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bitterbutblue · 7 hours

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our times

turns out, you're the fortune i want to keep most ☆ multi x reader

~ this is a multi x reader!! hatssun was talking about writing angst and i really said omg my turn! sorry hatssun ur idea was so good and it works so well w yukong and feixiao... ill credit u so hard bro i swear. WVERYONE BE PREPARED FOR WHEN THINK FAST DROPS🙏🙏🙏

UMM ALSO THE FEIXIAO ONE IS SOLONG FOR NO REASON LOTS OF DIALOGUE SORRYYYYY

characters: feixiao, yukong, ruan mei

song: 小幸運 - Hebe Tian ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

i was too busy chasing shooting stars in the sky ☆ feixiao

The day Saran ran away, something in you ran with her. The day Saran ran away, you didn't know if you would ever see her face break into a smile again, or if you would see her hanging the next day. The trace of her slowly faded with time, but even when you finally had the guts to bolt for it she was still the only thing on your mind. That day, you didn't mind if you died running, because it would've been better than staying there but alive. You didn't mind if you died running, because you died with her on your mind.

God knows how many decades had passed since the Luofu took you in. You only count days in how much your heart ached for her. Eventually it dulls down, it goes from a sharp thud to a muted nudge every time you see a dash of silver hair in the crowd or a sharp but soft smile on Jing Yuan's lips. You've heard of how far she had gotten, and you wished it didn't hurt so much to hear about it. You forced yourself to forget about her, because you couldn't keep living every day haunted by her. You were finally able to live your days how you wanted to, even if it meant without her by your side.

"Yukong, can you run these by the general for me?"

You were absentmindedly sitting at your desk, filling in whatever forms the general had sent to you about all the legality things they had to sort out for the Wardance. You spin your pen, signing your name down and ticking the last of the boxes. You huffed at the lack of response from the woman who should be sitting across from you.

"Yukong?"

"She's not here."

You look up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, and the world decides to take a break for a moment. In that small fraction of a second you feel yourself going back in time for decades until you are standing face to face with the young foxian, bruised and battered with an undying flame in her eyes. She is now much taller, her face pale but not the sickly kind that she harboured before. Her eyebags faded, hair flowing as if it had been just washed- a sight you never saw before in those camps.

She looked healthy, she had everything she wanted.

So why did she look like she was about to break down in front of you?

It wasn't fair.

"Saran?"

She only nods, standing with her arms by her side like a fool who doesn't know how to speak. She clears her throat, moving to cross her arms so she looked less awkward standing in front of you.

She wears clean clothes, she smells of petals.

Her scent of blood long faded, but you feel the pain behind her stance.

"How have you been?" Is all she asks as she eyes your desk warily, as if not knowing how to approach the conversation.

"Well. You?"

"Good enough."

Your old banter had long faded now, your previous ability to make each other laugh despite knowing the imminent death that looms over you two every day.

"Neergul died."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

It's like talking to a wall, or to just a mirrored version of yourself with how either of you refuse to look at each other.

"I never knew if you died or not until I came here."

Your shaky voice finally cuts the tension that has been simmering for far too long. She swallows, looking up and you know she is holding back tears because she has only ever looked up when the night sky is open and she can see the stars that granted her hope.

"I found out you became general. I was happy for you."

She says nothing.

"Why didn't you reach out?"

The edge to your voice has her breath knocked out of her lungs for a second as she tries to formulate an answer. She tries to weave incoherent thoughts and jumbles of emotions into a sentence and it's much harder to be done than she realised.

"I couldn't."

Of course she couldn't. Why would she admit to you how much of a coward she was? Knowing she had abandoned you after kissing you goodnight that evening.

"Why?"

But you want answers. It's not every day your presumed dead lover comes back to see you after years and years of crying yourself to sleep and hoping that in another future you could be in her arms without having to fear for your life.

"I was scared."

The general cannot be scared, or show any signs of fear in any situation- especially emotional situations where they need to stay calm so that people can feel secure around her but right now it all falls apart.

"Of who?"

"You."

"Why?"

You really did not like to raise your voice but you couldn't help it- she infuriates you. From the moment she flooded your heart you realised why love and hate go hand in hand because you hate that you love her.

"Why now?"

"I don't know."

Is all she manages to stutter out after an incredulous minute of silence and you just sigh.

"Why didn't you come find me?"

Her question has you going speechless now.

You were a hypocrite.

"I don't know."

She just nods with an unreadable expression on her face.

"I don't regret what I did that night."

You squeeze your now-fisted hand tight, taking a deep breath in to try to not only steady your voice but calm your racing heart that threatens to beat so hard it shatters in your chest.

"But why? Why make me love you for decades if you never planned to return?"

"I wanted to return. I always did."

Her words come out much more rushed than she intended it to come out. You feel your world shatter in that moment as you speak your next words.

"You never moved on?"

She steps closer.

"I dreamt about you every night. Under the sea of the shooting stars."

You shake your head, quickly wiping away at your own tears and she has to take a sharp breath in so her tears don't fall.

"Don't say that." You whisper "We can't. Please."

She looks at you, more intensely than ever as her voice quivers.

"Why?"

You shake your head.

"It'll only hold us back."

You still adorn matching scars from the torture you both had gone through in those camps. You love her, but she also left you.

"We can't." Is all you say.

She turns around and you want to pull her into your arms, you want her to be able to look at you but from that moment on, the look on her face as you showed her your soulmate would be the face you see every night you close your eyes.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

somewhere in the sky i could not see, was you ☆ yukong

The evening Caiyi died in her arms, Yukong vowed to never see the skies again. That was the same evening you went missing, the same evening she breaks down because how can she lose two of what she loved most in her life within the blink of an eye? The reason for her to wake up every morning, the reason she smiled even through the roughest of the days- now faded into nothing but memory and a distant bitter taste in her mouth.

You were not presumed dead, only missing. The false sense of hope had Yukong staying at her desk for hours every day, going through files and files, records upon records to try and maybe find some trace of you somewhere but after years of searching she finally gave up. She had to care for Qingni for Caiyi, she had to keep loving you because if she doesn't then she feels like she's lost herself.

It was the day Qingni flew to the skies when she finally looked up once more. She looks to the planes to see her daughter flying the same path that doomed her from wanting to live but the sky was the reason she had the two people who made life worth living. It was that day a plane crashed and Yukong felt the familiar, sickening feeling from decades ago as she runs to the sight. She's panicked, flustered, heart racing and feeling like throwing up as she pushes past crowds amongst crowds-

She doesn't know if she should scream or sigh in relief when they pull the lifeless-looking figure out of the starskiff. The model was old, the same she used in the war where she lost....

You. The figure they pulled out was you and she feels like she's going to be sick. She runs up to them, asking if you're okay and the medics are telling her to back off but she needs to know. She puts her head down, ear against your chest and almost sobs when she hears your heart thud weakly. It's so soft she really could've missed it but she hears it.

"Oh baby..."

She whispers as she cradles your head on her lap.

She sits by your side in the hospital until you wake up. She doesn't move, doesn't eat or drink or anything unless Qingni drags her to the bathroom or to the cafeteria. She holds your hand weakly, squeezing it every once in a while to see if you'd respond.

A cough jolts her awake and she quickly scans the dark, dimly lit room to find you- blinking weakly as you scan the room wearily.

"Oh, oh my god."

She quickly gets off her chair, rushing by your side.

"Are you okay? How are you feeling? Nurse-"

"Yukong."

She never thought she'd hear her name fall from your lips, to hear her name mumbled out so softly and hoarsely again.

"I'm here, I'm right here."

You don't say anything as you close your eyes, taking in a deep but pained breath as you close your eyes. She can feel her hands go cold, trembling violently as she tries to calm herself down. Her fingertips feel like they've been dipped in ice water and her throat feels like its closing up violently.

"You're here."

Yukong couldn't help the sob that escapes her lips at your words.

"Yes, yes baby. I'm right here."

The tears are already falling before she can even bother trying to control them, and she can already feel herself slipping away when you smile softly at her because she had always been a fool for you. She put the whole world down for you and she would lift it up for you if you needed it to be lifted again.

"I- I came back."

"You did, you did baby, you're back." She whispers, finally moving to take your hand in hers. You feel so much smaller, your hand much rougher than it used to be and when she finally takes in how scarred you are she feels like breaking down.

"Wanted to see you..." you whisper weakly, voice shaking as you look directly into her eyes.

Your eyes were nothing like the eyes she used to look at every night before she drifted off to sleep. Now they were hollow, every trace of who you once were has faded into the past that only resides through her dreams.

You were back, but you'd never really be back.

She just squeezes your hand gently as she tells herself it's okay, telling herself that you're physically here and you were somehow still alive and that's all she's been praying for since the day you fell.

So why does it hurt so much?

If all she's ever wanted was to have you back in her arms, why does it hurt so much to have you back now? Looking at her with a smile that no longer meets your eyes and a sense of coldness washing over her like a suffocating blanket every time she sees you.

She still loves you.

She still loves you and it hurts that her lover has died, reincarnated into a broken version of who she once loved. But she doesn't care. She will learn to live with the cold if it means being able to hold you once more. She would spend as long as she needs, puzzling every piece of you back together until you are able to smile at her without the history of all that happened haunting your every waking move.

She vowed, from that moment on, she'd start looking at the sky again because the sky brought you back. Every evening she stares up at the moon, watching it dim the lights to another day, and whisper her gratefulness to have her lover back. Every evening, she brings you out to look at the moon, the same moon you looked at during the two decades apart where the only thing you had together was the moon draped in the sky that she was too scared to look at.

"I love you."

You just lean your head against her chest.

You just listen to her heartbeat, and with each thud the cracks in your body begin to renew themselves- you would never be who you were, but you would always love her.

"I love you too."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

every scene was you ☆ ruan mei

The day she left, she vanished. No note, no text, nothing. Ruan Mei had become nothing but a shadow on earth when she decided to leave your house and you questioned if it was even worth searching for her at that point.

She had always been obsessed with aeonhood, aeons, power- whatever. You knew she was. Yet you still loved her for it, and she always promised you that one day you two would be able to love each other for eternity, for as long as you wanted to and until time itself faded into nothing but what was a mere idea of the past. She held you close that evening when she promised you, your head resting on her chest as she wrapped her arms around you.

A week later, she vanishes.

Lab empty, notes packed away, it was like as if your house had gone back in time to before you met her with how empty it all was. You called her number, texted her phone, contacted everyone she knew which was not a lot but you still tried because you loved her.

