#Now. he's free and while it's not “fancy”. but at least it's SOMEWHAT like his own

[dootznbootz]

I think people sleep on this moment in the Odyssey...

If I'm wrong, not getting full context, or see something that isn't there, feel free to give evidence to explain why.

Here he crept under a pair of bushes, one an olive, the other a wild olive, which grew from the same stem with their branches so closely intertwined that when the winds blew moist not a breath could get inside, nor could the rain soak right through to the earth.

(Book 5, Rieu)

I think this is about Penelope and him.

Obviously, their marriage bed is made from an Olive tree. If it's just about Athena then why are there two mentioned? Why did Homer mention two when he could've just said he took refuge under one? Or a completely different type of tree? Why mention them being intertwined?

One an olive: Penelope, who has been with society and "safe" in Ithaca ("Safe" because of the suitors)

One wild: Odysseus, who has dealt with literal monsters and immortals and has just escaped from Calypso. Literally naked and filthy, a "wild man".

"which grew from the same stem with their branches": Them both being together at first, before being separated.

"so closely intertwined that when the winds blew moist not a breath could get inside, nor could the rain soak right through to the earth.": Despite being separated, they are still "intertwined". Whether you want to think of it as them being likeminded or simply connected, even though they are apart, nothing could get in between them. 🥺

I don't know what else Homer could be referring to other than them.

[giannaln4]

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day ten.

Jealous Lando (2.2k words)

summary: Something unleashes inside Lando when you run into one of your coworkers, his shameless invitation making him want to remind you who you belong to.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, blow job, fingering, jealous!lando, possessive!lando.

You found yourselves sitting in a somewhat fancy café in Austin, enjoying the warm weather as he told you about his day.

Lando had been a little bit busy with the duties that carried being a Formula One driver, so any little time you could spend with each other was well appreciated, so sitting really close to him in one of the couches as you sipped your coffee was nice.

However, you took a few days of vacations to go with him to the American races, but that didn’t mean you were completely off the hook since you carried your laptop everywhere in case you needed to get something done, which is what happened right now.

You got a notification on your phone from what seemed like an important email, so you pulled your laptop out to take a look at the file your boss had shared with you, promising Lando it wouldn’t take more than five minutes.

It had been like fifteen minutes and you were still reviewing it, now with your phone on your ear while you talked with someone about this new project you were supposed to take over once you got back as Lando had your computer on his lap.

He didn’t really mind, or at least that was what he always told you. Here is the thing: he understood that your job was important for you, and he appreciated the fact that you took a few days just so you could be with him, but sometimes he just wished you could quit so he could take you everywhere with him without having to worry about you focusing on a screen instead of him.

Was that selfish? Maybe, but who could blame him for wanting his girlfriend to be all his? 

You would never describe Lando as the possessive type, and maybe it was because he never voiced his concerns out loud. He was jealous sometimes, that’s for sure, but possessive? Not really.

“Sorry, baby. I really had to take this,” you said as you hung up the phone.

“It’s okay, but I don’t understand why you still have to do all of this if you are supposed to be on vacation.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I thought I would be able to go the full month without having to do any of this,” you sighed as you took one last look at the email. “I will try to stay off work for the rest of the time we are together, I promise.”

That really pissed him off. If you were on vacation, shouldn’t you be able to enjoy it? Lando was building up the courage to tell you what he had been thinking pretty much your entire relationship, carefully thinking about his words. “Maybe you should quit-”

“Oh, hi Y/N,” a random voice interrupted him, making both of you look up. You both saw one of your coworkers standing there, entirely ruining Lando’s plan to covince you to leave your job and become a full-time wag. He could already feel his blood boiling.

“Oh- hi,” you replied, trying to remember the guy’s name. 

“I didn’t know you were here. I mean, I knew you were off, but I assumed you were just staying home. Nice to see you are enjoying your free time travelling.” He was completely ignoring Lando, not directing a single word to him, not even a quick glare, and Lando didn’t like that. Not one bit. 

“Yeah, I took time off to go to a few races,” you said, motioning your head towards your now upset boyfriend. “What about you?”

“I’m here to attend my brother’s wedding,” he said with a small laugh. “But I didn’t bring anyone with me, so it will be a bit awkward to be the best man without a date.”

Lando already knew where this was going, and he was using all his self-control not to punch the guy in the face and tell him to fuck off. They were in a public place anyway, and he knew his team would not like to see something like this hit the news, but man, the guy really deserved it.

“Hey, unless you are free tomorrow. Would you be interested in coming with me? You know, free food and free buzz. Big party.” At that moment, Lando felt his coherent thoughts leave his mind, his hand finding a place on your thigh and squeezing it softly as he killed him with a glare.

“We’re busy, actually, can’t you see?” Lando finally spoke, in a tone you had never heard before, as he pointed to the open laptop that still rested on his lap.

“Oh, I didn’t mean right now," the guy replied, finally acknowledging Lando’s presence, but he turned to face you again. “There is a rehearsal tonight, but tomorrow-”

“We have plans for tomorrow." Lando interrupted, bringing you closer to him with his hand still gripping your thigh. “Don’t we?” He said, looking at you.

You looked back at him, slightly blushing at your boyfriend’s actions. “Yeah, sorry… uh”

“Joe”

“Right, Joe,” you repeated, giving him a friendly smile “Sorry, Joe.”

“Good luck being alone at the wedding though." Lando wasn’t trying to be friendly at all; if anything, he just wanted him to stop hitting on you and leave immediately. “See you around, mate.”

Joe looked at you, as if he were asking you for confirmation to leave. “I’ll see you back at the office,” you said, waving him goodbye.

Joe sighed loudly as he started to walk away, and Lando smiled proudly and kissed your temple.

“Wow, I knew you were jealous, but I didn’t think you were that jealous," you whispered, placing your hand on top of his.

“I’m not,” he frowned his eyebrows as if he was being falsely accused. “We’re just really busy.”

He stared at you with eyes full of... anger? You weren’t sure, but you knew for a fact that he’d be leaving marks on your thigh if he kept gripping you like that.

“You know I would’ve said no, right? You didn’t have to scare him off like that.”

“We’re leaving.” Was all he replied, taking his hand away as he closed your laptop, standing up and walking away from where you were sitting.

You tried to follow him, but he was walking so quick he was already waiting in the car when you got there. You let out a sigh as you opened the door, sitting beside him as you tried to think of something you could say to get his mind off what just happened.

“So, it’s a sprint weekend. You haven’t done one of those in a while.”

But he barely let out a sound at your words, at least acknowledging that you were talking to him but not caring enough to say something back. That’s how it was for the rest of the ride back to the hotel, you trying to talk about anything and him just grunting, and by the way he was gripping the stearing wheel, you knew he wouldn’t let this go any time soon.

Once he parked the car, he got out and waited for you a few seconds to collect your things and be next to him, grabbing your hand tightly as he guided you to the elevator and back to your room, and as soon as you were inside, he dropped your hand and found a seat on the small couch that was placed next to the hotel bed, staring at you as if he was waiting for you to apologise for something that wasn’t even your fault.

“Lando, let’s not do this, please. I would have never in a million years accepted to go with him, even if you weren’t there-”

“On your knees.”

“What?” You asked in disbelief after a few seconds of silence as he unbuckled his trousers and pushed them down until they were pooling on his ankles.

“You heard me, go on.” 

You slowly made your way there, watching him as he slowly pumped his length. At this point, you weren’t even thinking clearly anymore, and doing as he said just came naturally to you, so you dropped to your knees once you were in front of him, swallowing harshly when he motioned his head towards his angry cock.

Not thinking twice, you took him in your mouth and started working on it, knowing teasing him right now was far from a good idea. 

“Why don’t you take some more, love?” He said as he quickly took a hold of your hair, pushing your head down his shaft.

You could really feel his size because of the stretch your mouth feels, which you always did, but given the situation, it somehow felt more prominent. Your cheeks were hollowing around him, and one of your hands was wrapped around his base as your other one gripped his thigh, nails digging into his tanned skin.

“You know you are mine, right?” He asked you in a shaky tone. “No other guys but me should be thinking about talking to you, asking you to be their date- ah- only I get to have you like this, so pretty with your mouth around my cock.”

You let out a moan at his words, secretly loving this side of your boyfriend, and the vibrations made him let out another moan as he used his grip on your hair to guide your movements.

“No one else will ever see you like this, right, baby?” You tried and failed to nod your head; you didn’t even have control anymore, you were just trying to follow what Lando was silently instructing you to do.

His hold was getting tighter as you sucked his crown, which made him let out the deepest moan you have ever heard from him as his fingers tightened even more, unintentionally bucking his hips up once. You gagged around his cock, taking it gracefully as mascara tears rolled down your face.

“Shit, I could have you like this at all times. You are doing so good, angel.” His words were breathy and full of bliss as he got closer and closer to his release.

The way his cock twitched inside you and his thighs tensed under your hand made you know he was seconds away, the echoes of his moans bouncing off the walls as he started thrusting his hips up, his cock hitting deep inside your throat. With one last hit, you felt his hot cum filling your mouth, some of it smearing on the sides as you happily swallowed all of it, making you slow your movements down with his hand.

When he started to catch his breath, he pulled your head off his cock, dropping your hair and patting his lap so you would sit there, which you immediately obeyed.

“Why don’t you quit that stupid job so I don’t have to worry about assholes like him hitting on you?” Lando’s hands were roaming your thighs, slightly parting them as his hand sneaked into your underwear. 

Your breath hitched when his fingers explored your folds, finally landing on your clit with an insane pressure. He started rubbing hard circles, his mouth so close to your neck you could feel his hot breath.

“You are mine.” A moan scaped your lips at this. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, all yours.” 

As soon as you said this, one of his fingers entered your desperate hole, quickly finding a pace for you. He was desperate to make you come, and you knew he would get it within minutes if he kept playing with you like this.

Lando found a place on your neck, kissing and sucking your sensitive skin as he dipped a second finger inside you. “You think anyone else could make you feel this good? Mhm?”

“No,” you breathed out, fingers gripping his thighs.

“Good.”

You weren’t sure if it was his fingers or his words, but your stomach was quickly building up that familiar feeling as your hips started moving against his hand, making him use one more finger as you completely lost yourself in pleasure.

“Lando- fuck.”

“That’s it. Cum for me, love.”

His teeth were niping the skin on your shoulder, and only seconds before your orgasm hit you, you let out a loud moan, making him smile as he somehow fastened his pace.

With a few more pumps, a wave of bliss travelled through your body, your head falling back and into his shoulder as he helped you through your orgasm. At this point, your body had stopped moving, and all you could do was moan and squirm under his touch.

“‘s too much,” you managed to say.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?” 

“Say you are mine.”

“I’m- ah- I’m yours, Lando, only yours. Shit” You complied as a string of moans scaped your parted lips.

“Good girl,” he said, finally taking his hand away from your sensitive pussy and kissing you, slow and possessive as one of his fingers cleaned the cum that was still on the side of your mouth. “Now, let’s get you changed. We’re going to dinner.” Lando softly pushed you off his lap, standing up as he pulled his trousers back up. “Oh, and make sure to wear that black dress I love so much.”

↺ back to navigation — Kinktober masterlist

[ozzgin]

Hey there, yknow the tiktok sound "You dated the brutal dictator of Nicaragua?! -He wasn't the brutal dictator of Nicaragua While I was dating him!" reminds me of your Soldier yan lol

Speaking of him, what scented candle would he prefer? (I'm basic & a good vanilla knocks me off my feet, my fave is Yankee's Vanilla Frosting)

Also need him to take my virginity like yesterday, honestly embarrassing how much I've been thinking of this concept. I haven't had a kiss or anything ever so I'm just very... needy, to say the least. Maybe starved is more accurate.

Just ushbgjdjfjjdjdjfjrjkfkfk, just know your guy is in here rent free (good thing too, what with his debt and all)

Anyway, thanks for all you do here, byebye 💖

[Yandere!Soldier]

Scented candles? He probably reeks of alcohol and cigarettes and could barely differentiate between your fancy picks. "Whatever you like we're getting," is what he'd tell you. On the other hand, he might show a slight preference towards certain smells. He doesn't care, he'll say, but some things involuntarily make him nostalgic.

That fruity candle abruptly brought him back to grandma's kitchen, back in the village, when she'd make his favorite cherry kompot. He could almost see the big jars scattered across the table, the family cat sleeping on the windowsill, grandma wiping her hands on the old apron and asking him to come over and stir the pot.

Oh, he remembers it so well. He was quietly sniffling his nose; Father had just given him a proper belt whipping. "What do you need these books for? You think I'm paying for another year of school? You're old enough now, you should start helping around the farm. Take the sheep out in the fields. Enough with your city nonsense," he warned, lifting his hand for another blow.

Grandma handed him the wooden spoon and urged him towards the stove.

"Wipe your snot," she scolded gently, rubbing his face with a handkerchief. "When I went to school, they made us kneel on walnut shells! Eh, that was a reason to cry. Come, you're a man. What's your future spouse going to think of you? You have to be strong and take care of them."

You're becoming somewhat uncomfortable under his vacant stare, but his focus soon returns. He gently ruffles your hair with a faint smile. At least one promise has been kept: he's taking proper care of you. No one could ever do a better job. No one could ever love you like he does.

[luveline]

i can’t stop thinking about dating aaron hotchner and making a comment about how he’s beekeeping age and he’s like ??? i’m sorry what??

fem!reader

"Have I been in the news recently?" 

You squeeze Aaron's hand in yours and take a luxurious sip of your fancy drink. If there's one thing about Aaron, he's always buying you something nice to drink on days like today. "No?" you say after swallowing. "Don't think so." 

Aaron looks over your head. He's paranoid, with reason to be, but as far as either of you know he hasn't been in the press lately. 

"What are you looking at?" you ask. 

"They won't look when you're looking. Is there something wrong with my hair?" 

"Who's looking at you?" you ask, coming to a stop in the middle of the long walkway. You put your bag down on a low bench and twist to follow his gaze until you catch the wandering eye of a woman your age. She looks away when you spot her, a tell-tale hunch to her shoulders. "Ah." 

"Ah?" he asks. 

Aaron is tall, dark, and handsome. He doesn't seem to know this. He's nearly always frowning as he is now, but the formidable, intimidating aspect of him is somewhat softened when he's out in civilian clothing, a Starbucks drink in his free hand, and your hand treasured in the other. 

"You're, like…" You shrug at him. "You're beekeeping age." 

"I'm what?" 

"You know. You look like someone, a man, who spends his free time keeping bees. You look like you have a good job, and you're handsome." You offer him a sip of your fruity drink. He takes a sip, all the while looking lost. "I don't know how to explain it but I know it's what they're thinking." 

"So this is one of those jokes I'm too old to understand." 

"Not too old. Old enough to keep bees, evidently." 

"I really don't get it." 

"You're hot, Hotchner. Grow up." He laughs and takes another sip of your drink uninvited. You attempt to take it from him and he follows the straw. "Stop! I need this to last at least until we've finished window shopping." 

"You know I'll just buy you another one." He takes your bag and hooks it over his arm, pulling you in the direction of the next store. "After Barnes and Nobles. I could keep bees, couldn't I?" 

"No, because what all these women don't know is that you aren't home the majority of the month. You keeping bees will turn into me keeping bees, and I, regrettably, am not beekeeping age." 

"See, you made out that it was about the hobby itself," Aaron says, giving you a fond look, "but what I'm hearing now is that it's more to do with my age." 

"It's to do with wanting to sleep with you. Your age is a contributing factor to how attractive you are." 

"Nice save," he murmurs, giving your hand a squeeze. 

It's not a save at all. He really is more attractive for how old he is, but he's free to think you're lying. It's probably best if he doesn't understand the full extent of his charm —you spend the rest of the day fending off brave women with an icy glare. 

[gojo-mochi]

Softy I see you’re doing requests and I thought about it long and hard but the only thing I can think of would be sending Sabo a spicy text at a meeting >.> idk if you can do anything with that but the gloved man came to my mind

<33333

OMG I imagine it's a Meeting with Dragon too, a serious meeting at least. That requires all of his attention and focus…You can read this as a modern AU or in canon where they have cell(snail)phone that can text and send pictures etc

TW: Slight Voyuerism, Sexting

Usually at these sorts of meetings, no one is supposed to be on their phones, but Sabo tends to get bored when the older people go on long tangents during their spiel. So during the slow times of meetings, Sabo would secretly go on his phone under the desk. 

Pretending to keep all eyes on the speaker while actually just scrolling through Twitter or messaging you about how boring this meeting is. Dragon is the only one who notices when Sabo isn’t paying attention, but he doesn’t mind it since Sabo can pull his own weight when push comes to shove. 

You and Sabo were texting back and forth for a bit about mundane things when an idea popped into your head. You were getting bored waiting for him to come back home, so you decided to be a little cheeky today and send him a little bit of motivation~

You had to prepare your treat, so you left Sabo on hold for a bit, which he did not like. Sending you sad pictures of cats, increasing in volume with every minute you were gone. The latest sent picture is somehow sadder than the last cat. 

You come back to your phone notification going off, rolling your eyes at his antics. You text him to calm down and that you needed to go do something, while Sabo retorts back with that nothing is more important than alleviating his boredom. Then he quickly adds that unless you got hurt, someone broke in, or the house is on fire, then please feel free to ignore me until you are safe and healthy again. 

You smile at his message, sending him a quick “<3” and then posing on the bed to take a selfie. It took a couple of tries, but you finally got the right angle, lighting, and pose all in one. You quickly sent it over to Sabo before he sent another barrage of sad cat memes. 

Sabo, at the time of receiving that picture, had been called on by one of the other members at the meeting. They sought his opinion on the topics they had just discussed. Luckily for him, Sabo was good at lying and manipulating; he just sprouted out some fancy nonsense with enough charm, and mostly everyone would believe him. 

The other members all nod their heads and murmur agreements before moving on to the next topic. Sabo sighs under his breath and checks his phone, noticing that you sent a picture. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he opens it up without a second thought. Finding you posed on the bed, sitting on your knees with your legs spread, wearing only his dress shirt. Which was opened, revealing everything underneath in a tasteful manner, of course, a tease if you will. 

You were giving the camera a bashful look, making straight eye contact with the lens, so it would look like you were looking directly at Sabo when he opened up the picture. All your hard work paid off handsomely, as Sabo immediately felt his pants tighten. He curls his fist in as he breathes in heavily, trying not to show on his face that he has a hard on right now. 

Dragon silently quirks an eyebrow his way, but Sabo ignores him as he sees another text coming from you.  

“Miss you so much… could you please send me something back too, love?” 

The message was followed by a sad cat meme, almost causing Sabo to laugh out loud, but he quickly caught himself. Should he send something back? He can’t ask to excuse himself to go to the bathroom since this is somewhat of an appointment meeting. 

