru’s steps to the room where Satoru was, Kyoko never once let your hand go. Giving you the support you desperately need it. As you stood in front of the door, you opened with shaky hands and entered it. It was completely quiet and Satoru was in the hospital bed, sleep.

You felt the sensation in your stomach growing bigger as you got closer to the bed. Studying his face, you noticed how it was paler than usual, you felt a pang of sadness as you noticed that.

Satoru was always smiling, cheerful, radiant and now… he was there, in a hospital bed, unconscious. 

Your trembling fingers touched his white snowy hair. “Satoru…” You gently whispered, hoping for your nickname you used to hate so much to come out of his mouth.

But nothing happened, the only sound in the room was the monitors tracking his heart rate. You held his hand and sat next to him. 

Minutes started to pass as you kept on waiting for him to come back to you. You leaned forward, resting your head on the edge of his bed and closing your eyes to breathe in his familiar scent, calming your nerves. Despite the worry that was gnawing at you, the steady beat of his heart brought you a small comfort, a reminder that he was still there.

Last time you were in a hospital was when your grandma was about to pass away. You never liked hospitals, those white walls reminded you of back when you were little after the accident with your mother. Now you knew what happened and that dislike was only bigger. 

It was like you were always in a position where you had to see your loved ones suffering. Suguru said he was going to be okay, but despite that you were scared, scared of the possibility of losing him. 

You knew that your love was going fast but for some reason you felt like it was meant to be, that it was the type of love you would find in books, in films, in songs. 

“Satoru…” You whispered once again, squishing his hand. “Please come back, come back to me.” 

Your eyes began to grow heavy as the door softly opened, a man and a woman entering the room. Their expressions were neither warm nor eager, but reserved, almost cold. You swallowed hard as their gazes fell on you, you felt like they were analyzing you completely with those looks, they were almost telling you that you didn't deserve to be in that place. You didn't hesitate for a second to know who they were, they were Satoru's parents, but unlike Satoru, the gaze of those two people lacked warmth. Their gazes moved to stop at your hand that held Satoru's. 

The woman's eyes narrowed slightly and her lips pressed into a thin line as she watched you at her side. 

"Are you... Satoru's friend?" His mother finally asked, with a sharp tone that almost froze your blood. She barely waited for your nod before pressing her lips together even more. “I didn’t expect my son to have *guests*,” she continued, a subtle disdain in her voice. “Especially considering the kind of company he usually keeps.”

Her husband nodded slightly, giving you a subtle look. “I’m sure you’re… worried about him.” He said. “But this is a family matter. You’d better leave.”

The disdain was clear in his words, and the pain of it cut deep. Satoru’s parents clearly saw you as an outsider, someone who didn’t deserve to be here during such a crucial time. You hesitated, looking back at Satoru, unsure if you should let go of his hand. 

But the sight of him lying there, pale and vulnerable, hardened something inside you. Satoru had been there for you when you needed him most, you weren’t about to leave now, especially not when you knew of the abusive behaviors of those two people towards Satoru. 

With a calm breath, you looked up and met the icy gaze of his mother. “With all due respect, I’m not leaving. Satoru means a lot to me and I’ll be here when he wakes up.”

You held his hand a little tighter, feeling both protective and defiant. You would stay, no matter what they thought. Satoru was there because of someone else's cruelty, and you were determined to be there when he opened his eyes, to be the face that reminded him that he was loved, even if his own parents couldn't see the strength of the bond you shared.

His father laughed slightly, a laugh that could be straight from a villain. “Don’t tell me you are the real reason why our son is refusing to leave that stupid degree…”

You blinked slowly, as your mouth parted trying to talk. “What…?”

This time Satoru’s mother moved closer to you, with her arms crossed in her chest and her lips still in a thin line. “We told Satoru he should focus on the family business, think about what the family needs and he still refused and acted like a little kid. But apparently he prefers to throw that away for…” She took a lock of your hair and looked at you with those cold eyes, which although in color resembled Satoru's, everything else was completely unknown. “For someone like you.”

You felt how you were getting slapped across the face with those sharp words. “I’m sorry, but with all the respect. Satoru is his own person, who is capable of making his decisions and chooses what makes him happy. If you pay attention to him you would know he…”

Satoru’s father's laugh cut you off, leaving you muted as that laugh filled the room. “You are playing with fire, you know? Satoru has the potential to be one of the best lawyers and own the market within a few years, and position our family at the top. But you appeared and as stubborn he is now suddenly he is not listening to us. And look at him, here laying down in a hospital bed because he was probably too distracted thinking about you to pay attention to the game.”

The blood on your veins started to boil as those words hit you. “Satoru is doing what he wants, which makes him truly happy. He is not someone to bow for someone else's desires.”

“People could never understand what it means to be part of a family like ours.” This time his mother spoke. 