The day she revealed herself as the 81st member of the genius society, you felt your entire being shatter into pieces of who it once was. That was why she left you. Ultimately, Ruan Mei was selfish, and she had always been a selfish person.

You were foolish for loving her.

But you couldn't stop.

By the time you finally encountered her again, your history had become just a speck of dust in her mind but it was still your reason for hurt. It was still the reason why getting out of bed was a bit harder and why looking in the mirror hurt just a bit more than it should.

"Oh, it's you."

Her monotonous voice has you wanting to squeeze her throat, strangle her until she can't speak but you don't move. You stare at her, her lack of reaction, her poker face and you just swallow.

"How are you?"

That was the only sentence you could manage out and if you looked closely enough, you could see her eye twitch slightly as her throat tightens- her composure begins breaking at the sound of your voice.

"Well." She nods. She sounds too composed to you despite all the pain she is desperately trying to hide. She hates you for making her feel this way. She hates how weak she feels when you make that face at her, when your eyes widen and your mouth tightens into a line, body tense and breathing shallow. "You?"

She notices how your body tenses even more at that question, how your eyebrows begin to furrow as your face grows pink from anger.

"Not very good."

"Oh."

Her response had you fuming even more. How she was so careless and thoughtless towards you and how you felt drove you off the walls. She doesn't give a shit about you, why would she even ask?

Because you don't see the guilt that eats away at her heart every night as she stares at the photo of you that she has on her bedside table.

"Congratulations. You did it. Genius society."

It came out bitter and harsh, and Ruan Mei doesn't flinch but she feels this twist in her gut that's too unfamiliar and too painful for her to fully register. She doesn't understand this feeling. She wants to, because she wants to know how to stop it.

"Thank you."

You scoff at her response, physically unable to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you stepped closer to her, jabbing a finger into her chest.

"You're a fucking bitch."

She hates how her heart leapt at the feeling of your touch, she hates how your words actually manage to hurt her when it really shouldn't be affecting her at all. She's been called so much worse, so why does this, coming from you, hurt so much?

"Is this because I left?"

How can she be so dense?

"You left without saying a word! You just disappeared off the face of the earth, I don't hear from you saying where you are. I don't know what happened, I thought I did something wrong, but no- I remember who you are. A narcissistic bitch who only cares about herself."

The last part hurt more than it should've.

"I don't only care about myself."

You can't help but falter at how soft her voice suddenly goes as she looks down, not making eye contact as she shifts her bodyweight from foot to foot.

"I really cared for you."

Those words shouldn't affect you. You should've moved on from what happened almost twenty years ago now but you can't. You just stare at her and you hate how you feel tears start to form in your eyes as you blink violently, trying to hold it back.

"Don't say that to me."

She goes silent.

"I hate you."

She looks down and you don't see the tears that well up in her eyes.

"I really hope you succeed. I hope you get everything you've ever wanted."

She doesn't even get to see your face for the last time, because by the time she finally gets the courage to look up you were already gone. Your last words to her haunt her every time she begins her studies, or every time she tries to focus on figuring out creating a new life species. She knows you didn't mean it, yet she can't help but want you to notice her just one last time.

Maybe this time, she could fulfil her long broken promise to you.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

@44rtem idk ifthis is the ruan mei content u wanted... but here u go <3

#hsr #honkai star rail #feixiao #hsr feixiao #yukong #hsr yukong #ruan mei #hsr ruan mei #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #feixiao x reader #yukong x reader #ruan mei x reader #angsty angst time #honkai #honkai sr

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tellmeallaboutit · 2 days

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knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 15, In Which You Dance Twist With Mr. Goat (Pulp Fiction Style)

AO3

TAGS: self-harm, sharp objects, glass, politics

There was a time, not so long ago, when you were terrified of flying.

The mere thought of that huge metal thing plummeting from the sky for no apparent reason (well, the human factor. It's always the human factor), a minute of sheer terror, descent, and then boom.

No survivors.

No bodies ever recovered.

You used to fear situations that so brazenly took control away from you.

Well, you were wrong; there was something strangely comforting about letting go; about snuggling up in the plush comfort of an oversized leather seat, scrolling through messages on your phone to the roar of the twin engines.

Raphael's hand was always on your knee, his tail wrapped tightly around your ankle, as if you could escape him on the private jet - or off it. A black diamond ring on your finger sparkled in the sunlight filtering through the oval windows.

Across from you sat Camilla, while Jens occupied the far corner seat. Yurgir was conspicuously absent; you didn't pry into his reasons, just assumed his size exceeded the weight limit of any aircraft.

A headline in the Daily Mirror caught your eye: "Who is Anya Berger? What do we know about the mysterious girl who won the heart of a billionaire in ten days?"

What do they know, you wondered and clicked.

"Walk me through the panels again," Raul asked. "And the key people to talk to."

"Morning is boring," Korilla replied. "Mental health crisis, supply chain disruptions, sustainability regulations. You start in the afternoon, sir: your first is the AI discussions with the UN Secretary General's Special Envoy for Technology."

"I won't say a word about this soulless drivel," Raphael said, skimming through the agenda.

Camilla choked on her coffee while Jens flinched at her sudden movement, his hand swiftly resting on the gun now.

"Mr D'Avergni, Avernus' portfolio is 15% invested in AI technologies," she said as soon as she collected herself. "What do you mean 'soulless nonsense'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. I will not say a word about these abominable technologies. I have been made privy to information that they are cannibalising art and I will not stand for it".

"Where did you hear this nonsense?" whispered Camilla. "Tumblr? Anya? Is that your doing?"

"I'm totally against AI," you interjected, without looking up from your phone, engrossed in the news article about your grunge heroin chic and manic-girl attitude.

They recommended black nail polish, drawing dark circles under your eyes and perfecting the look of total derangement to repeat your success. There were also some advanced blowjob techniques at the bottom of the article.

"What is this panel 'Securing an Insecure World'?" asked Raphael. "I quite fancy the name."

"Sir, it has nothing to do with you. This is the macroeconomic panel on the dying middle class, youth problems, inequality, blah blah blah. Fear-mongering."

"Fear-mongering?" said Raphael. "I seem to have found my stage."

Camilla closed her eyes and put on her best smile. The flight attendant glided by in her pressed uniform and replaced your coffee; you were momentarily struck by the amount of cleavage she was showing as your eyes glanced upwards.

To see very familiar eyes and a smile. Haarlep put a finger to her lips and gave you a little wink. You smiled back.

"Sir," Camilla said gently. "It doesn't work that way. You can't just speak whenever and about whatever you want in a global forum. It's all scripted, all pre-written."

"Astute observation," said Raphael. "Scripted conversations, scripted problems, scripted solutions, no room for improvisation. Davosneeds a breath of fresh air. Of honesty. Of a genuine hope for change".

Camilla said, "Of course, sir," and forced a smile.

Back to the article: did they really get your ex-boyfriend to give an interview about you? Did he have anything good to say, that bastard who regularly forgot to flush the toilet?

Yes, he had plenty to say, mostly about you being not right in the head. You put him on your hit list and stroked Raphael's tail, which in turn stroked your ankle. They even got your mum on the phone, who thankfully had nothing much to say except that you were a good Catholic girl.

You saw some frantic movement out of the corner of your eye.

Camilla was waving you over to the plane's galley. You tried to get up, but were stopped by a tail wrapped around your ankle like a boa constrictor. "May I go to the toilet?" you asked, and Raphael uncoiled his tail, three times, with a slight reproach in his eyes. Jens did his best to keep a straight face, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Camilla pulled you deeper into the galley. She smelled of fresh coffee and burnout.

"Anya, listen, I am very sorry that it has to come to this, but just between us girls..." she said, her fingers fidgeting with her diamond necklace. "Did Raul remember to take his medication today? I don't like his mood”. She shifted on her feet. "God, I miss the days when you could smoke in these things”.

"I'm not his doctor," you shrugged.

"Well, maybe it would be worth reminding him," Camilla drawled. "I'd rather not see viral videos of him committing political suicide in Davos. And I'm sure you'd agree."

You weren't so sure.

"I'm not going to poke the devil, and I suggest you don't either," you said, leaning against the galley counter.

Camilla sighed and gave you a very sympathetic smile.

"Anya, may I give you some friendly advice? Raul may seem like a half-god to you, but I've seen him curled up in a ball sobbing about how Daddy never loved him when he was high as a kite on coke. He's... as human as the rest of us. For better and worse”.

Just then, the plane shook violently, sending you both clutching the walls for support. The pilot quickly apologized over the intercom.

"Don't patronise me, Korilla," you said. "Do you think I'm just some pathetic, love-struck girl Raul likes to abuse?"

Camilla paused for a moment before suppressing a grin. "I'm going to invoke my right against self-incrimination. So tell me, my dear: who are you really?"

"Much more than meets the eye." You straightened up, standing slightly taller than her (which was not difficult). "I'm the one who gave him all this power in the first place."

"Wow," Kamilla snorted out in surprise. "Wow. Okay. Cool. Never mind."

"You need proof?" you said quietly.

"Not really," she said.

"I wish you would get down on your knees and kiss my hand."

"What?" Kamilla burst out laughing. "Maybe you should share your medicine with Raul. Ask Dr Bambauer for a family discount. He will be at Davos, by the way, speaking on the mental health crisis".

"I wish for you to kiss my hand," you insisted. "Come on, do it, I have a point to prove."

You really need to learn how to calibrate these things. This one worked, though; she complied, sinking to her knees before you, a wild look in her eyes. Then she planted a surprisingly gentle kiss on your palm, leaving a crimson mark.

"What the hell?" she whispered as she looked up at you. Raphael was engrossed in his paperwork, oblivious to the scene, so was Jens.

"See, Korilla," you started again after letting the moment hang awkwardly in the air for longer than necessary, "don't worry about Raphael talking nonsense. You'd be surprised how many people eat it up."

"Who the fuck is Raphael?"

"Your new boss," you said. "Well, old boss actually. Ahh... you won't really notice much of a difference; I hardly do myself sometimes," you lowered your voice to a minimum. "But don't tell them that, they'll get angry. You can get up now, this is getting a bit weird."

She tried to say something, her lips barely moving. You think it was 'how'. She was asking ‘how’.

"You see," you said. "The devil thinks I am very, very special”.

Having said that, you came back to your seat. Raphael's tail immediately darted to your ankle and wrapped around it. You leaned back in your chair and watched Haarlep flirting with the pilot out of the corner of your eye.

