#I know the whole brand switching is confusing

[wurmholz]

Because it's a thing that pops up multiple times and I'm pedantic.

White Wolf publishing doesn't exist anymore and hasn't for a good while. V5 is made by Paradox.

For context: In 2006 White Wolf publishing has been merged with CCP. WW would handle traditional publishing while CCP would deal with some mmo stuff they wanted to do.

At one point in 2011 a shit ton of employees were laid off and the creative director then went off to create onyx path publishing which published White Wolf stuff on CCP's (and now Paradox) behalf.

In 2014 more staff was laid off and the mmo was canceled. Then Paradox bought White Wolf. Since 2018 White Wolf has been restructured directly into Paradox and hence doesn't exist.

Update: As off 2025 'World of darkness' rebrands to 'White Wolf' and handles its licensing and publishing for transmedia properties.

[kxsagi]

hello , I know your inbox says you don't write for unhealthy habits, but I wasn't sure if that includes comfort too. if so, I'm so sorry and please ignore this <\3. if not, could I request comfort for reader where the blue lock characters realise that the reader doesn't eat alot, and them gradually helping them start eating more. rin, ness, kaiser and nagi would be great, thank you.

“𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥”

a/n: nooo this request is absolutely okay!!!

also side note: guys i have a pretty fat crush on this guy, but i don’t want to crush on him. help me lock in

ft. itoshi rin, ness alexis, kaiser michael, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, mikage reo, shidou ryusei

itoshi rin

you didn’t think anything of skipping breakfast until you sat across rin for the third day in a row with just a bottle of water while he had a rice bowl, a side of miso soup, and a protein shake. 

“... that all you’re having?” he mutters, not even looking up from his chopsticks. 

you blink, confused. “yeah? i’m not really hungry in the mornings.” 

he doesn’t say anything else, but the next day, a separate portion of his bento is pushed toward you without a word. 

“rin, this is yours–” “you didn’t make anything, right? just eat it. it’s got egg and spinach and protein.” you cave in. 

then you catch him sending texts like “she didn’t eat lunch again. do i just throw a granola bar at her or what” to isagi, who’s like “rin that’s not how this works.” 

he isn’t great with gentle encouragement, so he switches tactics: brings you small portions of things you do like – cut fruit, rice crackers, your favorite brand of onigiri. 

rin acts like it’s not a big deal, but his ears turn pink whenever you say thank you. 

eventually, when you finish a meal beside him without needing a reminder, he says “... good. keep doing that.” 

(you pretend you don’t notice him smiling a little at your empty bowl.) 

ness alexis

ness is so overly sweet about it. like, you eat a tiny amount at lunch and he’s already dramatically gasping. “mon dieu, are you dieting?!” 

you laugh it off, saying you’re just not used to eating a lot. and that’s when his whole inner nurse/therapist/mom friend mode kicks in. 

next day he shows up with a pastel lunchbox. “i made something cute for you! it’s just some little sandwiches and fruit. nothing scary, i promise!” 

he makes everything look tiny and aesthetic like a pinterest picnic: mini croissants, strawberry slices shaped like hearts, cherry tomatoes with little toothpick flags. 

and you do eat it. because it’s pretty. and he watches you with the widest grin like a proud cat bringing you a leaf. 

ness doesn’t pressure you. he just keeps saying “i like when you eat with me!” and pouting when you don’t. 

sometimes he pretends to be hurt. “if you don’t eat this, i’ll cry.” “nessie baby–” “with tears.” 

you end up eating just to shut him up (and he knows it works). 

but when you start requesting seconds, his whole face lights up. “look at you! my baby’s growing up!” 

you punch him in the arm. but also, yeah. his soft encouragements really did help. 

kaiser michael

kaiser noticed immediately. he’s observant in a very “i will analyze you and use it to flirt later” kind of way. 

first time he saw you eating a single granola bar for lunch he raised an eyebrow. “that your diet? modeling for a toothbrush commercial or something?” 

you roll your eyes, “i’m just not hungry, okay?” 

he doesn’t bring it up again, but the next day, he orders double his usual and pushes half of it toward you. 

“you can thank me later, mein schatz.” 

kaiser makes it casual, but you notice the pattern: he starts inviting you out more. brunch, late-night dinner, ice cream after games. 

he doesn’t make you eat, but you’re always like “… fine” and start nibbling until half the bowl is gone. 

“huh. so you can eat.” “shut up.” 

eventually he just makes food a thing you do together. 

he starts cooking more often (“it’s nothing fancy, but it beats starvation”) and boasts when you eat seconds. 

“oh? look who’s licking their plate clean. should i open a restaurant or are you just that into me?” 

he also makes offhand jokes like “can’t have my girl fainting on me, i’m too pretty for the nurse’s office.” 

but you see the way he always checks that you’re eating enough. 

kaiser’s loud and dramatic, but the way he cares? it’s quiet and constant. 

nagi seishiro

nagi… didn’t really notice at first. because he forgets to eat sometimes, too. but the first time you sit beside him during a meal and just pick at your food, he blinks. 

“you don’t like it?” “no, i’m just not really hungry.” 

he goes “huh” and starts spooning some of his food onto your tray. 

“you can have mine. it’s better.” you’re like “sei, no–” “just try it. i picked this one ‘cause it looked like you’d like it.” 

he doesn’t nag you (ironically). he just casually offers bites of whatever he’s eating. if you say no, he shrugs. if you say yes, he smiles like he just got an achievement badge. 

you end up eating more just because he’s chill about it. and then he starts sharing everything. 

“i brought an extra snack.” “you want half my bread?” “here. open your mouth.” (yes. he feeds you. in public.) 

it becomes a routine. whenever you’re low on appetite, he splits whatever he has. 

and when you tell him “thank you for always feeding me,” he scratches his neck and mumbles “s’just easier when you’re okay.” 

then adds, “plus, eating’s better than passing out. too much work to catch you.” 

but you know he would, in a heartbeat. and it makes your chest feel warm. 

isagi yoichi

he doesn't catch on right away, but when he starts noticing how often you're skipping meals, he goes full worried boyfriend mode. 

“wait… that was all you had today?” you shrug. “i just didn’t feel like it.” 

he nods. silently. and you think it’s over, until he starts showing up everywhere with snacks. 

he's like a boy scout with a backpack full of granola bars, yogurt drinks, fruit gummies, rice balls. 

“hey, i got extra. wanna split it?” 

you try to say no, but isagi's weapon of choice is guiltless generosity. “i brought it for you. c’mon, you’re helping me out. i can’t eat all this.” 

sometimes he even shares from his protein shakes, which taste like bananas and chalk. “this one sucks. we’ll suffer together.” 

he reads up on nutrition for fun and starts casually sending you meal prep videos like “this looks easy, right?” 

eventually, when you eat your full lunch without being prompted, he doesn’t say anything. just gives you a gentle high five under the table. 

“proud of you,” he whispers. 

isagi never makes you feel bad. he’s just patient and supportive in that way only he can be: present, kind, and quietly celebrating every bite you take. 

itoshi sae

he doesn’t ask. doesn’t pry. just notices, quietly, that your portions are always small and your appetite’s hit or miss. 

so the next time he takes you to a café, he just… orders two things. 

“this one’s lighter,” he says. “if you want it.” you hesitate. “you don’t have to eat if you don’t want to.” 

and somehow, that makes it easier. 

sae’s incredibly low-pressure. he makes eating feel like a choice, not an obligation. 

but you also catch him sending you articles about nutrition, or randomly saying things like “you won’t have energy if you don’t fuel your body right.” 

he offers you bites of his food without asking. he orders small dishes you can graze on. he doesn’t comment when you don’t finish things, but he always quietly notes what you do finish. and starts buying more of that. 

if you say something self-deprecating like “i don’t really deserve this meal,” he gives you the look. 

“you don’t earn food. you just eat it. period.” he says it like it’s obvious. like you’re allowed to just exist and take care of yourself. 

which is exactly what you needed to hear. 

eventually, eating becomes normal again. safer. warmer. 

and maybe it’s because every meal with sae feels a little like coming home. 

mikage reo

reo notices immediately because he has fancy senses like a truffle-hunting dog, except instead of mushrooms, he sniffs out self-neglect. 

you’re out for dinner and only order a salad, and he looks at you like you just committed a war crime. 

“is that all you’re eating?” you nod. he smiles. politely. “no worries. i’ll order some more things we can share.” “reo, no–” “reo, yes.” 

you go home with a stomach full of grilled salmon, avocado sushi, and fluffy cheesecake. 

and the next day? he starts learning your favorite comfort foods like it’s homework. 

he lowkey makes it a challenge. like, “what can i get her to eat today?” 

if you like it spicy, he’s pulling up with chili ramen. if you’re a sweet tooth, he’s got mochi and fruit tarts with your name on them. 

and if you still say you’re not hungry? “then just take a bite. for me?” 

he’ll pull the soft-eyes trick. you’re the billionaire’s weakness, and he knows it. 

soon, he starts inviting you to dinner at his place. home-cooked meals. real silverware. candles. background music. 

he turns eating into a romantic event until your stomach associates food with love. 

and honestly, it works. 

shidou ryusei

shidou clocks it the second you turn down food. 

“you don’t eat? what are you, a plant?” you give him a flat look. “i eat. just not a lot.” “nah. that’s not good.” 

he stares at your plate. then at you. “you gonna eat that?” “… yes?” “then eat it.” 

he starts off like a menace. obnoxiously putting food on your tray, stealing bites of your leftovers with zero shame, bribing you with dumb deals like “if you finish this burger, i’ll let you kick me in the shins.” “… why would i want to do that?” “you don’t? are we even friends?” 

and yet… you start eating more. because he makes it fun. he talks so much trash, you forget you were even feeling off. 

and then one day, you tell him you’re just “not hungry.” 

he looks at you. frowns. “… you sure?” you nod. 

he doesn’t push it that time. just throws an arm around your shoulders and says “‘kay. but if i ever catch you forgetting to eat because of someone else, i’ll kick them in the shins.” 

and you believe him. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[nanenna]

This Conversation is Exactly as it Should've Been

Sleepy King AU Masterpost

Slight change in chapter title because with this brand new POV we finally have someone being reasonable!

🌟✨💖✨🌟

Duke was in the middle of his midday patrol when he got B's alert. “Come to the Watchtower, O will brief.”

Ominous, but not overly so. Nothing about the message said it was super urgent, so Duke turned back but kept an eye on the streets below as he switched to Oracle's channel.

“Hey O, what's the sitch?”

“Oh boy, do I have a story for you!”

Two attempted muggings and one long explanation later…

“So B wants me up there… to be the Ghost King's welcoming committee?”

“You guessed it!”

“What.”

“B thinks Danny will be more comfortable with another teenager, once you're up there just guide him to the hangar and wave as he and whoever's on the craft leave.”

Duke switched out his helmet for a domino, it would help not hide his age, and got into the zeta tube, “And where is this guy?”

“Let me patch you into the team's channel.”

Duke set his comms to listening only, he knew how B operated.

“Kal,” came B's deep voice, “where is Danny right now?”

“Why?” Superman asked. 

“So we can have someone nearby to guide Danny.”

“Wouldn't I be the best option?”

“No.”

There was an awkward moment of silence before some else spoke up. “Danny did run from you.”

“I have contacted an associate closer to his age, he's ready to go meet Danny.”

Superman sighed, “Of course you did. Anti-possession charm?”

“It's part of our standard equipment.”

That was news to Duke, he should ask about that later. Superman rattled off a floor number and directions to a storage room. Duke obligingly followed the directions.

“Danny spotted, he's out of the closet.” 

Duke couldn't help snorting at O's joke. “Good for him!”

“Shush, he's heading towards you, just keep heading down the hall. And remember, play dumb.”

Duke could do that. He rounded a corner to see a brightly glowing mass of shadows shambling down the hall. The figure themself was a slightly greenish white, like a glacier put through a color filter, hair face and all. Their eyes were two neon green flashlights, like the Lazarus pits or kryptonite. Their whole body glowed, like they'd been dipped in glow-in-the-dark paint. Their aura was dark shadows, writhing around them. There was a jagged blackhole floating over their head.

Duke blinked and instead found a pale teenager with black hair, intensely blue eyes, and wrapped up in Batman's cape with pale fingers clutching it closed.

“Oh I was not the best choice for this,” he muttered under his breath. He shook his head to finish clearing his vision, then smiled at the guy now standing a couple yards away, eyeing Duke warily. He pasted on a bright smile and waved, “Hi, I'm Signal.”

“Signal?”

“Yeah, I work out of Gotham. And from the looks of it so will you.”

“Huh?” The guy, presumably Danny, looked down to where his slippered feet were poking out the front of the cape where it parted to drag behind him on the floor.

“Batman's cape, looks like the adoption craze has struck again. B keeps bringing home new kids, there's like half a dozen of us.” Duke laughed along with the polite titters on his comms. Then he stepped closer to Danny and stage whispered, “Half of us have black hair and blue eyes, so you'll fit right in.”

Danny looked at Duke skeptically, “Do you?”

“Sure do.”

Danny didn't seem to know how to react to that.

“So, where you heading? I know the Watchtower can be pretty confusing at first.”

Danny's eyes grew big as saucers, “I'm on the Watchtower?!”

“Yeah, want a tour?”

“I… I …” Danny nodded eagerly, then hesitated. “My ride’s here.”

“Oh cool, where they at?”

“The uh… the hangar?”

“I can show you where it is.” Duke started walking, Danny fell into step next to him, still clutching B's cape. Duke let the silence sit for a minute because… 

“Marvel, Danny’s parents are ghost hunters,” B’s voice came over comms. Duke had no idea what was going on on Marvel’s end, O likely had him separated on that front.

“Are we sure sending the Ghost King home with ghost hunters is a wise idea?” Wonder Woman asked, trust her to ask the real questions.

“Yes!” Someone else said with heavy exasperation.

“They seem to have recently had a change in heart, they’ve denounced all their old work as flawed and outdated.” There was typing to go with O’s voice, likely showing everyone else said announcement.

It seemed the peanut gallery was calming down, so Duke turned his attention back to Danny. “So, you an orphan too?”

“No!” Danny sounded aghast.

“Ah, not as much a requirement as one might think. My sister, Orphan, still has both her parents, ironically enough. So does Spoiler and Batwing and Robin.”

Danny looked confused again. “Um… I'm pretty sure my ride is actually my parents.”

“That's cool, it's good to have supportive parents.”

Danny flushed, super obvious against his pale skin, but smiled happily. “Yeah.”

Danny seemed content to let the silence sit as they entered an elevator that would take them directly to the hangar. Duke wasn't done teasing yet. “So I told you my name, what's yours?”

“Oh um…” Danny looked down, “Danny.”

Duke raised an eyebrow, “Not got a code name yet,”

“No, I d- uh…” Danny's lips thinned. “Nope, just Danny. I'm not doing the whole,” a hand extended from the cape to gesture up and down Duke, “costume thing.”

Well that was an odd response, maybe Danny was the one steering the body after all. Then again, they had very little idea what Phantom looked like, and whether he considered himself a hero or was just being territorial.