His heart started to pound a bit faster as an idea popped into his head: he could just take the pictures right now, under the desk, where no one would be the wiser.

So he does just that, slowly straightening out his back and flexing his fingers as he tries to focus on whoever is speaking. Sabo begins to slowly undo his belt buckle and unzip his pants, suppressing a groan as he shimmers down his pants to expose more of his boxer. He could feel the wet spot forming on his tip as he pulled down his boxer just slightly to expose some curly blonde pubes. 

He takes a few photos as best he can, just giving you a little tease of what's to come. He sends them over, and soon after, you reply with another set of your own photos. A shot of your chest, a shot of your dripping cunt, and one last shot of you playing with yourself. 

Sabo bit his lips hard upon seeing them, deciding to go even further as excitement and arousal started to heat up inside of him. He slips his gloved hands under his boxers and fully pulls out his throbbing cock. The cold office air hits his leaking tip, instantly causing Sabo to shiver. 

A member notices this and asks Sabo if he is alright. Sabo replies back smoothly. 

“Ah, don’t worry, it's just colder here than I expected.” He smiles at everyone and adjusts his coat. The members resume their chatter. 

Sabo softly sighs to himself and avoids looking at Dragon for the rest of the meeting. Still, he was determined to get one last set of pictures to you, if it was the last thing he did. He lets a few more minutes pass before going right back to his cock once more, wrapping his glove around his length. His hands were too shaky to get a stable photo, so instead he decided to take a video instead. 

The video starts off staring at the floor, slowly panning up Sabo’s leg until he finds the right angle to perfectly capture the full view of his cock. His other hand still on it, pristine leather now covered in precum, as he rubs his thumb on his tip. The precum almost seems to make the leather glove shine in the video, as he uses it as a makeshift lube. 

Stroking up and down on his length, his hands were trembling more and more with each stroke. Causing the video to shake heavily as he almost reached his climax, stopping himself by squeezing his shaft almost painfully tight so he doesn’t paint the underside of this table white. He cuts off the video there and sends it off, quietly shimmering his pants back up and zipping it close, not bothering to redo his belt though. 

The meeting ends soon after, and Sabo stays behind to wait until everyone else leaves first before he gets up. Dragon is the last one to get up before Sabo, as he gives Sabo a heavy look and shakes his head, murmuring to himself about how the youths of today are getting crazier with each generation. 

Sabo ignores all that, hurrying home to you, as he needs help cleaning off his gloves after today. And he knows what your tongue can do to help with that.

[darkeralmond]

yeees i would definitely enjoy a celebrini fic <3

EYES LIKE SIRENS

previous < Chapter 1 > next

Pairing: Macklin Celebrini x Emilia Richardson

Summary: While Emilia’s is on another date in an effort to get over Macklin, she reminisces on her past HOCO proposal which made her realizes how much she likes Macklin

Warnings: Implications of sex, but no smut

Apricot Speaks: hi guys!! i missed u all sm!! i have been working hard on these and ive also been wondering if i should post these on wattpad too. lmk and pls support my writing!!

“Emilia, this is really starting to become a problem,” Clara called out from her bed. I rolled my eyes at her comment, but due to how small our room was, she saw my reflection causing her to add,“Don’t roll your eyes at me. It is a problem and you know it. This is the 3rd guy in the span of 2 weeks.”

Finally looking back at her, I replied, “Shouldn’t you be proud of the fact I’m not home moping around like I was before?” When I look back, I intensely stare at myself as I focus on acquiring the perfect cat liner.

Behind me, I heard her sigh as she jumped off her bed and making her way into the bathroom. She stopped next to me and though I wasn’t looking, I could the disapproval as she stared into the side of my head. “Maybe if you stare long enough, you can burn a hole into the side of my head and I can cancel this date.”

“Ha,” She answered dryly. I finally looked over at her when I finished the second eye with a smug smirk on my face. “Why do you even wanna go on this date?”

“Because I need to distract myself from brooding in bed all day.” I played with my hair, perfecting a natural messy but sexy look.

She huffed again signaling her distaste in it all, but it wasn’t her concern what I was doing with my free time. Even if it was in an attempt to get over M- someone. “Is your location shared at least?” She asked, raising her brows as she did so. There are so many things she does which resembles my mom which annoys me, but it at least makes me feel somewhat comforted in a way.

I smiled slightly as I answered, “Yes, Clara. I’ll text you where I’m at at times, and I’ll send the safe word if things go south.” Even with my best attempts at reassuring her that not everything will end bad, she still has the same disapproving look on her face. “Clar, I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry.” I took her hands into mine in my final attempt to assure her I’m grown and can make my own decisions.

I understand Clara’s concern, but what she doesn’t realize is that I know my date’s intentions. I knew this was only going to be a free meal followed by a one night stand, it’s basically what I signed up for when I hopped on these dating apps. All the dates she’s referring to could be considered more as hook ups and actual romantic dates. It’s what I need right after Macklin. Dammit, there goes my 10 minute streak of not thinking of him.

Sometimes I think she has mind reading super powers the way she’s able to redirect the conversation without me saying anything. “So, who’s the lucky bachelor tonight?” She asked as she holstered herself onto the sink counter.

“Jason Redding. He goes to NYU for business.” She bumped her shoulder against mine playfully, causing a small laugh to bubble out of me. “He also plays hockey, which is weird ‘cus I didn’t know they had it there.” Normally I steered clear of hockey players, but somehow Jason landed right into my DMs and it was a love story from there. And by love story, I mean his opening line being ‘This is why I prefer blondes.’

And they say chivalry is dead.

He didn’t make any effort in hiding his true intentions, which I appreciated since other ones did. He suggested taking me to dinner at a very fancy Italian restaurant before taking me to his dad’s hotel located nearby to stay for the night. Now why he was in Boston, I didn’t know.

Well that was until Clara said, “Oh! They play the boys on Tuesday. That’ll be interesting.” I forgot that Macklin had said something about playing NYU in their opening game. If I had known that I definitely would’ve cancelled on him, or never answer him at all.

“You can say that again,” I mumble. I heard my phone ding with a notification, prompting me to look down and see a message from Jason. “He’s here. I’ll text you when I leave the restaurant, alright?” I grabbed my coat off the bed and shimmied into it before tossing my purse over my shoulder.

“Please be safe!” She called out as I left our dorm. I heard the door shut behind me as I made my way towards the elevator.

When the elevator doors shut, I let out a long exhale. Not a nervous exhale, just one final sigh before I put on a fake facade for this guy for the night. Why be myself when he won’t stick along long enough for him to cherish it. I used to not be this way.

I used to be jittery going down this elevator to go out on dates. Now I felt numb and ready to get the night over with. I knew there were no feelings attached to any of these hookups that spawn in my lap, so why worry over something that’s not gonna progress. Let alone affect my future.

I thought my feelings would change eventually. That I’d meet the right guy and feel all the waves of emotions I used to feel in the past, but I haven't. It was my fault I wouldn’t either, so I knew not to feel sorry for myself.

As soon as I stepped out of the building, I wished I would’ve picked a warmer outfit. The weather in early January Boston was hellishly cold and my tights did nothing to prevent the wind from freezing my legs. At least I looked good in my skin tight leather dress.

I wasn’t suprised when I approached Jason and caught him eye fucking me. “Well, hello to you.” When I was in close enough proximity, he wrapped his arm around me and kissed my forehead. I didn’t expect this type of contact so soon, but I didn’t tense up either. I had more in store for me later anyways. “You look even better than you do in pictures.”

My fake laughs had become more convincing the more of these “dates” I go on, but at least this one was giving me stuff to work with. “You’re not too bad yourself,” I said, and I wasn’t lying either. He was super attractive. Brown eyes, blonde hair, a chiseled chin with peach fuzz. He just wasn’t my type.

He opened the car door for me, so I crawled in. The car felt so warm, causing me to melt into the seat. Before shutting the car door, Jason said, “Yeah, don’t fill up too much. I’ll have desert waiting for you in the room.” I was waiting for him to say something along those lines and it didn’t even take 5 minutes. I closed my eyes momentarily as I let the heat thaw me out.

On the way to the restaurant, it was silent minus the sound of traffic around us. With nothing else to entertain me, my mind had resorted to reminiscing on the past.

It gave me a healthy reminder on when I was young and naive, I used to fantasize about my soulmate sweeping me off my feet in a grand romantic gesture in front of a crowd of people. Guys, like Jason, have lowered my expectations of having an Uber paid for me when I used to appreciate aftercare.

…

Junior Year

I would like to believe that since my break up I was doing an incredible job on focusing strictly on myself and school. That, however, went out the window when I came to the realization that it was going to be my first homecoming dance without Westyn.

I stared at my ceiling above, taking in all the teenage version of One Direction staring back down at me. If only one of them could come to life and save me from this catastrophe, preferably Zayn. “I don’t know, maybe I should text him and ask. It will be my final time ever interacting with him.”

“Please don’t make me drive over there and snatch your phone away from you so you don’t do anything stupid,” Macklin replied on the other end of the phone.

I laughed as I rolled onto my stomach before responding, “Then you’d be late for your game.”

Without missing a beat he said, “Then, I’d risk being late for my game then.”

“Aww, you do really care about me. I thought you were heartless,” I teased him.

He scoffed, “It’d be for my own sake so I don’t have to hear you complain about him ever again.” I rolled my eyes and laughed again. He got serious again when he said, “Look, I’m sure someone will ask you soon. It’s still a month away.”

I dramatically groaned before flopping back on the mattress. “But I need to get my dress now!” I took the phone off speaker as I brought it up to my ear. . “I’ve already decided pink is my color this year and I wanna be able to find something glittery and unique.”

The sound of him driving was replaced with his laugh which caused a smile to appear on my face as my face grew warmer. “Alright, I’m pulling into the rink now. My parents will be there to get you in an hour so please be ready. Oh, and, Emilia?”

“Yeah?”

“It’ll happen,” He said in a low, almost secretive, tone which made my stomach flip for some odd reason. “Alright, see you later.”

I say bye and hang up, looking at the time on my phone. I should start getting ready now since the Celebrinis will be here in the next hour, but for now I stay laid down in my same position. . I continue to stare at my One Direction poster as I let my mind race with a million thoughts at once.

Ever since the night of Westyn and I’s break up when I came crying to Macklin, something changed within me. That night I saw some sort of spark in his eye which made me reconsider everything. His eyes drew me in like a siren, but I was able to break away and leave before anything could progress.

It had to have been my imagination, because the next day things were normal between us. Maybe it didn’t happen or maybe it’s the way Macklin naturally looks. Whatever it was, that look was dangerous.

I heard my phone ding, causing me to pick it up. Macklin had shot me a text which read:

I know ur still laying down, get up.

…

I didn’t feel crazy anymore for the way I was feeling in bed, because waiting for Macklin to come out after tonight’s win felt different. His parents didn’t help soothing my nerves any, as they were also acting weird. Like they were anticipating something.

I continued chucking it up to my own paranoia until Macklin came out of the locker room and I noticed his mom now held up her camera. “Hey, you!” He greeted me with a cheesy grin as he came out, holding his arms out for a hug. With my brows furrowed, I still accepted the hug because I wasn’t going to leave him hanging just because of my own derailing thoughts.

Without skipping a beat, Macklin’s mom announced, “Let me take a picture.” Macklin spun me quickly to face her, and part of this felt rehearsed. His grip on my waist as we posed for the picture felt tight that if I tried to squirm out of it, I would fail miserably. As my head rested against his chest, I could hear his heart racing. Maybe it was just due to post game adrenaline rush, but he also seemed nervous. I watched as Macklin’s parents, specifically his mom’s, faces lit up as they looked past us which made me think something was occurring behind us.

As if Macklin noticed it too, he glanced back as his grip loosened. I also turned my head, but in an effort to do so, I noticed a bundle of bright flowers against the black sweatshirt Macklin was wearing. I gawked at the arrangement of different pink flowers which were wrapped with a pretty pink bow. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he held them out for me to take.

Accepting his flowers, Macklin gently held onto my waist as he diverted my attention to the scene behind us. I was greeted by five of his teammates holding up poster paper spelling out ‘HOCO?’ with joyous grins on their faces.

I could feel my jaw beginning to cramp, indicating how long it had been open due to the amount of surprises thrown my way in the span of a minute. I thought Macklin had been acting weird about Westyn because he liked me, but it was really because he wanted to make sure I wasn’t going with Westyn.

Even though I felt relieved that my initial guess was wrong, for some odd reason my heart felt a sudden pain at the thought of Macklin not liking me. That’s a good thing though… right?

“Emilia?” Macklin spoke up, grounding me back to reality. I looked over at him and noticed the panicked features embedded on his face.

I laughed as a reaction to everything before answering, “Yes, duh!” I threw my arms around him as I grinned from ear to ear. People around gave subtle applause while his teammates cheered loudly.

When we pulled away, I captured the same look that I saw the night I came to him crying. That same longing look. My heart dropped as I swiftly shifted my eyes to look elsewhere, breaking eye contact that made me want to risk everything.

“Now, you have to find a different way to ask me to prom,” I joked as an attempt to distract myself from what could’ve happened.

He laughed before responding with, “I’m sure you’ll have a new date by then.” With that, he put an end to the delusion I’ve had for the past month. I simply nodded my head, looking back down at the flowers.

…

Now

Jason’s hand found its place on my leg, bringing me back to the present as I looked in his direction., “Are you ready to head inside, gorgeous?”

For the first time tonight I felt something that wasn’t numbness, disappointment. Disappointed that I wasn’t looking at Macklin’s smiling face. Disappointed that I let things slip through my fingers because I couldn’t balance my chaotic life.

Swallowing that feeling down, I nodded my head and answered, “Yes.”

As I was escorted inside, my head kept reeling back to what Macklin could be doing right now. What if he was seeing someone as well? What if he’s actually moved on?

No matter what I keep telling myself, thinking about Macklin is inevitable. How am I capable of moving on whenever he breaches my mind every minute of every single day. There was no possible date that could solve this yearning.

[lalithemidnightmuse7]

my thoughts on sevrance s1 ep8

how does irving knows about this door ? and not just knows about it , but also rememberes it out of work ?! i thought maybe he said goodbye to burt before his leaving but we knows this didn't happens as milchick already took him before the end of burk goodbye party. also they like to seprate everything from the workers so he wouldn't have left him to see the 'secret' door..so how does he knows about it ? and REMEMBERS IT ENOUGHT TO DRAW IT , AND HE IS SO OBSSESED ABOUT IT THAT DRAWING THE SAME PAITING IS ALL HE DOES IN HIS FREE TIME!!

i truly felt so so so sorry for her in this scean , the deep bone loliness that she was going through all the time , she was so alone , so isolated that she knows how many hours she lived 'as her innie' and OMG , the was she said that the 8 hours she spent with them were her best times alive!! please!

and he was trying so hard to help her! and how they were all sad about her leaving and trying to help, my babies :(

but this's were thing ger crazy ( so INTRETING) why the hell harmony was so hopefull , so excited while watching thier intrection ?!! SHE WANTED THEM TO KNOW EACHOTHER! or at least to feel something off or to sens something!

because look at the disspointment in her face when she saw that they just continued the session and milshake were telling her that it was better that they did not remember eachother!

(also does that mean that thing they put in thier mind to seperate thier memories can is not that powerful ? if there was at least a chance that she believed and milshake belived that mark can remember his wife ? my theory is that powerful emotions can maybe go beyond the severance , because even petey told mark that his innie feels his grieve and sadness even there but can not understand it)

anyway...why the hell is she so obssesed with mark ? living by his house ? stalking him and watching him through the windows ? getting closer to his sister ?and she even was happy that he decided to quit work when she was already fired ?!

but she also has a bit of soft spot for him , a closer relationship to him other then the other workers , jokes and humor and letting things go a bit...do i want to see a scnarion where they get along to see the downfall of this crazy cult and be a wierd besties ? YES!

because our woman is obssesed with this crazy man kier!

It's a cult! And we see this adoration and devotion through many characters—Irving, Burt with Kier, and also Harmony, who, in this episode, is having a breakdown, feeling betrayed by the company she devoted herself to.

Anyway... I'm going to finish episode 9 now, and I'm so excited!!

Also, I have a theory that Helly is part of the Eagan family—or another high-class family like them. At the end of the episode, we see her at some kind of fancy party, and we also know she’s somewhat famous in whatever work she used to do. At the beginning of the season, we hear people expressing disbelief that she would work for them.

Share your thoughts, and please—no spoilers!

(also there's probably a lot of grammer mistakes but i was so excited and i have no time to check!)

[rvllybllply2014]

Hi~ Here with a new idea! Well one with two versions, both involving de-aging, which I hope is okay! So the first one would involve lord blackwood drinking some fancy wine from the free cities that was found on the ship of pirates his men managed to capture while they were raiding a village. At first nothing is amiss other than the wave of exhaustion that suddenly hits him. But when he awakens, he finds himself to be the same age as his youngest teen son! Of course chaos follows with him at least able to hide who he is to everyone but his sons, and as they leave Raventree Hall to look for some information on the wine, lord Bracken runs into teen Amos who mistakes him for Willem at first... Now for the second! The battle of the burning mill never happens, but both houses still pick their sides to support, with samwell & amos agreeing to meet in an inn near the border to talk things out. Both share a bottle of the wine and soon after fall into a bed in a deep sleep, only to wake as young men again, the same ages as davos & aeron! Both naturally panic, and while leaving the inn, hoping to avoid their families, they run into Willem, who looks right at Amos and sees him as he was back when he broke off their relationship... What do you think? If you don't care for de-aging then I understand! Heh and for a smaller little idea, imagine lord blackwood somehow waking up as his little son's samwells age while lady tully is visiting? Unable to really do anything as she and another blackwood take over in his absence? I feel like she'd for sure pick him up and cuddle him just like she would her grandsons XD

This is going to be so cute. And honestly de-aging is pretty tame compared to the other things I’ve written. I mean I’ve written about a serial killer/black widower Davron au and also Willem raping Amos along with Raylon being raped by multiple men. Kind of older Brackenwood, Samwell x Raylon Rivers, and a hint of Davron. Sexual situations, older men kissing younger men who are of age but still. Oh yeah lord Blackwood being lord Blackwood.

1):Honestly lord Blackwood should’ve know better, especially when his men told him that the bottle of wine came from the shadow lands of Asshai. But lord Blackwood didn’t believe in magic outside of the powers the old gods occasionally granted his family members. So he drank half the bottle, the only side effect being that he was suddenly super tired and super drunk.