It would be really stupid to crash because Haarlep wanted to have a quickie in the cockpit. The plane began its descent to Samedan St Moritz airport. The rugged Swiss Alps came into view out the window, snow-capped peaks glistening in the afternoon sun.

***

When you book a presidential suite you no longer have to check in, you can just walk straight past the reception. The hotel was a mountain resort so exclusive that the website was just an artistic photo with no way to reserve a room.

Raphael was eerily calm as he watched the staff unpack your belongings. His calm demeanour lasted until some poor sap nearly wrinkled his suit while trying to hang it in the en-suite cloakroom. A deafening growl sent the trembling fellow scuttling from the room.

The rest were given very generous tips.

Soon after, you found Raphael rehearsing his speech in a mirror, repeating the same phrases three times in a row, "when youth was told their souls were worthless, easily replicated by machines". Each time he spoke, there was a subtle change in tone, as if he was trying to capture some emotion - you were not quite sure what he was getting at - was he trying to imitate genuine concern?

If so, he could work on his delivery.

He gave it another shot, the tension in his back muscles evident through his shirt.

"Excellent choice of attire, gattina," he gave you a look you approached. "Might I suggest an improvement? Not these trousers. The black pencil skirt with the white vertical stripes, the Saint Laurent one from the spring collection."

"It looks absurd on me," you looked away. "I don't have the body for it."

"You have the body for anything," he said. "Don't debate me on this. Slip into the skirt, return here and see how right I am”.

That damned skirt was a nightmare: so constricting that any wrong move felt like a tear waiting to happen; clearly designed by someone who either had never laid eyes on an actual woman or harbored a deep-seated resentment towards anyone the wrong size and proportion, which would be everyone.

Yet somehow, you managed to wriggle yourself into it and made your way back to him.

"Now that's what I want to see," Raul smiled. "A beautiful woman and all mine."

"It's two sizes smaller than what I wear".

"Come closer, you silly creature, and grasp how breathtaking you are."

He tugged you towards the full-length mirror and swept your hair to one side so that you could take in your entire reflection.

Only it wasn’t yours.

When you played Sims and tweaked the controls to create the ideal you, you ended up with someone like this. Every trait similar to what you had, only better. A lot better. Smoother skin, better hair, smaller waist, perkier tits.

"They will see you through my eyes," Raphael said as his hands slid under your blouse and cupped your breasts. "These mortals will seethe with jealousy, envying me for having you and you for having me."

The woman in the mirror looked like someone Raphael would choose to be his consort. The skirt looked perfect, as it was tailor made just for you.

"That’s not me," you said, mesmerized by the eerie reflection.

"Nonsense. You didn't know who you truly were until you met me," he whispered in your ear. "If it's not you I'm putting my arms around, why would you feel them?"

You felt his palms squeeze your breasts and roll your nipples between his fingers. His lips brush your neck. His growing bulge against your backside.

"Now would you be so kind?.." he asked.

You could swear the woman in the mirror was bending over before you did, eagerly offering herself, sliding her panties down to her knees and placing her palms on either side of the mirror for leverage. His hands kneaded your buttocks, spreading you apart as his erection pressed against your entrance.

Foreplay wasn't on his agenda, you realized with a shiver. True enough, he penetrated you with a single thrust. First sharp pain, then the very familiar pleasure, liquid and pitch black and all-consuming.

"Look," he said. "Look at yourself. Look at me. Marvel at what you see."

The woman in the mirror moaned in response, pleasure etched on her face as the devil behind her ravaged. Her features twisted and blurred in ever-changing motion, skin wobbling like waves of water; she was shifting between all the women you ever dreamed of being - one moment Tav, then Christine, then Sarah Williams.

"It's not real," you moaned.

His eyes remained fixed on the mirror the whole time he fucked you. You arched backwards into him, grinding against him with each thrust, skin slapping against skin.

"There is no reality," he whispered back. "Other than what you see in that mirror”.

His thrusts came harder now, jolting you against the cold glass. The woman in the mirror seemed to have gone insane from how well she was being fucked, her face twisted in a barely human grimace of bliss.

"Climax," he commanded with a snap of his fingers.

You saw the woman in the mirror go limp in his arms, a look of absent bliss on her face, and then remember that the woman was you. A jagged sound ripped from you. Your body responded to the command like a dog thrown a biscuit; your cunt tightened around his cock once.

Twice.

The woman in the mirror morphed again; now it’s someone you’d seen a thousand times, the weird pale girl nobody ever gave a second look.

You.

Thrice.

The mirror you were propped against shattered - spectacularly so, its razor-sharp fragments raining down like confetti.

"Hang on," you managed to gurgle out in sheer terror as you tumbled, losing your balance. "Raphael, hold on..."

He didn't. Instead, he let gravity take over and you fell face-first into the broken mirror below, his weight following right after. Your scream of pleasure morphed into a wail of agony as countless tiny shards opened up on your skin; mutilating, cutting, obliterating.

oh god it hurts

Raphael groaned as he drove you deeper and deeper into the jagged fragments, your writhing and screaming doing nothing to deter him. The shards under your skin thrust in and out with each thrust, piercing right through you, through your face.

oh god it hurts; pulsated the single thought. The pain was nothing like you had felt before; it was the clearest sensation your clouded mind had ever processed.

A growing pool of blood spread like spilled wine on the white marble tiles beneath you. You closed your eyes tightly, but that didn't make the blood disappear. You blinked them open again... then closed them...

Blood was still there. Raphael thrust once, so hard there wasn’t a single shard left that didn’t hurt you.

Twice.

Three times, and he came inside you, spitting curses in Italian between ragged breaths.

The pain suddenly vanished as if snapped away by his fingers; but its ghostly memory kept your tears flowing.

"I swear to God, kitten" Raul murmured as he rolled off you, "the way you're screaming would make anyone think I'm murdering you."

You opened your eyes and stared at the perfectly white tiles.

No blood.

No shards. No cuts. No pain.

Nothing. You looked up in the mirror: the Gorgeous Version of You looked back. You looked down on yourself.

Exactly how you always wanted to be.

You laughed in blissful abandon. Then, you rolled onto your back, catching sight of Raul's gobsmacked expression which made you laugh even harder.

read the rest on ao3

#knock knock #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3

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toiletclown · 9 hours

Text

breathless. (part four.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

word count: 2602.

there's angst but it's resolved with fluff i promise!

summary: you had confessed, finally, but it was a mistake. so you walk and you walk. then you walk right back to spencer, like you always do.

a/n: i was going to take a break but i'm doing fairly well today and should be able to finish the fic tn at work! :D i went to the gym this morning and i'm just in an all around better mood hehe.

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

You just kept walking. Not having your phone meant you had to listen to the sounds of the city while you wandered, and soon enough the sun was dipping behind the buildings. You were barely sure of where you were at, and you really hoped you could find your way back to the office without your phone. God, what have you done? You ruined your friendship with your soulmate. There was no reason to deny yourself that line of thinking – soulmates – because whether he returned your feelings or not, you knew that’s what he was. And your feelings were out in the open now, anyway. He was your soulmate, handcrafted to love you. Your atoms were within centimeters of each other during the Big Bang, and all these millennia later, you had ruined what the universe had so kindly set up for you. All because you word vomited instead of waiting.

The image of Spencer’s tears was burned into your brain. How dejected he had looked. The entire time you had been walking you had refused to dwell, refused to think about it. But you were walking back to reality, to the office, and, most importantly, to him. You had to face your mistake eventually. Hopefully Ian and Anthony wouldn’t mind you taking a week off. You needed it. There would be no HR relationship papers to sign, no meetings with the four of you to discuss your new relationship. There would be no soft launch, no hard launch. No launch at all. Except maybe your heart into a fucking trench.

One-sided soulmates had to be a thing. Because even if Spencer didn’t want you, didn’t see the same things you saw, didn’t believe in soulmates, the truth of the matter was that he was yours. There’s not another person on this godforsaken earth that understands you the way he does. No one else who can see through all your bullshit quite like him. No one else who would answer your call or FaceTime on the first ring every time, or text you back within 30 seconds, religiously. No one to cook for, no one to stay up with till the wee hours watching reruns of fucking Family Guy. You had thrown it all down the drain, your heart with it.

As you walked back in the general direction you believed the office to be in, you finally let your mind wander. You shouldn't have left. You knew that. But you had spilled your heart, and he was crying. Whether those were happy tears, or sad tears, you just couldn’t stand to look at it. You had never made him cry before, from sadness or otherwise.

Spence POV

“I’m sorry, I’m… I’ll go.” And they did. Y/N ripped their hands from Spencer’s, and bolted for the door. They were gone.

They didn't even give him time to react. Spencer realized he had started crying, despite him not giving his body permission, and knew that was the reason they launched out of the hallway.

He heard the door alarm ding, signaling that someone had left. He just hoped it wasn't you.

Spencer willed his feet to move, booking it down the hall after his best friend. But you were gone.

“Where did Y/N go? Did you see?” He asked Kiana, who had been standing in the lobby.

She wrapped him in a hug, and he just let it all out. Sobbing in the middle of his workplace was not a good look, especially at his age, but he couldn’t keep it in. She led them down to an empty meeting room, sitting him down on the couch and hugging him tightly.

“Spencer, what happened?”

He tried to speak, but his throat was tight with sadness and anger, and he could only cry.

“It’s okay, let it out. Take your time, I'm right here. Do you need anything? Excedrin, another Kickstart? Another hug?” Kiana was rubbing his back softly, doing her best to help him without overwhelming him.

Spencer shook his head, still not able to find his words. After a few more moments of tears, he grabbed a tissue from the table next to him and got into it. “Y/N told me they loved me. That they’re in love with me. I started crying, I guess, and when they saw they just… ran. They said they shouldn't have told me while we were at work, but that they couldn’t hold it in anymore. And I swear, Kiana, I was only crying because I was so fucking happy. You know how I feel about them, how in love with them I’ve been for so long. And I no sooner find out they feel the same, and they're gone. I’m kinda freakin’ out, man.” He took a breath, attempting to calm himself down a bit more. “I can't lose them, Kiana. I can't, they're my fucking soulmate, they're all I’ve wanted for so long, and it was ripped out of my hands as soon as I had it. I’m scared, I’m really scared. Terrified. I wasn't crying because I was mad, I was elated. But I didn't even have a chance to change their mind. They’re just… gone.”