“Well you don't have to if you don't want to. Lots of people with powers just lead normal lives.”

“Who said I have powers?” Danny asked defensively.

“Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. It's still true though, as metas become more common it's going to be less common for them to go into cape work.”

“Yeah well, I don't even wear a cape.” Danny looked away with another blush.

Interesting.

Duke nudged Danny with his elbow, “You're wearing a cape eight now.”

Danny looked down and blushed all the more. “Fine, I guess I am.”

“But good choice, I don’t wear a cape either. Capes are cringe.”

Danny cringed at that, the blush coming back. So Danny does have a code name, is wearing a costume, and that included a cape at least for a little while.

The elevator slowed to a stop with a ding. The door opened into the hangar, where a small, unfamiliar craft sat in the middle of the otherwise cleared off runway. There was Captain Marvel and some people Duke didn't recognize standing near the craft. The strangers, one of whom was waving around a safety green baseball bat, seemed to be scolding Marvel, who had his hands up in surrender. Danny let out a relieved sigh as he stepped out of the elevator, quickly heading for the group.

“Danny!” One of the group said. Everyone’s attention turned to him, most of them smiling.

“Danno!” A large man in bright orange grinned and waved cheerfully. “We’ve been worried about you!”

“Hi, Dad, Mom, Jazz, Sam, Tuck,” Danny said in quick succession. “Sorry about that, I have no idea what’s going on or how I got here.”

The woman in teal turned her attention to Marvel, “Well someone was about to explain the whole situation to us, weren’t you mister champion of magic?”

Marvel grinned sheepishly, “Of course, ma’am.”

[miraclewoozi]

DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome.  or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it. 

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader.  content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT.  content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song. 

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong. 

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.” 

He was right. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all. 

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say. 

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position. 

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air. 

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done. 

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal. 

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present. 

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort. 

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you. 

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember. 

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.  

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter. 

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again. 

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary. 

The urge to just… lean in to you. 

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees. 

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again. 

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly. 

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop. 

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday. 

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare. 

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once. 

He swears. 

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure. 

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting. 

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway. 

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t. 

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances. 

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise. 

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that. 

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come. 

Eight seconds later… still nothing. 

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light. 

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug. 

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again. 

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?” 

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue. 

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before. 

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip. 

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter. 

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh. 

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair. 

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop. 

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders. 

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help. 

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place. 

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head. 

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in. 

I love them. Thank you, you said. 

It’s perfect. 

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double. 

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead. 

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue. 

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose. 

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late. 

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to. 

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are. 

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob. 

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum. 

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him. 

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen. 

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door. 

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important. 

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair. 

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath. 

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright. 

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened. 

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head. 

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop. 

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together. 

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said. 

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love. 

With someone who wasn’t him. 

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt.  And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before. 

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder. 

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it. 

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush. 

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head. 

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth. 

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you. 

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too. 

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure. 

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together. 

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try. 

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could. 

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down. 

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better. 

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same. 

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved. 

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person. 

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say. 

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here. 

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no. 

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline. 

Not enough, but some. 

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin. 

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky. 

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour. 

2.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough. 

1.

Happy New Year. 

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes. 

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you. 

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow… 

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there. 

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you. 

You could do it, his brain tells him. 

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter? 

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside. 

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said. 

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in. 

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule. 

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all. 

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday. 

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you. 

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change. 

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant. 

The pouting continued. 

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table. 

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right? 

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling. 

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together. 

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features. 

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road. 

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess, 

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks. 

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer. 

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks. 

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick. 

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone. 

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own. 

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block. 

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths. 

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too. 

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again. 

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

[brownyanyk]

what happened between above and beyond and journey to china

note: I haven't watched any of above and beyond nor have I watched the start of journey to china. Only knowledge I have is of the original series... which I ALSO haven't watched much of. This is just a silly scenario don't take it too seriously. prob some out of character shenanigans

The Octonauts are famous around all throughout the ocean, above, and beyond. Just about every animal had heard of them, whether it be their endeavors, the crew, or their name at the bare minimum. For that reason, it came to a shock to everybody when one week, they all just... changed?

Kwazii began his day by going for a morning drive in the GUP B. But his routine came to a screeching halt when he called to Tweak to open up the hatch. She didn't understand him, and replied in Chinese.

Kwazii shrugged, he knew some Chinese, so he switched, and Tweak obliged. He didn't think much of it, but Dashi came to the launch bay to meet with Tweak, and unlike Kwazii, didn't understand her at all. She alerted the captain, who found the situation quite puzzling. You simply couldn't just forget a language and learn a new one overnight. The crew decided to leave things be for the day, and figure it out tomorrow.

The next day, they found out that Dashi had forgotten English too. It just didn't make sense! How on earth could something like this be happening!? That just doesn't happen out of the blue! At first they thought it was some elaborate prank, but the same happened to Inkling, Kwazii, and even the captain himself.

That left Shellington and Peso, who were both severely confused. There were also the vegimals who hadn't been affected, but they didn't know that much English to begin with. (Although, the little knowledge wouldn't last long either.) The next day, Shellington had been affected too. Peso was largely silent that day, unsure of what to do, surrounded by his crew speaking in a language he didn't understand. None of them seemed concerned about what had happened, let alone aware. He struggled to sleep that night, wondering what would happen once he woke up.

The next morning, he too only spoke Chinese. He proceeded with his day like nothing had happened.

To this day, nobody knows why they switched to Chinese, let alone what caused the change. If you asked them about the incident, none of them would know what you're talking about. Infact, they would say they've been speaking Chinese their whole lives.

In January, the Octonauts prepared for a brand new venture above land, as Barnacles had to say the day they arrived near the land;

"海底小纵队，我们已经抵达中国海岸。"

(translation because auto translate sucks: Octonauts, we have arrived at the shore of China.)

mentions: @urautismdiagnosis-wistie

[cryptidtumbleweed]

hunter has such eczema swag you're so right!! :O even if you don't draw it i'd love to hear some of your headcanons on the subject!

Heehehehe sure!

He has generally sensitive skin, for example while in the Human realm, some detergents had scents and chemicals that would make his skin itchy and dry. He insists it's fine but Camila switches brands anyway

Soap dries his hands up about instantly

His eczema would be different in the Boiling Isles and Human realm. My personal headcanon for the Isles climate is that it's a lot warmer, and it doesn't really snow apart from the high points like the Knee. It's not so bad that he has bad reactions often but during warmer seasons it's worse. The Human realm is the opposite; winter and snow make his hands dry up and crack fast, and so do rainy seasons since he can actually go out in the rain

He spent the entirety of For the Future and Watching and Dreaming with dry, cracked hands. Getting soaked in cold water in October, stressed out of your mind? Not good for eczema

He tends to rub his hands when he's alone. He's been taught to ignore it while around other people but sometimes, as an anxious reaction, he'll sractch and rub his hands (for those not in the know, scratching temporarily releases serotonin)

Adding to the previous one, once he met Flapjack, Flapjack started to notice this anxious behavior and would distract him by demanding pets. After Flapjack's death it got a lot worse and at its worst was a reminder of his grief

Before leaving the castle, he was so used to his hands drying up that he didn't really pay attention to it. They were hidden under the gloves anyway so no one would point it out. So the first time his hands got so dry they bled he was a little confused as to why Camila was worried ("Oh, this just happens sometimes, it's no big deal")

Willow always carries a tiny bottle of relief cream with her because she knows Hunter's never gonna remember to do that himself

He ends up developing a routine for taking care of his hands once the whole "save the Boiling Isles" thing settles down. I think he'd have some routine during the Thanks to Them timeskip too but it's not as consistent.

He has more than once rubbed his hands so badly that the skin peels off a bit (this is just a direct projection on my part lmao. Do not recommend doing that)

Every time he does dishes or uses cleaning chemicals, he has to be reminded to wear gloves. Every. Single. Time.

Abomination goo irritates his hands

So does the Belos goop. After being possessed, his hands were super dry and itchy

His hand did NOT feel nice to hold in this:

His skin was chapped and blistering a little. Like... sorry to ruin a super cute moment but that hand would not have felt nice to hold-

Willow, with the help of Viney, made Hunter a hand relief cream from the Boiling Isles plants. It's stronger than the human realm stuff and smells vaguely like peaches.

---

I feel like the main reasons I haven't drawn this headcanon is 1) I can't draw hands and 2) I don't really know how to express this stuff in a drawing? Maybe in a comic where the characters specifically point out the dry skin but idk. I might write about it once I get a good enough idea and motivation

Thank you for the ask, I got really excited when I saw it! <3

(Tune in next time for "Hunter projecting their chronic problems on comfort characters: Migraines, feat. Amity Blight"...?)

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

Hey I just got my first period and I'm so fucking dysphoric about it what do I do I'm so confused I feel like shit and my dysphoria is through the roof

Lee says:

I would start off by exploring your menstrual product options which can make it easier to cope with having your period.

Period underwear is probably the easiest product to use because you already know how to wear underwear so you don't have to worry about putting it on wrong. Period underwear has built-in absorbent layers and is reusable and discreet to wear, but some people might feel self-conscious about washing them at the end of the day if they aren't used to washing their own underwear and don't have a private bathroom, or they might have dysphoria about washing them. You will likely need more than one pair (at least 2 pairs) even if you wash them daily because they need to dry, so there's a bit of an up-front cost but then since they're reusable it can be cheaper than pads and tampons in the long run.

The step below period underwear in terms of usability is probably pads. They tend to be pretty easy to use and also don't require insertion into the body, but if you don't place them right sometimes blood can leak around the edges where the pad isn't. Another placement issue might come up if you wear some styles of men's underwear, like boxers, it can be hard to use pads unless you wear a different type of underwear underneath which can feel bulky. Similarly to period underwear, blood on pads might feel more noticeable than internal options, which might increase dysphoria for some. You will need to buy pads over and over, so even they aren't that expensive to buy, the cost of buying them can add up. If your family buys the pads for you or you can get them at school for free then that isn't a big of a deal, but it does matter for some people.

Some trans people swear by menstrual cups because they're reusable and cost-effective. Once inserted correctly, they can be worn for up to 12 hours depending on flow, and the feeling of the blood can be less noticeable than pads or period underwear since it's not coming out. It can also be useful if you like swimming or have swimming classes, and/or if you're in a situation where you're stealth and have access to a private bathroom to wash the menstrual cup but don't feel like you can hide a whole package of pads in your stuff. But it can be hard to find the right size/model sometimes, so it can require multiple different brands and sizes to get the one that works best for you. Some people find the feeling of wearing one uncomfortable, have a hard time with the insertion, worry it'll affect their IUD, etc.

Tampons and menstrual discs have similar pros and cons as menstrual cups, although tampons are not reusable and some menstrual discs are. In all three cases, the process of insertion can be dysphoria-inducing for some trans individuals, but you also have the benefits of not having to feel the blood. You will also have more security to avoid leaks since you could choose to wear a tampon/menstrual cup/menstrual disc and then also wear a pad or menstrual underwear as backup.

After you've figured out what products work for you, I'd switch gears to the long game which is trying to stop your period in a healthy way. If you're out as trans, talk to your guardians and doctors about trying puberty blockers or using birth control to stop your period.

If you're not out as trans, you can still try convincing your parents to take you to the doctor to discuss the use of birth control in stopping your period without mentioning gender dysphoria:

You could say you have a heavy flow and starting birth control will make it lighter

It can help with anemia because you aren’t losing any iron through your period blood if you don’t get your period

You could say your friend/s have done it and it helped them

To stop period related cramping and pain

You could say you have gross period side-effects (like diarrhea and more farting) for the week of your period

It can make your periods more regular (or make it so you can control when it happens so you’re not caught off guard)

Helps with PMSing so you don’t have to deal with any of that

It’s more convenient and you don’t have to remember to change your pad/tampon

If you’re disabled, it can help save spoons and effort and make your week easier

You may not be able to change your pads regularly if you’re disabled and that’s kinda unsanitary and the pads can break so stopping your period can help with that type of stress

Save money on pads/tampons

Save time having to use pads/tampons and keep visiting the bathroom during class

It can help with migraines if you get headaches or migraines near your period

It can help with PCOS, PMDD, and endometriosis if you have any of those conditions

It might lower your risk of ovarian and endometrial cancer (but increase your risk of breast cancer) so that's something to discuss with a doctor based on your family history and personal risk factor

If you swim, it’s better to not have your period (And it’s inconvenient for athletes in general)

It can help regulate your mood (especially if you’re mentally ill and find mood fluctuations around your period hard to handle)

Why have a period when you can not have one? Some people feel there are no positive things about having a period because they feel it is inconvenient/[insert personal adjectives]

It’s pretty safe and many people do it, and if your doctor prescribes it and monitors you then there’s not a big risk in it

How do I talk about birth control with my dad?

Here’s a NY Times article called “For the Teen Who No Longer Wants a Period”, I’d start the conversation by sending them that link then if they ask more, give them the excuses above!

Finally, there are coping strategies that you can explore to manage the feelings of dysphoria that you may experience when you have your period-- this post has more info on that.

Followers, any advice for anon?

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Seven

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Seven!! Sorry it's taken a while, I've been busy with life and went away with some friends, but it's finally here! It's a long one too, so hoping it makes up for the wait. Also, I write music but fuckkk is it hard trying to actually rap, so this is just a forewarning to everyone seeing as there's a scene in this part that involves exactly that! Hope you enjoy it anyway:) Thank you for all the love on this series!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

“What’s your favourite chocolate?” I wondered around the Twizzler I’d gone ahead and stolen from the bag he’d gotten at the 7-Eleven. We’d been driving for a little while now, just under a half hour if I had to guess, and between us we had already succumbed to three short-lived encounters with brain freeze, all down to the Slurpee we continued to keep sharing. 

“Like brand?” Marshall questioned me, face wrinkling in confusion as he made another left hand turn, fingers loosening around the steering wheel when it righted itself.

“No,” I shook my head in answer, chewing on the red stick before I held out its end to Em when he tipped his chin in an asking gesture, “I don't know. Like, type?”

He had to think about it for a second, jaw working against the chewy sweet whilst his eyes continued to trail the length of road ahead. “Fuck, I don’ know. Like a Hershey’s maybe?”

I pulled a face at the reply, “Boring. Figured you might say M&M’s or something. Bring a little irony to the table, you know?”

Marshall’s head tilted sideways to level me with a snide look before he stole the next Twizzler right from out of my hand, “Hilarious.” He deadpanned as he took a big bite, “Come on then, Judge Judy. Tell me yours.”

Even whilst wrinkling my nose at his reference to the Tv Judge, I was quick with my retort, “Easy. Can’t go wrong with a Flake or a KitKat.”

“Heard of that first one.” Marshall mentioned, face dropping its previous snark as he pondered on my answer, “Ain’t ever tried it though.”

My eyes widened as I simultaneously turned to face him, ignoring the way my knee knocked against the centre console in my haste. “Oh, you’ve got to! It’s honest to God like Heaven melting in your mouth.”