Your heart pounded with anger on your chest, you didn’t want to show them any weakness but it was becoming harder with each passing moment. 

“You came to the party with our son right?” His mother spoke once again. “It was not difficult for us to track you down…” Your eyes narrowed. “No family, works in a grocery store and you are on scholarship.”

“I have a family…”

“Dead…”

If you could describe what you were seeing at that moment it was red, just red. Your whole self was full of anger, your heart was racing on your chest, while you were trying to calm yourself down. 

This time Satoru’s time spoke. “You think he will thank you for this someday? For being the reason why he is wasting his potential.”

It was one after the other, one punch after another. You always felt you were a strong person, who didn’t let yourself bow down for anyone, but at that moment you were feeling like they threw you at the lions and there was nothing you could do. 

You strongly closed your eyes, trying to stop any tear that was trying to come out.

“Leave…” A voice sounded in the room and you felt how your heart started to warm again, as if was coming back to life.

— comment if you want to be tagged

🏷️: @lavender-hvze , @crybabytoru , @sanriosatoru , @norvacaine , @sadmonke , @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic , @gojoful , @kitzusune , @sh0jun , @manyno , @ropickle , @anniegojo , @milk3evee , @crunchypotatoooooooooo , @catobsessedlady , @zoeyflower , @starlostwish , @tinydonkeysforlife , @mimisq11341 , @n1vi , @olanii1019 , @vtrulvamp , @yjuisu

[thebulletsbang]

HELLO PILLARS COMMUNITY!!!

Avowed has uh uprooted (💀) my brain and now all I'm doing is drawing this guy and the fish or replaying Avowed, OR playing Pillars because like I said, I'm just in love with this world now so:

Meet my Envoy:

I haven't actually finished a drawing of him yet but this is Spyr (pronounced Spire) ! My imperial envoy whos equally dumb as he is british and your honor, he is so so fucking british 😭 (Spoiled and stuff, just a big info dump about my envoy)

Baked in trans masc energy, dog coded, and the most gay a man could be. He is an ex military ranger scout who really doesn't like bows, isn't great with guns, and in the past had to shave down his branches just to fit on a hood... Pref weapons in order are: Yapping, Wand, Grimoire, and Greatsword. He may seem like a twink but it's only because his boyfriend is a massive fish man, truthfully he's fairly broad elf who's more at home in medium armor than light.

He was elevated by the emperor and made a member of the royal court so he has history with Falscen and Lodwyn before getting sent off to the Living Lands. He goes from business only, romance is dead, long live the empire to 'Woedica is next' very quickly, too quickly, he's eager for a vacation. Hopefully on a ship with his fishy far, far from Aedyr :)

He enjoys Yatzli quite a bit, they get to yap about men and magic. Start of the game he would've told him to go do mage shit, end of the game he would've looked at Kai and been like.. You should stay with your husband and your people. I think he worries Yatzli.

Him and Giatta are so like sleepover to me, they are gossiping, they are giggling, walking ahead of the group to yap. I hate them /pos < 3 Their only real conflict comes from the fact that Spyr just isn't really a fan of animacy and def pushes for her to just do her own thing.

Marius is for sure the one Spyr struggles to get along with the most. Start of the game it's very like why are you here why are you yelling at me all the time to feeling for him but overall I still think they're the most distant especially after Spyr decides he just truly doesn't have time to help save or ruin the Keep. I think post game they'd stay sorta close but more so for Kai's sake than anything.

He goes from curious and eager to help Sapadal, to weary, and back to all in that's my god we're freeing them. Sapadal ends up getting the statue and I imagine before Spyr and Kai take off that Spyr and Sap spend a lot of time talking about things Sap is learning.

Spyr's own little hobbies include cartography, calligraphy, drawing runes/spells/that sorta thing, and fashion but only vaguely. He doesn't really express it ever but uh yk he really doesn't have an issue with killing things. He is also like I said, ex Aedyran military so he enjoys banter and sometimes can say things that are a lil outta pocket, he's just a wittle scary.

Even post game where I don't think he'd be very loyal or proud of Aedyr anymore it's hard to shake that purple color scheme in my mind, I think he'd keep wearing a lot of purple just with less imperial intent.

He has a playlist

I will be drawing him a lot more so idk this is just where I'm at right now, I love him, I love Avowed. I started playing poe1 and immediately made an aumaua only to be tossed Aloth so I guess we're doing SpyrKai round two

[dairymistress05]

My thoughts on the Luke and gf situation. It’s long so bear with me. Also, I want to preface this by saying that this is my opinion, because I don’t know them personally my opinion and many others that have been posting about it doesn’t actually matter in the end.

With everything that has happened in the last several days, I wanted to reflect and discuss my thoughts. First, 2 things that are baffling to me.