The tears started back up, and Kiana hugged him once more. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. They’re not gone, Spencer. They're probably just as overwhelmed as you are, and needed a minute. That’s all. Give Y/N some time to cool off and sort their brain out, okay? Let them process this, and then they’ll be back and you guys can talk. If Y/N has really felt this way just as long as you have, that was probably a really big and scary thing for them. And when you're doing big, scary things, a reaction like tears could be misconstrued. I’m sure everything will be fine once they cool off.”

“Yeah, you're probably right,” Spencer supplied, wiping at his tears with another tissue. “But I really don't know how I’m going to be able to get any actual work done just sitting and waiting for them to get back.” His tears had finally come to an end, and he was working on steadying his breathing so he could stay calm.

Kiana and Spencer sat in silence for a few minutes, Kiana giving him little pep talks here and there and Spencer blowing his nose now and again. When the room felt a little lighter, Spencer was the one to break the silence.

“You know, I was planning on telling them soon. I was trying to figure out how I wanted to do it. They actually took some of the words right out of my mouth. It’s so tiring to come to work everyday and pretend I haven't been dreaming about them, pretend I haven't been missing their cooking and our hang outs. And I know I'm the one who pulled back first, I know I was the one who fucked everything up these past few weeks. I pulled back, I stopped being so touchy, I stopped inviting them over. That was my doing. But I thought I was protecting them. Or myself. I don't know anymore, I guess. I just really want my best friend back, in any capacity. If I ruined everything, so be it, I just need them to be in my life. At the very least as a friend.” He shuffled in his seat, suddenly filled with energy. “Kiana, I love them so much. What if I ruined it all?”

“You didn't, Spencer.” Kiana gripped his shoulders, needing him to hear her words. “Emotions are hard, but you have to feel them to get through them. And so does Y/N. Let them have their time to process, like we’re doing now, and in no time everything will be fixed. You just have to be patient. You’ve waited eight years so far, you can wait another hour or two, right?”

This evoked a laugh from Spencer, which felt nice. He wanted to laugh with Y/N again. “Yeah, yeah I guess I can wait another hour. Two hours is too far though!”

Spencer sat at his desk, phone face down since Y/N didn't take theirs when they left, a post-it note placed precariously over the time on his laptop. He couldn’t linger on how long it had been since they had left. They’d be back, and they would work this out. He just had to be patient.

Luckily, no one had come over to try and talk to him. He guessed that seeing a grown man break down sobbing in public was enough for everyone to realize he needed a bit of space. He got a few Slack messages of people sending him their thoughts, which made him happy. He didn’t respond to any of them. He couldn’t find it in himself to put a happy face on and thank them for their concern, tell them he’s okay. Because in the grand scheme of things, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay again.

Deep in his own head, after far longer than he realized, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Y/N.

Spencer shot out of his chair and hugged them, the tears coming back even stronger. “Y/N, please don’t leave me like that again. I’m sorry I scared you when I started crying,” he took a breath, still hugging his soulmate harder than was necessary. “And I’m sorry I’m crying now. I need you to know I’m only crying because I’m so fucking happy, I promise. I promise you, Y/N, they’re happy tears. I love you.”

Y/N hadn’t spoken a word, but he could feel them sobbing quietly into his shoulder. It was late enough in the day that most people had left, and he knew the pod was empty save for them. He cradled their head with his right hand, his left hand rubbing circles into the small of their back. “I love you, Peach, you know I love you. More than you think, more than you know, more than you love me. I’ve loved you every day for eight years, and I will love you until the light leaves my fucking eyes. Even after that. I’m so sorry I scared you off, I love you, my peach, I love you.”

Y/N broke the hug, a bubble of laughter erupting from them. “I guess it’s your turn to word vomit, huh?” As they both wiped at their eyes, Y/N laughed again. “Oh, I’m sorry. I snotted on your jacket. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

“I’ll forgive you for anything, Y/N.”

“Can you forgive me for dropping that bomb on you and immediately running away?”

“Only if you promise me that you meant it.”

“Of course I meant it, Spinner.” You pulled out a nickname, one you hadn’t used for months, knowing that would calm him a bit. “I love you, with every fiber of my stupid being. And I’m sorry I left you like that. I won’t do it again.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky.”

You did your secret pinky swear handshake, where once the pinkies are wrapped, the person making the promise places a kiss on the other person’s hand. “I love you, Peach.”

“I love you, Spence. Always will.”

Reader POV

After such a painful yet wonderful day, you were ready for a calm night. You wanted to see Spencer, of course, but you knew you both needed some time apart to think about how this was all going to play out. Are you going to tell the fans? Are you going to change how you interact on camera? If you don’t tell the fans, would he be down to give them hints in videos or on Instagram stories? How long did you guys have to wait to move in together? You weren’t even technically dating yet, you had only professed your love for one another.

You should probably slow down. This was all still new, anyway. You both had forever to figure it out, luckily.

You fiddled with your keys till you got your apartment door open, ready to draw a nice, hot bath and destress in the tub. You dropped your bag off on your couch and headed to your bathroom.

God, you looked like shit. Your eyes were red from all the tears and emotions, you had a raging migraine, your dark circles were the worst you’d ever seen them. You set about washing your face, started the bath, and lit your favorite candles. You turned the lights off, turned your playlist on, and undressed.

You sunk into the heat, your muscles letting the tension seep slowly out of them, and reflected on today’s events.

You were extremely happy to have worked everything out in one day. You were aware of how lucky you and Spencer were. Friends to lovers has its perks, you guess. You were so scared that you would have to be without him for much, much longer. Any time away from him was excruciating, though you’d never let him know that. He’d bully you endlessly if he knew how attached you were. Though you supposed he felt the same way, since he loved you just as much as you loved him.

What a fucking day. You hummed along to the end of a Daft Punk song, sinking deeper into the water. Breathless came on next. Entirely unconsciously, you shot up. You splashed some water on the floor in the process, but your heart was going a mile a minute.

“Ugh,” you groaned to your empty bathroom, “Leave me breathless indeed.”

Willing your heart to slow to a normal pace, you decided your bath was over. You just wanted to lay down and decompress. As you were toweling off, you heard a knock at the door.

It wasn’t so late that a visitor would be a problem, but you also had way too fucking busy of a day to hang out with anyone right now. You stood still, silent, hoping they’d just leave you be. You can catch up with whoever it is once your brain and heart are done reeling from the nonsense of your day.

You waited a couple more seconds, silence falling across your apartment. You let out a breath, and then it caught in your throat when you heard the doorknob. You raced to put a shirt and shorts on, not caring about your looks considering someone was trying to break into your home.

You ran to grab a makeshift weapon from the hall when your door swung open. You nearly screamed, but it was Spencer. You had forgotten he had a key.

“Whoa, Y/N. You okay?” Spencer ran to you, clearly catching that you were freaking out a bit.

“I should beat you, Charles Spencer Agnew, how dare you not warn me!”

Spencer threw his hands up in mock surrender, backing away a little. “In all fairness, I texted you. You didn’t respond but I saw on Find My Friends that you were home and I just got worried, I guess.” He rubbed the nape of his neck, sheepish. “I know that today was… a lot. And I know you tend to isolate yourself when you experience big things. I don’t know, I guess I was just scared I was going to lose you twice in one day, you know?”

You closed the distance between you and your best friend, wrapping him in a hug. He hugged back, tight. “You’ll never lose me, Spence. Ever. Not even if you want to.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

taglist: @lokidokieokie @chaoticlizzzzzz @babble28 @starstriker027 @langaslefthairstrand @vc55bughead @kneelforloki @cosmichahn

#spencer agnew x reader #richie writes #spencer agnew #smosh x reader

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luvwich · 2 days

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✒️ writer interview tag

tagged by @dustdeepsea — tysm, this was great fun! read their answers here and mine, if you like, beneath the cut ✨

When did you start writing?

early 2023 was my first foray into writing actual fiction. prior to that i'd done an embarrassing amount of roleplaying many years ago, which i shall speak on no further, but it did form the basis for a lot of my writing now!

once upon a time, i seriously entertained the idea of an MFA in screenwriting, but went on to pursue something even stupider for grad school 👍

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

honestly everything i enjoy reading gets smuggled into my writing in some form or another!

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

there are like 26 different writers where i wish to take bits and pieces of their style, send it all into a meat grinder, and press the gunk into sausage casings to be dipped in batter and deep fried. ideally i want my writing to hit like wagyu beef that's been corrupted into a county fair corn dog. but no i'm not sure i've ever been compared to another writer! that would fuck my shit up truly (in a good way)

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

typically curled up on my couch, because the ergonomic status of my home office setup is terrible — potentially lethal. sometimes i stay late at my not-home office, hidden away in a dark conference room, but that's usually only if i'm on a self-imposed deadline (i.e. i've started posting a WIP)

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

the spark that gets me to write is usually some kind of Dynamic that i want to explore so i do a lot of noodling upon situations and then figuring out how to get there. and by situations i mean smut

also, writing bits of dialogue, even if i don't know the context yet. it gets a character's voice and mannerisms in my head, and gives me a little grain to start building on

sadly, going on a hike and/or reading a really good book are both very effective and by far the most time consuming

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

longing, isolation, identity, the difference between the person you'd like to be and the person you are, strained/dysfunctional family relationships, wrong person right time, hope, blowjobs, self-deception, california, fucking your way through it, guilt, social class, mommy issues, mono no aware, oral fingering, etc; they don't surprise me anymore but the first time i finished a long fic and took a step back i was like "ohh haha Damn"

What is your reason for writing?

i am horny, sad n silly

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

all forms of feedback are so touching! i think much of what i write is pretty niche, so simply knowing someone has read my stuff gets me pumped. a big essay of a comment is like receiving a love letter, and comments that are just an emoji are like someone's tucked a little note in my lunchbox, and both are incredibly nourishing to me. as far as motivation, though, anything that implies someone is looking forward to reading more is the surest way to light a fire under my people-pleasing ass

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

affable wretch, trickster, wine aunt

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

i'm not sure any one thing stands out: i believe i'm pretty good in a few areas (dialogue, sensory detail, characterization) and notably lacking in others (action, "plot," pacing, not getting high on my own supply)… okay i'll stop being an asshole though and say my strength is in "delivering on a mood," if that is a thing

How do you feel about your own writing?

generally good. for one, i'm proud of myself for ever finishing and posting anything, because following through on shit isn't something i'm renown for. i tend to hate everything i write after i've gotten some distance from it, but i think that's normal? right? i'm new at it and it's all for fun so i try to be gracious with myself, with mixed success, because beneath my goofy exterior i do take everything too seriously

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

mostly for myself; i do abstractly ask "would someone who isn't me enjoy this?" and never quite know the answer. like most humans i crave external validation and connection, but like a cactus i can survive on just a lil rainfall 🌵

tagging w/no pressure (but with my best barbara walters impression) @corpocyborg @ghostoffuturespast @merge-conflict @streetkid-named-desire @writing-for-soup

#on writing #personal #tag games #text post

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wuxian-vs-wangji · 1 day

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Love Sand: A Summary

For those who cannot afford to buy Love Sand, or don't know if they feel like reading it. This is a full summary, so of course it's full of spoilers. General trigger warnings for dubious consent, non-consent (one partner drunk), and revoked consent.