With an unconvinced brow, Marshall just blew out a breath and shook his head at me. “But a KitKat?” He added after a second passed, “I don’t know. I mean, a chunky I could prolly get behind.”

My upper lip curled, “A chunky, really? What are you, twelve?”

Marshall returned the quip with a stupid look and then stole the rest of the Twizzler pack as a form of retaliation.

I rolled my eyes and it wasn’t long before he waved the topic away, claiming it was stupid anyway because Oreos were supposedly where it was at. An opinion which was strong enough steered us onto a whole new debate: biscuits vs cookies. 

I was still fighting for my life by the time Em eventually pulled the car off to the side, rolling up onto a curb outside a strip of buildings that appeared to get a whole lot of use. “All I’m saying is that a cookie is a kind of biscuit, right? So what the fuck sense does it make to claim that they’re all cookies?”

We’d since come to a slow stop, so confused I pivoted in my seat to look around us with a slight frown, catching sight of a bar on the very corner, a stretch of offices sat on the opposing side, and a huge block building that had long been dubbed ‘Saint Andrew’s’.

“This some sort of convent?” I wondered out loud whilst Marshall simply switched off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. When I glanced over at him again I found him already wearing an amused smirk, one which seemed to brighten at my words, though he just shook his head at my question. It was then that he chose to jump out. “Marsh?”

I was left with the low sound of his chuckle just as the door clicked shut behind him, leaving me in sudden silence whilst I watched the man round the front of the car. Blinking, I could only move to follow him, undoing my belt and finishing the last of the Slurpee before my door was opening all on its own. I raised a brow at Em’s gentlemanly act when I climbed out to join him on the pavement, but kept quiet about it as he shut the door behind me and locked up.

“Thanks.” I breathed out before peering around us once more, taking in the noisy street and the rowdy crowd that was gathered inside the bar a couple car lengths away. “Will you tell me where we are now though?”

“And spoil all the fun?” Marshall smirked, eyes glistening now as he backed away from the curb to start up the set of stairs leading into the big block building that had caught my eye a minute earlier. 

My face flattened, “You’re the only one having fun here.”

The grin he flashed me was cheeky and only lasted that of a split second before he was gesturing me to follow him up, tucking his hands away in his pockets when we finally reached the top step and came to a stop in front of a pair of heavy wooden doors that gave off such a retro feel. 

Staying quiet, Marshall was quick to push through them, as though he’d done it a thousand times before, slipping inside and holding the bottom plank open with just a foot so that I could join him. I wrapped my arms around myself slightly as the door stilted shut behind us, the sound echoing out. 

As I walked a little further inside, my gaze caught on the building’s lofty interior, a total contrast from both its outer disguise and what I’d first expected. It was a large lobby of sorts; four long tables were stationed in the very centre, a short stretch away from a snazzy looking bar detailed with ebony wood and warm lighting in the back, and adjacent to a set of stairs which led upwards.

I glanced back over at Em, who appeared to be watching me rather than taking in the room. I felt myself flush lightly under his gaze but quick to cover it up as I took another glance around, noting a different set of double doors sat on the other side of the room and a couple of sofas dotted around by the surrounding walls. I swallowed lightly before turning back to him, “Bit early to be drinking, no?”

It was a joke, a silly one seeing as he’d been sober for years, but one which seemed to loosen the atmosphere around us further as his mouth quirked upwards slightly and he moved to walk once more, nodding his head at me to follow. 

Follow I did, eyes catching on all sorts of details the building had to offer as he led me across the room and through the mentioned pair of doors, turning away from what appeared to be the ‘main event’ (a rather large hall decked out with a stage and a plethora of seating rows) so that he could instead jog down a hall full of metal stairs. 

The heavy door at the very bottom opened with a long squeak and although there had been people dotting the building here and there as we’d walked through, I took quick note of the small group which resided down here. There were only about six of them, from what I could first tell, the majority messing about with wires and other equipment by a platform stage whilst another two stood behind what looked to be a bar. 

My attention was ultimately caught though by the two men bickering back and forth by the side of the stage, just in front of a DJ booth.

“Fuck you, man. I’ma do what I like!” The first one spat, nose wrinkled as he swiped a microphone right from out of the other man’s hand. He was a few inches shorter than the latter but didn’t seem to mind, nor care, about that fact as he practically tiptoed to better get in the guy’s face. 

“Awh Jesus man, Soup! Why you always clownin’ around?” The second blew out, tossing the rest of the mic’s lead his way as he swatted at the air, “I mean, come on. You always tryna switch shit up when shit don’ need to be switched up!”

Soup? If that really was his name, didn’t seem to much care about his mate’s lack of excitement for whatever plans he had brewing as he fumbled with the jack lead and jumped back at him to defend himself. “I ain’t clownin’, dawg! Just trust me here on this one, this is gone bring a whole load’a new people in, D! I just know they gone be linin’ up out the door to get their hands on this stuff.”

“We ain’t sellin’ fuckin’ club merch, Soup. How many times I gotta say it?” ‘D’ retorted and shook his head as he turned his back on the other man to grab the rest of the equipment they’d obviously been unboxing.

“Yo, when have I ever been wrong ‘bout shit like this?” Soup followed up, unrelenting as he dragged the mic along with him, creating enough of a trip hazard that I worried when a young guy in a yellow cap swerved on past him. But it appeared that everyone here was far too used to the duo’s antics because the man in the cap skipped over the lead with an ease that looked utterly effortless, making it to the bar in one piece whilst the other two continued on none the wiser.

“How ‘bout every damn time?” D huffed with a look thrown over his shoulder, before he then sighed, “We stick to what we know, man. Stop houndin’ me with all this other crap.”

It was just as Soup opened his mouth to argue his case yet again that Marshall laughed from beside me, making me jump ever so as the noise rang out across the room. Heads spun in our direction then, most eyes widening at the sight of the infamous newcomer but mine were caught on the matching set of grins that Em was immediately met with when kicked off the wall he’d been leaning against, content with having watched the argument play out.

“Mickey, my man!” D hollered, dropping what he held back into the box to meet Marshall halfway. 

“Thought I told you to stop callin’ me that.” But even with the snippy retort, Em was smiling as the two of them clapped hands, sharing a short embrace before Soup wormed his way between them. 

D shook his head as he took a large step back, although the man was still grinning, eyes captured on the two friends, “Shit, man. It’s good to see you.”

Marshall just smiled before he turned to the shorter man and clapped him on the back, “How you doin’, Soup?” He let his hood fall back as he stood before the small group around us, seeming to become more alive in their presence, “Still mouthin’ off, I see.”

My own lips quirked up at that, watching the three of them from the sidelines. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that they had history, all of them sharing an easy comradery that I hadn’t much seen yet with Em since I’d first arrived, and already I was hooked on watching it all play out.

“I ain’t mouthin’ off, man. This idea’s the real deal!” Soup countered and he was smiling so wide that I could see the silver tooth that was embedded where his front left should have been over from where I stood. “Genius even! Could see it settin’ us up ‘til The Jam finally passes.”

I had no idea what the fuck ‘The Jam’ was but I had a calculating thought as to what the underground level of Saint Andrew’s supposedly was now. It was a little surreal once I’d latched onto the idea, in truth, never having figured I’d be standing in The Shelter of all places. The building was notorious on its own, having hosted a plethora of artists up in the main hall, people like Nirvana, R.E.M., The Beastie Boys, Iggy Pop, Blur, and Bob Dylan. And so I kicked myself for not having realised it sooner, the venue truly was one of the best in the city! Then again, I’d only ever really heard it iconically dubbed as The Shelter.

Marshall appeared to look back over at me then as he shook his head at Soup’s justification, grin softening ever so. I smiled back at him, gaze flickering over the expanse of his face, taking in what I could.

“Yo, come on over.” He said, voice travelling over to me without him even having to yell. The two men seemed to recognise my presence then as they turned to get a good glance at just who Em seemed to be speaking to. So, accompanied by only a little trepidation, I walked over to meet them, D eyes calculating whilst Soup’s lips pursed in an act of surprise, his eyes raking over me.

“Woo, Slim. And they claim you gotta type!” Soup all but whistled at my approach, earning a raised brow from me and a hearty backhand from his promoter friend. 

Marshall just rolled his eyes, seemingly used to it, arm stretching out to welcome me into the odd triangle they’d created, an action I allowed even as his hand came to rest on the small of my back. “Ignore Soup, he ain’t never been near a lady.” 

Blowing out an unexpected chuckle, I pressed my lips together before they eventually settled into akin to a smirk, eyes flitting over the two men. “Most would beg to differ with those pretty eyes.” I quipped, ignoring the man’s previous remark but filing it away for later.

Soup blinked at the obvious complement, seemingly dazed for a split second before he bounced back with a kilowatt grin. He looked between Marshall and D smugly, batting his eyelashes. “Y’all see?” He said, before he turned to me, “I been tellin’ ‘em, baby. But do they listen? No.”

D rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics, apparently done with him as he shoved Soup hard enough for the man to stumble slightly to the side, ignoring the scowl he got in turn whilst Marshall just snorted, the hand on my back unmoving. “You really gone dropped yourself in it now.” D chuckled to him, peering over at me with a sweet smile that warmed his face whilst Soup tried to right himself, “What, Mickey didn’t warn you?”

“Mickey?” I wondered, eyes flitting between the two. I grinned when Em groaned lowly, tossing his head back a tad.

D laughed at my ask, the sound bright in the shrouded shadows of which lower levels of the building offered, “As a kid he had these giant fuckin’ ears, his momma called him it the first time she picked him up from school and well, it sorta stuck.”

“Actually?” I looked back over at Marshall with an almost adoring face, peering past the brim of his cap to get a better look at his ears, “Oh my god, I can actually see it now!”

I joined D in his snickering after, muffling my amusement slightly when Em’s eyes narrowed a tad in a playful way, his hand dropping from my lower back to pinch my furthest hip. I raised my own in a silent surrender, but his settled there. 

“Yeah, yeah. Eat it up.” The man scoffed whilst he shook his head at us, pointing an accusing finger over at D, who’d since settled a hand on his stomach to keep from bowling over, “You know I’ma have to get you back for that one.”

D merely waved the warning away, just as Soup slid on over to pipe up once more, “Ayo, you gone introduce us to yo girl then, Slim, or you just waitin’ on me to work my magic?” He asked around a smug smile, shucking the collar of his heavy jacket before he flashed me a flirty look, “Homegirl’s got a real pretty voice, too. Where you from, baby?”

Never had I ever had someone be so blatant, I was honestly unsure if he was just messing around in hopes to annoy Em or if he was actually trying his luck with me. A little wide eyed, I looked back at Marshall stumped. The man’s face had flattened a tad at Soup’s remarks but his smirk was still ever present.

“Lay off it, man.” D sighed before Marshall could say anything at all, cheek dimpling as he shook his head once more at the shorter man. 

“I’m just sayin’!” Soup proclaimed before he spun back around to face Em, “A girl that fine is gone get snatched up real quick, man.”

“Keep talkin’ and you might not keep your tongue.” Marshall responded calmly enough, though it shocked me enough to have me keeping quiet as the man stared back at Soup unblinkingly, lifting an eyebrow at him whilst his hand continued to reside at my hip.

“Oo and the claws have come out!” D cut in with a whoop, obviously humoured by it all, but his response was enough to have Marshall rolling his eyes and for another small smirk to toy at the corner of his lips.

Soup grinned as well, hands held up in a placating gesture, “You know I mean no harm, Slim.”

“Yeah, you ain’t never mean it.” Marshall shot back around a low chuckle, clucking his tongue when Soup immediately tried to argue his case, rapidly mentioning a house fire, some sort of robbery that had gone wrong and then an accidental shooting far too quickly for me to really ask anymore about it, because Em chose then to speak over him, ultimately cutting him off. “You done?”

With a huff, Soup let up. “I was just sayin’.”

D snorted, “When the hell are you not just sayin’, my man."

Marshall shook his head at the duo and wet his lower lip before he finally moved to introduce us, although it was also in that moment that his hand finally slipped away. The lack of it had me blinking. 

“Boys, this is Elia. El, this here is Soup and Drew.” Drew shot me a smile alongside a slight tilt of his chin, whilst Soup just wiggled his brow. Marshall continued on with a swift jab to the latter’s abdomen, ignoring the slight squark given, “Known these guys since middle school.”

I tried to add up the age in my head, forever baffled by the difference in education here to that back home. Em must have realised it too, because his next smile was wry and knowing.

“‘Bout ten, if I had to guess.” He mentioned just to settle the matter for me, before he looked back at D and Soup to explain, “Girl’s from London, they do shit different over there.”

I rolled my eyes, though my smile gave away to the fact that he’d amused me with his explanation. Drew nodded in understanding whilst Soup– well, he was Soup, “Oh shit! I thought all them talked real classy.”

My brow rose all on its own, “This your way of saying I’m not classy?”

His eyes grew huge as he realised his mistake, stuttering to correct himself and stumbling ever so to be sure of it, “Nah, no! What? I jus’– I meant it like–” He spluttered before he finally landed on, “I said you had a real pretty voice!”

Snorting, I let myself smile which appeared to ease the man’s evident worry over having offended me and had the remaining two snickering between themselves. He shot the pair of them a scathing look and elbowed Drew, who in return just laughed that little bit harder.

“Shut it.”

I almost felt bad. Peering back over at Soup, I eventually spoke, “You’re all good. I was just teasing.”

“Teasin’.” Soup seemed to linger on the word, twirling it over his tongue and around his mouth as he muttered the word over again, lower lip turning itself out in thought. “Dope.”

Marshall shook his head with a huff before his eyes eventually landed on me once more, I widened my own in jest, but the wordless moment was cut short by D. “Aye, you ain’t the same Elia that sung Sinnerman are you?”

My head jolted back ever so slightly in surprise. Sinnerman had been an early days cover, one from when I’d been busking in pubs way back when and of the few that had been filmed on a shaky camcorder and uploaded to the internet by some random patron. I hadn’t thought of the video in well over a decade, but remembered it had managed to gather a large enough viewing at some point that it had dragged more people into the pub to see me.

Fishmouthing slightly, I nodded just the once. “Yeah. God, yeah. Wow, you saw that?”

Marshall’s brow had since furrowed, watching the conversation play out between us just as Drew’s face brightened considerably. “Hell yeah I saw that! That shit was cold, girl. Remembered hearin’ your voice and thinkin’ 'she’s gone make it someday.” He told me, making me flush a tad at the praise, “‘n I was right.” He continued on, nudging his chin over in my direction with a thoughtful smile, “Knew I recognised you from somewhere. Saw one of your shows when I was last in LA, couple years back now though.”

I actually giggled at that, fingers jumping up to cover my mouth whilst I shook my head slightly, “That’s insane.”

“Hold up,” Soup interrupted, a bemused look marring his face, “So you famous too? You ‘member how I just said you was fine, yeah?”

“Soup, man.” Marshall warned around a put upon sigh.

“I’m jus–”

“Just sayin’. Yeah, we know.” Drew finished for him, smirking as he rolled his brown eyes.