He only notices something is wrong the next morning when he wakes up. His clothes don’t fit him properly, his head doesn’t pound with the expected hangover, and his body doesn’t ache with old age. His first instinct is to dismiss the no headache and body aches as the wine being medicinal, but with the clothes not fitting properly he’s slightly concerned. It only escalates when he’s able to look in the mirror he looks eerily similar to Willem.

He doesn’t scream but he does let out a somewhat manly yelp of surprise. He also has one of his men send for the maester at once, he needs to see him. At first his man doesn’t want to fetch the maester thinking that it’s just Willem playing a prank, it’s only after lord Blackwood gets stern does his man follow the orders.

The maester enters the room and at first assumes that the teen standing in front of him is Willem and starts to ask where his lord father is. Lord Blackwood cuts him off explaining that he drank some wine from Asshai last night and he woke up like. Could the maester look into what the hell happened to him? He can’t lead his men as a teen, and Samwell is too soft to lead, took too much after his lady mother and may the gods rest her soul.

Unfortunately for lord Blackwood the maester tells him that this is too far out of his knowledge, he’ll need to go to the citadel to hopefully reverse this. And it’s as the maester is explaining this that Willem and Samwell enter their father’s chambers. Both boys are startled, especially Samwell he always knew that he took more of his mother’s Tully/Brackens looks while Willem was almost an exact replica of lord Blackwood. Lord Blackwood explains what happened and for both boys to not touch the wine, it’s cursed.

Samwell asks what the plan is, while Willem just stares at him in shock. Lord Blackwood says that he’ll fake an illness and that he’s not to be disturbed for at least the next two months. Samwell will take over the lordship while he’s at the citadel finding a cure. Willem will come with him, he doesn’t need him to accidentally tell anyone else what’s going on. Yes Willem you do tend to brag too much and tell people information that they do not need to know. Lord Blackwood has Willem go prepare his trunks, he needs to pack two of everything and get the wagon ready, and have the tents packed too. If anyone asks or challenges him he’s to tell that he’s going on a months long scouting/hunting trip.

Lord Blackwood grabs a cloak to hide his identity and tells Willem to meet him at the border, he needs to scout and make sure the Bracken cunts aren’t there to stop them.

It’s while lord Blackwood is waiting for Willem at the borders, that Amos sees him and mistakes him for Willem. It’s only at the last second that he realizes it’s not Willem this person is just slightly taller with a more intimidating presence. But lord Blackwood sees Amos and tells him to run away like the craven Bracken that he is. Amos does listen he falls back to the windmill, waiting to see what exactly is going on. He doesn’t have to wait long for Willem to show up, with the wagon. Lord Blackwood yells that it took him long enough they’re wasting precious day time. Willem apologizes but lord Blackwood doesn’t want to hear it. As a punishment Willem needs to walk behind the cart until nightfall.

And with lord Blackwood gets in the carts seat and has the horses start to move. Once lord Blackwood is out of earshot Amos calls out to Willem asking what on the seven hells is going on? Willem tells him the bare bones, his father drank cursed wine and is now the same age as him they’re going to the citadel to hopefully fix the issue. They’ll be back soon and he’ll explain more. Amos accepts the explanation and gives him a quick good luck kiss telling him there’s more where that came from once he’s back.

It takes them about three weeks to reach the citadel, they camped in the woods to avoid seeing anyone who might recognize them. The maesters and the grandmaester are also stumped as to how best help the de-aged lord Blackwood. It’s only after a maester returns from Asshai, that he gets the news that the curse will slowly work its way out his bloodstream, in fact it already looks like lord Blackwood is older then Willem and Samwell, not by much but at least a few years.

So it’s with frustration that lord Blackwood orders Willem to start packing everything back up they’re headed back to Raven Tree Hall to wait this out. On the way back lord Blackwood continues to age, he’s eventually aged up enough that he has Willem stop at the nearest town to find him clothes that will fit his body now.

It’s only after the two months are up and Willem and lord Blackwood return to Raven Tree Hall, that lord Blackwood is finally at his proper age. Everyone is surprised that night when Samwell explains that his father’s illness has passed and they are to hold a feat in honor of his returned health. The feast is wonderful and Willem thinks he’ll be excused from guarding the border at night. But he’s not so lucky he’s order there by his father.

But his luck returns when he sees Amos also guarding the borders too. Amos asks Willem what happened to his lord Blackwood. Willem tells him it was a waiting game for the cursed wine to work its way outside of his blood stream. Willem also says that those two months were torture for him, his father may have been younger but he wasn’t any less stern in fact at times he seemed to be even worse.

Amos expresses his sympathy and asks how he can help relieve the tension that Willem is experiencing. He doesn’t hesitate to drag Willem to the windmill and drop to his knees to suck Willem off when he asks.

2): There’s a long standing rumor that the inn close to both Bracken and Blackwoods lands is owned by a wood witch, but it doesn’t bother Amos or Samwell they agree to meet there to avoid more bloodshed between their houses. The inn keeper brings them a bottle of wine telling them that it’s on the house, hopefully they’ll each reach an agreement that keeps everyone safe. They drink it without any thought of the rumor, the only thing is they both get extremely tired faster than usual. For the both of them it feels like they each drank two bottles of wine, they’ll tease each other saying that of a Blackwood/Bracken is such a light weight.

So it’s with light hearts each goes to bed.

The next morning both wake up and instantly know that something is wrong. Their bodies don’t ache with middle age like they usually do. Thinking that the other placed a curse on them they each seek the other out. It’s only after they see the other de-aged that they realize the witch rumors are true. The next logical step for them is confront her.

The woods witch explains that in order for the curse to wear off they each need to confront past heartaches. They also need to make sure that the impending battle doesn’t happen, if they can achieve both those goals then the curse will lift if they can’t well they will continue to de-age until they’re no more. That process will only take months.

It’s the woods witch explains this that Willem walks into the inn looking for his brother, its hours past the time that he was supposed to meet with Willem and well he was worried. Willem sees Samwell first and instantly thinks Amos did something to his brother, that is until he sees Amos as the young man that broke his heart.

Willem asks what sorcery they are attempting to pull. Samwell explains that the rumor about the woods witch is true and that they need to heal broken hearts and avoid the impending battle for them to age back up. Willem is pissed thinking that Amos broke someone else’s heart along with his. Samwell leaves Willem and Amos to talk things through.

Amos explains that he loved Willem so much, it nearly killed him to leave him. He still has a deep love for Willem, and he also doesn’t want his nephew and Willems nephew to follow the same fate or worse one dying in front of the other. Willem ask what he’s supposed to do? He hates Amos so much, his heart is irreparably broken and words are wind. Amos having grown frustrated with Willem and wanting to protect his nephew and his people he does the only thing he think to do which is grab Willem and kiss him.

After the kiss Amos asks Willem if he has no feelings for him why did he try to slip his tongue into his mouth and why is he so hard? He felt his cock poking into him. Willem can’t deny it any longer and asks for a room, after he pays he pulls Amos into it while telling Samwell that he needs to find his person to lift his curse Amos will be fine. Samwell congratulates them both on their hopefully renewed love. It’s as Amos is stripping that he re-ages and spends the whole day in Willems embrace. They had a lot of catching up to do.

Samwell sneaks off to Stone Hedge knowing that he needs to find Aerons father Raylon. Which is easy enough he just pretends to be a sell-sword looking and needs to speak with the lord of the keep. The Bracken men bring him to Raylon. Samwell explains that he’s been cursed and he needs to cure their broken hearts and avoid the battle to re-age.

Thankfully Raylon is easier to convince than Willem. He tells Samwell that he never stopped loving him, even after they broke up to save their brother’s further heartbreak. Samwell is relieved and pulls Raylon into a kiss. After they break apart Raylon pulls Samwell to his chambers while telling the guards to leave them alone for the rest of the day. Again it’s only after they start to strip that Samwell re-ages and they also spend the whole day in each other’s arms.

Once the de-age curse lifts Amos and Samwell tell Aeron and Davos that they know about how they love each other. But they shouldn’t panic they can stay together as long as they fulfill their duties to their houses, i.e marry and produce heirs. They also tell everyone the battle is not going to happen they’ll follow whoever lord Tully tells them to.

3): Lord Blackwood blames lady Tully’s handmaid for him waking up as the same age as his son Samwell. She’d muttered something about how he needed to learn a lesson. The lesson comes when he gets into a fight with Samwell over a book that they both wanted to read. Lord Blackwood started to throw a temper tantrum and lady Tully not wanting to deal with it pulls him onto her back to give him a spanking. It’s only after the spanking with lord Blackwood agreeing that he’s learned his lesson that he re-ages.

[strawbstixe]

sugar, butter, flour

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 3.2k (wooo!)

𝙖/𝙣: this is a cute little au where han works at a bakery with chan! (i recommend listening to "what's inside" from the musical waitress while listening to this- it really sets the mood) the intro is kinda long- im soooorrry! i love exposition...

𝙩/𝙬: slight pinning, minsung is briefly mentioned!

𝒍𝒆𝒆: han

𝙡𝙚𝙧: chan

It was all muscle memory now, and Chan had known him for so long that he knew better than to trust him with the actual baking of the pastries. He was more of a "smile and wave" worker, the personality hire, if you will. Usually, Han would be up by the register, absentmindedly pressing and poking at buttons whenever there was a free moment. But now that the bakery was so empty, he had the opportunity to poke at buttons that were even more fun: Chan's. Well, not really. Han didn't mean to, at least. 

𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚌! 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐! ⋆୨୧⋆

Honestly, he was just trying to do his job. He was on dough duty, balling his fist into the mint green flour bowl before gently swiping his hands together. He'd take another handful, dusting the countertop lightly with flour, watching serenely as it settled on the parchment paper like freshly fallen snow. 

It was, quite literally, impossible for Han to screw this up. The scent of vanilla and butter wafted around him as he pulled the clear bowl of freshly made cookie dough Chan had made from the mini-fridge. 

It was simple enough. These cookies were preordered for some kid's birthday- or...something- Han wasn't really paying attention when the woman ordered. He just knew that she wanted star-shaped, vanilla sugar cookies with buttermilk yellow royal icing piped on top. 

This should've been quick and easy; Han had done so many cookies like this that he could practically do it in his sleep now. But...something had been off about him lately. 

Being forgetful and lost in the clouds was par for the course for Jisung. But recently, he had become even more scatterbrained: his mind always...preoccupied.  

It was his fault. 

It had all started a month ago. Han was doing what he usually did, booping random numbers on the cash register, humming a non-existent tune. 

His ears would perk up at the sound of the little bells Chan had tied to the doorframe, and when his eyes would follow, he'd be met with a man with a long coat and turtleneck, his ears red from the cold. 

It was all over for him. 

Jisung would catch himself constantly daydreaming, making fake scenarios in his head about stupid couple-y stuff. It didn't help that this guy had an amazing sense of humor- he'd come in frequently, always ordering something sweet with the most obscene messages on it. 

Han's current favorite was the "Fuck off, asshole" cake he requested a few weeks ago, and he wished he could thank him for giving him an excuse to force Chan to pipe profanities in fancy calligraphy on a cake. He'd never forget the face he made. It made his year. 

All he could do lately was think about him: this Lee Minho guy, whoever the hell he was, was crippling his ability to work properly. 

He hadn't even noticed his arms were moving. He failed to feel his legs moving. He didn't even realize that he was just...staring blankly at an empty counter, a plethora of star-shaped cookies sprawled out on the baking tray. How long had he been finished for? 

"Jisung?"

Now that his ears were actually working, he was able to hear an annoyed and somewhat concerned Chan calling his name for the umpteenth time.

"Are you alright, honey?" The 'concerned' part of Chan's mind was definitely the one taking over now. "The cookies are done cooking, Ji..." His tone was gentle, as if he was talking to a frightened child. "Did you hurt yourself-?"

"No!" Han would quickly say, swiftly turning around to meet the face that called out to him. "No, I'm-" He felt a little guilty that he worried Chan so much- and he intended to express that guilt, but the sight he was seeing right now distracted him. 

They were done? As in done done? That made no sense; he was literally just flouring his hands a minute ago. He didn't even remember putting the cookies into the oven. 

This was a prank, Han had decided. Chan must've decided that Han was drifting off too much, so he made a whole other batch of cookies to screw with him a little. That had to be it. 

As he pondered this theory, he'd inspect the cookies thoroughly. Looking for some sort of proof that would actually support this accusation. Maybe he was going crazy. 

Wait. 

"What the-?"

Something else caught his attention. He almost skipped past it- it was easy to since they weren't frosted yet. They all looked the same at first glance. But- he could've sworn he saw a-

Han let out a small "Uhhh..." in confusion, his head tilting to the left as he leaned in to get a closer look. "...Hyung? Did you make this?" 

Six heart-shaped cookies lay peacefully in the center of all the star-shaped cookies, making their own star with their formation. 

"Make what?" Chan would muse from his frosting corner, piping a dainty little birthday cake with blue buttercream. "The cookies?" He'd answer his own question after a few beats of silence. "Of course not, Jisungie, you're just being silly now." Chan would laugh. He'd laugh as if this was actually funny. As if Jisung wasn't losing his mind. 

"They're hearts-" Han would begin. He genuinely didn't know whether he should be impressed or concerned. If Chan was telling the truth, which it really sounded like he was, then that meant he had made these cookies, which made no sense to him. "Why are they hearts? And why aren't all of them hearts? Why is it only some of them-"

"Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something!" 

That statement was said way too teasey for Jisung not to take offense to it. "What are you trying to say?" Han would question, his arms crossing almost instinctively. "You're insinuating...something. I don't know if I like that you're doing that." 

"There's nothing to insinuate, Jisung. I'm just saying," His body language was nonchalant; a shrug and that bracket-shaped smile. However, that was the polar opposite of the tone coming out of his mouth; teasing and all-knowing. "Maybe your subconscious made those cookies so you could-"

"No!"

"Give them to someone?"

"Definitely not!" Han already didn't like where this was going. He hated the look Chan was giving him- and he hated how red his cheeks were getting at just the thought of that being the case. "That's crazy! You're crazy!" He felt the need to clarify that. "I don't even know him like that- I've only talked to him like...what? Seven times? I wouldn't make heart cookies for him- and even if I did- which, again, I didn't- I wouldn't give them to him! That's insane-"

"I never said his name, Jisung." Chan would muse as if this was some big 'gotcha' moment as if he had just caught Han with his hand stuck in the cookie jar. (He made the same face at him then, too.) "I never said his name," He'd repeat. "yet you knew immediately who I was talking about! I think that is insane." 

Oh shit. That was a pretty good 'gotcha' moment, huh? "I- that's not true. I was just- I was just inferring..." He'd mumble, his words slurring together as his eyes darted to the floor. Han knew he was as red as the food coloring on the shelf, and he hated it. He was only proving his point, he knew. And maybe, if he swallowed his pride for a minute, he'd be able to admit that Chan was sorta right on a couple of fronts, but even if he was right- that didn't mean anything. 

"I think you should give them to him." And despite the fact that the words 'I think' started that sentiment, it sounded more like a demand than a suggestion. 

"I think you should mind your business." Han would retort back, albeit the fact that it was under his breath, and he really didn't intend on Chan hearing it. 

"What was that?"

Han would choose to remain silent. 

"Han Jisung, what did you just say?" 

The words that were coming out of Chan's mouth scared the shit out of him. He couldn't really explain why; Chan's tone was playful. But in an odd way, it was threatening at the same time. Han decided to start walking back to his flour-dusted counter, attempting to forget this conversation ever happened. 

"Jisung. We spoke about your insubordination." 

Han's jaw would drop farther than he thought was humanly possible. "Insubord- this doesn't count! You're trying to meddle in my love life-!" He'd protest, whipping his head around. Was Chan actually insane? Did he actually drive him crazy?

"I told you that if something happened again, there'd be consequences." The word 'consequences' was horrifying on its own as it is, but the smirk that accompanied that word mortified him even more. 

"You can't make me ask out one of our customers-" Han would attempt to reason, failing to realize that they had already passed that point. "That has to be like- an OSHA violation- I could get you fired!" No, Han didn't really understand what OSHA was; he had just heard Chan use it a couple of times, so he hoped that slinging that word at him would help his case here. 

Much to his dismay, Chan would ignore him. He'd lurk towards him like a man- no- a monster on a mission. Han would attempt to run, only to realize he was corned by the counter he had rushed to a few seconds prior. He tried to reason out the worries in his head. What was the worst Chan could do anyway? He wouldn't hit him- that would be ridiculous. 

It felt like the universe was laughing at him because as soon as he thought that, Chan would crack his knuckles. What the fuck?! Was he actually gonna hit him?! Han waited for a fist to meet his face. No way this was happening right now. But, no fist ever came.

Chan would morph both of his hands into what could only be described as...claws. 

Oh fuck. Chan was going to do something worse.

"NO!" Han would scream once the realization hit. "You can't- you cannot- don't you dare!" He'd hold his hands out as a makeshift shield in an attempt to protect himself as he sunk to the floor against the counter. Chan would only inch closer.

"This is cruel! And- and unruly- you can't! I'll quit! I'll- I'll sue-!

An embarrassing loud screech would escape his lips as soon as Chan reached him, cackles immediately ripping from his throat as soon as he felt nails scratching at his sides. 

"You're not going to quit," Chan would say as if that was the important takeaway he got from Han's (not so convincing) plea. "And you're certainly not going to sue; that would just be silly." Chan couldn't even get that part of the sentiment out with a straight face, his words laced with his own chuckles.

"STAHAHAHAP THAHAHAT!" Han would attempt to dance his way out of Chan's grasp, but it was no use. If he jerked right, Chan's hands would go right. If he jerked left, Chan's hands would follow suit yet again. 

“AGH! SOMEOHOHONE," It was embarrassing how hard it was for him to breathe- especially considering Chan hadn't even been tickling him for thirty seconds yet. "SOMEONE IHIHIS GOHONNA SEEHEHEHEHEE!"

"No one is going to see, Jisung- No one is even here to see." Chan would tsk with a shake of his head. He'd notice Han's gasps for air, so he'd attempt to move spots, walking his fingers up his sides and to his ribs. "Better?"

"Nohohohoo!!" Han would whimper through his snickers. "Ihihihit stihihill- AHAHAahaack!!" Han would only get halfway through his giggle-ridden sentence before feeling a sharp taze between his ribs. "Dohohon't dohoho thahahat! Pleheheheaseee, hyuhungg!"

"Aww, how cute." And, despite the teasey nature, those words did seem genuine. "Does it really tickle that much? I'm barely even touching you!" Now the genuine nature was gone. He was just being cruel, Han decided. 

"Nohoho mohohore! Plehehease, hyuhung- pleheheheheeease! I've hahahad enohough!!" Han would plead through his hysterical giggles, his hands swatting in every direction he could possibly think of.

"You've had enough?" Chan would question, halting momentarily as he raised his brow. "Since when was it you who decided that, hm? I don't think you've had nearly enough." 