Love Sand takes place 7-5 months before the events of Love Sea, long before Mahasamut and Tongrak ever meet. The two do, however, play major roles in Khom and Connor's love story.

Love Sand's official English edition can be purchased through Meb.

If you order through the app, you'll have to buy a set of tokens and purchase it that way, If you order through their website, you can directly buy the number of tokens you need for Love Sand specifically.

Love Sand: A Summary

Before getting into this: Khom has a lot of negative self-image issues revolving around being thought of as a sex worker. I conveyed that as best I could here, but I want to make it clear that there is no shame in sex work, so long as it's something the person wants to do, is protected, and does not feel forced into.

Khom is 19, and just had his heart broken by his first love.

Type grew up with Khom, and Khom saw all the bad that came on the heels of Type being sexually assaulted at the age of 11 by a worker his father had hired. Type was hounded by media seeking to sensationalize an already horrible story, and faced the stares of curious islanders and people asking too many questions about the assault.

Type becomes viciously homophobic after the trauma, buying into every negative stereotype about gay people. Khom, who has always known he's gay and who has had a crush on Type throughout his youth, wants to be a calming presence. He supports Type, is his confidant and friend, and swallows his objections to what Type says.

But Type's hatred just keeps growing and growing, and Khom is finally sick of hearing it. He reveals to Type that he's gay, hoping Type will reconsider his homophobia after learning his best friend, who has always been there for him, is gay.

Instead, Type throws it all in Khom's face. He calls Khom a pervert, a slut, and is disgusted by his association with Khom.

Khom is very similar to Mahasamut in Love Sea, in which he will internalize the opinions of people he cares about. Type's words cut as deeply as a knife, and are the trigger for a lot of the plot of Love Sand.

---

Several days after Type returned to his university in Bangkok, Khom is isolating himself and trying to deal with the pain in his heart. He withdraws from everyone, and sits alone to mourn his lifelong one-sided crush.

Khom isn't good at making friends. He's friendly with some guys on the island, but not in a way where he'd turn to any of them if he's in pain. He's extremely introverted, and deeply isolated.

Mahasamut tracks him down one day at a kind of secluded beach the locals keep to themselves. Mut is an older boy on the island, around 21, and viciously charismatic. His business is word-of-mouth, and there isn't much Mahasamut won't do to make sure he's the first choice of every traveler.

But right now, he's in trouble and needs help. Mahasamut was jumped at a bar by a gang of local boys who tried to fuck with him. Despite it being 6:1, Mahsasamut won the fight, but slipped on a beer bottle afterwards and broke his leg.

Mahasamut has a visitor coming to the island the next day, who booked his services and whose business Mut cannot afford to lose. Even if he's the choice of any traveler who can book him, Mahasamut very much lives hand to mouth. Khom is the only other boy on the island who speaks English as well as Mahasamut, and he needs Khom to pretend to be him and play tour guide for 3 days.

In exchange, Mut will give Khom a cut of what the foreigner is paying.

Khom reluctantly agrees, figuring it will be a distraction from his dark thoughts and pain of falling out with Type.

Khom is instantly and immediately attracted to Connor, but he knows how dangerous that is. Connor has a wild playboy aura, and fierce green eyes that make him darkly seductive. He's also 11 years older than Khom.

With a shock, Khom quickly learns that Connor is completely fluent in Thai, though he pretends not to be around most people. Connor is Canadian, and on the island as part of a vacation tour of dive spots.

And that's all Khom is allowed to know. If he asks any questions about Connor's life, Connor quite obviously changes the subject, making it very clear that Khom is not entitled to any personal information at all. Not even how he knows Thai.

Connor is overtly attracted to Khom, and flirts with him constantly. Khom takes him to local hangouts, where the food is more authentic and people more themselves than around the tourist areas.

Khom gets drunk at one such spot, encouraged by Connor, and loses all sense of where he is. He's hot, so he strips, and attracts the attention of basically the Thai equivalent of siren.

In Khom's mind, the demon is coming to steal his soul, but he is too unsteady to fight it as it pins him down and starts jacking him off.

In reality, Connor has taken Khom back to his hotel room, and when Khom strips his shirt off, Connor pounces. He ignores Khom's protests and forcefully jacks him off.

---

The next morning, Khom is embarrassed to know he got drunk and the guest he's supposed to be taking care of had to take care of him. He also vaguely remembers having a strange dream the night before, but it's very much a dream.

Connor keeps taunting and teasing Khom, embarrassing the boy and keeping him on edge. Khom is fighting constantly against his own attraction to Connor. He doesn't want to be the kind of person Type accused him of being.

He isn't a slut, he isn't easy, he isn't perverted. He isn't the kind to have flings with tourists. Khom's had a couple of very short lived relationships in his life, all done under extreme secrecy. No one knows he's gay, not even his family. That's half to protect himself, and half because he didn't want Type to know he was gay, still hoping that Type's prejudice would eventually fade.

Connor wants to go for a dive, so Mahasamut sends Palm with a rented boat. But the boat is WAY too nice, and Khom realizes that Connor must be paying Mahasamut way above his normal rate. Meanwhile, he's giving Khom pennies for filling in.

Khom is supposed to be pretending to be Mahasamut so that Connor doesn't know this isn't the guide he hired. But Khom is so bad at it that he keeps forgetting, and it's obvious to Connor from the start. It is never confirmed nor denied, but Khom suspects Mahasamut somewhat pimped him out to Connor. Choosing Khom as his guide because Khom is physically exactly the kind of person Connor is attracted to.

While diving, Connor pretends to drown so that Khom has to give him air (they were freediving, not diving with tanks). To Connor, it's a cheeky way to get a kiss, hidden underwater where Cockblock Palm can't see them. But Khom is deathly serious about safety, and is absolutely enraged.

After that, Connor sticks to beaches, and apologizes constantly for playing. He also doesn't slow down his pursuit of Khom in the least.

---

The next day, Khom takes Connor out again, this time on a motorbike. Connor is very suggestive all day, and keeps Khom anxious and on the edge. Eventually, even though Khom repeatedly asks him to behave, Connor distracts Khom while he's driving and Khom nearly collides with a car. He crashes the bike, and while Connor is fine, Khom's leg is torn up.

Khom has to go to the hospital, and Connor is extremely embarrassed and worried. He takes Khom back to the resort and takes care of him.... but in a very Connor way.

He helps strip Khom, and then sits there in the bathroom with him while Khom takes a bath with maximum embarrassment. He also deliberately leaves the towel away from the tub so that Khom has to ask him for it while Connor stares at him.

Connor then makes Khom lay on the bed and take his medicine, which puts him to sleep. Khom is incredibly upset- he's ruined Connor's last night on the island, and now a guest is losing out on enjoying the area because he has to take care of his guide.

The next morning, Khom wakes in intense pain from the leg. Connor again gives him medicine, and tells him to go back to sleep. Khom doesn't want to lose the time with Connor, but Connor won't hear it.

When Khom next wakes, it's late in the afternoon. Connor has not only missed his checkout time, but he's also missed the last boat off the island for the day. Khom is again embarrassed and upset, but Connor doesn't care.

Connor then reveals that he actually extended his vacation the night before, and did it specifically because he's interested in the island, but also in Khom. Mahasamut has also given Khom as his guaranteed tour guide for his extended stay. This kind of reminds Khom that he's acting like a prostitute, wanting to sleep with the man who he's been hired to guide.

The next morning, on one public beach, while Connor is swimming, Khom is approached by a group of guys (Khom can't get in the water with his injury). One of them is Jun, a local who was once a classmate of Khom's. Jun's family had the money to send him to school on the mainland, and he's returned with his rich friends, making fun of how shabby the island is.

Khom loves the island as fiercely as Mahasamut does, and Jun pisses him off. Jun belittles Khom, and right then Connor reappears and steps in. He puts Jun in his place, taunting him and destroying him and his dignity in front of his rich little friends, until they laugh at Jun and leave him.

Jun is pissed, but Connor is massive, and so he is forced to back down.

Connor then takes Khom back to Mahasamut's truck (that Khom had for the day) and helps him finally vent some emotion. Khom is mad at Jun but swallowing it, and Connor encourages him until Khom finally yells in the car. As a reward, Connor gives Khom a kiss.

Khom wants to be bold a little longer, and so he asks Connor if he can request a bigger award. Connor has been pursuing him all day, and making it clear how badly he wants Khom. The kiss also makes Khom realize that he wasn't dreaming the other night, Connor definitely took advantage of him when he was drunk.

But Khom is so thirsty that he doesn't care right now.

Connor lays Khom's seat down in the truck and gives Khom the best blowjob of his life, but won't let Khom touch him in response. He swallows most of the cum and feeds Khom a little, visibly becoming feral watching Khom shyly lick it off his fingers.

But when Khom wants to return the favor, Connor just straightens up as if nothing happened and drives Khom back home. Khom feels embarrassed and humiliated. Connor is visibly hard in his pants, but clearly he's decided Khom is incapable of taking care of him. As the night goes on, Khom sinks deeper and deeper into just feeling like some slut.

Khom takes Connor to some dive spots over the next day, but Khom has to stay on the boat while Palm dives with Connor, much to Connor's chagrin. Palm clearly knows Connor and Khom are interested in each other, but Khom's leg cannot get wet.

The next day, Khom takes Connor to a secret beach, one of several the locals kind of keep to themselves. It's isolated, pristine, and quiet. Connor wants to have a picnic, but this beach doesn't have a dock, a detail Khom forgot about. To protect Khom's leg, Connor jumps into the water and carries Khom to shore.

Connor and Khom start making out, and a storm hits. They move beneath an overhang and decide to wait out the storm. It is then that Connor asks Khom how old he is.

All this time, Connor has thought Khom was 16-17. Somehow in Connor's mind that translated to jacking off a drunk and protesting Khom was acceptable, as was giving him a blowjob and making endless sexual overtures to him, but letting Khom touch him sexually was not.