Chuckling, I went a little easy on the former, “I’ll make sure to remember.”

Soup perked up at that, tossing the other two a prideful look, whilst Em’s gaze turned Heavenwards. 

It was then that Drew turned to pick up the equipment he’d since dropped, the three of us following him as he spoke, “So what you doin’ down in these parts anyway? Figured you’d be workin’ or some shit ‘cause last we saw you was way back in December.” He threw a couple of cables Soup’s way, huffing out a soft chuckle when the man fumbled to catch them, earning himself a glare he didn’t respond to. “Made a fuckton of sales then though. Got me thinkin’ maybe you should show your face ‘round here more often. We all know those magazines don’t want it no more.”

Marshall flipped him off but came to a stand beside him, reaching inside the box to help out. “Still as unfunny as ever, D.” He replied, handing me a couple of packs to hold onto whilst he grabbed a few more, “Was showin’ Ms. London over there the neighbourhood, so I thought I’d stop in to see how you two knuckleheads were doin’ without me.”

“Hey we survived this long!” Soup exclaimed to him around a laugh, struggling with a mic stand he’d since dragged up onto the stage.

“Don’t I know it.” Drew murmured in a funny sort of self-suffering way that made me grin, “You take her to Cow’s head?”

The question had Marshall rolling his eyes as the man sorted through the packs he’d gathered, me aiding with the process whilst I listened. “Shithole’s gone be there longer than I ever will be, figured I’d have time.”

D blew out a chuckle, “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Red.” I mentioned, handing back the pack Marshall had attempted to give me, fingers brushing over the back of his as he dipped his chin in a show of acknowledgement. “What’s the Cow’s head anyway?”

“Old ice-cream stand on Mack. Used to use it during drivebys or to just deal. You remember Jimmy? He still works that corner.” Drew explained, aiming that last bit over at Em, which ended up making the man chuckle around a small tutting sound. D continued on though, for my supposed benefit, “But mostly it was just a place people got caught hookin’ up behind.”

Feeling bold, I was quick to quip, “And I paint you as that type of girl, do I, D?”

Widening my stare up at the man when his head darted backwards with a shuttered expression, Marshall could only snicker beside me. “Awh, come on, be nice.” He said, though his smile was jeering, “I tell you, Drew’s a real feminist.”

Sharing a smile with him, I was quick to look back at the man in question, who in turn merely tossed another pack at Em, who narrowly avoided it hitting him upside the head. “Asshole.” Drew sniped, “A guy dates one vegan chick and a brother never lets him live it down.”

“It weren’t ‘cause she didn’t like meat, man!” Soup added his two cents in, smile smug as he propped himself up on the mic stand, “It was ‘cause she didn’t - like - meat!”

Marshall’s loud laugh had me looking up, instantly invested in watching the way his eyes closed with the action and how his cheeks then appled. He caught me watching him when he lowered his head and rolled his eyes fondly at his friend, figuring I’d only been staring because I hadn’t caught onto Soup’s joke, “Next person she dated was this vampy chick who worked at Chilly's.”

My mouth formed into an ‘o’ shape before I was tittering away too, much to Drew’s obvious displeasure, the man waved the three of us away with a lazy hand before he carried on hooking up a couple mics.

It continued on that way for a short while, me listening to the trios odd stories and funny tales from their youth whilst Drew and Soup grew comfortable enough to ask me a little more about myself. Though both of them were wholly invested in the story of how Marshall and I met, Soup latching onto it before I could think about where the explanation might lead.

“Come on then, woman.” The man was quick to start, jerking his head at me in a sudden rush of enthusiasm as he jumped past the DJ booth, “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

My forehead pinched in confusion as I pushed myself up from where I’d been crouching down by an amp. It was an older model and the fuse at the back really needed to be resoldered, but it would work for a while longer. I looked over at the man and his newfound excitement, brows furrowing further, “What?”

Soup just waved me over though to where he was now centred midstage. “You heard me, get yo ass up here!”

I could only look to Em then and when he didn’t offer me anything other than an amused shrug, cheek twitching, I turned to Drew.

The tall man simply raised his hands before he shrugged too, smiling ever so sweetly. “Need to mic check anyway,” He mentioned, jutting his chin over to where Soup continued to stand, “I propose a battle.”

“Hell yeah, man!” Soup hollered loudly, already moving to grab a set of mics from the front panel, sending an audible squeak through the room that had most of its occupants wincing. 

“Not happening.” I quickly shot down, shaking my head as I moved away from the amp– and therefore the stage. 

“Why, you scared?” Soup prodded mockingly, earning a low ‘ooh’ from both Marshall and Drew. 

“Terrified.” Came my deadened retort, before I chewed at the inside of my cheek, gaze flitting back and forth between Soup and the duo perched by the side of the deck. “There’s no way I’m doing it.” I added, furthering my previous answer.

“Don’t have to be long. A minute max.” Drew assured me, already moving to work the amp that the mics were connected to. My eyes widened at the move, flicking back to Em in one final plea.

“Don’t look at me.” The older man laughed, his blue eyes shining. “I already done did my time here.”

Way to rub it in, I thought to myself before looking towards the stage with a pinched expression. 

One final glance between the three men and I knew I couldn’t say no, not without a fight at the very least, so I let go of the heavy breath I was holding and took a big step up onto the stage’s panelling, holding out a hand to Soup for the remaining microphone. “Don’t say I never did nothing.” I heard myself say, earning a round of chuckles just as D finished setting up and Soup started to stretch theatrically. “I hate you all.”

“El-i-a.” Marshall started up and immediately my head snapped over to find him stood by the front of the stage, hands circling his mouth. “El-i-a!” He chanted again right as a steady beat came through the overhead speakers. I felt my stomach flip and was quick to shoot the man a scathing glare, not that Em minded it, continuing to grin up at me. Smug as could be.

It was that, I supposed, which had me forcing back the bile that was now building, enough to try and shake the nerves away too. I could do it, I breathed in deeply, it was just a little fun. Nothing unlike what Danny and I used to do as kids, making breakfast whilst mum was dead asleep in the next room or off getting high someplace else.

“You ready, Limey?” Soup snarked, but it only proved to further stoke that fire that had started. 

“You first.” 

Soup dipped his head before he started bouncing it to the rhythm, torso soon following it. I tensed as I waited for his first line, sole focus on the man stood across from me and wondering how the fuck people did this in front of such a huge crowd. All I could do was pray that I didn’t embarrass myself too much.

“See, this here is a little white girl, 

Who’s momma told her she could have the whole wide-world,

But just ‘cause she got Slim wrapped ‘round her fin-ger,

Don’t mean that my boy’s ever gonna ring her,

He’s a wraith, yeah, which means he never ling-ers,

Have her sleepin’ in his bed ‘fore he finds another singer.

And that’s not on me clownin’ girl, I’ve seen it,

He’ll wrap and tap, and then he’ll jus’ go ‘n leave it,

You cute and all but you ain’t nothin’ spec-ial,

We all know white girls ain’t on a brother’s lev-el,

So while you thinkin’ you out here makin’ it big,

Jus’ remember who’s runnin’ this motherfuckin’ gig.”

Pursing my lips to keep from grinning too broadly– an act to keep up the facade that this was a very real battle and that his words had actually stung me– I then booed the performance whilst the rest of the room applauded, a few laughs and cheers echoing out around us. “Alright, I see. That’s how it’s gonna be.”

Soup shrugged cooly, though his smile was wide and teasing. “I went easy on you, girl.”

I hummed disbelievingly, then looked over my shoulder at Drew, who nodded in understanding, moving to continue the beat. I sucked in a small breath and attempted to feel the rhythm, the way it pulsed beneath my feet and how it seemed to jump between my ribs. 

It was a split second decision I made to glance over at Marshall in the next moment which came and although he stood surly, arms crossed over his chest whilst he waited for me to start, his eyes were watching, anticipating. Between us we’d yet to work on any real music and so I figured this could be my shot to show him what I was really made of.

I inhaled.

“Man, you know for a rapper I think you’re missing one restriction,

The same type they tell kids is in the terms ‘n conditions, 

When they try and ride the big boy rides at the theme park, 

Only to find out that they went and fucking missed the mark.

I mean, I guess you’re kinda cute for a– short guy,

But kings are made, baby, so I won’t spin you a lie,

‘Bout how it’s okay to only miss a couple inches,

‘Cause it's one thing height wise, but your dick looks like the Grinches.

And I know I should probably stop before I hurt your ego,

But with a name like Soup that ships since sailed, amigo,

Like I can’t help but wonder who’d your mother hate more?

You, or that motherfucking grocery store.”

A loud chorus of applause went up as soon as the beat dropped, leaving me looking back at Soup’s slack jaw in the stooped light. It was only when Drew whooped right by my ear that I realised he’d jumped past the booth to drag both Soup and I into his hold, shaking our shoulders hard enough to rattle the pair of us. 

I let the mic slip slightly in my hold, arm dropping to my side as I casted a slow glance out at the audience, finding that a few more people had slipped into the room since we’d started the stupid battle. My chest tightened a little at the realisation but it was easy to let go of the anxiety when Drew was all but bouncing beside me.

“Damn, girl! That was cold, honestly thought Soup would have you there.” D grinned, looking down at me whilst Soup managed to release himself from the taller man’s hold. “You did anything like this before?” He asked and I had to shake my head.

“Hang on. You just butchered and served me up on a plate, ‘n now you gone deny not ever battlin’ before?” Soup spluttered, eyes wide as dinner plates, enough though to match his growing grin, “Woman, you don’t expect me to really believe you.”

Laughing, I tried to rally, but it was then that another body joined the masses, sliding in beside me. It was their appearance that had Drew’s arm loosening its hold on me. 

“She ain’t lyin’. I’ve heard her spit a little before, I won’t deny it, but that was some next level shit.” Marshall commented, absorbing all of my attention. “You went in hard.” He laughed incredulously, eyes roaming over me as though he was taking me in again in a whole other way. I felt my cheeks heat but couldn't decide whether or not it was down to the sudden attention we’d garnered or just him. 

“Hard?” Drew cut in, “Girl killed him!”

Soup shoved him as payback but it wasn’t enough to really trip the man. “I said I went easy!”

D hummed sarcastically, dragging it out long enough to earn himself another hearty shove before he then chuckled, “Face it, Soup. You got yo short ass handed to you.”

“Sorry, man.” Marshall stepped in before it could escalate and it was then he draped his arm over my shoulders, drawing me in enough to have me leaning against his side. “D ain’t wrong. Best hope no one breathes a word, otherwise you gone be fighting for your life in the next battle.”

I rolled my eyes at the sudden dramatics, and again when Soup’s expression troubled slightly, I shook my head. “I’m gonna say it again, I hate all of you.”

The words earned me a few laughs and the feel of Em’s chin coming to rest atop my head.

–

The drive back was made up of a dull buzzing tension, most of which emanated from me, seeing as I was still riding out the waves of anxiety I’d experienced throughout the battle and then after. I’d gotten a few nods of approval once I’d stepped off the stage under Em’s arm, Soup still echoing his previous sentiment of having gone easy on the new girl, and then a couple people's praises when Marshall had finally decided to head on out, claiming that we had places to be. 

So he’d said his goodbyes to his longtime friends, with both Soup and Drew managing to worm their way into my followers list on Twitter and having put their numbers in my phone. They’d claimed it was so I always knew that I had a place to come visit if I ever found myself back in Detroit and so I echoed the notion, saying that they could have tickets to any show they liked and a tour of London if they ever made the trip. Something which had seemed to please Marshall, seeing as his smile stuck all the way back up to the car. 

“I still can’t believe I did that.” I breathed once we were a little way away, The Shelter less than a dot behind us in the rearview mirror. 

Marshall blew out a small chuckle, “Why not?”

Shrugging, I found that I didn’t really have an obvious answer to his question. “I don’t know, just not my thing, you know? Like I never pictured myself doing anything like that.”

He made a short hum in retort, “I get that. Still, it was a sight to see.” He snickered after, mouth lifting into what I’d label a sarky smile, “Doubt Soup will live it down for a while.”

I winced before eventually laughing too, thinking back on the entire experience. “They’re good guys, real nice. It’s been a while since I really had fun like that.”

Marshall’s head turned to look over at me, eyes lingering on mine. “Me too.”

The smile that took over my face truly was unavoidable and so I looked towards the passenger window in hopes to shield him from it. “You do that often then?” I asked once a half a dozen shop fronts had passed us by, “Drag people down there in hopes they’ll destroy what’s left of Soup’s reputation.” I added teasingly when all he’d done was gift me a look of vague confusion. 

The skin between his brows slackened in understanding before he then shook his head, “Nah, reckon you’re the first.”

I blinked slowly at that revelation. “But you said–”

Marshall glanced over at me but was quick to hone his focus back on the road. “Know what I said. Also mentioned that it never worked out, remember?”

I did, remember that is. And immediately thought back to the earlier conversation we’d shared on the car ride over to his old home and how the people he’d let in never seemed to get why all this mattered so much. “Was that what Soup was on about then? When he claimed people thought you had a type.”

Em had to think back on that one and was quiet for a second or two before he worked his jaw. I wondered if he was reminded of the fact that once again he’d failed to mention that I wasn't in fact his girl. I didn’t ask about it.

“Nah, I guess that’s down to them havin’ met a couple of the women I’ve dated.” Marshall evaded slightly, confusing me enough to prod.

“What do you mean?”

He was silent for a long moment, but I allowed him it, figuring that whether he answered or not would be down to him. I wasn’t the type to force shit out of a person. 

“After Kim,” He started slowly, already assuming that I knew most of it, which wasn’t incorrect, if you listened to the guy’s music then you probably knew more than needed. “Lot of the girls I was seeing were fling type shit. Superficial, you know? A couple models, other famous people wantin’ to hop on the wagon. Tried to date a few women who weren’t immersed in that lifestyle after rehab and my divorce, but it didn’t work out the way I’d hoped.”

I chewed on my inner cheek, pondering over the string of women who had been welcomed into Marshall’s life. Still stuck on the thought that Soup reckoned I was different to them just from looking at me. ‘Cause see, I knew I was probably overthinking this but I wasn’t horrible looking, had to be at least a little attractive to sell albums with my face on, but I was far from being that of a model. That much I knew. In truth, I didn’t even know why I was so hung up on the thought, me and Em were just friends, that was all.

“Still, I figured that maybe Kim just fucked all that up for me. Hard to trust, to let people in. ‘Sposed it was easier just havin’ people leave before they could fuck me up any further.” Marshall explained, none the wiser to my thoughts as he drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel, “Drew and Soup, they’ve been ‘round for a long while, before Dre, ‘fore I ever even thought too hard about rappin’. They saw me through it all. I guess when you came over they kind of figured that shit had to be different, I ain’t never brought no one ‘round here to them, let alone a girl they’d never met.”

I ran my tongue over my lower lip as I listened, it wasn’t a complete answer to my question— why Soup had figured Marshall had a type and me being far from it— but it was him opening up and I wasn’t about to spit in his face and get all prickly over it.