"I hahave!" Jisung would rush to reply, the giggles still clinging to his words. "I have! I HAVE! Please, I have! I swear- I've learned my lesson- I'm sorry!" The threatening obviously didn't work, so he'd choose to switch tactics. 

"Sorry?" Chan looked confused. And amused. Han could only assume that wasn't a good sign. 

"Yes!" He'd frantically nod his head, so much so that he was almost convinced it would fall off if he went any faster. "Yes! SO sorry! I'm SO sorry, hyung, really!"

"What for?" 

What for? Shit. He hadn't thought of that. 

“For…being a bad…employee…obviously..?” It was painful. He really didn’t intend it to come out as unsure as it did- it literally sounded like he was asking Chan if that was the right answer. He was so screwed. 

“Honestly,” Chan would begin, and although his tone sounded positive, his smirk said otherwise. “I didn’t want an apology to begin with. So you’re okay on that front.” 

Han let out a sigh, the biggest sigh he ever had. “Oh, thank god. So we’re good? Does that-“ 

“Oh, no.” 

What?

“I’m still going to tickle you. I’m not done. I’m just saying I don’t need- or really want an apology. That’s not what I’m looking for.” 

And before he could even react, his arms were pulled high above his head, pinning him against the counter. His eyes would widen in horror, his mouth opening to spit out the quickest and most frantic pleas his body could muster. 

“N-No! NO- please- I mean it! Whatever I did to upset you, I swear! I’ll- I’ll never do it agAHAHAHAIN-!” Those pleas were quickly interrupted by his own voice cracking, cut through by his laughter.

“STAHAHAHAHA! I CAHAHAHANT- I cahahahahan’t!” Han’s head would toss back as he tried to muster all of his energy, tugging on his own arms like his life depended on it. Thank god it didn’t because his arms weren’t going anywhere. 

Chan really was just being cruel now. With one hand being occupied with Jisung’s two hands, he’d use his free one to spider his fingers around his armpit, watching as Han screeched and cackled.

“PLEHEHEHEHASE!” Han screamed, as if Chan hearing him was part of the problem. “PLEEEHEHEHEASE! WHAAHAHAT- WHAHAHAHAT DOHO YOHOU WAHAHAHAHANT FROHOM MEHEHEHEHEEE??” He could admit, that was kind of a stupid question. He already knew. He could only hope that he was wrong, but he knew he wasn’t. 

“I want you to listen to your head.” Chan would hum, now gently swirling his finger around and around. “And your heart. You have nothing to lose here! I want you to take a chance.” 

Chan would still his fingers. Han would pant, sucking in a big breath of air. They’d stare at each other as if they were having a silent staring contest; the loser had to speak first. Chan would blink. 

“Well?” 

Han didn’t have the heart, or really the energy, to respond. His eyes would remain glued to the floor. 

“Are you going to do that?” Chan would ask. “…Or…have I been too easy on you?” 

Oh fuck. 

“H-Hyung…” Han would whimper, noticing Chan removing his hands from his arms. He’d slam them down immediately, shrinking into himself. “I…” He was scared. 

“It’s…it’s scary, Hyung…” 

“What is?” Chan would respond quickly, his face laced with concern. Oh god. Had he gone too far? That was never his intention. “The tickling? Hannie, I’m so sorry-“

Han would cut him off. “No. Not- not that,” he’d flush; he didn’t even think that would be possible at this point- he was already bright red. “Talking to him, Hyung. I…” Han didn’t want to get choked up. It was stupid. It made no sense. “…I don’t want him to laugh at me. I don’t want him to think I’m weird-“ 

“Oh, Hannie…” 

Before he knew it, his face was getting cupped. He’d stare ahead at Chan, being met with a sympathetic smile. “You are not weird. And even if you were…so what? That’s part of your charm.” His words were genuine, he could tell. 

“You think I’m charming?” That question was meant to come out more jokey than it actually did. He didn’t know why he sounded so shocked. 

“I do, yes.” Chan would chuckle. He thought that question was adorable. “I think he does too. My baking isn’t that good, Jisung. Something-“ He’d clear his throat, playfully shaking his head. “Sorry. Someone else has to be motivating him to come here so often.” 

“…And you think it’s me?” Han didn’t want to get his hopes up. He didn’t want to feel that horrible feeling: looking forward to something, raising his expectations- just for them to be crushed right in front of his face. 

“I know it’s you, Jisung.” 

But when Chan spoke like that, with such conviction and confidence…how could he not believe him? Maybe Chan had actually noticed something he hadn’t, and it wasn’t like him to do something to maliciously hurt him. He wouldn’t be telling him this if he didn’t believe it. 

And as if on cue, those cute little bells tied to the door frame would chime. Han would freeze for a moment, staring at Chan like a deer in the headlights, and the “Hello?” that was called from the register in that familiar voice didn’t help things. 

Oh shit. He had spent this whole time laughing- now the heart cookies weren’t even ready. He’d look to Chan frantically, searching for answers. Luckily for him, Chan already seemed to have a plan- as he normally did. 

“Go!” He’d whisper, beginning to usher Han away. “Go talk to him! I’ll finish up the cookies. I’ll set an alarm on the oven- when it starts ringing, come back here and get the cookies.” He’d explain, grabbing a piping bag. “You know what to do then.” 

Han would nod, quickly stomping his way to the curtain separating the kitchen and the registers. But, before he could step out, he’d hesitate. 

“Hyung?” 

“Yes?” Chan would respond, already focused on the cookies in front of him. 

Han would look over his shoulder, a soft smile gracing his face. “Thank you…in advance. You know…in the case you actually are right.” 

“Of course, Jisung. Good luck.” 

Chan would watch in satisfaction as Han opened and exited out the curtain, relieved as he heard him start his normal “Hi! What can I getcha’?” spiel. He’d do great, he knew. 

Chan would put down the piping bag after a few minutes, setting the timer on the oven to two minutes. He’d spend those two minutes taking the original cookie dough batter, untouched, out of its hiding place: one of the lower shelves on the counter. The last thing he wanted to do was waste good batter! 

He’d put the clear bowl in the mini-fridge, shutting it quickly as the timer beeped. He’d grin as Han did as he was previously told to do: he’d rush in, quickly finding the small plate of six heart-shaped cookies frosted in pretty pink and red buttercream. He’d turn to Chan, giving him a quick nod and a mouthed “Thank you!” before rushing back out with the cookies in hand. 

All Chan could do was smile. He prayed this would go well. Everything had so far, at least. Besides, he knew it better than anyone else could: 

If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.  

omg omg omg!!! first fic DONE! this is a liiiittle late, so im sorry!! it just wasn’t done cooking yet! (hehe!) i hope you guys like it 🥹

[awkwardgtace]

Out of Reach

honestly this time the prompt just works as the title.

Vincent has finally finished restoring the bonds he'd changed for the church of love. Now... he can do anything he wants, but he's not sure what that is. Maybe a not so friendly stranger can guide him

CW: Lots of attempted murder. Vincent technically dies a lot, nothing too graphic

Out of Reach

Vincent watched the elderly couple as they walked through the town. Despite his interference decades ago, the two remained together. They tried to make it work. He saw the distance between them. No glances at each other. A presence that each tolerated. He pulled his hood up and walked after them.

It was easy for him to slip between the crowd. The couple continued to walk somewhat together. He got close just as they started to drift apart. Each of them focused only on their own interests within the market. Careful to dodge the threads of others in the crowd he grabbed the tied off ends from the couple. Then brought them together, the knots he tied undid themselves as the threads reattached. He backed away just as the two jumped from the change.

Vincent did his best to disappear into the moving crowd. As he passed by the two he saw them lace their fingers together. Both focused on each other, the stalls already forgotten. He smiled to himself. They were the last ones that he’d interfered with. The last alive at least. That stupid god of love told him when any had died.

He heaved a sigh as he made his way out of the market. Vincent had a choice to make now. Go back to Delphia and the gods. Live out a life there, whatever that life could be. He hadn’t aged in a long time. It was safe to assume he’d live at least as long as Del already had. That didn’t mean he was ready to subject himself to whatever the gods wanted.

 At the fountain where the road diverged he paused. West would lead to travel. To experiences he never tried to imagine. Maybe odd jobs that would keep him in villages now and then. As time passed the threads that came from his soul would fade. He’d be disconnected and alone. Just like before, but free from the greedy zealots of the past.

East would take him back to the gods and Delphia. The threads of his own that reached each massive being. Not a single one had acted as he expected. They offered him kindness. East would lead him back into that unearned kindness…

The meeting with each god played through his mind. The threads from them were unique; a look specific to each domain. It made him start to believe Delphia was right. He could matter to the gods. At least to all of them except the one that mattered to him.

Vincent squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. That should be enough to make his choice… Not just should it was. He turned west. Away from all the kindness that would lead to heartache. Even if the gods were kind, he was a passing fancy. Leaving was his best option.

He tried to keep his pace steady as he left. Off on his first adventure ever. This would be the first time he had any freedom. It felt worth it. Even if he already had the image of the god of love’s face in his mind. Worry that slowly creeped into his expression as Vincent never arrived. At least that was what he wanted to believe would happen.

As he left the town those feelings forced their way into his mind. Over the years the god of love grew on him. The way the god looked while he slept. The earnest concern any time Vincent returned hurt. The way his voice sounded when he thought Vincent was asleep. Deeper than the one he normally heard. One that made his bones tingle. That was something he’d miss from choosing to go west.

It was better this way. Better not to have that pain from the act. The god of love would get bored sooner than the others. Their thread didn’t even exist anymore. It was supposed to be eternal. One that neither could sever. It was gone and yet the god kept coming back. Kept offering his blessing for Vincent to finish a selfish mission. Now that was over. He shook his head and made his hood fall.

Stupid god of love and his stupid cute face probably wouldn’t even be there. Vincent would arrive, wait for days, and the god would laugh. The little mortal who thought they had a connection would make a good joke. He was stupid to ever think the gods would care for him. To hope that there was a chance he could reach the god of love with his own feelings.

“Sir!” a voice called from behind him. It reminded him of where he was. Vincent chose to keep walking. “Sir, I have a question for you!”

He sighed. The clothes he wore made it seem like he had money. Beggars stopped him a lot. If it wasn’t for that it was someone hoping to marry up. He wasn’t interested. Now of all times he wanted to keep moving and ignore them. This person apparently didn't like that idea. She grabbed his arm once she grew close enough.

“Sir, I said I have a question for you,” she panted. Vincent sighed again. He glared down at the woman. This was the last thing he needed.

“What?” he snapped. 

“A long time ago did you live in a church? Did you play matchmaker for whoever paid the most?”

Vincent narrowed his eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’ve been looking for you.” Vincent tried to pull his arm free. The girl was stronger than she looked. She acted fast too, pulled a dagger from her side and stabbed him in the heart. “You’re the only one I’ve seen with these scars. Let’s see if you die.”

Vincent’s vision faded. This was still less painful than going east…

For once death didn't bring him to an empty void. He met memories that he'd long since buried. The day his mother left and the thread they shared crumbled. He'd thought the two things were unrelated, until he cut the already fading thread between himself and his father. As much as he hated to admit it, there was relief in his father's eyes that day. The life that continued after where all the threads around him faded or crumbled. He was always on his own. It was the best way to be for someone like him. He’d known that by the time they turned on him…

His eyes snapped open. The sky had the colors of dawn. Those memories had him for at least half a day. It took a few minutes for the feeling to return to his body. Once it did he realized that he was restrained and that the sky was moving. Rather he was moving. He tried to find the source, but his only view was the back of someone’s head. Despite the restraints he tried to sit up. Bells jingled in response.

“I started to think I’d killed a normal person. That certainly would have hurt my payday,” a woman said. It was the same voice as the one who stabbed him.

“I could probably pay you more than them if you let me go,” he said. Del would give him what he needed. Although he didn’t actually have a way to reach her without going back.

“That place has been offering a big sum for you. Our guild has been preparing to find you for years. We always lost you after you left that city, now we have you and aren’t letting you go any time soon.”

Vincent glared at what he could see of the woman. Of course that damned church never gave up on him. He resigned himself to whatever came from this. At some point she'd make a mistake and he'd run. For now, he closed his eyes. It would be better to sleep than risk more of those memories surfacing.

***

Rhys sat outside the house waiting. Vincent had completed the last bond reparation. He might not come back. The god of love stared at the horizon afraid for the future. Afraid the human would go off on his own now. He couldn’t interfere, couldn’t even voice his wishes. Not after his selfish choices… If Vincent left he’d be forced to live with it, for eternity.

***

A bump in the road pulled him from sleep. The sun had reached near the middle of the sky. He was officially late for meeting the god of love. A part of him was hoping something would happen. That he’d be looked for or contacted. They had ways to do that. Nothing happened though. The cart he’d been tied down on slowed to a stop and the sky remained absent of any impossible beings. The world stayed silent of shockingly kind voices. He was on his own… like he wanted.

“Now, how do I make sure you don’t try and escape,” the woman said. Vincent sighed. It seemed like she wanted to play some kind of game with him. If he got a moment away from the restraints he’d run and she’d never find him. He’d finally be alone. The cart shook as she left the driver’s seat. “Well, we’ll go with the easiest method. We need to try all these weapons anyway.”

A flash of light and a pain settled within his chest. Shakily, he managed to tilt his head. A faintly glowing spear stuck out of him. The woman’s hand had flecks of his blood on it. She ripped it from him and the glow died off. A brilliant silver tip drenched in his blood sat within his vision. He could faintly see odd symbols where it had dripped clean. As the edges of his vision turned dark he sent out a wish into the world. Anything but more memories…

The world ignored his plea as hazy moments crowded his limbo. The day he got his scars came through. Still images of himself hiding and scared, but determined to survive. The pain when his own father gleefully tried to cut out his eyes. The fear when the knife only cut his skin and more tools were brought. The relief as he felt his heart stop beating.

It was a blessing when the memories disappeared. Even though he felt his hands tightly bound by rope behind him. His legs too. There was an ache in his chest where the spear had stabbed him, but other than that it was mostly fine. Vincent opened his eyes and found the woman standing at a table with two men. In front of them was a pile of weapons, some he’d never seen before.

They picked ones up to inspect slowly. When he squinted he could just make out strange symbols on each one. Some of them made him shudder. For once he didn’t have a quip or snarky comment at the ready. These people intended to kill him over and over and over. Unless it stuck.

One of the men picked up a set of gloves and slipped them on. Vincent held his breath as the others walked towards him. The one with the gloves stood back, a sick grin on his face. He tried to push away the thoughts of the weapons as hands forced him to sit on his knees. Tried to focus on the bonds between the three, how he could abuse them. They were auburn, destined to fade. Gloved hands gripped his head and roughly jerked it to the side. A sickening crack and the world went dark.

A memory filled emptiness again. Of course because of his focus at death he remembered that fake church of love. Loyal to the former god and hated by the new one. Happy to make use of the cursed man brought to them. Happy to give him a choice, die in perpetuity or do their bidding. Happy to isolate him and let him die for months. Vincent was only too happy to oblige after that. He knew he wasn’t a monster, but he’d do as the real ones ordered. At that point he wanted to feel anything besides death.

“Do you think any of these will really work?” one of the men said.

“It has to, I want my payout,” the woman said. She turned towards Vincent with a new dagger. In a fluid motion she slit his throat.

Faces now. Years of faces. Ones seeking a selfish match. Others begging for the return of a love that left them. Some he knew had been lost due to his own actions, most unable to accept the fickleness of bonds. People who tried to help him only to run in fear when shown he wouldn’t die. More of why he hated the bonds. Why they were pointless. Why he was better off alone. Until a woman with pale skin, black hair, and emerald eyes arrived. The light in her eyes nearly blinded him. Followed by words that were etched on his soul, “Don’t let go of me. I’ll get us out of here.”

“Del!” he cried out as life returned to him. He tried to reach towards the fading image. The action led to a sword slicing at him. His head was cut off, death was instant. 

That strange girl who saved him. The memories of Delphia. The house that she happily gave him and their bond. The one he could only recently admit he caused. He wanted someone, anyone, who could understand him. See the pain that he’d lived. She saw it all, and accepted him. Their bond was permanent once he stopped her from dying. The burning fear that she wouldn’t come back if it happened. In the present they were close, but he’d decided they were family that day. No matter how much he tried to pretend it was her that got too attached.

When he came back the world felt empty. This time he didn’t hesitate to open his eyes. There was a pile of weapons on the ground, separated from his captors. The pile was small enough he could make out each one. Each that had failed to kill him for good. Attempting to hide that he was back, he turned his head slowly. The pile on the table looked to hold at least a dozen more. That meant at least a dozen more deaths.

For the first time in his life Vincent started to fear death. Not that it would stick. Not that it would even be painful. No… he feared the memories he’d seen. So far they’d been in order. A longer version of a normal mortal's life flashing before their eyes prior to death. He would relive the memories piece by piece. The pain of his past was easy to face, it was where those memories wanted him to reach that he hated.

One of the men looked at him. There was a flurry of movement before a new weapon, a scythe, was lifted off the table. The woman stalked towards him. Desperate to avoid what he’d remember next he looked from his captors to his threads. Let him relive those events instead. Skip the next part of what brought him to this very moment.

The woman lifted his head. It didn’t make him change his view. Those threads. The ones to the gods. His only hope not to face the memories that brought him more pain. The ones that consistently broke his heart when he relived them. She positioned the scythe at his throat. In a quick motion his life was snuffed out. A part of him hoped this one would stick…

A night at the house where he couldn’t sleep. The god of love had long gone, but Vincent chose to remain. He thought the guaranteed safety would help him sleep for the first time in months. After a few hours of nothing but his own thoughts in the darkness he stepped outside. The stars were more interesting than the ceiling. He’d spent years staring at one already.

The peace of the evening was disrupted as a massive being appeared in front of him. It wasn’t the god he knew. Dark hair covered in flecks of white to match the stars. Eyes that offered a living version of the night sky. Vincent scrambled back as a hand came near. It was more surprising when it stopped.

“Sorry, I thought you might be cold,” the god of the night sky said. Shockingly, his voice was soft and nervous. “I’m Luna. Rhys talked about you. He said you weren’t sleeping well. I… I thought maybe hearing the stories of the stars might help.”

Vincent took a deep breath and sat on the ground. It wasn’t as if he could run from a god anyway. Plus Del had mentioned the stories Luna told and some sounded interesting. The god smiled high above him. As the stories started Vincent remembered the children in his village. Before they hated him he would read stories to them. It wasn’t so bad to have this now and then. A bond that shimmered like the stars connected the two just as Vincent’s eyes grew heavy…

Alive. Only a few moments before something killed him again.