1. Why is it so difficult for people to separate the art from the artist?

2. Why do people think their opinion is important to the discussion?

Believe it or not the only people that are allowed to have an opinion in Luke’s relationship, are those who are directly involved

I honestly can’t believe the amount of people that I am seeing saying things like this ruined the show or makes you not believe anything. They’ve been telling us all along, he and Nicola that they were just friends. Do I have an opinion as to why I may not believe that that’s completely true? Sure. Does my opinion matter matter at all? No. This is the thing, it’s unbelievable that people think they can go on the Internet and bash this person because they decided to live a life different from what they projected in their head. Para social relationships with celebrities are fascinating. Also, the internet is forever.

Tom Holland once said “if you have a problem with me, text me, and if you don’t have my number, you don’t know me well enough to have a problem with me.” And I think that’s a perfect example of why this is getting so out of hand. No one on the Internet posting their icks now knows Luke well enough to have a problem with him.

As a 38-year-old married woman myself, I haven’t been convinced there wasn’t anything going on as they are extremely touchy-feely friends. However, there were rumours about a girlfriend and then when the photos came out well then I guess that confirms it. Do I think that’s the end of it, No, but again my opinion doesn’t matter. But there are also several factors why even if Luke and Nicola were interested in each other why they would hold off. Their work relationship being paramount among those reasons.

As for the photos, as an outside observer who has seen Nicola help him through his anxiety this press tour I don’t feel that was a hard launch. He seems extremely uncomfortable in those photos. His body language is off if it was an intentional launch on his part. He’s walking ahead, even the handholding seems awkward. However, the girlfriend unfortunately looks extremely smug, smiling directly into the cameras. I am personally inclined to believe that it was her or a friend of hers who called it in because he doesn’t seem prepared to be photographed. I’m not sure what to think about their relationship as of yet but these photos don’t portray a lot of confidence. Also, the age difference seems like it could become an issue but the thing I would worry about becoming an issue is the social media presence mismatch that is pretty obvious. Sorry, even if I was a dancer I would not want to be posting some of those videos, as I said, the internet is forever.

Lastly, the only other person whose opinion maybe matters is Nicola herself and she has come out to post several times all in defence of him and his character. She is obviously seeing all of the hate online and saying hey guys stop it. I like him. He’s nice. He’s my friend. Quit being mean. And I’ve seen some people say that it’s all Nicola and he doesn’t reciprocate when she’s posting about him and blah blah blah I disagree and here’s why the other day on his IG stories, and I can’t believe no one is talking about this, he posted a photo of a scene from episode 6 to remind people that it’s now streaming and maybe I’m reading too much into it, but the photo he posted he is exactly when Colin is telling Penelope “I won’t let her ruin our night“. (Photo attached) Who is her? I don’t know. But I also don’t think that things on social media are coincidence, especially if you’re a celebrity posting because they know that everybody over everything. And then I also found it quite interesting that he posted on his stories the speech he gives Portia about proposing out of love nothing less and that’s where the real cut off. So again, I think it’s intentional to show appreciation for his friend.

Some final thoughts, I definitely feel like there is a strong connection there whether it’s just friendship or not. I think a lot of people posting online are putting a lot of the owners on him, but what if Nicola didn’t want to date someone that is so much younger than her? What if she doesn’t wanna date at all right now? What if they agreed that? Although there’s a strong connection work relationship is more important right now because of future seasons of the show? We don’t know them. We don’t know the situation and act like you’re devastated about two people that you don’t know not in a relationship seems rather silly.

The only thing I would worry about in this whole situation, is if this relationship with the girlfriend will sour the friendship. Like if it was her who called the paparazzi will she still be comfortable with her boyfriend being in this type of public friendship with Nicola? I sincerely hope so because they seem to have something special even if it is just platonic best friends. Their close friendship is part of the reason Polin works so well on screen.

Anyway, agree or disagree, just my two cents.

I would love to know your thoughts.

[yukishirostar]

So people are talking about a post in the Zolu tag by a certain tumblr user in regards to their issues with Zolu as a ship. They shall be unnamed because i dont wish to bring attention to them and instead just want to focus on their arguments because they're not the first people to make some of these points and so this is also an opportunity for me to talk about these things (a tweet is going around on Twitter containing these screenshots with the username so you can find it there if you need to anyway).

The way this person dismisses the relationship between Zoro and Luffy as a result of needing to pair gay Zoro with someone is too laughable, they must be very fit in order to be able to do these mental gymnastics. I believe that many people who are going on about the Zolu scenes in the OPLA were already Zolu shippers who were familiar with the original story and are enjoying the moments because they were well, really good Zolu moments? And there is actually, shockingly, many good Zolu moments in the original story too which is why many people ship them. Wild, I know.