“Should I feel a sense of privilege then?” I found myself poking fun at him instead, an effort to get away from the handful of ideas that had started to plague my mind. “‘Cause I feel like I should.”

Em laughed, the gesture light, easy. It felt like the visit to Saint Andrew’s had done us both some good. “Fuckin’ right. Shelter alone is somethin’ I don’t visit all that often. D and Soup are just an added nuisance, I guess.”

“Shut up.” I chuckled in return, shaking my head at his words, knowing just how much bullshit they held after having witnessed the relationship the three of them shared. “You love ‘em.”

With a grunt, Marshall then shrugged around a quiet smirk. “Come on, today’s been all about me, I’m sick of it. Don’t tell me you ain’t got no mad stories about a couple crappy exes.”

It was an invite as well as a dip into a pool of unasked questions, a topic where Em didn’t seem too keen on overstepping. But he was right, he’d given me a lot today and that meant something.

“I don’t know what to say really.” I answered him with a subtle shrug, “Never really had an ex.”

Marshall almost came to a full stop with the way his foot stuttered over the brake. The action would have earned us a lot of loud beeps, maybe even a small collision if we hadn’t been the only ones driving down this particular side road.

“Shit, Marshall! What the fuck?” I exclaimed in one fluid breath, releasing my hold on the car door I’d gone and grabbed onto in my haste to stop my body from propelling forward into the dash. I fixed him with a wide eyed stare, “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Why’d I do that? Why’d you say that?” He countered, as if he was making any sense at all. 

“Say what!” I asked him, voice shrill and still a decibel too high after the sudden scare, but Marshall appeared mostly unphased by it, having started driving again despite everything. 

He scoffed, “That someone as pretty as you don’t have no exes.” 

I paused, noting that the way my heart stuttered was very similar to the way the car had, suddenly and then all at once. But although I was surprised by the compliment, I forced myself to relax a tad, ignoring how my pulse jumped rapidly in my throat– down to the scare or his words I wouldn’t ever know. 

“I don’t.” I told him point blank, hoping that the heat I felt in my face was just that and not me blushing. “I mean, I've had little flings and the odd date, but nothing like— I don’t know, nothing too real or long lasting.” Describing that fact was more than a little embarrassing, I wouldn’t lie, it always made me feel less than in a strange way. 

“There ain’t no way.” Marshall continued on, unknowingly driving that particular wedge in further I supposed. “There’s gotta be somebody.”

I sighed. “No. But if you want a story, the last person I was seeing was this singer, we worked together on my last album, flirted, fucked and then went on a couple dates. He stayed with me in London for a while but ended up sleeping with one of my close friends on my sofa, so, you know.”

I let go of the rest of breath I’d been holding onto then, shoulders slumping a little with it, before I suddenly remembered the next part to that particular tale. 

“Oh! And he also decided to dedicate the whole B side of his next album to it. Can you believe that? The B side, Marshall. I mean fair enough, write about an experience and what fucking not, but the B side? That’s just kicking a person whilst they’re already down, no?” I added, shaking my head in hopes to get rid of the memory, but no such luck. “He was the one who did that film too, um— I can’t for the life of me remember the name of it, but when they won that Academy award last year he mentioned me as the ‘one who got away’ and then thanked me for being the reason he was able to channel so much of his ability into the character.”

I actually had to laugh at the reminder, having been utterly fuming when the whole thing had gone down. But I guessed that enough time had passed since then that I only questioned the very decision I’d made to have let that arsehole and his tiny dick anywhere near me whenever his name was mentioned. 

“Shit’s messed up.” Em blew out, eyes alert and flitting back and forth between me and the road.

Snorting in reply to that, I couldn’t help but shoot him a wry grin. “No shit. But yeah, I don’t know. I’ve never really let anyone get too close, I ‘spose. Just easier to keep people at arm's length than give them the chance to hurt me.”

“Damn,” Marshall said, “talk about daddy issues.”

Surprised by his words, a laugh bubbled up out of me, “Like you’re one to talk.”

Em’s lips pursed in an attempt to dim his amusement to that, turning the wheel with a single motion and letting it drag back over his palm when we turned onto the next street. “Still. It’s hard to believe.”

I gave a soft chuckle in reply, letting my head loll against the headrest so that I could bat my lashes in his direction, “Why, ‘cause I’m so pretty?” I teased him, recalling his earlier statement.

Marshall’s head shake was slight but visible, as was the tiny curve his mouth made.

I reached out to poke his shoulder, smirking now. “Come on, say it again.”

He swatted my hand away before I could continue on with my fun, “Anyone ever tell you you’re also annoyin’ as fuck?”

“Yes.” I replied easily enough, “No one’s ever called me pretty though.”

“Liar.”

I laughed, the bright sound filling up the car. “Yeah, but at least I’m pretty too.” He went to open his mouth after I said that but I beat him to the jump, “Can’t take it back now you’ve already said it!”

Tutting, Marshall had to shake his head again, eyes flitting over to my wide smile, trailing the length of it. “Such a shithead.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“What are you, two?”

“Maybe.” I shot back, pointing over at him. “What’s that make you then, if I’m two and you think I’m pretty?”

Marshall caught my finger with his free hand in retaliation and clung to it as he resettled his arm back in his lap, “Fuckin’ weirdo.”

“Least I’m not a creep.”

“Asshole.” 

“Dickhead.”

“Bitch.” He quipped, eyes gleaming as they darted over to meet mine.

I shook my head in hopes to hide my growing grin, but it was then that I instantly perked up, gaze catching on the large allotment sat up ahead. “Oh, let’s go there!”

“What, to Trader Joe's?” Marshall voiced his confusion at the sudden switch in topic, though his expression was much softer than I had expected in the face of my excitement when I peered back around to look over at him.

“Yeah, can we?” I pushed, an idea now blossoming. “I wanna get some ingredients, bake something nice before Rosie gets home.”

Lifting a single brow, Marshall’s eyes flickered rapidly between my own for a split second. He was quiet before he eventually flipped his indicator to switch lanes, “You gone bake me a cake just ‘cause I called you pretty?”

A full blown grin broke out on my face at that and it was too hard to hide this one from Marshall, seeing as I’d been looking right at him. “No, ‘cause you’re gonna help me.”

[sonic-takeover]

hi my curious ass is BACK after literally 10 minutes I'm SO SORRY 💔

but I was catching up on the LORE (to be read in game theorist MatPat's voice) and.

SONADOW‼️🎉🎉

Im fr tweaking out in my bedroom at 2 am because of this blog I'VE BEEN HERE TEN MINUTES AND I LOVE IT ‼️‼️

so bc my brain is holding ten thousand billion thoughts at once (shocker), and Im a little lost on the story, can I get a quick recap on the sonadow situation orrr???

yet again, hate to pester, excited to be answered!!(≧∇≦)b

Happy to have you here! Don't be afraid to send asks! Okay so it's a bit crazy, but here's the story:

Sonic and Shadow were friends/rivals at the beginning. People started asking them how they feel about each other, but they were both in deeeeep deep denial. Eventually, Sonic talked about how much Shadow means to him and Rouge got a screenshot of that message. There was a whole fiasco of them losing the phone and trying to get it to Shadow as it passed from one person to the next, but when Shadow got to it, he thought it was platonic. Amy saw everything going on and got jealous, attacking Shadow. Sonic saved him and rejected Amy for good. Amy took her time healing her heartbreak while Metal Sonic made his intentions clear and waited for her to be ready to date. Meanwhile, Shadow and Sonic stayed in the depths of denial even in the face of being forced to share a room and a bed in the bigass house. They grew more and more comfortable with each other (even cuddling to sleep) but still didn't know their feelings went both ways. An anon left an Eggman brand body swapping ray on their floor and they swapped bodies and broke the ray by accident. They tried to hide the switch, but it wasn't easy. They were found out pretty quickly and Tails started trying to repair the ray. The two of them started bonding by doing each other's makeup and racing indoors, and on the last night of their switch, Sonic (in Shadow's body) sang I Hear a Symphony for shadow specifically during karaoke, publicly serenading him. He reached out his hand and Shadow almost took it, but plot twist! Tails got kidnapped by Eggman when going to him for help repairing the ray. The group all went to save him and during that mission, they fought a robot which zapped Shadow in the chest with a laser. Sonic used the almost-fixed ray to swap them back and broke it again. Now Sonic was injured and Shadow had to nurse him back to health, but now he had finally accepted his feelings for Shadow. He started flirting with him, which Shadow dismissed as him being delirious from the pain of his injury. Eventually, they decided it was a good idea to write each other love letters explaining their true feelings. Unfortunately, Shadow writes in cursive and Sonic has both terrible handwriting and terrible spelling when not using autocorrect, so neither of them could read or understand the letters. They both thought it was a rejection letter, which caused even more confusion. Rouge told Sonic that Shadow liked him back, and Amy read Shadow's letter so Sonic since she could read cursive. Everyone went to find the chaos emeralds, since Sonic now had a plan to confess to him. Once gathered, he went super with Shadow and took him to the moon, where they watched the sky, slow danced, and finally kissed as the sun rose over the Earth. Now they're official boyfriends with three kitten children (Flash, Freeze, and Firefly), but there are still some secrets lurking in their pasts.. things they're not sure they feel ready to share.

Whew! I'm gonna check that for typos later. But that's Sonadow so far! Hope this helps!

-Mod

[courtkossai]

I am confused about physical nonhumanity. I am autistic so I am sorry if this comes off as blunt or rude. I am attempting to be sincere and ask a genuine question so I can learn.

I am wondering, how does physical nonhumanity work? Maybe it is just because I am autistic and enjoy categorizing but to me if a creature has human features such as human organs/skin/brain/etc, then that means the creature is physically human.

So how can you be nonhuman but still have those features? Do you literally see yourself differently when you look in the mirror? Ie, literally with eyes not seeing human features, and/or believing you do not have human shaped hands/feet/hair/organs. Or is it a mental thing of believing you have those features, but not associating those features with humanity?

Sorry if I am completely wrong in my assumptions. Your blog seemed nice and I was hoping you could help, because I cannot seem to find information. Sorry if this is rude. Again, this is very genuine question and not meant to be anti-physical nonhuman.

not rude , appreciate want to understand ! but , answers to this will be different for different folks .

some folks experience as veil , in magical sense - there is true body , and then magic which wrap around to hide . others experience as sense that human appearance is some form of experiment or curse , something to take away from home among fellow creatures-of-type . others still see as expression of family history - say , great grandma have love affair with handsome elfin prince .

certain experiences tend toward magic and religion , others brand as delusion , but kossai feel this is less important to hash out so long as one do best to understand limits , needs , and safety . 

as for kossai in specific ... this dive into parts of religion and spirituality , for sure . 

what most people see as " physical world " is just one of many potential realms . each realm is physical to inhabitants , but effectively non-physical to those outside . picture this to be cake of sorts , where each layer of cake is unique realm . frosting hold these together as one whole cake ( world ) , but also prevent direct contact . 

so - do not like to share deepest details , but in short , this body which kossai use and inhabit receive faerie claim and blessing , with dual presence among both humans and faeries . 

with that dual presence , could say sort of twofold physical faeriehood . out here where humans live , kossai appear human . even so , actual makeup of this body is ... weird , to say least . best like to describe as if faerie materials on human blueprints - able to get job done technically , but not always very well . 

of course , understand that is headscratcher to some people - if appear to be human with disabilities , then why say anything else ? and of course that is legal necessity to say sometimes , because of how systems design . but even that in mind , body of kossai also do go through faerie cycles and functions not in experiences of humans at all , aspects which follow moons and seasons and weather cycles , as well as have connections to faerie realm senses and faerie magics . 

still , again this body do look human to those who see . faeriehood do not grant magical control over this form , even if sometimes truly wish could ! would have so much fun switch hormone system back and forth and sprout wings - but even without such abilities , people in know can recognise as faerie . 

then as other half of that duality , body among faeries and in faerie realm is more obviously faerie - persona which represent in art is current resemblance . kossai do not see these features in mirror , and even phantom feelings can be hard to come by . aim to strengthen connection to faerie realm senses so these might come easier , but this in self is not easy task unfortunately . 

hope that all make some kind of sense - kossai grow up with paganism , so these lines of thoughts very natural , and sometimes not sure of what might pass right over anyone else . :)

( OK , well , of course paganism can mean great many things . but not really have any name more specific - learn of faeries very early , learn of realms beyond , and learn to ask questions , discern , and build understanding ever since . kossai do not speak for all paganism , etc etc , disclaimer over . )

[meylovesmusic]

Thoughts on The Firstfruit by MARK of NCT 💚

Toronto's Window - chill, moving, and very explanatory of just Mark as a person imo. he's a storyteller through and through.

1999 - such a vibe omg, really showcases Mark's versatility as an artist, a different take on the more nostalgic sound we've been getting from kpop recently

Flight to NYC - really helps create the storytelling element Mark and his group mates have all been saying he'd do for years, sick production

Righteous - so fucking cool holy shit, love the heavier more electronic influence in the production, very neo but still very mark's brand of neo

Fraktsiya - still such a banger I'll never get over this track omg, "I'm NCT", love the variety in the production it adds great texture without being overstimulating, Lee Young Ji is a queen love her, Mark really does carry so much of modern sm on his back atp and props to him honestly for putting out such a good album

Raincouver - very chill very light but still very much a vibe I can understand Mark going for, play on words omg I love it, every person just has that one sing that reminds them of home and I think mark really made his own to express that feeling better

Loser - ooh acoustic?? fun, another play on words ok ok, oh no it's sad longing, but it still sounds so pretty and chill if you ignore the lyrics 😭, love hearing all the different tones and textures in his voice it's so satisfying to the ear, definitely very well executes the feeling of not wanting to let go of someone or something

Watching TV - a fun and chill bop with lots of variety in sound, crush and mark sound great together, the use of auto tune really helps emphasize the kinda vibe mark was going for, oh shit it's still sad boy but party boy but chill this is confusing but I love it

+82 Pressin' - eyyyy haechan feat. mark (line distribution goes wilddd), honestly this was such a good pre release, the lore and storytelling in the mv too??, hyuk sounds great as always, loved the choreo for this, Mark just has a way with writing lyrics like just randomly being able to fit in "dolphin" of all things is such a testament to his writing honestly, Mark sounded great too obv

200 - glad to see it on the full album honestly 💚, I don't think I've listened to this song enough considering how much I love everything about it, Mark really worked hard on this album for so long I'm glad he's getting his moment (I also know exactly what playlist of mine this fits on have to go add it now why didn't I do that earlier??)

Journey Mercies - all the little details in the track production holy shit, this is so dynamic??, ok vocals I see u mark, oh shit this hits you right on the heart, Mark bro I'll be your everything ok, sounds like a good hanging out in the park on a spring night at the beginning of summer when the sky is just clear enough and there's a slight breeze but it's still warm out song, but yeah loved the production on this!