Days after Luna the other sky twin visited. Her blonde hair was as bright as the sun, but her eyes mirrored a cloudy day. Her massive hand actually made contact with him, but at least didn’t grab him. He tensed, waiting for what would happen next. She pulled back and set her hands on her lap. At least he was almost the size of her fingers.

“Sorry, I forget I shouldn’t grab mortals sometimes. Rhys said you were scared and we have to make sure not to scare you,” she said. Vincent’s eyes went wide. One of her fingers came to rest in front of him. “I’m Sola. Luna said he met you so I wanted to meet you too! Can I show you how I make the clouds?”

“Uh… sure,” he said. The goddess started to reach for him again. Just before she touched him she stopped. Vincent jumped as the goddess turned and dropped to the ground with her head next to him. Much more energetic than Luna.

“Great! I’ll show you lots of pretty clouds.”

With a hand raised to the sky, she used a single finger to create a line. Slowly the clouds came into shape. Images of the gods’ faces, the world, even Vincent himself. Somehow he found them beautiful, more than all the clouds he’d seen before. Hours after she left he noticed the thread leading from him colored to match a blue sky with fluffy white clouds.

Stabbed.

Months after the sky twins Vincent had been rudely awakened by knocking on the roof. WIth a sigh he made his way outside, fully expecting the god of love. Instead he met a deity with black skin, shaved brown hair, and dual colored eyes. Lakes and forests. Nature sat in front of him. Their stern look made him freeze in the doorway. 

“I…” they started. Vincent’s heart was pounding. This god would kill him. “I have come to apologize for our initial meeting. My flower has explained you are like her. I… I realize you may face hardships as she has as well.”

Vincent shrugged. It was easy enough to assume the flower was Delphia, but he didn’t know about her struggles. She avoided talking about her past. The god leaned closer. Their movements were small, but still caused him to stumble. Enough that he wound up out in the open. One of the hands came close. A single finger hovered over his head.

“I… would like to give you a boon. A token of my sincerity. I would have to touch you,” their tone made Vincent’s blood turn to ice. He had to trust that the gods wouldn’t harm one that another claimed.

“Go ahead,” he said. Vincent grit his teeth as the finger pressed against his head. He waited for the pain to come. Some punishment for his hubris in attempting to sever one of their bonds.

“Little mortal, with this boon nature shall aid you on your travels. I cannot grant you the same control as Delphia, but it will give all a mortal needs to survive.” A warmth that Vincent could only describe as safe coated his body. In moments the warmth was gone. As was the finger on his head. The trees surrounding the small house shook as if greeting him. The world felt… less lonely. “You may call me Ash. Should you have need of aid merely tell nature you would like to reach me. It will only guide me to you then”

“Thanks, I guess…” The god disappeared. In their place sat a thread coated in trees of all kinds. It connected directly to Vincent.

Head bashed in.

As he walked up to the house two fingers pinched Vincent tightly. He was ready to go off on the god of love as soon as he was pulled from the ground. The familiar face didn’t appear nor did the strawberry breath. A god with a stocky leaning chubby build met him. Short black hair, beige skin, golden eyes, and a glare that made Vincent want to die. Prosperity had him in his grasp.

“Hmm, Rhys wasn’t wrong, these clothes are the wrong size for you,” the god sighed. Something like perfume met him and made Vincent cough. The god dropped him into his other hand. “This house isn’t quite right for you either.”

“W-what?!” Vincent managed to shout. The god narrowed his eyes and sighed again. The perfume scent was at least a bit more manageable from here. The hand that once held him snapped and the clothes on his body changed. They fit better? “P-Prosperi-”

“Felix. I go by Felix. All the clothes you’ve been given from me should fit perfectly now. Now be patient while I make the house more suited to you. According to the others this has become yours now.” Another sigh as Felix turned away. “I don’t see why they did this. I could have made one from the start.”

Vincent stared at the god. A strange look of pain sat on him. The slightly pudgier hand was soft. The intimidating glare lost its ferocity. Felix looked almost dejected. Against his better judgement he was worried about the god. Wanted to comfort him.

“The house is fine. There’s no need to change it,” Vincent said. Felix looked at him again. Something soft in his eyes.

“There’s no repercussions, little mortal. It’s for your comfort,” Felix sounded kind and lonely. The first god that Vincent couldn’t bring himself to doubt.

“It’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with it. Nothing special that would be added if you changed it. Besides, Del stays here too.”

“I see. I will visit again to see if you have changed your mind.”

Too fast to think Vincent was set on the ground and the god was gone. A new thread had been born, one covered in brilliant gems.

Throat slit.

Miles from the house was the spot of the next meeting.  When he’d been dragged out for some crime he supposedly committed. Left in a field to die, a shadow of a being too big to be mortal fell over him. A part of him had hoped it was that stupid god of love’s shadow instead.

“Little mortal, I will take you somewhere safe,” the god said. It wasn’t any that he knew so he tried to get away. “Do not run, you’ve fought a valiant battle and I merely hope to treat your pain. I am only passing by due to a war nearby. You alone have not brought me here, but I shall aid you.”

In his mind Vincent cried out for help. The god of war’s hands only grew closer. He scrambled back, but it did nothing to deter the warrior from his prize. Fingers blocked all his escapes and he prayed to anyone listening for help. He’d even take it from the stupid god of love.

A bright flash of light nearly blinded him. He had some hope for a moment that it was the war god taking pity on him. Instead his vision cleared to reveal a goddess he’d seen once before. One he’d pissed off too. The night sky hair hung near him as she leaned closer. He waited for that same animosity from before to appear in her warm brown eyes. The rosy skinned, chubby goddess only looked sad.

“Ryder, what are you doing?” she said. It would only take a few seconds for her to convince the war god to leave. Then she could punish him for attempting to break the bond she shared with Delphia. A punishment he’d been waiting for.

“Ah, Alessia. Perhaps you can help to calm the little mortal,” the war god, Ryder apparently, said as he pulled his hands away. Vincent did his best to back away. Put any distance possible between himself and the massive deities before him. Alessia crouched down, her hair fell close enough he could grab it.

“Wait… aren’t you the one Delphia found?”

“This is the little warrior’s friend?”

“And if I am?” Vincent managed to squeak out. He hoped the fear was missed and it came out as more of a snark. The dual frowns told him the fear was loud and clear.

“Then nothing,” Alessia kneeled down. “I know you’re scared. I was mortal at first. I know what a god looks like to you. Sometimes I forget just what that means.”

“You’re safe little mortal. I preside over war, but take no pleasure from violence. I pray you allow us to take you to someone to aid you.”

“No.” 

Vincent could hear the confidence in his voice. Something he didn’t expect. The gods shared a look, but neither made a move for him. Alessia actually sat back. A wry smile settled on her face. It didn’t suit her.

“I wouldn’t want to trust us either. Especially if you were taught even half of what Delphia and I were taught. If you’d like I can offer you protection. A promise that someone will save you should you ever need,” the goddess said. She turned away with a sigh. “I will warn you it will mean I can always find you. It would be impossible to hide.”

“No way in all the hells,” Vincent shouted. The goddess nodded. Like she expected him to refuse.

“If you ever change your mind the offer remains.”

“At least allow me to give you a weapon. Blessed in ways that will only aid you, that it will always be yours,” Ryder said. Vincent stared at the god dumbfounded. “What weapon do you  wield? If there is not one, we can test all that come to mind until one feels right.”

He was stunned into silence. The god of war offered him a blessed weapon. All the stories told of the sacrifice it took to earn the god’s favor. He was just… giving it to Vincent. Then Alessia, goddess of whatever used to be mortal and knew Delphia back then. All of it was too much. He reached for the scissors usually strapped to his thigh, but his hand met only his clothes.

“My scissors,” he muttered. A clap that should have shattered his eardrums drew his attention upwards.

“Scissors, an unorthodox choice. Though the little warrior has proven small weapons more than capable. Scissors it is then.”

As the two gods animatedly discussed what blessings he’d need, two threads formed. One coated in chess pieces for war. The other was covered in golden armor for the human turned goddess. A new set of bonds for himself…

Beheaded.

Vincent dragged himself to his room at the inn. It was one of the rare times he was glad Del constantly gave him money. Just as he collapsed on the bed something warm touched his back. He stiffened, but it passed. Another attempt to relax, but the warmth returned.

“What in the hells?” he hissed as he jumped out of the bed. His body ached from the effort.

“Little one, please rest,” a soft feminine voice said. It sounded both right next to him and far away.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Mmm, I would rather not tell you.” Vincent backed towards the door. The warmth touched him again and sent him rocketing deeper into the room. A sigh chased him. “I see I can’t hope to calm you without that though. I believe mortals still call me Lady Death, I would be honored if you called me Dabria.”

Vincent’s blood ran cold. Death had found him. He couldn’t escape her. It didn’t matter what Del or the god of love told him. Whatever kept him alive snubbed Lady Death’s embrace. She would hurt him, maybe kill him permanently. For once he didn’t want that.

“Little one?” 

Another warm touch, but this time he shrank back. There was no escape now. The warmth left again, but he couldn’t begin to recover. Lady Death was here and here for him.

“Oh, Vitus,” Lady Death whispered. “I fear I’ve scared him. Please help.”

“I told you we should leave him be,” a masculine voice said. Vincent swore he could hear the world shattering steps of what had to be Lord Life. “Vincent, you’re safe under our gaze.”

There was nothing to say. No quips or snark even at the edge of his mind. These were the gods that could snuff out what meager life he had. The ones who controlled the things that made the world turn. He was dead. Warmth surrounded him again.

“Vincent,” Lord Life again. It felt odd to hear his name from such powerful gods. “You face no danger from either of us. You suffer for sins of a past you played no hand in. I’m sure you know of me as Lord Life, but please call me Vitus.”

Vincent let out a shaky breath. His voice wouldn’t come. He couldn’t bring himself to beg, plead, even fight. It wasn’t like the others. Something told him these gods alone made a world of difference that he couldn’t begin to imagine. The warmth around him pushed at him. Guiding him closer to the bed. His body followed it, there wasn’t anything else to do. He swore he heard some kind of shuffling.

“Dabria, don’t-” Lord Life’s words were his only warning before the wall in front of him changed. Warm red eyes bore down on him. The massive woman shifted, ebony hair fell to hide pale, rosy skin. Her face actually looked kind. It wasn’t what he expected of death.

Those thoughts were forgotten once a hand blocked his view. He tried to run, but the warmth that had guided him near the bed held him fast. Fingers more than twice as long as he was tall snaked between himself and the phantom warmth. They closed in, now a visible barrier between him and escape.

The digits closed in until he was trapped in a fist. Warm, soft skin made his own crawl. This wasn’t like when the god of love held him. This didn’t feel safe. The muscles around him tensed before his feet were pulled off the ground. A whimper wound up as the only noise he could make.

The fist turned on its side. He waited for the dizzying speed that would signal his trip to the realm of the gods. It never came. The fist barely moved before the fingers trapping him opened. He was nudged gently by the thumb until he’d been dropped on the bed.

As the hand retreated he saw another face almost mimicking the way Lady Death had placed herself. Skin ghostly pale, green eyes more piercing than Delphias, and hair a stark white. Lord Life had made his appearance. The glare on the god filled Vincent with dread. Somehow Life being cruel made more sense than Death being kind.

Lord Life’s pale hand replaced his view. It stayed as a fist as it neared him. Horrible images plagued his mind, but it stopped a few feet away. A single finger was held out and placed on his head. It moved back and forth as if ruffling his hair. At the same time a different kind of warmth filled his body.

The hand pulled away with a dizzying speed, but he managed to squeak out a, “What?” at the gods’ actions. Lord Life and Lady Death… Vitus and Dabria both softened.

“We witnessed the fight you were in. I wanted to comfort you, little one,” Dabria whispered. Her voice took the edge of fear from his bones. As if he could trust her.

“Rest well, Vincent,” Vitus’s commanding voice carried a promise of safety. “You are safe. When you wake your aches will be gone…”

Vincent fought his eyelids as they grew heavy long enough to see threads snake from himself. One coated in ravens which connected to Dabria. The other in dozens of beginnings which reached Vitus. He had formed a bond with the embodiments of life and death…

Alive. Alive enough to think. To look for new memories. Failed escapes. His family. The village. Anything other than- 

Something pierced his heart.

Vincent stood outside the house with Delphia behind him. In front of him sat a being he’d only heard of in stories. One he tried to convince himself didn’t exist. Tan skin, eyes that were currently lavender, salmon hair tied loosely and left to rest lazily over his shoulder. A build that looked soft to the touch, but promised something clearly different as the truth. Sharp features which came together in a sad smile. All of it that made up a god. Specifically, the god of love.

“So you’re the one who sees bonds?” a voice that sounded like music to him. That at the time filled him with a sense of fear and longing that made no sense. Deep enough to rumble through his chest. Laced with something darker. “My name is Rhys, the god of love. You’re Vincent, right?”

He was back. Sooner than usual. Pain stayed where he’d been stabbed. He hadn’t healed enough. The memory ate at him. Yet he still whispered the name he’d been told, “Rhys…”

Killed again.

“It’s fine, I won’t hurt him,” Rhys’s voice echoed in his mind as Vincent fought against the limbo that tried to pull him in. “Looks like we’re connected now. Could we talk, please?”

Alive. More pain. Another whisper, “Rhys…”. Dead again

“I don’t think it’ll cut, Vincent.”

Alive. It hurt. He wanted it to stop. He kept whispering the god of love’s name. “Rhys…” Dead.

“No, so I get to make sure you know you’re safe.” Conviction Vincent chose to ignore at the time. His doubts about what he’d always believed to be true had already begun to creep in.

“Rhys…” Dead.

“Don’t do that.” Massive fingers that erased his own. Honest care for his life. Too much for a man who had been rejected by everything.

“Rhys…”

“I’ll give you a blessing.”

“Rhys…”

“You’ll need to come see me every few days.”

“Rhys…”

“Don’t go yet,” Rhys’s whisper from the time Vincent found him sleeping. He’d been terrified the god had been hurt. Terrified that the kind words and those gentle fingers would be gone. Terrified that those eyes would never look his way again.

“Rhys…”

“Just let me look at you for a little bit.” Gentle fingers maneuvered Vincent. A too big face came close. Eyes full of something he couldn’t let himself understand. Not then.

“Rhys…”

“I don’t think I ever said how sorry I am that you were hurt for your gift in my name.” Vincent’s walls moments from cracking that day. It felt like someone had found him after all that time. Someone could care about him, see him. Maybe even love him.

“Rhys…”

“Stay with me, for just a bit?” Vincent gave in. Started to accept that he felt something, until he noticed what was missing. The god’s multitude of threads had none with gold. When Rhys had fully fallen asleep Vincent checked his own threads. Just Delphia. The thread of fate was gone. 

All of his hope died. Of course a god would find a way to destroy a thread of fate. Of course he’d do it when bound to love a mortal. Of course Vincent was on his own. He always had been. Yet…

“Rhys.”

Eyes changing colors to show his emotions. The god had learned to control the colors a little. Enough his true thoughts hid.

“Rhys.”

The way the god spoke when he thought Vincent was asleep. Deep, dark, hungry. Something that spoke to another side of him. Something that made Vincent hurt more knowing he’d never understand.

“Rhys.”

The hungry look in his eyes. When they went pitch black and he thought Vincent was distracted. The want of something. The want that terrified and excited him. Maybe the god had some interest in him after all. 

“Rhys!”

That damned breath. Always sweet. Always coating him and everything around them. Encompassing him. Intoxicating him. That damned-

“Strawberry…”

Vincent’s energy was spent. He was alive at least. It took effort to open his eyes, but when he did he saw something strange. Pink petals the size of humans. His captors took no notice. If he saw it they should too. His mind had decided to play an awful trick.

With some effort Vincent lifted his head enough to see the god above the trees. Not the man’s face though. There was something else that caught his eye. A brilliant gold thread that came from the god and ended above them. He never considered that a god could control his own threads. It had been a way to subdue Vincent from the start. He should have known. He should have caught on before his own feelings blossomed.

“None of them worked…” One of his captors said. He couldn’t tell who. Noises felt muffled for some reason. 

“None of what worked?” Rhys’s voice was loud. Louder than Vincent had ever heard it The other mortals fell to the ground with their hands at their ears. It was lessened for him… “Well?”

Cruel, loud, unconcerned with the mortals clearly in pain from his words. This was what Vincent had expected of gods. After a deep breath he managed to lift his head up and up until he found the eyes of the god standing over them. A deep, dark color met him. Black, but with a tinge of blue. His captors started to stumble over words. Clearly no one had an idea of how to appease the god.

Eventually the woman climbed to her feet. The confidence she’d carried was gone as she said, “I-I’m returning the power he stole from you?”

Rhys’s eyes narrowed. He licked his lips before bending over. With his height it was easy to block out the sky. Become everything that the mortals on the ground could see. Become the biggest threat any of them had faced. One they couldn’t hope to escape. “Are you now?”

In a movement faster than Vincent had ever seen, Rhys’s hand shot out and grabbed his three torturers. They completely disappeared behind fingers that had always been gentle towards him. Their screams filled the world as the hand was lifted up. Rhys stood to his full, dizzying height. His hand rested just below his face.

“Who said you had the authority for that? What part of my-” Rhys shook his hand as he spoke- “domain do you control?”

The hand moved up to Rhys’s lips. Another bout of awful thoughts entered Vincent’s head. A quiet voice argued that the god wouldn’t do that. That he knew the real god of love and this was not him. This… this was an act. That didn’t stop the screams of terror from his captors.

“I-I-I-It was a church of love!” one cried.

“I see…” Rhys’s voice carried a threat with it. His hand was lowered until it rested at the same level as his chest. The world held its breath in fear of the furious god’s next move. “I’ll deal with it and you together.”

The god was gone. Pink petals faded long before they hit the ground. Vincent wanted to escape. Avoid the wrath of this version of love. His body didn’t agree. He ached everywhere they’d injured him as he fought his memories of Rhys. His speed could have worn out the rope on his hands, but it wouldn’t answer. He was at the mercy of the god or anyone else who came along.

Left tied up and alone there was only one thing to occupy his mind. That damned golden thread. How it mocked him and what had grown in his heart. As he glared at it his vision began to blur. Assuming tears were brimming in his eyes, he closed them to fight the pain down. He cursed that golden thread.

“He’s mine!” Rhys’s voice made him snap his eyes open. Vincent remained alone. The voice was too real, but nothing could have formed it. Unless the thread had something to do with it. His exhausted mind fed into the idea. Slowly, he closed his eyes while focused on the painful shade of gold.

Vincent’s vision filled with a place he’d never truly gotten to explore. A place that had happily used him for what would have been eternity. At his feet sat the church that had kept him prisoner. The spire that probably should have reached at least his mid calf was gone. Bricks with cracked gems sat in its place.