When Connor finds out Khom is 19, all bets are off. Connor and Khom pounce on each other, and have sex on the beach for several hours. Khom is shy and easily embarrassed, which turns Connor on. Connor is into sexual sadism, and Khom finds himself overwhelmingly turned on by the hard and rough sex Connor offers.

But after the sex is over, Khom is again embarrassed. Partly for breaking his own rules and sleeping with a client, but also how shamelessly he begged for Connor to be harder and rougher.

Connor calls Khom "honey", but is clear that that nickname is not the term of endearment, but a reference to his honey-colored skin. He'll also call him "baby", and during sex "slut". Khom, hiding his own self-loathing and shame for having sex without any kind of relationship, calls Connor "pervert" constantly.

Connor and Khom are insatiable after their sex on the beach. Khom accepts that he's just a slut, that none of this means anything to Connor, but it feels good. They burn through condoms hard and fast, and Connor shows his truest colors in repeatedly forcing orgasms out of Khom, long after Khom as begged for mercy.

But that's part of what he and Khom both enjoy. Because Khom very much does enjoy it.

Connor also comes to Khom's house to have real, authentic local food made by Khom's mother. He's polite and charming, and interested in learning about Khom. Connor finds out Khom is in college, studying on the mainland to a degree (he's in a small local school in the city where the ferry to the island picks up tourists), and that is as far as Khom has ever been.

Khom expresses some jealousy of friends of his who have been to Bangkok, and how it's a dream of his to go there someday. It's a bit subtle, but he expresses a desire to go further, and some disappointment that he won't.

That night, Connor calls his best friend Tongrak, and makes a few demands.

---

The next evening, as Khom is walking with Connor along a beach, Connor tells Khom that he will be leaving the next day. His vacation time is used up.

Khom is devastated, but tries not to show it. He's fallen in love with Connor over the last week and a half, thoroughly and truly, and while he always knew this day was coming, he is heartbroken. Khom knows he has no right to ask Connor to stay, he's just some islander who spread his legs for the man.

Connor then tells Khom that he'd like it if Khom left with him. He tells Khom he arranged a spot for him at a university, a private dorm, and will give Khom a large living allowance in exchange for Khom sleeping with Connor whenever he asks. Khom won't live with Connor, and Connor will mostly leave him alone, but they'll have sex at least once a week.

Khom is shattered.

He already thought of himself as a slut for throwing himself at a tourist, but Connor's words are shredding what dignity he thought he had in believing their attraction was mutual. Connor knows Khom's family isn't wealthy, and he knows Khom helps his father with work as much as possible, so Connor helpfully mentions Khom can send the money back to his parents to make things easier for them.

But Connor, growing up in privelige, doesn't understand how that sounds. Like he's looking down on Khom's family and what they have. Like he's saying they're so poor that they have to sell their son into sexual slavery just to make ends meet. Khom's family isn't wealthy, but they have as much as they need, and they're happy.

Khom punches Connor and runs away, hiding on a remote beach as he sobs. Everything he thought he had with Connor was a lie. Connor only saw him as some poor island boy who he could make his personal hooker.

Every nasty thing Type said to him is at the foreground of his mind as he processes his and Connor's relationship through an increasingly negative lense.

---

Khom stays out all night, hiding from the world. He doesn't leave the beach until Mahasamut comes to find him there, letting him know that Mut personally saw Connor off onto the boat. He's gone for good.

And he knows what went down. Mut tries to console Khom by saying he should have agreed to it, then made Connor pay not with his money, but with his heart. That's what Mahasamut would do if he was in Khom's shoes.

Khom brushes Mahasamut off, and tries to go back to his life.

But Connor had pissed off Jun a week ago, humiliating him in front of his rich friends and making them dump him in disgrace.

Jun asked around locals who worked at the resort, and found out that Khom was in Connor's room most nights. He also found out the trash of that room was filled with used condoms every day.

Jun jumps Khom outside of a local shop one evening. He picks a fight with Khom, who initially tries to put up a fight in return. Jun outs Khom as gay to the whole island, which takes a lot of the fight out of Khom as Jun loudly yells about all the used condoms in Connor's room and how Khom is some hooker who spread it for money because his family is poor.

And then Jun really brutlly starts wailing on Khom, and Khom's only awareness through the pain is that everyone is just watching. No one is helping him. They look vaguely disgusted (likely at the overall spectacle, but he reads it as them being disgusted with him).

---

Khom loses consciousness, and Jun finally stops. A friend of Mahasamut's in the crowd calls the man, and while Mahasamut rushes to the area, the friend takes Khom to the hospital (you don't get the friend's name, but it's not Palm).

Khom regains consciousness enough to refuse to stay at the hospital, so Mahasamut comes and picks him up. The next time Khom wakes up, he's in Mut's shack, in his bed, with the older guy watching over him.

Mahasamut tells Khom that he bent arms and convinced as many people as he could to keep what Jun said quiet- about him sleeping with Connor and about him being gay. But Khom knows it's impossible for Mahasamut to silence enough people. Word has probably already gotten back to his parents.

Khom is terrified, positive his parents will throw him out for being gay, and feeling like garbage for ever sleeping with Connor. Mahasamut recommends he leave the island and go back to his dorm on the mainland, to give himself some time away for things to quiet down. Khom was already thinking along the same lines.

Mahasamut delivers Khom to the pier looking absolutely horrific, and Khom leaves without ever speaking to his family.

Over the next two weeks, Khom lives in absolute terror. He won't leave his room, barely eats, and can't sleep. Every footstep in the hallway he's scared it's someone coming to attack him for being gay. He won't answer any messages from anyone, and every ring of his phone makes him physically ill.

He also sinks deeper and deeper into every negative thought Connor's offer put into his mind. That he's only a slut, inhuman, delusional for ever thinking anyone could be attracted to him.

---

Connor, meanwhile, hasn't stopped thinking about the fight with Khom. It's eating him alive, and he's become short tempered and angry.

He knows he fucked up, that rage is directed inward. He arranged the university for Khom because he could see Khom's desire to study and grow beyond the confines of the island to learn and see the world.

He arranged the dorm to give Khom a chance to build his own life, because things could end with Connor at any time. That's how dating works. He wanted Khom stable. He mentioned sending money home because he misread Khom's devastation at his offer as Khom worrying about not being able to help his father with work.

And he mentioned sex in exchange because he's always teasing Khom with sex. But he fully understands how Khom could have taken it so wrongly, and is pissed at himself for not chasing after Khom and explaining it all clearly. But Khom blocked his number, and he has no way of reaching him.

Eventually, Connor has pissed Tongrak off enough that his friend tells him to just go talk to Khom. He has no vacation time left, so he flies down to the south on the weekend. He gets ahold of Mahasamut, who only tells him Khom is no longer on the island.

Connor remembers that Khom attended university, and so he gets a hotel on the mainland and intends to search the campus for any sign of him.

---

Desperate to at least forget about Connor, Khom installs a hookup app on his phone. He has thoroughly crashed, and since he's only worthy of being a slut, he will be one. He finds a guy who is a bit old, a bit dumpy, but it's a foreigner who has green eyes.

But when Khom goes to meet the guy, forcing himself to step outside, the man is vastly different from his picture. Khom becomes more and more uncomfortable as the man leads him up to his hotel room, and tries to back out entirely. The man refuses to take no for an answer and drags Khom through the hallway.

Just before the man can throw Khom into his room, Khom is saved by a furious Connor. Connor happened to see Khom in the lobby- this is Connor's hotel- and after weeks feeling guilty for what he did to Khom, he's pissed as all hell to see Khom following some random man up to his room.

Connor drags Khom to his own room and throws him inside, ready to fight. He calls Khom a slut, but Khom becomes immediately defiant. Khom doesn't see himself as having anything left, he's utterly drowning and doesn't know if he can survive, so he cuts off Connor and tells him he accepts the deal. He'll be Connor's personal whore.

Connor is angry, and Khom is determined. He throws Khom on the bed and is extremely rough with him. By the end he's more gentle, forcing Khom to cum until he's numb, and it's time to go to the dorm so Khom can grab a backpack of personal items to leave with Connor.

But Connor was rougher than he'd ever been, and Khom is covered in bruises.

After that, Khom retreats into himself. He barely speaks, and even then only when Connor pushes. The only thing he says of his own volition is begging Connor to not make him get on an airplane (Khom is terrified of flying).

He doesn't know where Connor is taking him. Literally all he knows about Connor is his age, that he's Canadian, and that he speaks Thai. Not how he learned it, not where he lives, not what he does.

Connor relents, and they board a 16 hour bus ride to Bangkok. Khom is extremely uncomfortable. Connor was well beyond his tolerance the previous night, and it physically hurts to even sit on the bus seat. Khom pretends to sleep the whole ride to Bangkok, but he's too sick to his stomach at what he's doing. That he's sold himself.

He let Connor go beyond his tolerance because he believes that as a sex slave, he has no right to say no to Connor. Even if he protests in bed, they are insincere and part of his and Connor's CNC kink they developed on the island. He never fights it, never limits it. Even though it hurt.

Connor watches Khom the whole ride. He feels guilty for the bruises on Khom's sides, and knows he has to be in pain. But Connor can't figure out why the boy let him go that far. He was trying to get Khom to stop him. Pushing the limits so Khom would push back.

He doesn't know what happened the past two weeks, but looking at Khom and really studying him, he can see the boy is way too thin, and there are dark, deep bags under his eyes. He is pale and utterly terrified of something.

The bus hits traffic and they get to Bangkok later than anticipated. Connor can't miss work, if he knew he might have been able to take a personal day, but everything happened too fast, and he has meetings lined up until late at night.

Connor rushes Khom back to his apartment, and it's then that Khom very pitifully asks if Connor lives in Bangkok, then quickly apologizes for asking him anything personal. He also only calls Connor "sir".

Connor realizes that Khom internalized what he'd done on the island- keeping personal information private to the point where Khom thought he had no right to know absolutely anything.

There isn't time to explain, so Connor just tells Khom he can put his things on the sofa, and Connor will be back late that night. Khom pokes around the room a little after Connor leaves, but doesn't touch anything. He was told he could sit on the sofa, so that must be the only spot Connor would let a whore dirty in his home.

He looks out at the city, so overwhelmingly different from home, and spends the day balled up on the sofa crying.

---

That night, Connor comes home to a pitch black apartment. He realized with Khom's question about his personal life what Khom must be thinking, and starts to put the pieces together that Khom genuinely believes he has no rights.