Mom's Interlude - I honestly really liked that Mark added in so many bits like this that drew you back to reality with production that suited the mood of each break, I don't speak Korean but I bet Mark's mom is speaking facts

Too Much - starting off stripped back is such a statement in contrast to the title, also tying it all back to 1999? mark truly is a storyteller, what a great way to end the album, the production switch ok???!!?!?, this is probably the most someone could hear all the different sides of Mark in one song holy shit, this is a masterpiece omg

°•:.*°•

honestly this album is a whole experience, so props to Mark for working so hard on it! I definitely get the vibe that it wasn't just creative expression for him but also his chance to show nctzens all the sides of him (that's really putting yourself in a vulnerable position and as an artist I can relate a LOT)

°•:.*°•

albums I'd recommend to people who liked The Firstfruit: Indigo and RPWP by RM of BTS (immediately these were the kind of vibes and impact I personally felt), 19.99 by BOYNEXTDOOR (there's a similar pattern so far of albums with songs that just feel like entering a new chapter of life idk why)

°•:.*°•

congrats on the release, Mark! it turned out really well and I'm sure everyone will say their praises, but know that putting out music like this reaches your fans in a way that makes a difference 💚

[did-ask-me-anything]

r/systemcringe misinformation

okay I was scrolling thru r/systemscringe earlier and in like 20-30min I saw soooo much misinformation? not even just the post content cuz.. duh. you're ending up on that sub, youre likely saying some fucking bullshit- but also in the comments?

people are feeding each other bullshit in this oroboros of misinformation that they think is corrections and education and its kinda pissing me off.

ranting under the cut

8 paragraphs if you wanna read em: complaints about dissociaDID and headspace, switches, splitting, fictive takes, source memories

for one, you cant figure out someone is a faker as easy as some think? cuz the disorder isn't the exact same for everyone. stuff like having a headspace or using a bot on discord doesn't make someone automatically a faker as much as it feels like it does... I dont do that shit but it doesn't mean anyone who does is wrong?

and the headspace thing... thats gotta be some shit from dissociaDID cuz.. to my knowledge thats supposed to be like.. almost a meditation thing? a place you make in your head as like your happy place- I feel like dissociaDID started the whole like... "headspace = alter storage space" thing that makes all people faking this shit think they need it. its not supposed to be a filing cabinet or some shit, its supposed to be a tool that literally anyone can use, "plural" or not.

got a bit off topic there but whatever...

okay the things that I was looking at/wanted to talk about that brought me here were misinformation on switching, splitting, and fictives. so.. I'll go over those. my opinion or whatever.

ok so I saw some people talking about switching and how it's only a trauma response to some like.. super fucked up shit actively going on/flashbacks/immediate danger. that's not super true tho? like I formed from trauma yes but that doesn't mean that only that trauma or whatever is what "calls me back" for lack of better phrasing. I have negative triggers yeah of negative things happening that make me kinda.. aware of myself/"gain consciousness" but theres also some positive things? things that while im fronting became positive associations with me that ig my brain draws on me when seeing them. dunno how else to phrase that but like... TLDR: positive triggers exist.

next is splitting uh.. I saw definitely a hot take from someone about splitting. they claim to have DID in the r/ systems cringe sub comments (not saying fake, I just dont really believe anyone) and they were talking about splitting being this thing that makes them wanna off emself or whatever which confused the fuck outta me dude. I vaguely remember when I split...? its been a while and my memory is shit but I was dizzy and felt sick to my stomach and out of it, but I was also around people so just kinda had to bullshit my way through it? disorientating and painful and sickening yes, but thought never crossed my mind to kill myself? dunno what that dude was on about but.. everyone has their own experiences.

last.. maybe least? was a brand new take on fictives! never seen this shit take before so as one myself imma throw in my 2 cents. ive seen plenty of takes about roleplaying characters and shit but then today I saw someone say that if a fictive is not the exact same as the source, its a fake. that.... fucking wild take man, what? like im kinda based on a thing but im still... not a fictional character? im a person? and that person, fiction based or not, spawned from the same fucked up brain that made the rest of my parts. you could call me "character based" or some shit idk.

far as I know im the most "source connected" fictive that's been in this head and im still not the character. can call it like... real strong kin or some shit ig if that helps.. we look kinda similar and have similar personalities, like some of the same things... but im not him? im not the character, im a normal human person.

also separate note but what the fuck are "source memories"? I dont get what the fuck that is and ive seen people talk about em all the time? both fakers claiming to have them and comments in subreddits being like "well if youre the character then you remember everything that happened even if you havent watched the whole show" or whatever. how would that even fucking work.. if the brain hasn't learned any of that info, the character isn't dragged out of another world here... and for those who do claim "source memories"... what??? I know some shit about my source or whatever... tried to watch it and had a lil bit of an existential crisis about my own existence so... 0/10 do not recommend.

went off track a bit but.. ya boi out. -🔪

[analogwriting]

The Other Side of Paradise

Chapter 26: Mama's Gun

Killer x gn!reader word count: 2.9k a/n: pumped out another one for y'all. i'm going to be out of town for a few days to see my brand new niece before the big move. then when i get back i'll finish this sucker. i think we have two to four chapters left??? depends on how much i ramble on lmao it's been a wild ride and thanks for sticking around, lovelies. taglist: @kattywhomper @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @ttalgi @animesailor9 first|next

“You're lucky as shit that I just finished your mask or I’d be madder n hell right now,” Bubblegum said, shaking his head and chuckling.

You were back at the apartment, telling him about how you accidentally busted the mask you had. You were expecting a full scolding, some yelling, but none of it came. Just because your timing was fantastic and he was done with the new one. You still expected some light scolding even if it was done, but it never came.

He must’ve been really excited about what he had created.

“It's just not going to be worth as much if Dive sells it,” he said with a shrug. Money wasn’t exactly something you all worried about anyway, it was just a thing that you did for the fans mostly. All the money just went back into the band to do more fun stuff for the fans.

Dive spoke up. “Eh, they'll still pay crazy money for it so I'm not too bothered.” She was draped on a recliner, playing on her Switch, not even bothering to look up as she spoke. “You act like you can’t fix it anyway. A couple tweaks from you and it’d be good as new to sell anyway.”

Bubblegum snorted, but didn’t argue. It was true. You knew he could fix it with no problem, you had just been worried that he’d have to fix it so quickly but also work on the new one. But with the new one completed, he could just fix that one whenever.

“Gives us plenty of time to let you test drive this and make any tweaks we might need before the tour,” Bubblegum said, handing you the new mask. You took it into your hands and blinked.

Immediately, you could notice the difference. Yes, the design was different, but it was also so much lighter and breathable. It was like holding just a couple of papers in your hand rather than a mask that held multiple functions. “Holy shit, Gum. How did you do this?” You put it on, moving your head around. 

It was so light and wasn't getting as warm as the others did. You barely even noticed it on. 

Hop and Dive joined you, taking the masks for them. They had the same, astonished reactions you did. Performing was going to be so much easier. Having to wear them all day around the building wasn’t going to suck as much.

Bubblegum grinned, folding his arms across his chest as he basked in compliments. “I know. I'm great. Keep going.” He snorted. 

“Also,” he started, moving towards you. “Speak.”

You blinked in confusion. You started just speaking random lyrics from your songs and he adjusted a slider on the side of the mask. Your tone changed then he pushed another one and you grew louder without shouting. 

Your eyes widened. “Holy shit??” You could now change the tone and volume of your modulator? And so easy? This was absolute insanity. Bubblegum was operating in the year 3025.

He snorted and nodded as he stepped back so you could play with the slider. “Figured it would help going from on stage to off stage. It should also help with microphone feedback too.” Occasionally, when you would perform, the masks would produce awful feedback that just ruined the whole vibe. Luckily, it had only ever happened in practice, but it was a fear that you had.

“Also,” Pomp started, drawing your attention to him as he walked out of Bubblegum's room. “You can now record video and audio around you as per your request.”

Bubblegum nodded, pressing a couple of buttons. “Now you can record anytime you are around that slimeball to keep yourself safe.”

A large smile spread across your face. “You really outdid yourselves.”

Pomp grinned. “There's one more feature, but I still have to test it out.”

“What is it?” You removed the mask, handing it to him. 

He took it with a shake of his head. “I'm not saying. It's a surprise.” He smirked at you. you narrowed your eyes, but you left it. You trusted him. You also knew there was no point in trying to figure it out. He wouldn’t crack. He was hard headed like that.

“Oh, Hop said something crazy happened after we left?” Bubblegum switched the topic, looking at you with slight concern. 

You immediately felt drained with the question and sighed, anger tickling the back on your brain as you told him everything that happened. From the fight with Kid to the weird statement from Wire. 

“The fuck he mean someone they ‘lost’? The only person they've ever lost death wise was Victoria.” Bubblegum rolled his eyes. “But that was so long ago and you're not like her at all.”

You nodded and sighed, putting your hands on your hips. “Trust me, I know. There's also the death of his parents and my mom, but I also don't act like them either. My mom was much softer - kinder than I am. Besides, we’re the ones that lost them if anything.” You rolled your eyes.

“Do you think he's talking about you?” Dive piped up from her spot on the recliner. She had switched off her game, giving the conversation your full attention. 

You looked at her and shook your head. “It wouldn't make sense. They never lost me, they fucking ditched me. Us. They better not be spinning that kind of narrative or I'll have to take care of this in a different manner and I might end up in prison.” The thought pissed you off. 

“One text to literally anyone would be enough to disprove the fact you're dead. Or fucking visiting.” Hop rolled her eyes, folding her arms. “Our friend group is large as hell. Surely they could’ve found out the answer in no time at all.”

You nodded, sighing. “That's what I'm saying. Like, you're telling me that if someone told them I died, they wouldn't even go to my funeral? Going to a funeral should be enough to figure out whether or not someone was dead.” You grimaced. 

The more you thought about the cryptic statement, the more it pissed you off. If they really thought you were dead, then what kind of piss poor investigating did they do? It just would really show how much they didn't care and that hurt more to think about. 

Things didn't add up and you needed to snoop. How would you do that? No idea. What were you snooping? No clue. There was a fleeting thought, maybe Doflamingo had something to do with it. It was a thought you didn't really entertain before now. What if he made them stop talking to you and your friends? That didn't make sense though. None of you got in the way of their work. Hell, none of you were here when it was happening. 

Ugh, all the thinking hurt. 

“I propose we switch gears,” Papas spoke up from his place in the kitchen. He poked his head out with a large grin before showing a large platter of shots in his hands. “Let's have some fun since we don't work tomorrow.”

You snorted as some of your friends cheered. Everyone could use the break. Some drinking games would be a good way to relax. Sleep in tomorrow. Just take a slow day. Everyone could use the recuperation. 

You headed over with everyone else, taking a shot glass from the platter and cheering your friends.

--

The next morning, you woke up bright and early. Yes, it was your day off, but you were going to use it to your advantage. People weren't going to expect you at DQE, so snooping would be a lot easier. 

Yes. You were going to go snoop around. The more you thought about the idea of it last night, the more you convinced yourself. It might have been the liquid courage for the most part, but you were sober now and still thought of going through with it.

 You had too many questions and not enough answers. You didn't know where to look, but you'd figure it out when you got there. You also remembered Corazon saying that Doflamingo was going to be out of office today. Perfect time to snoop there too. Maybe find that contract that Law had been talking about. 

You hear your phone buzz and you jump. For a split second, you forgot where you were and when it was because you quickly grabbed your phone, thinking Killer texted you. Then you remembered. You blinked in confusion. You hadn't done that in years. 

Fuck, being around them was throwing you off. Had you all kinds of confused. Honestly, you felt kind of embarrassed and silently thanked the heavens above that no one was up to see you. 

You shake your head, unlocking your phone and seeing you had a text from Corazon.

You snort at his emoji use, rolling your eyes. He was so dramatic, but you also didn't doubt him. He was a large man and stronger than he looked. You’d have to be even more cautious because you knew he'd keep his eyes peeled for you. He knew how you were, which bit you in the ass at this moment. Only, he’d think you’d go to work. He had no idea that you were going to go information hunting.

You shower and get ready, not really worried about waking anyone up. Everyone was still passed out and hard. They'd all partied like crazy the night before so they'd be out cold well into the afternoon more than likely. Which gave you plenty of time to sneak around and get back before anyone woke up.

You slowly and quietly make your way out of your room and into the darkened livingroom. The curtains were drawn to not wake anyone. Everyone wanted to sleep as much as possible and catch up on what they'd been missing the last few weeks. Understandable. Couldn’t let the sun ruin that plan.

You make your way to the coffee table, grabbing your mask when the lamp clicked on, revealing Hop sitting in a chair like a mother catching her kid sneaking out. 

“And where do you think you're going?”

You stop in your tracks, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Uh…”

She folds her arms across her chest, waiting for you to explain. 

You sighed, groaning. “I'm gonna go get answers.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

“I don't know, I was gonna figure it out when I got there.”

She shook her head with a sigh. “Going without a plan is stupid.” She wasn’t wrong. You had nothing but hope.

“I have to at least try.”

She looks at you for a long moment before shaking her head, standing up. “You're a grown adult. I can't stop you, but please don't get caught. I don't need you getting hurt or fired. We still have a long way to go.”

You nodded, smiling widely. “Aye aye. Dont worry. I'll come back with answers.” You paused. “Hopefully. I don’t plan on staying too long.”

You knew she was curious too. She also wanted to know if there was a reason behind the actions of your friends. She must've had the same thoughts last night. That someone was behind everything. 

With that, you headed out. 

--

To make sure that you weren't caught, you didn't take your van. You took an Uber. Sure, it might make getting away a little harder, but it’d be harder to end up caught in the first place this way. It balanced out. You just hoped you wouldn’t get caught and have to come up with an escape plan. Fingers crossed

You didn’t quite put your mask on yet - that was the most recognizable feature about you, after all. A dead giveaway. You left it tucked under your arm, under the jacket you were wearing. You did, however, have a face mask and a ballcap on to at least keep your features hidden still. The boys knew what you looked like, after all. 

Though, since your group had a day off, you imagine they took off too.

You stuck to the shadows, careful not to be spotted. You moved slowly, keeping an eye out at every turn and corner. You were determined not to get caught. You felt like some kind of super spy.

Passing by the studios, you noticed the boys in one of them. You blinked, surprised they were there. They seemed to be working hard on whatever they were working on. 

Now that you were able to see them in their candid nature, they looked exhausted. More than just a restless night. This looked like years of hardwork and exhaustion built up and weighing on them. A small part of you felt sympathy for them. You could only imagine what Doflamingo put them through. How hard they had to work to get where they were. 

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself of why you were here. You spent all this time being angry at them. What if…none of this was their fault? The thought plagued you. 

But, you had tried to come and see them. Killer had been with someone else that time on TV. What else other than to tell you they didn't care about you anymore? Ugh. Everything was so confusing. 

You walked off, trying to stay on track. 

Now, where was Doflamingo's office again? You'd only really been once and the entire building was a maze, so it was easy to forget. You usually just stuck to your typical haunts because you knew how to get there.

You figured you'd start in his office since he was out and it was as good of a place as any.