Despite how small it looked he could still make out the gems that had outlined every opening. All of them cracked as if some loud sound had come through… He knew the loud sound, the very shout that he’d heard. The shades of pink and red that decorated the building lost their shine. Unless it was the shadow cast on the building that dulled them. The most notable difference was the roof. It had been removed completely and apparently Vincent- or rather Rhys- held it.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Rhys’s voice rumbled through his chest as though it was his own. Through the god’s eyes he watched the roof be placed carelessly to the side. No check for the presence of any mortal… “You wanted the old god, I'll treat you like they would.”

Vincent’s vision swam as Rhys kneeled. The impact caused the already ruined spire to crumble more. He watched humans fall to the ground from the impact. He was foolish to think he could matter to the gods. Not even a full finger to most of them. A little mortal would only be fun for so long.

A scream dragged his focus back. Rhys’s hand had reached into the church of love. The nailed down golden pews were easily knocked aside and crushed. With a single finger he destroyed the door that had trapped Vincent for years. The tapestries that depicted both the former deity of love and bonds were shredded by the god’s nails. The hand paused for a moment before the fingers stretched out and caused the walls to come crumbling down.

Vincent prepared himself for death amidst the destruction once the hand receded. Instead every human was safe, even his captors. With the god’s eyes he could tell there wasn’t even a bruise on any of them. Vertigo made him bite his tongue as the god returned to his full height.

“Next time,” Rhys’s voice was dark and cruel, “I’ll do more than destroy a church that I ignored for too long.”

Vincent forced his eyes open in time to watch the pink petals land around him. In front of him were the very hands he watched casually destroy a building. Threaten others with no hesitation. He did his best to muster a glare as he turned to look up at the god’s eyes. 

The inky black made his heart freeze. The flecks of pink made them a horrifying sight. As if the darkness was snuffing out the color he’d come to consider the god’s neutral. The eyes darkened as he fought to move his tied limbs. Instincts made Vincent curl up to hide himself.

“I won’t hurt you,” Rhys whispered. The ferocity and darkness had completely disappeared. If he didn’t know better he’d think someone smaller than a human was talking.  “I’m gonna bring my hands closer to you. When you’re ready I’ll pick you up and cut the ropes.”

Just as he was told the warmth of the hands grew closer. It was comforting after the pain of untold deaths. Vincent let minutes pass without movement. The hands stayed still, not even inching closer. Eventually he managed to uncurl himself. The giant hands were shaking horribly.

“Can’t hold me like that,” he mumbled. Strength from the warmth that fed into his body helped him push himself up. “Bring a finger close and I’ll cut it myself.”

The shaking hand turned into a fist. A single finger came closer and sat just behind Vincent. He shimmied as close as he could. Stopped when the nail touched his clothes. With an awful amount of effort he managed to push himself to a full sitting position. He raised his arms until the rope touched the nail. It broke with barely any sawing.

As he stretched his arms the hands pulled away. Absent-mindedly he reached for his thigh. The scissors he always carried offered a sense of calm when he held them. Of course he grasped at nothing. They took the supposedly blessed weapon. It made sense, the clothes were ruined too. He'd lose everything the gods gave him.

The hands came near him again. Both shaking. This time, just before getting close, Rhys used one to stabilize the other. Palm up and resting in front of him Vincent saw the reason. His scissors. The exact thing he wanted sat on the tip of Rhys’s finger. Reminiscent of the time they first met. With his own trembling hands, Vincent reached for the tool. As soon as he grasped the scissors the god disappeared. He’d think he was alone if that mocking thread didn’t sit above him still. It made his heart hurt and that soon switched to anger.

The anger could fuel him through this. It was better than exhaustion, fear, pain, and the one emotion he couldn’t say. Anger he was used to. It fed him through so much of his life. Sometimes it felt that something wanted him angry, encouraged it in him. For once in his too long life he listened to that part of him. A voice that screamed in anger at the gods, a part that urged him to share his pain in ways only he could. For now he used it to yell, “Why are you here?!”

“I don’t think you’ll like the answer,” Rhys whispered. A voice everywhere and nowhere in an attempt to hide. They both knew it wouldn’t work. In the heavy silence he cut the ropes around his legs. They shook like a newborn fawn’s as he stood. A sigh came with the smallest hint of strawberry. “You called my name…”

“So what, you were waiting here watching them kill me this whole time?” 

Venom filled his words. It was easy. The anger pushed all the pain he’d felt around this stupid god out. All the fear and loneliness that sat in him. It didn’t stop him from conjuring images of the god flinching back. They were blown away as harsh winds knocked him off his feet. The crack of wood echoed around him as the god came back into view. Those inky black eyes right above him. Easy to destroy him.

“No,” Rhys’s voice was loud, thundering really, but painless. Strawberry breath filled Vincent’s world. He stared at those dark eyes. There was no pink left in them. The sudden move left his heart racing, but he knew well it wasn’t from fear. “I would never willingly let you suffer.”

“Where were you?” Vincent said. The anger roared in him, but a hope had started to overshadow it.

“The gods’ realm.” Just like that the hope and anger fizzled out. Fingers did come closer, a breath away from contact. “You didn’t come back… I thought you never would. I waited at the house for over a week. Felix and Ryder dragged me back, told me… told me I couldn’t neglect my role forever…”

It felt like a fist held Vincent’s heart. Any moment it would squeeze and end him. If not he’d wake up. Still in the basement altering bonds. At the house alone. Tied up and being killed over and over again. One of the fingers ghosted his skin. A burn sat where that little contact happened.

“They ruined your clothes,” a breathy whisper from the god. “Felix will be upset, it shouldn’t have been possible. He’ll want to fix them as soon as we get ba-”

“I’m not coming back,” Vincent said the words on impulse. It was what he’d wanted when he turned west at the fountain. When he chose to leave behind the life Delphia presented him. Leave the gods and the kindness they offered. Live with loneliness and nothing more. It was easier than waiting for the embodiment of love to grow bored of him. To toss him aside and crush the heart that had only started to beat again after meeting him.

“I’ve scared you away then? I deserve as much. When you last called for me I thought… I hoped… I felt your desperation, that you wanted to see me. I.. I am what you always feared, aren’t I? It’s never changed.”

“As if you care what I feel.”

Vincent could barely breathe as the god’s eyes changed. They started to brighten. Red slowly bled in from the edges of the iris. Small cracks formed all throughout them. Ones of a pinkish white. For a moment he thought the color itself would crack and fall on his comparatively small form. The cracks shifted until they almost looked like scissor blades.

“When have I ever acted as though I don’t care what you feel?” Rhys whispered. Those fingertips ghosted across him again. They teased him. Left him begging for what he couldn’t have. The golden thread sat at the edge of his vision, mocking him. “Where did I make you doubt me?”

“When you did what the old god didn’t,” Vincent hissed. The color changed again. A new darkness, one that felt suffocating. Any moment it would fall towards him. End him. The scissor blades took longer to fill, as if they were begging for more like he was.

“What do you mean?” For once the breath around him lacked scent. The comforting strawberry was gone. That only made the cold, dark tone of Rhys’s voice worse. For the first time in decades Vincent truly feared the god of love. “What did I do?”

The fingers twice his height came closer. Started to move him. He froze at the contact, which apparently sent them away. Vincent tried to keep his eyes on the god’s. That smothering darkness made it nearly impossible. It was too much, he had to look away. Turning his head to the side showed the hands of the god, shaking.

“Are you afraid of me again?” Rhys’s whisper was barely audible. Might not have been if he was the size of any mortal. Vincent tried to face the god again, but that heavy dark color hadn’t changed. It was still too much. He brought his gaze back to the hands that had always been gentle. That even now he trusted. He tried to speak, but his voice wouldn’t work.

 “Vincent, you know I haven’t hurt anyone right?”

‘You hurt me though,’ Vincent thought.

“I only scared the three that were hurting you. Even my voice, I know it was loud but it would only be painful not cause injuries. I… protected you from it. I wouldn’t hurt a mortal.”

‘You already have.’

“If-if you’re worried about that church to the old god of love I didn’t hurt anyone. I destroyed the building, but I was careful about the mortals around me. I didn’t kill anyone.”

‘I know you didn’t. I saw what you did.’

“Felix was there. I felt him nearby. I destroyed it because he was there. I gave him the roof after I ripped it off, he’s going to fix it or make them something new. It’ll give them a god who deserves worship.”

‘You deserve it. The only god who should be worshiped, the only one who tries to be like the mortals of this realm.’

“Is that what you meant? That I killed? I know the old love only toyed with mortals.”

‘Of course you didn’t kill. You’re too kind. All of you gods are…’

“Vincent, please. Tell me what you meant.”

‘Stop saying my name. Stop pretending I’m more than the friend of the mortal you consider your little sister.’

“I can take you there if you want. You can see that no one is hurt, that Felix is fixing it.”

‘I’ll break if I get in your hand. If I get a taste of what will never be mine.’

“Vincent, how can I prove I’m different? What did I do?”

“Ended our bond,” Vincent choked out.

Silence settled over them. He waited for the god to sit up. Abandon him now that the words were said. Now that Vincent pointed it out there was no need to pretend anymore. Rhys had surpassed the old love. As the silence dragged on he forced himself to face the god, to meet those eyes. Again the color was changing. That pinkish white from the cracks earlier broke apart the oppressive darkness.

“No, I didn’t.”

Just like that Vincent cracked. He tried to scramble away from Rhys. A finger pressed down on his legs to stop him. The eyes continued to change. The pinkish white took full control of the irises above him. All his struggles were ignored, Rhys had apparently stopped worrying about his fear.

“Fuck off, stupid god,” he yelled. Rhys sat back enough Vincent could watch him grab the golden thread that continued to mock him.

“Vincent, this is our bond,” Rhys said.

“Fuck off, it can’t be a bond when it connects to nothing!”

“I hid it.”

Another crack in Vincent. He stopped struggling and stared at the god. The eyes were so far away now. Still colored that pinkish white. “Why the fuck would you do that!?”

“Because it hurt me to see it.”

The finger that held him still was gone. Vincent watched the god stand. The world was quiet and unmoving as the massive man moved. He actually thought Rhys might leave. Believed it was possible as the god stepped away. Then Rhys kneeled. 

He tore his eyes from the god to the spot in front of him. A lot of trees. Ash would be upset, but apparently Rhys didn’t care. His hands landed on the ground just in front of Vincent. He watched the trees bend as the god lowered himself. He thought the cracks would scare him, but they only served to remind him just how unbelievable all of this was. Rhys set a cheek on the grass to stare at him.

Vincent couldn’t trust this was real. His body still hurt. The aches hadn’t gone away, if anything they got worse. That should mean he was alive and awake, but the limbo for death had changed. He chose to believe it. Chose to take this one chance to possibly reach the god of love…

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Do you think I liked seeing how much you hated me whenever we met? To see that my own feelings would likely never be returned?” Rhys said. A finger came near him. As if asking a question. “I didn’t want it to push you to change either.”

“I saw it for a while after we met… When did you do that?”

“The first time you caught me sleeping. I’d had another dream of you and you were so angry… I couldn’t keep watching your thread and hoping it would change.”

“So that’s how it works for you? A thread tells you who to love and you do it?”

Rhys turned his head. Set his chin on the grass to stare down at Vincent. It made him smile a bit; the cross-eyed look was funny on the god. Apparently that made the god smile too. The strawberry scent had come back to his breath.

“No,” Rhys said. “I didn’t care at first. A golden thread didn’t mean I’d ever fall for you. Then… then I watched you. I wanted to see what you did, maybe make the blessing better.

“Each time you went to that village you were kind. I watched you aid those that other humans ignored. How you used the threads to give advice. Connected ones that were struggling to reach their other end… Then I started to dream about you.

“We were together, happy. The same though. Humans sometimes, elves, fae, then it stopped. I woke up to you calling my name. I saw the spiteful color of your thread and hid it without thinking. I hid it because I’d wound up falling as the thread predicted and couldn’t deal with the knowledge you’d always hate me.” 

“How does that help when you can feel what I’m feeling?” 

Rhys furrowed his brows, “I can’t, at least not easily. When I’m here all emotions hit me at once. Sometimes I can focus, but it takes a lot… I’d only been able to when we met because I’d just entered the mortal realm.”

“But… you’re the god of love. God of emotions. How do you not just feel what I feel? Even Del can do that!”

“Because she’s mortal. Her power is limited to the area she’s in. I only have moments of clarity. The threads are how I know most of what’s happening. I see more changes in them, subtle ones that can say something.”

“Like when a thread reacts to its other end being brought up.” Rhys nodded. “So… when were you going to return our thread?”

“...I wasn’t going to. I thought we could talk when you came back this time. I could focus and find out how much it would hurt me to see it.”

Vincent stared at the god’s eyes. Still pinkish white. He licked his lips. This was the time something changed. He could say he still hates Rhys, still hates all the gods. Leave and never see them again. Run into Del now and then. Maybe she’d seek him out. Or… Or was enough.

“Show the thread,” he said. His voice sounded confident. He hoped that it stayed. Hoped that he was right and that’s what Rhys felt. Hoped he’d been wrong this whole time about his chances of reaching the embodiment of love.

“Are you-”

“Show it, stupid god!”

“...ok…”

He watched the thread that had sat near the god this whole time. A shimmer happened at the end and a plain thread was attached. There was no color of any bond on it. Vincent doubted his own feelings then. He’d never had someone like Rhys before. 

For the third time he noticed the god was shaking. His own eyes closed, clearly afraid. Vincent stepped forward. Kept going until the god was in front of him. This was the same. They were both scared. Nervous of what the other felt. And he was sick of it. 

Sick of threads that constantly controlled his life. Sick of doubting the people he wanted to trust. Sick of the fear he’d cut one of his few threads in his sleep. Sick of all of the things that brought him to now. Except… except for Rhys.

“Who cares about these fucking threads,” he said. “I don’t need those to tell me what I feel.”  Another moment of hesitation. A deep breath. Then… Then he touched Rhys’s face. “Thanks for saving me, Strawberry.”

Vincent leaned forward and kissed the god’s chin. That smallest bit of contact burned him. Made him crave more. The silence made him think he’d gotten it wrong. He tried to find a way to backtrack when the god moved away. Now he hoped this was a dream. At least until one of Rhys’s hands surrounded him.

There was no time for him to move. The hand knocked his legs out and he fell onto a palm. He was dragged towards Rhys's face. He dug his nails into the hand that now held him. The movement stopped with him directly under the shadowed face. Then… then it came closer.

He was pressed against the warm palm by soft skin. That strawberry breath was all he could comprehend. The scent, the taste, the feeling. All too soon it was gone. Only a few seconds passed before it came again. This time he pressed his own lips back in response. The burning came back and this time he welcomed it. Loved it even.

“I can’t tell you how desperate I’ve been to do that,” Rhys’s voice rocked through him. It had never felt like that before. Vincent liked it, wanted more of it. His body didn’t agree. The warmth of the god soothed his aches, but his mind was slowing down. “Are you… still not coming back?”

“You gonna make me if I say no?” Vincent couldn’t stop himself from saying it. Testing the god, his god.

“Depends… Would you hate me if I did?”

‘Stupid cute god-’ Vincent started to think. He paused and smirked to himself. “And if I said I would hate the stupid god of love and his stupid cute face?”

Rhys pulled away with a smile on his face. The god’s entire body shook as he fought back a laugh. Vincent kept his smirk even as the god pushed himself up. For a moment he focused on the thread and closed his eyes. Just like before he saw through Rhys’s eyes, saw how he looked. Heard something he didn’t expect. A thought not from his mind, but the god’s.

‘Amazing… I’ll wake up soon. I know I will.’

Without hesitation he took the scissors that had never left his grasp and stabbed the palm beneath him. Rhys yelped from what was probably a pinprick, but it was enough. Enough for Vincent to get his full attention. Confusion and curiosity sat in the god’s eyes.

“Stop worrying, Strawberry. Can’t be hurt in a dream. Now you know you’re awake… I do too,” Vincent said.

“How did you…” Rhys shook his head. “Nevermind, we’ll talk about it later. Can I take you to the gods’ realm? At least to rest?”

“Might as well. Maybe you can get Felix to set up a place in your room for me.”

Rhys pulled him close. Held him against his heart. Vincent smiled to himself as he leaned into the steady beat. It seemed weird that gods had hearts. That they cared about the mortals. Loved them even. These gods were weird, but he liked that. Liked that it brought them within reach.

[ameliajackson1958]

Chapter 4: Ten Rules

*Amber's POV*

"I'll be your Sex Instructor."

Okay, straight to the point. Just like on the phone. Didn't know how to respond to that. I just stood there, looking directly into his eyes, not because I wanted to, but because I couldn't look away. I was looking for any nervousness, fear, or even humor. But he looked as professional as any businessman, except he was a young and smoking hot businessman, for that matter.

"Oh my god, STOP THINKING LIKE THAT AMBER!!" My internal thoughts screamed at me.

"Please have a seat over there in the chairs" he politely indicated with a vague smirk as he gestured toward the smaller armchairs situated near a fancy white marble fireplace and a large, ornate mirror that reached nearly to the living room ceiling.

Really, already with the teacher's attitude. I thought to myself and sighed inwardly as I complied with his request to sit in the armchairs.

After I did as asked, I was somewhat perplexed as to why he didn't sit in the chair next to me, not that I wanted him too, but instead he sat in the chair across from me and crossed his legs the way all men do; the ankle on top of the knee, legs wide open.

"It's a coincidence what brought you to me," he started, making me furrow my eyebrows, wondering what he could have possibly meant by that.

"The red card you found. The only person who carries those little red cards is me, and the only person who hands those out is me, but somehow you are the only one who has ever been handed one of those little red cards by destiny?"

A little bit too poetic, don't you think?

"What do you mean by destiny?" I ask while smiling.

"If I didn't give you that card and you say that the wind somehow blew it past your foot, then that might as well be destiny telling you that you need my classes, don't you think, Ms. Schneider?" he caressed his chin with his thumb and index finger.

I'm too scared to tell him not to call me Ms. Schneider again.

"However, of course, it's your destiny, not mine." Michael made it clear.

"Wait, Excuse me? Why do you believe it's only my destiny?" I ask with a little sassiness.

"I don't believe I have a destiny, Ms. Schneider. Because I don't believe my life has been all planned out, and I don't believe things that happen to me happen for a reason. They just happen."

And with that, he shut me right up, mainly because I knew he had a point.

"What are your expectations for this class, Ms. Schneider?" Michael asked, looking straight at me with no shame.

"I'm really not expecting anything. I mean, I don't even know if I wanna have sex with a stranger or even consider paying him for it, for that matter." I shrugged.