Connor feels crushingly guilty. Khom is a naiive boy, and he's always known this. He wasn't careful enough in how he handled Khom, and knows now Khom must have been in agony their night together before coming to Bangkok.

When Connor sees the dark and empty apartment, his heart breaks. He thinks Khom must have left, fleeing him and his abuse. But then he turns on the light and finds Khom stirring on the sofa.

While Connor is relieved initially, he sees the black bags under Khom's eyes are only worse, and what's more, Khom is still in the same clothes. When he asks Khom, gently, why Khom didn't shower, Khom says Connor didn't give him permission.

Connor's heart breaks, and just when he thinks he can't feel any more guilt for how he's spoken to and treated Khom, he dares to ask if Khom has eaten anything. Khom hasn't, because Connor didn't give him permission to use the refrigerator. Khom references Connor's initial offer, how Khom isn't supposed to be in Connor's personal home, he'll have a spot of his own where he's kept until Connor wants to use him.

Connor tells Khom to forget everything he said on the island. The home is as much Khom's as it is Connor's, and he has complete reign over it. He can sleep in any bed he wants, use the television, use everything he wants right down to Connor's toothbrush if he needs it, and empty the fridge as much as he wants.

Khom showers and Connor tries to coax some emotion out of him by asking Khom what he wants to eat. But every food Khom has heard of in Bangkok (from Type) are pastries, and Connor feels worse and worse seeing the flicker of hope leave Khom's eyes each time he tells Khom he can't have it (the shops are closed, and Khom will probably make himself sick eating sweets after not eating for days).

Khom shuts down again, and tells Connor he will eat whatever Connor wants him to. Connor takes him out and orders too much food, feeling worse and worse as he watches Khom devour it. Khom doesn't eat a lot usually, and how quickly he shovels the food down tells Connor how much he's starved himself.

Before going home, Connor takes him to a grocery store. Khom won't ask for or buy anything, he's acting odd again and has retreated. So Connor leaves him by the entrance to sit while Connor buys more food to fill the fridge up with, plus any prepackaged pastries still left.

Back at the apartment, he puts all the food on a shelf in the fridge and reminds Khom that the whole fridge is his to use as he wants, but also emphasizes that the foods he put there today, Khom should think of as his and his alone. It's Connor's way to try and cover himself- if Khom doens't believe he can use anything in the kitchen, he at least has to believe that there is food that is HIS and he can eat at will.

Connor then gives Khom a cardkey to access the apartment, so Khom can wander freely. There are only two in existence, his and Connor's. Khom finally starts to believe that Connor is sincere, that maybe things will be alright.

And then Connor hands Khom a wad of cash.

From Connor's standpoint: Bangkok is more expensive than the island by a mile. He doesn't want Khom to have to sit around all week until the weekend when Connor can take him places. Doesn't want him dwelling on things in the apartment alone, and wants him to have the freedom to go to pastry shops and see museums, all the things Khom mentioned wanting to do back on the island.

But what Khom sees is Connor giving him his first payment. Reminding him, lest Khom get too happy, that he's nothing more than a prostitute that Connor has bought.

Connor can't figure out why Khom's face goes completely blank. He doesn't even hear Connor anymore, just puts the money at the bottom of his backpack and pulls Connor to the bedroom.

While Connor tries to get Khom to speak to him, Khom strips and lays on the bed, forcing his legs apart and telling Connor to go ahead.

All of Connor's self-loathing and guilt come roaring to the surface. He repeatedly tries to explain to Khom that the money wasn't in exchange for sex, but Khom has completely broken, even further than he knew he could break. He won't listen to the explanations or excuses, he won't hear any of it. He begs Connor to just use him, saying he needs Connor to do it, because he can't take feeling any worse than he already does. He feels worthless and like garbage, and if Connor won't let him do the one thing he thinks he's worth, he won't be able to take it anymore.

Connor snaps. He tells Khom he has no interest in having sex with him, and tells Khom to instead touch himself while Connor watches. He reminds Khom that Khom can't get hard without some pain, and forces Khom to finger himself, even though he's still swollen and bruised from the rough sex 2 nights before.

But Khom is too tired, too heartbroken, and too overwhelmed. Connor unceremoneously extends a leg and shoves his big toe into Khom's ass, and between the pain and Connor's command- which Khom's body has always obeyed above Khom's own will- he's able to get hard.

Eventually, Connor withdraws and Khom's fingers take their place, but he still can't get off. It's exhaustion, the bad kind of pain, and on top of all of that, Connor is glaring at Khom with only cold disgust on his face.

And Khom doesn't know that disgust is turned inward. He thinks Connor is disgusted with him.

Khom's already fragile mind breaks and he starts to openly sob, and tries to get away. Connor climbs onto the bed and starts roughly fingering Khom while making Khom continue stroking himself. He ignores all of Khom's sobbing and pleas for Connor to stop.

In a way, this is what Connor has wanted though- Khom holds everything inside, he keeps everything to himself and doesn't express himself, and that's always been the problem. On the island in the happier times- he never knew how much Khom was internalizing the dirty talk and all of that. How ashamed Khom was of himself every time they had sex.

So Connor takes on a gentler tone and tells Khom to keep crying. Eventually, he manages to make Khom cum, and Khom begs forgiveness for getting off first, and tries to pull at Connor's pants, even though he's still shaking and crying.

Connor punches the bed and storms out of the room, leaving Khom alone in his own cum, still crying.

Connor is utterly disgusted with himself, more than ever before. He likes when he makes Khom cry in bed, but a desperate, horny kind of crying. Not that soul-crushing sadness.

Connor doesn't sleep all night, and neither does Khom. Connor is horrified by his own actions, and vows not to touch Khom sexually again. He also decides to hold off explaining everything. He needs to build Khom back up mentally, to heal his psyche first and foremost.

He intends to build Khom's faith in him through actions, and when Khom is strong enough and has had some good days and full nights of sleep, then explain it all.

The next day, Khom pretends to be asleep when Connor tries to check on him, and Connor leaves to go to work. He leaves work early and raids every pastry store he can find, buying everything Khom mentioned the night before and then anything that Connor thought had sufficient sugar content.

When he gets home, Khom is again gone. But he walks in a few minutes later- he'd gone to the grocery store. Khom won't look at him and is visibly weak. When Connor says he thought Khom might have left him, Khom just says he doesn't have anywhere to go, but will leave if Connor makes him.

Khom thinks Connor is mad about last night, about Khom not being able to satisfy him after Connor paid good money for it. And now he thinks Connor is going to throw him out on the street.

Connor reassures Khom that will never happen. He shows Khom all of the foods and treats he brought, trying to bring any warmth to Khom's face.

A cream puff does the trick. It brings back a little bit of light, and Connor basks in that. When it comes time to go to bed, Khom again thinks he's expected to have sex with Connor, but Connor only holds him, saying he misses his warmth from their nights on the island sharing a bed.

For the first time in weeks, Khom sleeps deeply.

---

Connor takes Khom on a date, bringing him on the metro to the mall he bought all of Khom's treats from, and buying even more, anything Khom's eyes linger on. He also takes Khom to a sit-down restaurant that has southern food, something Khom is more familiar with.

When two girls flirt with Connor, he makes sure they know he belongs to KHOM. Khom is already overwhelmed by how overt a gay couple can be in the city compared to the environment he grew up on, and is both touched and put on edge by how overt Connor is.

That night, Connor realizes with a start that he's acting as mooney with Khom as his father acted when he fell in love with his stepmother, and realizes he's now sincerely fallen in love with Khom.

Things get significally better for Khom from there.

Connor is always gentle with him, asks permission to even touch Khom, and refuses to touch him sexually in any way. The most he allows himself is a peck on the cheek when he comes home from work.

He is also very aware that Khom won't ask him personal questions because of his previous deflection, so Connor makes a point of bringing things up. When his mother calls and Khom's eyes are wide at Connor speaking to her in Thai, Connor goes out of his way to explain that his step-mother is Thai.

Connor tells Khom about his family- his father, his beloved step-mother, and his half-brother. He promises he'll introduce Khom to them when they next come back to Thailand (a yearly trip).

This does help pierce through some of Khom's still present thoughts about being a prostitute. If Connor thought of him as only a sex object, then he wouldn't introduce Khom to his family. That's something you do for a person you like, right?

Khom shyly asks for permission to get a job helping at the kitchen of a small local restaurant. He reassures Connor it won't interfere with his "duties" with Connor, and won't tire him out. Connor is worried about Khom feeling overwhelmed, he's still very much recovering from a massive breakdown, but he won't restrict Khom in any way.

Besides, the work gives Khom money of his own, and Connor is afraid of giving Khom money again, afraid of Khom misunderstanding and going back to his dead-eyed state.

Connor also, after a month, has sex with Khom again. But only because Khom would really like it, and he refuses to do anything rough (even though, again, Khom really likes rough).

This time, to make up for all of the bad in the past, he is as gentle and soft as possible. His goal is to make Khom completely melt with happiness. Eventually they can get back to their wilder sexcapades, but Connor won't risk Khom, not while he's still picking himself back up.

---

More time passes, weeks, and Khom has saved up his money. He feels more secure with Connor now, and is starting to accept that Connor doesn't see him as a prostitute, and probably never has.

Khom has been gone for a long time now, and he gets a message from his old college that he's now missed too many classes and won't be given credit for the year. Khom decides to go and formally withdraw, and go to finally face his parents back on the island.

Connor desperately wants to go with him, but Khom wants a chance to handle things himself. He feels guilty for hiding. He spends his paycheck on gifts for his parents, and a nice handbag for his mother. Khom will go ahead, and in a few days Connor will fly down to join him.

Either to meet Khom's parents as Connor's boyfriend, or to console Khom if they throw him out.

---

Khom leaves for the bus terminal (man will NOT fly). Not long after he leaves, Connor's best friend Tongrak shows up.

Connor wasn't lying to Khom about there only being two keys to the apartment, it's just that the apartment is owned by Tongrak, who has the master key. He cuts the rent for Connor and their actress friend Vivie in exchange for being able to wander in and out of their places whenever he's feeling lonely.

Tongrak is a writer, but is bitterly lonely. He has major aversions to romantic relationships because of family trauma, and relies on his friends when it all becomes too much. Tongrak wanted to meet Khom, he's insanely curious, but he is too late.

Something Tongrak does with Connor when things become too hard is to just sleep with Connor hugging him. To feel physical contact. They've done this since their college days, even though neither has any sexual interest in the other whatsoever, and to be clear this is not a sexual act.