You find what you're looking for, taking a deep breath and turned the handle. Of course, it was locked. You grumbled, pulling out a lock pick kit you swiped from Dive. You knew she wouldn't mind and you'd give it back. Or buy her a new one if needed. It also wasn’t her favorite one, so you’d be in the clear anyway.

Snooping would naturally lead to locked doors, so you knew you'd need it. 

After a couple of minutes, and a few failed attempts, you made it inside. Immediately, you hated the vibe. It just felt slimy being in this office. You could only imagine all the cons and cheats that happened in this room. The large mural of himself hanging above his desk, looking down on you didn't help either. 

You set your mask down on the desk, trying to think of where to start. You started rifling through drawers, not even sure what you're looking for. What? Were you hoping something would just jump out at you? 

Though after you thought about it some more, someone as smart as him wouldn't leave anything in his desk. That was too obvious. He definitely would hide it somewhere else. What was it? You had no idea. You were still going off hopes and hunches.

You move to the bookshelves, looking through them. Maybe something over here would give you a hint. You grabbed a few, flipping through them, and putting them back. Ugh, there was nothing here! How could-

Something fell out of the book you were currently holding. You picked it up and looked at it. It was a newspaper article. 

“FAMOUS RECORD LABEL FOUNDER AND WIFE FOUND DEAD” followed by a picture of two people that both resembled the Donquixote brothers - it had to be their parents. 

You dangle the book, shaking it and something else falls out. Another newspaper clipping. 

“COLD BLOODED MURDER TURNS INTO COLD CASE” It talks about how the Donquixote murders weren’t able to be solved. Not enough evidence, they never found out who did it. Though, you had an uneasy feeling in your stomach that you knew exactly who it had been. However, he would've been a child at the time. Surely a child wouldn't murder his own parents. Or even be capable…right?

You put the clippings back and put the book back where it was, a bad feeling washing over you. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath to calm yourself down and try to think of where else to look. You notice some CDs. The demo CD for Victoria Punk catches your eye and you frown. That was the you helped them make. The very one that you helped hand out randomly to spread the word about them. The one that you had spent a good amount of time in photoshop to make the cover for.

Slowly, you walk over and grab it. A soft, fond smile appears on your face. You remember the boys working so hard on it. All of you were amateurs then. You were sure if you listened to it now, you would've cringed. As any artist - any person - does that when seeing old works or photos of themselves.

You opened it, wondering why Doflamingo would have something like this in his office. 

That question is immediately answered. Your blood runs cold as you stare at it. How the fuck did this happen? Just how far did Doflamingo go? So many questions answered but so many more popped up from just one small piece of paper. 

Your obituary.

NEXT

[romantichoneypie]

gimme more!

Pairing: Elenois Sverchzt X fem!reader

Warnings:18+ MDNI!,Smut,Relationship established, smooth BDSM,Dynamics of submission and dominance,sub Elenois.

You are dating Elenois. You met during photo shoots. Elenois seemed a little shyer than she really seemed, but you noticed when she started blushing at your compliments and became a little shy around you.

As time went by, you two started getting to know each other better, going out together, going to Restaurants and everything else. During parties, Elenois liked being with you by her side and the relationship only grew. You two dated almost openly. The people at the modeling agency knew about it, and some of the people who liked her as a model already suspected it.

And this only became clearer when Elenois rejected any man who flirted with her at parties. But that was nothing new because she never really cared much about the men who hit on her.

One thing that enchanted you was that she had an identical twin, Selenne. You could tell the two apart. Elenois was simply the woman you loved the most. Your relationship with her is absolutely perfect.

Today is a routine day photographing models for a magazine focused on beachwear when one of Elenois' assistants and friends comes up to you.

"(y/n) good morning, I'm sorry but Elenois is asking you to go do her photo shoot" the girl says trying to catch her breath which only makes you laugh a little.

"hm I'll go, but what brand is she photographing for? For the beachwear one?" you say calmly and then switch places with one of your teammates and start walking down the hallway with the assistant.

"it's for the La Perla brand, and you know how Elenois is...so she asked me to go" the brand in question was a lingerie and underwear brand in general, they wanted something more daring to celebrate the one year anniversary of the brand that was recently launched.

This was common. Elenois was a woman who was a little shyer than her sister and also a little quieter. While Elenois is more reserved, Selenne is much more outgoing, and sometimes when there is a situation in which she needs to wear something shorter or like lingerie, she calls you for support, to take the photos and calm her down.

"Hmm, I think this brand got confused when choosing the model," you say laughing. Elenois usually doesn't like this type of work, but as long as it pays well, she is available to do it.

"Hmm, another thing I didn't tell you: she wants only you to stay on set, and she's still dressed," the assistant says and when she gets to the door, she leaves, leaving only you there to enter through the door and then you lock it.

You let out a small sigh and then go inside the room. You see that the lighting is colored, staying in red or being able to be changed to normal light. In addition, there was a whole decoration in that room that was reminiscent of BDSM, such as ropes, blindfolds and whips too. They were investing in a BDSM collection.

In the 1950s, BDSM was just something made for pleasure and to explore fetishes and desires. It was curious that it was being used like this by the brand, probably to attract the public, both for the controversy and for curiosity.

"Hey my love, I'm here. Are you okay?" you asked and then began to adjust some equipment, already thinking about what to do.

"Hi my love, I'm finishing changing my clothes. Please wait a little." Elenois' sweet voice filled the silence of the room and you smiled at that.

"Beautiful, why don't you want a team this time?" You ask calmly, just trying to understand, considering the scenario and the fact that she doesn't want a crew, it must be quite exposed lingerie.

"Because I don't want other people to see me in lingerie like that in person and you're the person I trust the most to take the photos" she says and you feel like smiling listening to her sweet words, but you also feel that she's shy and apprehensive about the photos.

"Because of that," Elenois says and then leaves the dressing room where she was changing clothes and you hear the sound of her heels. Lifting your head, you find her wearing absolutely stunning red lingerie. It wasn't separated into two pieces, it was held together by a ring in the middle. The sides of her body at the waist didn't have anything matching and the bra had a transparency that looked perfect against her skin. You could see her nipples and a good part of her chest. She's wearing a garter belt with stockings and red heels on her feet. You can see that even her makeup is different. She's wearing red lipstick, outlined lips, red eyeshadow and her hair is only slightly curly. You noticed the collar she was wearing, it had a ring to actually attach a rope.

"Hey (y/n)! Did you hear what I said? God, don't look at me like that. I'm already embarrassed. If I had known it would be something like this, I would have just refused." Elenois says calmly and well, you just smile. You were almost drooling.

"Hmm... I just, you look absolutely divine in that lingerie, you look really beautiful, and you're not even crazy enough to turn down this job right now" you say calmly and then approach her who has a flushed face, and gently run your hands along the sides of her body, gently caressing her hips and then giving her a kiss on the lips, the kiss has a sweet mint taste and when you separate you can see that I transferred some of the lipstick to you.

"Do you really think I look beautiful?, because I don't know for sure... I feel like it's a little too much for me" Elenois says and turns to you and then approaches one of the mirrors to see her curvy body being marked by the lingerie highlighting every perfect spot.

"There is no one more beautiful than you, you look beautiful my love, there is no need to be shy think that I'm the only one here" you say calmly and approach her putting your arms around her waist, you are a little taller and your head is resting on top of hers.

"You always know what to say, don't you smart girl? But there's also the magazine. I'm going to appear like this in the magazine and at the La Perla brand's one-year party." She says and looks at you with her beautiful brown eyes. It was almost a slight habit that Elenois and her sister kept their eyes closed, but that usually happened to highlight the shadows of both of them.

"Hmmm, it's not a big deal. Come on, it's just a few photos and there's no need to worry about it. I'm the only one here." You say calmly and then approach her, gently holding her chin and giving her a soft kiss on the lips and gently caressing her face.

"Hmm, then let's take these photos right away before I regret it." Elenois says and lets out a small laugh at your caresses and kisses.

"Think that we'll be able to explore the set later, my beautiful." You say and give a naughty smile. She moves away and then goes to the middle of the studio. You start to fix the lighting and everything.

"That was the first thing I thought of... They made a very well-developed scenario," Elenois says, and then she arranges herself in a pose, separating her legs and then she tilts her head to the side, leaving her light brown hair to the sides and her neck with the collar showing.

"What do you think of this pose?" Elenois says in a calm tone and then looks up at you.

"There's just one thing missing, my love," you approach and then take the leash of the collar, attaching the chain to the collar. She would definitely look beautiful like this.

"Did you know that this is a little ridiculous? Who likes this kind of thing?" Elenois says, and you just laugh and give her a soft kiss on the forehead.

"I think it's interesting, you just look beautiful like this, you know?" You say and you can see her blushing. You knew that was just lip service, behind closed doors you know very well that your girl likes a fun game of submission and dominance.

"Hmmm, you have strange tastes" Elenois says and returns to the previous position, you hold the chain around her neck, pulling it gently while you take the pictures, her body is just beautiful and everything she was wearing only highlights how beautiful she is, her white skin contrasting with the red of both the room and her lingerie.

"hmmm... may God have mercy on me, you are just beautiful my princess... my kitten" you say and then gently pull the collar.

"Oh... I can say it's not that bad" Elenois feels a slight pressure on her neck when you pull her, you can see her blushing and you just take more pictures of her.

"hmmm I want a better position my beautiful, let me help you" you say and then let go of the rope you just see her waiting to be helped, and then you approach.

"what's on your mind my love?" Elenois says calmly and smiles at you, showing that big smile with white teeth and those beautiful dimples.

"Oh, let me show you this, my love," you say, and then gently pull the chain. You were enjoying this. Pulling the chain around her neck gave you a good idea of ​​power.

"I want something bolder, like this," you say calmly, and gently hold one of her hands against her own breast, the other coming close to her lips.

"How is this, my love?" She says, and gently bites the tip of her finger while her other hand gently touches her breast.

You take a picture of her like this. She looks absolutely beautiful in these pictures. "Explore the space," you say, and Elenois nods.

She starts to walk around and see what's there. Besides the collar, there's a lot more, ropes, handcuffs, whips, vibrators, and the main focus is the bed that has a blindfold and handcuffs. Elenois lies down, gets on the bed, and then you come closer. She smiles at you.

"How would you arrange me to be even sexier?" She speaks calmly and then you gently touch her cheek.tingling her slightly and then tilting her head and then tossing her hair to the side.

"I can say with absolute certainty that this is the photoshoot in which you look sexiest" you say and hear a light laugh from Elonois, you take a few pictures and then leave the camera around your neck, you gently approach her and then sit on her lap.

"You just want to tease me and see me blushing, aren't you? You're a little cruel, you know that?" Elenois says and gently caress her waist, she loves having my hands wrapped around her body.

"I like to be a little cruel then" you say and then gently caress her cheek, leaning in for a soft kiss on the lips and then start kissing her face leaving small lipstick marks on her face.

"Hmmm... you still have to take pictures" she says reminding you in a failed attempt to push you away because she was already feeling a little wet from this and her body was shivering.

"I'm ready for the model" you answer and change Elenois' position laying her completely on the bed, after filling her face with kisses and lipstick marks you gently tilt her face to the side and then take the camera and take more pictures pulling the collar lightly.

"My kitten is so beautiful..." you whisper and then gently stroke her brown hair you can see that she likes it.

"You... God my love you are teasing me" Elenois' sweet whisper and a small sigh is released, she looks at you with puppy eyes.

"Hmm I can stop teasing and do it, can't I, kitten?" you whispered and then she lets out a light laugh, you gently lower the strap of her bra a little the white skin in contrast with the pink nipples bristling, you gently caress her softly and start to gently kiss her collarbone and the beginning of her breasts, you remove the corset from her body and the bra having good access to her beautiful breasts.

"Love, someone might come in..." she says, letting out a small whimper and gently running her fingers through your hair. Elenois has always been a little sensitive in the breast area.

"No one will come in. I locked the door before I came in, kitten," you say, and you can hear the soft moan from her lips. She secretly likes her pet name.

"You think of everything, don't you?" she says, and then she gently wraps her legs around your waist, gently pressing your body against hers.

"I'm always well prepared... even," you whisper, and then turn on one of the radios nearby to drown out any noise that might arise.

"I want you, my love..." Elenois whispers, and then kisses your lips softly and wraps her arms around your neck. The kiss perfectly matches the feeling of lust and desire in the atmosphere.

"You can make a better request, my love," you whisper, and laugh at her needy whimper.

"Hmm...can you please fuck my wet and needy pussy my love?, please I need it" Elenois speaks with such false innocence that it makes you laugh at that she looks at you with puppy eyes and you pull her collar bringing her face even closer.

"you can still be better but I am a compassionate person" you say and then lean over, you lower your hand between Elenois' legs gently separating her slightly thin thighs and touching the length of her intimacy you can feel her wet through that thin fabric.

"oooh...fuck, not like that" she whispers and you can feel that she is sensitive, removing your finger from that small spot, you feel the slight viscosity on your fingers.

"Hmmm so wet, lucky you don't have to return the lingerie" you say and then take some things off the bed, leaving the blindfold and rope aside and your camera too, you take the blindfold and then put the blindfold over Elenois's eyes and tie it just like the ribbon you have. You gently tie Elenois against the headboard of the bed after putting the blindfold on.

"You're just being naughty today, aren't you?" Elenois says and you gently kiss her face making sure the blindfold is stuck to her face, she tries to move her hands but fails miserably because they are tied.

You start rummaging through the drawers and just then you find something really interesting, a vibrator of the most modern kind, they were making a collection of sexual items.

"I found something you'll like my love" you plug the vibrator in and then gently press it against her still covered intimate area and press that little button letting it start to vibrate, you see her let out a moan and then her back arches.

"oh fuck that's it, God really has it all in this studio" you see her being a little more needy and grinding herself against the vibrator.

"After this I'm going to have to buy you one of these my love, you're so needy my kitty... really like a kitty in heat" you say and see Elenois holding onto the headboard of the bed that bangs against the wall and sighing, her head tilts back and her back remains straight.

"Yes, yes, yes I'm so needy my love, I'm your kitty in heat" she whispers softly and leaves you stimulated the vibrator seems perfect, Elenois has never used anything like this until now, and the blindfold that covers her eyes only makes her senses feel sharper.

You gently start to kiss her legs, especially her thighs and gently remove the lingerie from her body, the stockings are left aside and the garter belt too, you gently press the vibrator into her core increasing the level which makes the vibration only more intense which makes Elenois have to cover her mouth to keep from letting out loud moans.

"So beautiful... your body is like paradise, you know? You're absolutely stunning, you're like a work of art" you say and then gently approach her, running your fingers through her hair. You can see how upset she was and you kiss her in a way to reduce her moans and please her. You continue pressing the vibrator against her pussy and then you place it over her clitoris, you hold her waist and squeeze gently.

"Y-you have such a great ability to make me feel good... oh God, I feel so good, I'm absolutely yours" she says in a breathless tone and with a broken voice, you can clearly tell that she's almost there, her hands wanting to free themselves from the tape and also pressing against the headboard.