Then there's 'straight-washed Sanji'. Equally if not more of a bizarre thing to believe. I might make some people mad especially the Sanji stans out there who constantly insist on the 'repressed queer' narrative with his character, but Sanji is written pretty explicitly to be seen as a cisgender and heterosexual character. The way you say with your whole chest that Luffy is 'canonically' aroace but don't acknowledge that Sanji is 'canonically' cishet is beyond hypocritical. If you believe Sanji looking like a 'misogynistic straight man' is different from the way he is written in canon then maybe you should go back and reread/rewatch series with your eyes open this time. If you wish to headcanon him with the frankly offensive repressed bisexual/transgender cliché then go ahead, but that is clearly not the intention Oda has with his character.

There's also the fact that aroace people can uh. Be in relationships. Get married. Have children. Did it occur to you that many people who ship Zolu ship them as an ace couple or-

First thing I want to say here, as a trans man who is 'mlm', can other dudes stop with this idea that women or fem-aligned individuals enjoying homosexual relationships between two men is inherently fetishising or that as a masc-aligned individual your enjoyment of a ship is morally superior in some way. Stop pulling out your 'mlm/ transmasc / cis gay' card in order to justify why your ship is superior. Its cringe af.

But if we are to insist that 'cishet female gaze fetishising mlm' is going on then ironically Zosan fits that the better than any ship in the fandom. It being by far the most popular mlm ship means there is likely a higher proportion of people who identify as cishet women who ship it. Its also the classic 'two men who dislike/hate eachother and have a toxic relationship but hot sexual tension' slash/yaoi stereotype. Majority of Zosan I've come across is depicting Zoro as the masculine male man in the relationship while Sanji the effeminate twink that Sanji stans project themselves onto and they go crazy for the bickering that is apparently reminiscent to them of a toxic heterosexual marriage. Meanwhile every Zolu/Luzo shipper I've interacted with has been some flavour of queer and Zolu is closest to the 'falling in love with your same sex bestie' narrative that the majority if not every non-heterosexual person has experienced at least once in their lifetime. This is just my personal view of course, but I think noting a difference in perspective on this topic is interesting and reveals that at the end of the day this is totally subjective and based purely on anecdotes.

Also it's just a very weird point here that apparently OP has 'plenty of varied queer rep' (it actually doesn't have that many canonical queer characters in relation to its cast size but anyway) and other media doesn't so shipping aroace characters in gay relationships is valid in those but not in One Piece … HUH???? So you're saying if One Piece had 'less' queer rep, then Zolu would be fine to ship? Idek my brain hurts.

"I have black friends so I'll speak for the black community and get offended for them" (btw this person then proceeded to block aroace people who had issues with their depiction of aroace people).

Also if we're talking canonical depictions, the only thing Zoro has been canonically depicted as is also aroace, equally if not moreso than Luffy. So by your own rules, you can't ship a cishet (sanji) with an aroace (zoro), therefore Zosan is now invalid. Stop erasing Zoro's aroace identity bigot.

'Categorically wrong' makes me laugh. I don't ship Zoro and Nami but like, people can ship what they want to??

'The general public is aware enough of gay people and how to spot them these days' uh... firstly this sounds very homophobic. Secondly the general public (cishet ppl) are famously bad at recognising queerness even when its in flashing lights before them. Thirdly you make it sound like Zoro was going around on roller skates and booty shorts listening to YMCA and Madonna in the show. I do agree he was gay-coded but it was mostly because he had sexual tension with every man he interacted with, not for the strange reasons you pointed out...

Its kinda the elephant in the room too but like. These are just headcanons. You can have multiple headcanons and interpretations of a character's sexuality. I can see Zoro as aroace virgin one day and a gay h*e the next. I'm actually allowed, legally, to do that.

The way they think shipping Zolu is harmful to aroace representation when BOTH characters are closest to being canonically aroace than anything yet ship Zosan, label being anti-Zolu as some kind of pro-ace activism, and then proceeded to block aroace people for criticising their incorrect depiction of what being aroace is...

This was a lot of words to say that you don't like a ship. Just say you don't like it, and it gets in the way of the ship you like, instead of writing a virtue signalling essay to justify your reasoning. Please.

They had some more to say on future posts I'll just pick my favourite bits

They really have this narrative that Zolu is only popular because of OPLA and can't fathom that its just a popular ship in general and always has been huh. And they couldn't make it more obvious that they're totally salty about it ranking in the top 100 most popular tumblr ships, lmao.

Your classic case of 'self-identifying ally who speaks over the people they are supposed allies of'. Its a general rule that you feel the need to declare yourself an ally you're probably not an ally, actual allies know they need to just shut up and do the work. Saying 'this character's aroace' and 'I have aroace friends' actually isn't what allyship is, thats just accepting that ace people exist which is like... the baseline.

Calling a wholesome loving ship like Zolu an icky ship is a severe consequence of online brain (this person is 26 years old btw)