"You do know that I don't want to be paid to have sex with women, either, right? It messes up both of our pride, why do you think my carer mentions first-class free?" Michael replied. Besides, I'm only here to teach it, not enjoy it." Michael added.

"Okay, at least he's chill like that."

"Alright then. Now we will proceed with a couple of questions, and you have to answer them honestly. Okay?" Michael asked very seriously, but not losing any trace of his beauty.

I nodded.

Age?" he grabbed a red clipboard from the mini table in front of us.

"You already asked me on the ph-..."

Whatever, just answer the damn question Amber. I thought to myself.

"Eighteen, about to be nineteen in two weeks."

"Young one..." Michael murmured to himself as he wrote on his clipboard. "Are you certain you want to do this? As a young adult, you still have plenty of time before you ever decide to have sex with somebody. However, it's commendable that you possess the courage to do this." He continued to look down at his clipboard.

"I'm basically nineteen, legal, so that's all you gotta worry about." I suddenly snapped because I absolutely hate it when people judge me by my age.

Michael looked up from his lap slowly and raised his eyebrows in surprise at my response, I guess. His stare made me shudder down all over again. He nodded and went back to questions.

"Virgin?"

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding, and remained silent. Michael looked up again when he noticed the silence. God, his gorgeous brown eyes can kill.

"I'Il take that as a yes,"' he smiled to himself while writing on his DAMN clipboard again.

"Any heart problems or any other conditions I should know about?"

I'M HAVING A HEART PROBLEM RIGHT NOW!

What am I even doing?

"No," I answered, taking in all the air I could so I could breathe normally.

"Birthday?"

Why would my birthday be relevant? Whatever.

"August 29th, 1963," I answered.

Michael glanced up at me in mild surprise after I mentioned August 29th; then, with a slight chuckle and a smirk, he returned his gaze to his clipboard, continuing to make notes.

Okay, wait, what was that smirk about? I was totally confused, and Michael seemed to notice, judging by his knowing smile which morphed into a cheeky grin.

"It looks like your destiny is at work again, Ms. Schneider?" Michael hinted with a chuckle.

"What?" I asked completely confused about what he was hinting at.

You're born on the same day as me, August 29th, but not the same year since I'm older than you." Michael replied.

Right after he said that my mind began to go in full panic mode. Oh my god! Then that means I'm about to have sex with an old man. Wait, he looks pretty young though! No way he's that old, am I crazy?

Oh, how old are we talking? I asked, feeling completely stupid for asking him such a ridiculous question.

"Are you scared to have sex with me just because I'm older than you, Ms. Schneider?" With a smirk and a raised eyebrow, Michael looked up from his clipboard, seeming as if he was challenging me.

"No," I lied

"I'm just curious?" I added

"Don't worry, Ms. Schneider, I'm in my early twenties. I was born in 1958, so I'm not that far off from your age." Michael replied.

"So if you were born in 1958 and its 1981 that makes you 23 correct?" I asked

"No I'm 30" Michael replied teasingly causing me to gasped.

"Relax, yeah, I'm 23. Just messing with ya, girl!" Michael laughed.

"Shit! you had me scared for a minute." I laughed.

Phew! Early twenties ain't so bad, at least that means he has way more sex experience than I do. Anyone at that age must have already had sex with someone by now, right?

"I take it you don't like older men?" Michael asked.

"It's not that I dislike older guys, it's just... well, something traumatic happened to me when I was younger..." I stopped, not wanting to go into it futher.

Michael was lost for words staring at me with a mixture of confusion and shock once he realized that it upset me.

"Can we talk about something else please." I asked wiping away the few tears that tickled down my face.

"Of course." Michael replied smoothly, changing the subject in an instant but secretly, he knew what I meant and what had happened to me in the past.

"Okay, since you're a virgin, I don't have to ask you any further questions nor run blood tests. I've never had a nineteen-year-old client before. Most of my clients are in their 20s, 30s, 40s, or 50s." He said, putting the paper he was writing on inside the folder that was lying on the table.

What! In their fifties? Huh? How?

"So what happens now?" I asked him while putting my hair on one side since it suddenly started getting hot in the room, or maybe it was just me; either way, I felt like I was burning up.

"I can take your virginity," he stated with no hesitation.

"What!"

"Or I can wait until someone else does. It's perfectly up to you," he opened his legs, rested his elbows on his knees, and grasped his hands together, bringing his face closer to mine.

"I..." my mind ran out of words before I could even speak a word, making him grin.

"Um, Mr. Jackson, you can take my virginity?" I asked, sounding unsure about the whole thing.

"Just Michael, please, and yes, if you want me to teach you the ways of sex, I'm going to have to take your virginity first, but like I said, it's your choice. I'm not forcing you," he smirked and looked up at me with his killer brown eyes.

Do I really want him to be the one to take my virginity? Because it sure as hell feels like I do. To be quite honest, my almost 19-year-old life hasn't been all that normal, so another weird experience like having my first time with a sex instructor really isn't all that bad.

Michael stared at me, waiting for my response; however, all he was met with was silence since I was way too busy contemplating whether I should let him take my virginity or not.

"I'm guessing your silence means that you want me to be the one to take your virginity, Correct?" Michael asked with a smirk.

What! How did he guess that? Am I that readable?

"How do you know?" I asked with a sassy tone.

"Most women who are silent are usually contemplating it, and most times they end up agreeing, or else you wouldn't be thinking it over." Michael replied.

"Wow! He's good."

"Okay, Michael, you can take my virginity." I agreed

"Are you sure, Amber?" Michael inquired for clarification, and I nodded gently, causing him to smile.

Michael offered his hand, which I gratefully accepted, allowing him to hold mine as he reassured me in a gentle and comforting tone. "Listen, I know everyone says that the first time is horrible. But believe me, it's not. You just have to find the right time and the right person. I can try and make your first time as unforgettable as possible."

A small smile played on my lips, and for a couple of seconds, we got lost in each other's eyes. But then he brutally broke that stare.

However, you must first familiarize yourself with my ten rules, Amber. They are pretty straightforward, and if you follow them, things will be considerably easier for both of us. He stated seriously, leaning back in his chair with his elbows resting on the arms and his legs open wide almost like a damn god sitting on his heavenly throne.

Michael stated his ten rules one by one.

1. "One, total and definite silence. No telling friends, family, or strangers that you have classes with me. If you're here because of a card that flew to your foot, it's probably because you're meant to be here. Not for gossip," he kept going.

2. "Two, you will know nothing about me. Not what I do or work on outside of here, not where I live, who I'm friends with, and certainly not what I'm like or who I am. But I will have the right to know a lot of things about you. Part of my job is to figure out my clients. Their minds, personalities, needs, wants, and desires. It's something I have to do to have sex with you and arouse you in the right way."

3. "Three, no feelings, this is just sex and nothing else. I don't feel the need to elaborate on that because it's a pretty, self-explanatory statement. Don't fall in love, understand."

Easy for you to say, smartass.

4. "Four, listen. Always listen to me. If you decided to come here, it's because you want to learn. You have to understand that whatever I teach you or show you is the real deal. I'm not a pervert guy looking for sex. I have been doing this for seven years, and believe me, in seven years you can gain the experience and knowledge of a thousand books."

5. "Five, no obligations. I teach you, you learn. That's all that's happening here. Therefore, you should never be afraid to tell me if you're not ok with something- Whatever it is, I will always do my best to make you feel comfortable and relaxed in a safe space. You are not obligated to do anything else."

That was kinda sweet of him, I ain't going to lie.

6. "Six, no looking for each other. If it's not for something regarding the lessons, or something regarding sex, then we have no other reason to look for each other. I will give you my phone number for communication regarding our classes and other related things. If I schedule the date for another appointment or I tell you that I will text you the details, then you wait. But the same goes for me. You're not my slave, you don't have to worry about calling or texting me immediately. That's so you know I'm not using you or doing anything childish." Michael quickly wrote something on a red post-it note and gave it to me. It was his phone number.

7. "Seven, don't have unprotected sex outside of our classes. If you catch some horrible disease, God bless your soul and forbid it, I don't really want to be part of that, Princess."

"Princess...that's cute."

It's not like I go walking around giving away my vagina anyways.

8. "Eight, no smoking or drugs. First, because it's disgustingly bad for your health and, of course, because I don't want to have sexual contact with someone who always reeks of cigarettes, nor someone who is completely out of their mind and is about to become an almost-overdosing-crackhead. Not to be insensitive, though." I started chuckling, making him smirk. "But the main reason is because I don't want you to be high while i'm fucking you."

That made me stop chuckling real quick.

"I want to be the one taking you to cloud 9. Not weed, nor alcohol. Just me." Michael said his voice deep in tone as his dark eyes and stern expression pierced through my very soul making it clear that he meant every word.

Looking into his dark brown piercing gaze, made my knees feel weak, and oh god, why did I just try to picture him taking me to cloud 9 in my head?

9. "Nine, no lying. Please be truthful with me. If you violate any of these rules, please let me know. It doesn't matter what happened or what is troubling you; please tell me. If you don't like something or you're not enjoying what we do, tell me. It's not worth the lie. If I'm going to be your sex instructor, there's an intimacy and honest point that we always have to share. Whatever little question you have, regarding sex, of course, I will answer. There are no stupid questions, and I know more than you could probably imagine."

"So never lie to me, got it?" Michael asked in a somewhat deep and dark voice when he asked.

"Yes," I replied

"Yes, what?" Michael asked, making sure I understood his words.

"Yes, I'll never lie to you, Michael, I promise," I replied.

"Good girl." Michael praised me with a smirk.

10 "Finally and most importantly, ten, feel good."

Uhhh...wh-...

"This is not a normal class, and I think we've established that. You are going to learn about sex. Believe it or not, sex is an art. It's magic. It helps us in ways that go deeper than history shows. No pun intended," he smirked again. "Sex can have a lot of goals and meanings, but the most important and obvious one is to feel good. Enjoy yourself, I make you feel good, you make me feel good. But you're who's important here." Michael stated seriously while moving his hands and lips in perfect sync.

I smiled stupidly at him.

"But of course, it always depends on the person. We don't have to continue if you don't like me. You can never have sex with a person you're not at least 15% attracted to. It just doesn't work well. So if you don't feel comfortable with me, I totally understand."

"You done?" I asked a little annoyed about his teacher-like attitude.

"Yes," he answered. Smiling with his perfect teeth for the first time. I guess he noticed my annoyed tone.

"So, let me go back for a second to the 'it depends on the person' crap. You're telling me that there have been girls in here who didn't go on along with your classes because they weren't attracted to you?" I asked.

'Well, it hasn't happened yet. But just because it hasn't happened, it doesn't mean it can never happen. I've had girls walk in here and not even let me say my name before they throw themselves around my neck.

Others came into this room as shy as a newborn puppy and left with fierce, sexy attitudes. There are different women all around the world. I don't know if you..."

I cut him off before he could go any further.

"Let me get this straight. You think that I might not be attracted to you?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows most funnily, making Michael smile again.

Ha...I made him smile.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Michael. Have you seriously looked at yourself in the mirror?"

"I try not to." He replied

"Well, you should more often. If a girl is not attracted to you at least 15%, then she is an almost-overdosing-crackhead." I repeated what he said earlier and crossed my arms like a sassy girl with so much attitude. And then something happened. Then the most beautiful and wonderful chuckle I've ever heard in my life came out of Michael's mouth.

What? Are his laughs super cute? What the fuck yo.

"So, are you saying you find me attractive, Ms. Schneider?" Michael grew a cheeky grin as he asked.

"Maybe. Maybe not." I teased and arched my eyebrow.

"Mhmmm...you're not so bad yourself, Ms. Schneider." he smiled before looking down at his clipboard again.

"I'm gonna go crazy if he keeps telling me sexy shit like that."

"What happens if I break one of the rules, or if you break one of the rules?" I made sure to emphasize the 'you' to let him know that I'm not the only one who can break rules.

"I've never broken a rule," Michael said quickly and confidently.

"So? Just because it hasn't happened, doesn't mean it can never happen." I quoted what he said earlier and squinted my eyes while getting real close to his face, supporting myself on my knees.

"Believe me, it's not going to happen, sweetheart." He arched his eyebrow and rested his hand on my knee, making it even weaker than it was before. I could feel my skin growing goosebumps at his warm touch. His face was real close to mine as well.

"Good." I got up quickly as he did the same, and obviously he was taller than me by like three to four inches. "When can you do it?" I asked suddenly, having confidence.

"Eager much?" Michael smirked.

Yes. Very, very much. My thoughts screamed at me.

"No, I just want to get it over with. That's all," I tried to answer as carelessly as possible to make it seem as if I wasn't lying.

"It depends." he crossed his arms.

"On what?" I replied almost instantly, and he chuckled a little.

"On my mood, my schedule, and availability...etc."

"Ok, then. Check your schedule, Mr. Jackson." I said, knowing he'd told me not to call him by that name.

Why am I feeling so unexpectedly confident all of a sudden? I bet he can rip me in two in less than a minute! Don't get me wrong, but I can already notice the shape of his length from how tight those leather pants of his are. Damn.

Michael smiled from the corner of his lips and went to grab a little black book from his desk. He paged through it until he stopped at what I suppose is a free spot.

"I'm free today," and just like that, all the confidence that I ever built up during the last few minutes had slipped away from me.

"What?" I whispered with uncertainty, which was barely audible to Michael.

"You caught me in a good mood, and surprisingly, I have nothing scheduled for the rest of the day, so I'm free right now, so whatta ya say?" Michael asked with a sweet smile on his face as he closed his black book and placed it back on his desk.

That statement made me bite my lip nervously. I'm guessing he can clearly see that I'm not as strong as I was a couple of seconds ago.

"But..." I stuttered.

"If you're not ready, that's totally fine. As I said, I'm not forcing you to do anything. We can wait for another time when you feel good and ready enough," his tone sounded very reassuring. Like he really wanted me to feel comfortable, which made me feel a little better as a part of my confidence started returning.

I looked at my phone and saw that it was 5:15 PM, and a text from my mom saying she had already left the house to go to her conference for the rest of the night. Well, it can't be more perfect than that. To hell with it. Everyone else around me lost their virginity except me. It's time to get over the whole special 'first time' kinda girl. I mean, this man is utterly Handsome and fucking gorgeous, and, I could use a little lesson on the 'art of sex' since I hardly know anything about it just based on how clueless I am when I see it happen at school.

"Okay, when and where?" I put my hands on my hips and leaned on my high heels with a fierce look on my face.

Michael smiled from ear to ear, showing his shiny rows of teeth and a perfectly white, million-dollar smile.

[rowretro]

𝕆𝕙 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF DISMEMBERRING

✧taglist✧:  @nikisdubblchococake @enhypensccstarlight @strawbsj @nikipedia07 

✧CHAPTER 5✧

About a week past, the two enemies had full fledged fights downstairs, but didn’t scream or shout so much due to there being a baby in the house. No one suspected a thing as the 2 came to school as per usual, knowing that the baby is safe with the maid. However, Yunjin did find out about their baby secret, and decided to support y/n’s choice, seeing how genuine the girl was. 

Y/n smiled as she rocked the little baby, Yunjin helping her put some shopping in the car’s boot. “Y/n? Yunjin- I- aww who’s this little cutie~” Jake sang as he poked the baby’s cheek, Riki stood right behind Jake, rolling his eyes when he saw y/n “Uh me and Yunjin had a baby together-” y/n said as Yunjin frowned, turning to face her .

“Gurl. I’m way too old to date you- let alone have a baby with you” Yunjin pointed out. “Ha… haha! You believed it for a sec- nah I’m just watching over this little one for a relative” y/n said as Jake understandingly nodded. “Hyung. I don’t want to be here.” Riki said as Jake rolled his eyes “Kay ima drag him away before another fight starts” Jake said walking away with the taller male.

Sighing, y/n gently placed the 5 month old in her carrycot, making sure it was securely strapped to the car seat. Yunjin started driving as y/n sat in the back with the baby. “Y/n… what would you do if the baby’s an orphan?...” Yunjin asked as the girl frowned. “I’ll adopt it.” she simply said as Yunjin glanced up at the mirror, “Huh- why not leave her at an orphanage with other kids?” she asked as the girl played with the baby’s hands.

“I don’t want to… She deserves to have at least someone in her life who she can run to and count on knowing that the person whom she trusts doesn't get paid to be a Guardian… plus the luckiest kids there do end up getting adopted. Didn’t I?” y/n asked as she looked in the mirror, Yunjin’s view now on the road ahead. “Well you didn’t exactly get the best parents… If anything you’re lucky Sunoo’s your brother.” She pointed out as the girl smiled. 

“But this baby girl won’t have to worry about landing in a bad family… she has me… I’ll remind her she’s always beautiful, and I won’t let a single soul hurt her” y/n said with a smile as she stared down at the baby. “I’d be more like a best friend than a mother” she added as the baby cooed, gripping onto her finger, softly. Yunjin didn’t bother trying to reason with the girl, she heaved a sigh and continued driving them home.

“So Sunoo’s paying you to babysit y/n? Why not Jay?” Jake asked as Riki groaned “Stop asking so many questions… I just need to stay out of my house and out of dad’s sight for a while, okay?” Riki said, hearing this, Jake didn’t bother asking any follow up questions. “Damn she has a fancy ass greenhouse? How’d she afford that?” Jake asked, as he stared outside, into the garden. “Assuming Sunoo bought it- there’s a shit ton of butterflies inside-” Riki said as he went to the fridge and grabbed himself a beer can. 

“Time away from your dad and free alcohol, no wonder you wanted to stick around in this place.” Jake said as Riki snickered, throwing the male a can. “The best stuff is in her bedroom-” Riki said with a smirk as Jake gave him a rather horrified look “Not that you dirty minded shit. She has weed-” Riki said as Jake rolled his eyes “Anyways, the girls are on their way back, you best get going. I’ll see you at the race track tonight, yeah?” Riki said as Jake got up to leave. “I still don’t think you should be racing…” Jake trailed off, concern somewhat evident in his voice.

Not too long later, y/n arrived with the baby, the tiny little girl, safely in her arms, as she walked around the room, rocking her gently. Riki’s eyes fixed on the 2 girls. “I got a call from the police regarding the baby… they found her mom” Riki said as y/n turned to him “They did? Where is she? Is she-” “They found her body… someone murdered her.” Riki explained, cutting of y/n’s questions. “Oh… did they find her father?” she asked, hugging the baby closer to herself “He’s their suspect… they found his DNA on the butchers knife used to chop up her limbs… and he fled the country…” Riki added as the girl stared in horror.