"Are you coming, love? So fast, I didn't even have to touch you..." you whisper just to tease and let go of her hands and you hear her whimper and then she wraps her arms around your neck and hides her face in your shoulder.

"Ooh yeah I'm almost there my love...it feels so good, you're just mean you know, you know I'm in my fertile period"

You can feel your girl pressing your body against hers, tightening her legs around you and the noises she makes are adorable.

Of course you know but you're just teasing your girl, the blindfold has already been lost in the bed by now and she loves being able to see you, the music playing is perfect for the moment and you can feel her scratching your back.

"Hmmm my love I'm going to cum..." Elenois whispers and then you take the vibrator out and insert your fingers inside her just using them to stimulate her more, penetrating and making them hit her g-spot.

It doesn't take long for Elenois to cum, she hides in a few seconds, her screams are trying to be muffled by a strong bite she gives you on your neck, it will definitely leave a mark.

"Such a good girl...you're so perfect my princess" you whisper softly and you can see her shrinking closer around you. You continue to stimulate her, prolonging her orgasm. You gently remove the tape that was holding her wrists with your other hand.

You feel her hiding her face in the crook of your neck and the sigh she lets out is soft. You gently remove her from the crook of your neck and kiss her on the lips.

"Hmmm, I don't want you to stop, I want more, I want everything" you hear her whisper and she looks at you with her eyes slightly closed. She pulls you towards her and then she begins to undo your blouse. She unbuttons it and with a light click your bra is open and she begins to gently squeeze your breasts.

"I want to please you and be pleased at the same time my love" you see her opening her legs a little more, and you smile at that.

You two have been dating for about two months and she really seemed embarrassed to touch you due to her lack of experience with women and because she had never had much sexual experience with anyone, especially with someone who really knew what they were doing like you, and she just got used to receiving the pleasure you give her but she also wants to please you like you do to her.

"Your requests are just an order to me my princess" you say and then position yourself in the best way possible fitting yourself between her thighs and gently holding her face. She stays there and he takes off your pants and panties starting to explore your intimacy, she doesn't usually please you that way, you felt a lot of pleasure just giving her pleasure.

The two of you form a sixty-nine and begin to explore each other's bodies, which seemed just perfect, your mouth envelops her clitoris, dedicating yourself to sucking her ideal spot, your tongue dancing against that spot as she herself pleases you, and wow, how good it felt, to feel her tongue exploring the length of your intimate area and the gentle licks she gave.

You were really dedicating yourself to sucking her already wet pussy, which was already perfect, only got better with the feeling of her repeating what you were doing. Her tongue was softer, she was learning so fast. Keep it up, just suck me like this, my love." Even more motivated by this, her grip on your thighs increased and she gently began to introduce her tongue gently inside you, just gently, but then she returned to where you wanted it most.

And at this moment, you were starting to feel even more sensitive than now, and you could even feel that familiar pressure forming in your stomach, your orgasm building. You just started to leave clumsy licks over your girlfriend's body, which only made her squirm slightly beneath you.

She barely knew how this was really happening, but she was happy that she was pleasing you like this. She had rarely done this and she usually followed her instructions, letting you guide her. This time, she was doing it on her own, paying attention to what your body responded to the most and how you liked to be touched.

"Ooooh God, that's it! I'm going to cum! Be a good girl and suck it all, okay? I want you to taste me" you say, letting out hoarse moans against her pussy, which only emits small vibrations. Elenois was realizing that it was very pleasurable to give pleasure to someone because her pussy is throbbing just by licking and also listening to her moans.

You still have to try to keep quiet and then, almost impulsively, you bite her thigh, and God, after that you get there, your body trembling gently on hers and she can feel your sweet taste on her tongue, your liquid seems perfect, like water in the desert to her and she loved it, not letting a single drop stay on your body.

With the gentle bite on her thigh, Elenois also gets there and hers is a little stronger than yours and you quickly decide to suck her pussy, the only thing that can be heard in the room are the wet sounds of sucking, your soft body climbing on hers and both of you breathing heavily.

"God, that was amazing, Elenois. You were so good. I really liked that." You whisper, still trying to steady your voice. You get off of her, changing sides and laying down on the bed. Elenois' face is flushed and her lips are a little sticky.

You kiss her on the lips and the moan is very much between you and her, the taste of both of you mixing in the kiss, slightly sweet. When the kiss is broken, she looks at you with puppy eyes and then she rests her face in the crook of your neck.

"Did you really like it? Did I do it right?" She asks in a soft tone, wrapping her arms around your waist and you give her a soft kiss on the lips. "You were perfect. I absolutely loved that... The only problem is that we kind of got dirty when we shouldn't have," you say and laugh a little at that. She lets out a small laugh.

"It's okay... I said I didn't feel very comfortable wearing clothes and they gave me permission to use some of the toys before the photos and when I was alone so I could be a little more "loose", so there's no problem, they also said I could bring the vibrator and some other toys I wanted" she says and gently scratches your back with her nails, a burning sensation that you really like a lot.

"I'm starting to think they wanted a sex video of you" you say laughing and he gives you a soft slap on the arm, this makes you blush, she just thinks they were kind and tried to please her.

"Hmmm then they are very wrong, the only person who can see me completely naked is you, only you" you laugh and place a soft kiss on her shoulder.

"I want to take a picture of you like this...you look just beautiful all disheveled like someone who just had sex" you say and Elenois nods, you gently pull the collar on her neck making her whimper and you had a beautiful picture, of course not for the campaign but for you, Elenois hair was slightly stuck to her forehead, her face red and the red lighting hitting her face.

"this one is mine, and I'm going to develop these photos myself" you hear her laugh a little and she pulls you in for a soft kiss on the lips.

The two of you stay there for a long time, hugging Elenois' head with her head resting on your chest and taking a nap, after a while you both clean yourselves and leave after a while, you next to her and you leave together.

In a sequence of days you developed the photos in your own red room, keeping for yourself the most intimate photos and the ones you liked the most, and the others actually going to the brand that closed the photos.

A few days later, you are at the La Perla party, and Elena is absolutely stunning, wearing a white sheath dress, light makeup on her face and curly brown hair. It was a dinner party. You rest your hand on her leg.

"I really hope there's nothing there."

"I would never let anyone else see you in a more intimate way," you whisper and watch the owner of the French brand walk up on stage.

"Thank you all for coming, it's a pleasure to have you here. We're gathered tonight to celebrate one year of the La Perla brand and also to announce the new lingerie collection. And as a surprise, we decided to produce sexual items, because pleasure is also important for a healthy and happy life." The man says and then people laugh. You still caress your girlfriend's leg under the table, gently squeezing the soft skin.

"Without further ado... watch the concept and then we'll have a little sample show" the man says and then a small sequence of photos of Elenois starts to pass by on the screen, but thankfully, you can barely recognize her, she's blushing.

"Lucky you don't show my face..." Elenois says and you smile, there's nothing really explicit there.

"Such a naughty girl on the bed but just a lady outside" you say just teasing her and then she gently slaps your arm.

"Shut up... you're just teasing me" she says and then leans her head against your shoulder and you slide your fingers through her hair.

"Where's Selenne?" you ask calmly, you're already so used to seeing the two of them together gossiping.

"Hmmm she's in the fashion show... I think they really confused us and asked her to do the fashion show too, they liked my work, but since they were already confused I just encouraged her to do the modeling job, I would never do that... not in front of so many people.

The fashion show takes place and you pay attention to the fashion show, you and Elenois are busy exchanging kisses, no one really cares in such a social circle, most of the people there were just there to see women wearing lingerie.

"Were you seeing those women?" Elenois says and holds your face, squeezing it gently as if she were jealous.

"Of course not... I only have eyes for my beautiful girl, and even more so I can only think about you in that lingerie" you whisper and you can see Elenois smiling.

Selenne returns to her normal self after the fashion show, she wears a black dress and has a slightly unfriendly expression.

"Your kisses disgust me, you should go to a room, you know?" she says only to teasing her sister and Elenois laughs, temporarily stopping kissing her and fixing the lipstick on her lips.

"Just say that because you don't have anyone" Elenois replies and Selenne pretends to be indignant.

"Okay, Sink Plunger, just stop with those kisses" Selenne says and Elenois just leaves a sweet kiss on her lips.

The rest of the party goes on smoothly, Selenne and Elenois drinking until the moment when Elenois complains that she is sleepy. You decide to take them home and so your day ends with you sleeping next to your girlfriend, hugging each other.

[taylortruther]

I think I probably wrote my question in a confusing way, maybe because it’s a confuse thought in my head too!

I kinda meant, she admitted that she ghosted and “swindled” partners in the past and she had her reasons of her course, but that’s the same thing she accuses Matty of, but in his case she tells him that he is what he’s done, in her case it’s glossed over as a “clever” and “girlboss-y” (not my words, I read them used here and on twitter). Isn’t it a bit hypocritical, for lack of a better adjective, to condemn this type of behaviour when she admitted that she did it in the past?

so just to be clear (because i know i'd get a sassy anon otherwise), i don't think leaving a relationship by way of getaway car is "girl bossy" djdksjs i don't think empowerment in relationships means not caring about hurting people. it means knowing when to leave and how to look out for yourself. but taylor (just like any of us) is just trying to leave her life, she's not dating and breaking up AS an icon of feminism or whatever. like, she's a person. her actions will not always be logical or pure or even good.

so that said, i don't think it's very productive to say "you did this once, you're not allowed to feel hurt when the tables are turned." i think we can look forward to ts12+ and see what she says about those patterns, though! i mean, i for one have said a few times i'd love even more songs about her motivations, or what parts of herself lead her to engage in these specific patterns (getaway cars, people pleasing, and so on.)

like, in the bolter, she reiterated how she skips town on men and it feels freeing. but she's also written many songs about how she thinks she must've been better as an idea, because men leave her in the dust. so which is it? was she in control or was she not? these are questions she asks herself in her last few albums: the archer comes to mind, where she's saying she knows she has an issue with bolting and hurting people close to her - she wants to change. in wcs, she asserts she wasn't poison, she was young and naive, but then why can't she let it go? is it because she enjoyed some of it? in mastermind, she says she's driven by a need to be loved and implies she doesn't deserve it unless she tries tries tries, it's now part of who she is. and in the manuscript, she says she was young, and this guy who was older and so much more mature (as she knows now, given she's in her 30s now too) thinks he did nothing wrong. and maybe it wasn't wrong (or was it?)... but it set her on a path she didn't choose, and she had to find meaning in it to move on and regain control over it. and ttpd is a reflection of that lesson: how you can be led by emotion and superstition and constructs like luck or fate, but these are also traps, because you can use them to escape reality and construct a fantasy that can burn down your whole life.

and taylor has said she's hurt people, switched out men, ghosted. maybe she hasn't sung enough about it to your liking besides quippy one liners, but i also think the explanation for that behavior is clearly described. she's afraid people will leave her and betray her so she searches for reasons to bolt! think of that EVERYONE WILL BETRAY YOU sign in the anti hero mv, and "this is how the world works: you gotta leave before you get left" in idsb, and the reputation poem about caging herself in with her own extreme sense of justice; think about how she sings she "shoots to kill when she's mad," "why do i break what i love so much?" "help me hold onto you" and "my reputations never been worse so you must like me for me" and he "loves her like she's brand new" and how essential that would be for someone who NEEDS to be liked in the midst of a massive public cancellation. how easily that turns into handcuffing yourself to a spell, to the idea that this is the only person she can be with. like, this is a very similar story to say, calvin, but the stakes were lower. but she was still trying to choose the right relationship in the most of a lot of public bullshit.

and then think about how, if you handcuffed yourself to an idea of love, if that love stops being enough, you might struggle to figure out how to end it. i mean, anyone who's ever had to initiate a breakup in a ltr can tell you how you don't break up the first time it occurs to you. you pick fights, resentment builds up, you have doubts you'll find someone else, you go on breaks, you try to make it work, you go into denial.

and ultimately, choosing yourself and your own happiness is so rarely a clean decision. people WILL get hurt in the process, sometimes in avoidable ways. it's just life. ghosting or ending things badly is often a result of not wanting to hurt someone or have a confrontation. which isn't always the best way to handle things, but, well, that doesn't mean you can't be hurt later lmao.

anyway, she wanted to tell a specific story (three stories, really) in ttpd and maybe later she'll talk about her own so-called hypocrisy. or not.

[casp1an-sea]

people often talk about the weird things in Star Wars legends, so let’s talk about the weird things that are actually Cannon.

There is a Cross over arc between the Star Wars comics, and the doctor Aphra comics, where Aphra coerces Luke into teaming up with her to help her unlock an ancient Jedi relic that she really has no intention of allowing Luke to use. She hands Luke over as a gift to some Queen on a weird planet because she’s obsessed with Jedi things, in return for said queen unlocking the artifact for her.

anyway, the weird part of this book is the queen is some sort of life force vampire. Every night she feasts on the life force of her citizens, and since Luke is force sensitive, she is obsessed with drinking his life force. At one point she is successful in capturing Luke, as well as Han, because Han was being stupid as shit. And then she hooks luke up to this machine that somehow turns his life force into a liquid, and then she drinks it.

she also has a whole bunch of these really dangerous brain parasites that are kind of like giant bugs, so I’m scared how they get into your head. the visuals were quite disgusting but I just don’t know how they can even fit in there, but anyway, she infects Han with one of these, and also forces him to drink some of Luke’s life force, which raises is a lot of questions, that are, of course, never elaborated on.

but anyway, the parasite basically allows the queen to control. Han through a hive mind, but I guess drinking Luke’s life force allowed him to still have some cognitive function rather than being a mindless zombie, but he’s evil. It was actually very interesting, though I had a hard time, keeping a straight face while listening to Han be evil. Unfortunately, thought Leia somehow got him to switch sides by talking to him? I don’t know it got very confusing at the end. But all I’m saying is evil Han didn’t last long enough.

Then they rescue Luke, or Luke rescues himself I can’t really remember. He also got infected by a brain parasite at one point, but he beat it with the force so was never really turned evil.

also, Dr. Aphra’s murder droids are with them, and for some reason, Leia trusts Trip to get the parasite out of Han unsupervised. And it is mentioned that Trip ended up (tw: kinda graphic) cutting a hole in Han’s head, while he was fully conscious, because Leia did not specify to sedate or numb him… it’s very on brand for trip, but Jesus fucking Christ

also, the art alternates between two artists I believe, and it is wildly inconsistent. Sana’s hair switches between an Afro and locs, some of the volumes give the queen pupils some of them don’t, in some evil Han has his normal clothes, and others. He has the uniform of the queens guard. It was kind of annoying. I still love the book for how bat shit crazy it is though. And it’s also pretty funny.

Oh and of course, Luke is again questioning if he has a crush on every single girl that is nice to him (you know because he doesn’t know he’s gay yet) and Sana had to break it to him that Aphra is a lesbian

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The books are

The Screaming Citadel 1

Star Wars (2015) 31

Doctor Aphra (2016) 7

Star Wars (2015) 32

Doctor Aphra (2o16) 8

All of these books are available as free audio comics on YouTube. They are very well made :)