“Yeah… you might have to take her to the orphanage after all” Riki simply said as he got up, stretching. “No. I’m keeping her…” y/n said as Riki frowned “You’re seventeen y/n. Be for real.” Riki said as the girl shrugged “I mean I took good care of her all this time didn’t I?” she asked as Riki scoffed “No- you had me to help you out, when I leave, you will end up hurting the poor thing.” Riki simply said as the girl ignored him. “Since when have I ever listened to you Nishimura?...” she simply asked, the baby now asleep on her chest. 

“Fuck you’re so annoying Kim y/n… can’t believe I have to be stuck under the same roof as you.” Riki mumbled, as he glared at the girl. Heck he wondered why he even bothered to help her all this time, he hates her, he hates her with pure passion. He really does… does he?....

✧𝕆𝕙 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪✧

[lifblogs]

Deal: Chapter 1

AI-less Whumptober 2023: Day 4 Hiding An Injury | Betrayal | Lying @ailesswhumptober, @tarisilmarwen

Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Sabezra Word Count: 1168 Summary: While on a mission with Ezra Sabine gets injured and she hides it from him, not wanting him to worry. Things go sideways, and what Sabine wants becomes a whole lot more difficult. WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence READ ON AO3

Sabine was glad Ezra wasn’t around when the second ambush came. He was already farther into the prison, and in a few minutes he’d reach the prisoners Fulcrum had marked as high priority. Sabine and Ezra didn’t know why the Empire had wanted them, or if they would be important to the Rebellion, but any day where they saved someone was a good day.

Now if only Sabine could save herself.

She tried dodging behind the comm terminal, but she was surrounded. There were four stormtroopers, each armed with blasters, and one of them was also armed with what looked like truncheons, but it had some sort of power pack near the grip. That stormtrooper stepped forward, and Sabine could picture the cruel grin on his face as he holstered his small blaster, and grabbed the truncheons. He hit buttons on the side and suddenly they sparked up with a whine that was almost too high for human ears to hear, and blue-white electricity crackled down their lengths.

Karabast.

Sabine moved on instinct, with training. She wasn’t entirely sure of what was happening, but she had her blasters out and she was firing, and the stormtroopers were firing. She downed most of them, and only received some burnt armor and bruises in return. Save for the last one with his fancy stun batons.

What happened next encompassed only a few seconds, yet time felt like minutes, hours, stuck in an agonizing sludge of adrenaline and pain.

When the stormtrooper reached Sabine she tried to kick, and hoped that she’d get out of his range, but he whacked her leg with one of the batons. The sensation of being stabbed by a million tiny needles had her falling, her thoughts scattering. The muscles in her leg were frozen, and the sensation traveled up her body.

Blood was in her mouth.

Had she bitten her tongue?

Even worse—had she screamed? Would Ezra find her like this?

Before she could fall to the floor, the stormtrooper hit her hard in the stomach with the end of a baton. Even without the electricity this would’ve been bad. The air whooshed out of her, and she was sure she felt a crack throughout her body—maybe a rib or two had been fractured. The bruising alone would be terrible. All of Sabine’s muscles tensed, tensed too much as if they were trying to break her bones, and some were almost vibrating. She had the shock of her head snapping back, and then she really did fall.

Her helmet toppled off somewhat as she hit the cold, reinforced durasteel floor.

The stormtrooper kicked it off and away.

Get up. Get up. You have to get up.

This was how people died. The Empire would see anyone who had fallen, anyone who had been beaten down, and then grind them under its heel, and snap their necks.

If Sabine didn’t get up right now, she would die.

A last bit of burning, stabbing electricity made its way through her body, her teeth grinding till they were alight with bright sparks of pain, till her jaw hurt. And then she was free of it.

But that stormtrooper was standing over her, surely gloating as Sabine’s vision went in and out.

She reached for one of her blasters, and the stormtrooper kicked it away. But what he didn’t see was Sabine reaching for her helmet. The inside of it was quite comfortable, at least for her, but the outside was pure beskar, and as she’d found out through years of training—beskar hurt.

With the stormtrooper distracted she smashed her helmet into his knee. She hoped that was actually a crack she’d heard. He let out a shocked scream, and was about to hit her again with a baton, but she grabbed his wrist and held on, and no amount of shaking let her go.

They both knew what would happen. If he electrocuted her, he’d be hurting himself now too.

Sabine spat hot blood out of her mouth, and stared at him, daring him to do it.

Somehow, he had the motivation to, surely to take down a disgusting rebel like her, but before he could hit her, she hit him again with her helmet, risking the electricity.

It buzzed and sparked through her body, but the power on the truncheon died and it went flying from his hand, and skidded across the floor.

Sabine was able to rise up, she grabbed her other pistol, and before he could hit her again, she fired her blaster at point blank.

Just to be safe Sabine kicked the other truncheon out of his hand once he collapsed, but he wouldn’t be using it again; acrid smoke wafted from the burnt hole in his helmet.

Sabine spat out more blood, and wiped her mouth.

And she managed to get her helmet back on just as Ezra returned to this junction with the prisoners.

He took in the dead men, and looked at her. His eyes alighted on her burnt pieces of armor. His lightsaber was in hand, blade humming in green.

After motioning for the prisoners—scared, disheveled beings—to stay where they were he came over, kicking a body out of the way.

“Sabine, are you okay?”

He turned off his lightsaber, and clipped it on his belt. His hands were out, fingers shaking slightly, not sure where it was okay to touch her in case she was hurt.

She was, but she was never going to tell him that.

“I’m fine. There were only four of them. You worry too much.”

His gaze seemed uncertain, and he put a hand on her shoulder, stepping closer. Sabine almost wished her helmet was off, so she could feel the moment more, so she could be as vulnerable as Ezra. But that vulnerability would lead to truths about her hurts, and she could not do that. She would not.

Yet she stepped closer too, forgetting for a heady moment that they had an audience, that they had to go.

“You’re sure you’re fine?” Ezra asked.

With one pistol holstered, Sabine had a free hand to lay on his arm. She wished she could hold onto it to keep herself up, but then he’d know. No, this was just purely because she needed him through this adrenaline rush. Everything else was fine. That’s what he had to see.

“Trust me.”

Ezra nodded, and then pulled away. Sabine gasped, and then winced at the pain she felt in her torso, a few inches underneath her right breast.

Luckily Ezra was too busy leading the prisoners out, and her sound was quiet enough that he wouldn’t hear, wouldn’t notice that anything was wrong.

Sabine took the rear as alarms started blaring, and blast doors began to close.

“Karabast!”

Some help from the rest of the crew would be really nice right about then, but their comms had been jammed as soon as they’d gone into the compound. They were on their own.

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Never let a war criminal from Alabama do arts & crafts

Sundowner x Reader. No smut but still cursed

The two of you met while you were spending time in a mental asylum. You may or may not have been sent there for microwaving mice but if the school board didn't like your cleaning methods than they shouldn't have hired a janitor in the first place. You may have traumatized some children in the process but the infestation wasn't a problem anymore. You can't believe that they requested that you be sent for a psychological evaluation, especially after you were kind enough to replace their cafeteria microwave free of charge. People these days.

Your cyborg boyfriend was placed here for committing war crimes but every soldier struggles with their ptsd. If he chose to pay kids to fight each other and then upload it to world star, then you would be supportive of his coping habits. Like he said, kids are cruel. If they weren't doing this then it's likely that they would just pick on some weaker kid anyway. At least this way he could make a profit from viewers placing bets on which kid would survive the outcome.

You were with the other patients like usual. Today they decided that everyone would be allowed make arts and crafts. Sundowner was a special case so he needed to be heavily drugged before being placed near other people. The man had a habit of tearing people apart. Literally. You sat there painting but found it incredibly boring. You glanced over to your boyfriend and noticed that he was having trouble. "Damn safety scissors. How am I supposed to split someone in two with these?"

You went over and kissed him on the cheek while secretly removing the razor blade that you somehow had managed to keep hidden. "Thanks darlin'. Now I can get these fuckers all pointy again!" He started to chuckle. He then dubbed the scissors bloodlust 2.0. "Hey, watcha painting there?" You didn't think that Sundowner would take an interest in your work. "I'm trying to paint the sunset but I can't seem to get it right."

He looked at your picture longingly. "It reminds me of the good ol' days after 9/11! I remember back when I was workin' in Afghanistan. I cut so many motherfuckers down that it resembled a sunset! Takes me back, I tell ya what!" He the gave a happy sigh. "Tell ya what. How bout I help you with yer fancy painting?" He then called over a patient named Joe and said that he wanted to talk to him about something. A few minutes later and Sundowner was picking you up along with your canvas. He then took you to a somewhat secluded area, away from the rest of the group.

"Better hurry, you have about ten minutes until they notice we're gone." You glanced down to you left. Oh, that's where Joe went. You then dipped your finger in the puddle of blood, not wanting to let your "paint" go to waste. You had soon created the perfect sunset and you then noticed something rock solid poking you.  It was Sundowner. He was getting turned on by literal bloodlust. You decided to try doing something sexy and took Joe's hand. You placed his finger into the blood and then smeared it on your lips like it was the finest lipstick.

"Shit, I'm gonna ravage you like all those villages I burned down!" You stopped for a moment. "I thought it was ravish?" He then threw you down on the ground so hard that you think you broke a bone or two. "Shut it nerd, I'm takin' you to pound town!" He then proceeded to beat his chest like a gorilla. He was about to continue when the alarm went off. "Code red, I repeat code red! It's Sundowner again! Get the tranquilizer darts!"

"SHIT!" he cursed. "Looks like this is gonna have to wait!" Just then security arrived. "PUT YOUR HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!" He gave a massive grin. "And what if I don't?" Sundowner then pulled out his shanking scissors. Soon every security guard had raised their weapon. "You have to the count of three! One! Two! Th-" Your boyfriend charged at them with all his might. "I'M FUCKIN' INVINCIBLE!" he cried. Then he was shot down with enough tranquilizer darts to take down an entire zoo. The security team started to haul him away. You waived him goodbye. "I'll wait for you!"

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #78

I woke up today, determined to go to the grocery store to prepare a recipe that someone from the internet sent to me.

…Today seems to have had other plans, though. Hahaha…

At least for today things feel somewhat settled, so I went and caught up with the messages from other people that I didn't have the bandwidth for in previous days. Tomorrow, I am hoping to go to my friend R's house; he is probably one of the best bakers on my planet, and he is going to make us some gluten-free peanut-butter-banana bars, and we will do some catching up. I also made it a point to message another friend of mine. I made him a tree AGES ago, but he's been caught up in the complexities of his life, and we haven't spoken in months. Thank goodness we're both neurodivergent and therefore don't have "friendship decay mechanics"! Hahaha!

Then I began making preparations for weaving trees outside, since the weather will be warmer soon. I spent a lot of today trying to put together the perfect playlist for it - one to inspire determination, and to remind me of how much I've grown and how much I've been helped along the way. It tells a story. Perhaps I'll reproduce this playlist on YouTube so you can hear it sometime, if you want to. It's made entirely of songs that are special to me for reasons I won't define here. But I don't have the energy right now to build it in a place where others can see it. Maybe tomorrow.

Today is the birthday of J's departed brother. I told you a while ago that I might tell you the story of why J wants to get an airplane to begin with; suppose today is as good a day as any; my brain is still kinda soup, and I don't have much else to write about.

J is the youngest of four siblings - two brothers, B and Daniel, and a sister, S.

Daniel was passionate about the outdoors, about photography, about motorcycles, and about a wide variety of other stuff. But most importantly, he was thoughtful, kind, intelligent, introspective, and very gentle. He also had a bit of a wanderlust about him. He spent a lot of his time walking, hiking, doing mechanical work, teaching about motorcycle safety, riding his motorcycle (always in full gear, and never doing anything reckless) and taking beautiful photographs whenever he could. You can find many of the pictures he took here. Please look at them:

I only knew him briefly. But even in that short span of time, and even with so few interactions, it was clear to me, with the way he behaved, how he spoke to others, the kinds of things he loved, and the integrity with which he carried himself, that he was one of the finest examples of a human being that my planet had to offer.

Daniel had dreams of moving to Oregon to become a professional photographer - of nature, of motorcycle races, of whatever suited his fancy. He had an amazing eye for it. So he packed up all his stuff, mailed some of it ahead, and then rode his motorcycle - in his full body gear and helmet, and with all his defensive driving skills, and all the seriousness with which he took motorcycle safety - from where we live in New York State, all the way to Portland, Oregon. He made it! And he took an amazing variety of stunning photographs along the way.

In July of 2020, while Daniel was still getting his living space situated, he decided to go out on a routine drive on his motorcycle, most likely to familiarize himself with the area. Naturally, he was dressed in full gear. But he didn't make it home; he was collided into by an elderly gentleman who was returning home from a hike. The elderly gentleman made an illegal left turn without warning at a speed so high that it wouldn't have helped Daniel even if he was in a car. He died instantly due to the physics involved with inertia of soft things being encased in hard bone; not even a helmet helps with those kinds of physics.

…And just like that, 33 years of growth, of change, of learning, of loving, of becoming, of creating… all of it was undone in an instant. A single moment of negligence caused by a person who claimed he "didn't see him". And now he's gone. I'll never see another one of his photographs. I'll never get to feed him another bowl of venison curry. I'll never get to see him smile or hear him laugh. He'll never see any of his photographs published in any magazine. J has a hole in his soul now in the shape of his brother that can never be filled; the best that J can do is become strong enough to carry the immense weight of that emptiness.

…Funny, you know. Emptiness isn't supposed to weigh anything. And yet… writing this to you, my eyes are already overflowing with photographs of his that I'll never get to see. My lips tremble with words I'll never be able to say to him. My diaphragm quakes with the pain of the laughter that I won't be able to experience with him. At least… not until my turn to exit my own meat-mech comes around. J was extremely close to him and looked up to him as a hero. I can't even begin to imagine the weight of the emptiness he must carry, or the strength it took for him to rise up again after I saw how the weight of that emptiness drove him to his knees.

Because of the safety gear that Daniel was extremely conscientious about wearing, there wasn't a scratch or even so much as a bruise on his body; at the wake, he looked like he was asleep. Due to the nuances of Oregon law, the gentleman who killed Daniel faced no consequences whatsoever. All the same, I hope that the knowledge that his negligence stole a life prompts him to never again be irresponsible with his vehicle.

In honor of Daniel's memory, J wanted to make the same trip across the country, but in his own way. Daniel was passionate about motorcycles. J was always interested in airplanes, but for a variety of reasons (mostly having to do with the conditioning he received as a child about what sorts of things are "practical" and "realistic"), he didn't pursue that interest until recently.

J worked hard to overcome a lot of his previous conditioning in order to obtain a pilot's license. Like Daniel, J is very conscientious about safety, so he has done his utmost to become someone who can pilot a small airplane safely and confidently. He has memorized all of the standard procedures regarding visual flight rules. He is still working towards obtaining his instrument flight rating. He is doing the work needed to make sure the plane he bought recently is safe to operate. He has deconstructed a lot of the conditioning he received that tells him he is "unworthy" and "incapable" in order to make this work, and I could not be more proud of him.

We're still a ways off from making the trip, but when we do, I will be with J, most likely taking pictures, making sure he eats, sleeps, and hydrates, and generally trying to be a source of support. By that point, given that M and Br do not like heights, they will be okay with holding the fort back at home.

…So that is the story about why I was able to take pictures for you from an airplane in one of my letters. Suppose I might as well end today's letter here.

Hey, Sephiroth? I already have enough loss. I have even more in my past. And I know I'm going to have more in my future (M and Br are older than me; this is the other side of being polyamorous, I'm afraid…). There are already missing pieces in my soul in the shape of other human souls. Turn yourself around and keep yourself safe so that you don't add to my collection, yeah? And… make sure you're very generous with the phrase "I love you". Because you don't know when you're going to run out of opportunities to say it out loud.

I love you. And I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[anarchosimdicalist]

URSULA ALLEN’S BACHELOR CHALLENGE

I’m doing the bachelor challenge thing! I thought a BC with all elders would be kinda fun and cute so that’s what I’m doing. I've kinda written myself into a corner of doing a BC with someone who would absolutely hate being on The Bachelor or anything like it, so I'm doing away with the TV premise. While Sage is kind of a presenter here, his segments aren't necessarily diegetic. As such, don't think of your contestants as people applying to be on a show.

RULES

Applicants must be elders

All genders welcome

Occults welcome (but I’m not counting a 100+ year old YA vampire as an elder, as much as I like that one What We Do In The Shadows bit)

Tragic backstories welcome, silly goofy backstories also welcome, no backstories also also welcome.

CC welcome but maxis match preferred, and no script mods (eg mod traits). I have all packs except Batuu.

At least 1 negative trait preferred.

1 applicant per person (subject to change depending on turnout)

Tag ‘#ursulaallenbc’ and @anarchosimdicalist in your contestant posts - if I don't reblog it within a day or so feel free to send an ask or DM.

Deadline: 10th August (also subject to change depending on turnout)

More about Ursula and Sage under the cut!

URSULA ALLEN

AGE: 72 PRONOUNS: She/her SEXUALITY: Bisexual CAREER: Author TRAITS: Gloomy, Perfectionist, Bookworm ASPIRATION: Bestselling Author

Though she has been writing since she was a child and published semi-regularly since the 80s, it was her middle-grade fantasy Tower series that got her properly famous in the late 90s.

Since then, she’s had a child, been divorced, publicly came out as bisexual, published upwards of 60 books for children and a good few for adults, built a legacy as the favourite author to a generation of kids, and amassed a modest fortune.

While she's happy to have the kind of security that her money provides, she doesn't like having a lot of stuff. Her house is pretty minimalist, her clothes are high-quality but she doesn't have many, and she only really splashes out on fancy food. A good chunk of her money goes to charity.

She has what she refers to as "artistic melancholy" and what her son quite easily identifies as "depression".

She comes off as kind of gruff and grumpy, but if you're willing to see past it she can be quite warm. She loves to complain and she doesn't suffer fools gladly but she's also very wise and prone to philosophising.

She's very passionate about what she does. She has no intention of retiring any time soon, though she could afford it. She wouldn't really know what to do with herself if she ever stopped writing.

Always been good with kids, though she only ever had one.

SAGE HAMMOND

AGE: 24 PRONOUNS: He/him SEXUALITY: Gay CAREER: ???? TRAITS: Childish, Lazy, Cheerful ASPIRATION: Joke Star

Very close with Ursula. She made up stories for him as a kid, supported him through his transition as a teenager, and now as an adult they're kind of a single unit. A little codependent but generally healthy.

Has an English degree, somewhat inspired by Ursula though he's not really interested in becoming a writer.

Has lived with Ursula since graduating. Feels like he should move out but he doesn't really know what to do with his life and can't find a job.

Flamboyant silly guy. Colourful aesthetic constantly threatens to intrude on Ursula's big minimalist house.