Tongrak flings himself on the bed, ignoring Connor's grumbling that he's laying on Khom's pillow and his perfume is covering Khom's scent. He only means to lay down for a little, but falls asleep.

---

Khom gets to the bus terminal and realizes he mixed up one of Connor's bags for the one his mother's gift is in. He was getting the last bus of the night, but he decides to surprise Connor by going home and leaving in the morning instead.

When Khom gets back to the apartment, he finds it dark, and follows a trail of Tongrak's discarded clothes (man isn't sleeping naked, just to be clear, he just likes wearing layers) to the bedroom he and Connor share.

And finds Connor sleeping curled around a painfully beautiful man Khom has never seen before.

Khom drops the bag he's holding and Connor sleepily calls out "Love?" (in Thai), pulling the man tighter.

Tongrak's name means "Must Love", the "Rak" part, his nickname, meaning "Love". It sounds like a pet name- and what's worse, one Connor never used with Khom.

To Khom, it looks like Connor couldn't wait to replace him with another, more beautiful man the moment he was gone. That Connor must have been just playing house all this time, while keeping his usual men off to the side.

---

Tongrak is woken in the morning by Connor viciously cursing. He woke up to find a note saying only "Goodbye", sitting on top of the original wad of cash he gave Khom on his first night in Bangkok.

Tongrak feels horrific. They figure out Khom must have missed his bus and come home, finding them napping together. Connor has told Khom about his family, but Tongrak never came up. He doesn't know, and it must have looked horrific.

Tongrak is the level head in the moment. While Connor is going insane, Tongrak reminds him that Khom will take the bus, which is a 16 hour ride. The flight, meanwhile, is only a couple hours long and can get him south infinitely faster, and with time to spare.

Connor feels horrible, imagining how much pain Khom must be in. He grabs his things to rush south, pausing only to make one fast stop on his way to the airport.

---

Khom arrives on the island feeling worse than he ever has. He cried the entire bus ride down, and feels more self loathing and disgust than he's ever felt.

But when he gets off the boat, Connor is already there.

In front of absolutely everyone, and at full volume, Connor yells that he loves Khom, and belongs only to Khom. He shows Khom that he's added Khom's name to a tattoo on his back of a tiger- a tattoo Khom always liked to stroke when they had sex.

Khom yells about catching Connor in bed with another man, and begs Connor to just leave him alone. He says that if he's with Connor, he won't be able to stand the pain any more, and is scared that one day he'll end up killing himself.

Connor immediately reassures Khom that Tongrak isn't a lover, but a friend. Tongrak himself is waiting with his phone close by to explain everything the moment Connor calls- though they don't do that until later on.

Khom is in so much pain, but Connor is giving him a lifeline in trying to explain. At least for the moment, to stop the pain for a moment, Khom says he'll believe him, and lets Connor kiss him.

Mahasamut, the shithead who is all about the drama, starts the clapping.

Khom and Connor move to a private area, where Khom listens patiently as Connor explains absolutely everything. Every misunderstanding, his intentions, the meanings behind every action and look, apologizing and begging forgiveness the whole time.

He also calls Tongrak, and Khom speaks to him. Tongrak feels absolutely wretched for causing the misunderstanding, and swears he will also apologize in person.

With everything out in the open, Khom feels better than he has in months. Things are still raw, but he feels safer with Connor, and understands Connor's intentions more.

It isn't total forgiveness- it's mentioned in Love Sea, taking place 5 months later, that Connor is still extremely sensitive to mentions of what happened in Love Sand and Khom still gets angry about it, but they're happy, together, and Khom feels secure enough to bicker and fight with Connor (who always lets Khom win).

Khom goes home with Connor, and while Khom's parents have some questions, they accept his sexuality. They found out about what happened to Khom when Mahasamut appeared at their house the day after Khom fled the island, dragging a bloody Jun with him to crawl on the ground and beg their forgiveness for hurting Khom.

Mahasamut has also spent the months Khom has been away making sure everyone on the island knows the same pain will be brought down on anyone who fucks with someone for being LGBT.

Khom will live with Connor in Bangkok, but for the next several months, he'll return to the island once a month for at least a weekend- possibly up to a week- to be with his parents. Connor agrees, even if it makes him sad that Khom will be gone.

Also, in acknowledgement that it's kind of stupid that Connor had time to get a tattoo and STILL got to the island several hours before Khom, Khom agrees to try flying instead of the day-long bus ride.

When the next school year starts up, Khom will go to the university in Bangkok that Connor and Tongrak had arranged before Connor proposed his disaster of a deal back when they first met. Connor will support him through his studies, and promises to never limit Khom in any way.

Khom also receives a long text from Type. Over the months since he last saw Khom, Type has fallen in love with his roommate Tharn, and the two are now a couple. He begs Khom's forgiveness for everything cruel he said- both on the beach to Khom's face, and over the years that Khom has been by his side as a friend.

Khom forgives Type, and the two maintain a social media friendship, not meeting up in Bangkok, but staying in contact via SMS. Having Type back in his life as a friend helps soothe a lot of the remaining pain, and Khom feels more stable and secure than ever... Even though Connor feels a bit insecure that Khom is texting with his first love again...

By the timeline of Love Sea, Connor and Khom are mostly past their issues from Love Sand, and Connor has brought Khom to Canada to give him his first taste of international travel and show him the world. Khom has also been accepted by Connor's family, quickly becoming a welcome addition and favorite.

Meanwhile, Connor and Khom start to turn their attention on Tongrak, and think it might be a fun kind of chaos to send Connor's favorite annoyance (Tongrak) to meet Khom's favorite annoyance (Mahasamut).

Though neither can seem to decide if they'll hit it off, or if Mahasamut will annoy Tongrak to death...

#love sea #love sand #khom #kom #connor #connorkhom #connorkom #mahasamut #tongrak

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fallenclan · 9 hours

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so!! starting off to say Moon 263 [part 2] might be one of my favorite fallenclan updates ever. here are some more specific thoughts because i have A Lot

the first panel with the "not actually chosen" ones chatting is so nice. the colors for this update are so tasty and really have a mystical vibe, but i especially like this first panel with the mushrooms. also, the textboxes look so neat overlapping. i like how wolfbite is quieter and not saying much while feathersight is speaking the most. it can be inferred that he's explaining about how starclan/the glowcave usually works with darkstone and honeysong occasionally adding on, and at the end wolfbite is just like "all right guys, i get it."

the way the starclan cats are drawn is so cool... the "fading" effect that makes them look all watery, as if bits and pieces of them are drifting away?? incredible. i love it! i also really like how the stc textboxes are a different shade. it's just a neat detail. the star effects surrounding them is so pretty also. i just love how you draw the starclan cats in general, they look so magical. i like how away from the glowcave, their colors bleed past the lines, but at the glowcave they appear more solid, as if they're stronger there. i just,, i love it

the cameos! omg. i literally never thought i would see nick again but here we are. i'm a big fan of all the appearances!!

silverbelly is adorable. i love how excited feathersight is to see her. also, when she first appears, i like the detail of darkstone sweating. despite being a medicine cat, he's literally never seen a fully formed starclan cat before. he's nervous!! wolfbite looks shocked but i feel like this is more about the idea of her being "special" rather than seeing silverbelly tbh. she's like "damn i guess i actually am plot relevant."

salmonskip... i was so happy to see her... she's such a goober. nick's "we all had our own cats we hoped would come" was such a fun line as well for its thought provoking effect. i feel like it's a nod to how there were so many different "fourth cat" theories in the discord server but i could be wrong. we all had our ideas! now i'm super curious as to who nick was rooting for... and also who each of the previous leaders wanted (should i send another ask with my theories on who specific starclan cats wanted to be the fourth cat?)

big fan of the "you weren't actually chosen, you chose yourself" yada yada. wonderful! i love choosing your own destiny narratives. i'm sure nothing bad will happen to our little feline heroes

sleepycloud :(

"you sound different than i thought you would" - honeysong, had me in shambles. honeysong is older than lionsong was when he died... he looks so young here

poppyfeather made me laugh. i love the "not that this isn't heartwarming..." that i read in a 100% sarcastic tone. she is not in the mood for happy reunions!! she has a dictator to depose, guys. time to see her vengeful trait come into effect...

the ending! darkstone and honeysong look so envigorated whereas feathersight looks exhausted and wolfbite... looks ready to "do what has to be done." i love how happy she was to see sandsnap, and then how her happiness is buried once the poppyfeather and cherrystar step in with their plan, as if seeing sandsnap only strengthened her desire for revenge.

i had a dream after this post where the squad was about to confront ravenstar and he was all like "you thought i didn't know about your little schemes? cute." and his little gang rolled up (sleepydawn, flamefall, levi, patchback, etc.). i don't remember much else of what happened but i woke up like " oh no . . . the little guys are in danger . . . " anyway this segues into my prediction that there will be at least one death as a direct consequence of their attempt to depose ravenstar.

-🐉 (giggling and swinging my feet)

as always dragon... you literally never miss

i'm so glad you picked up on the textbox thing, you basically got it in one!!! feathersight and honeysong explaining helpfully, darkstone chiming in with his little snips and jokes, wolfbite talking less because she's got somewhat of a listening role there etc

IT WAS SO FUN TO DRAW THEM LIKE THAT... the white lines made it kind of difficult to see the white cats (looking at you sleepycloud) but otherwise. so fun. your assumption is correct, they're more solid there than they are as ghosts, and then in Starclan they arent wispy at all, just faintly glowing with those white lines (though they're so fun to draw like this i might have to just draw the ghosts like this always. idk)

cameos!! Nick was a special request from my sibling that I agreed with wholeheartedly. he was so silly

"damn I guess I actually am plot relevant" LMAO

yup it was a nod to all the guesses!! if i had infinite time and energy i would have put in more starclan cats as nods to specific guesses (Canarywish aka the greatest red herring I ever fished comes to mind), but alas. and you KNOW id love to hear all your thoughts fuck yes!!! (I didn't have anyone in particular in mind for Nick, but if I had to choose I'd say he was hoping for Snailpetal as well, she's his only surviving descendant)

i'm sure nothing will happen ! nothing bad at all!

sleepycloud :( indeed. i will let slip that i've got some plans as far as the sleepydawn situation but that's all i'll say about that for now

SHES ALMOST TWICE THE AGE HE WAS WHEN HE DIED... i always forget how young Lionsong was. not even 30 moons :(

i love Poppyfeather she is ALL business. "listen you guys can come back to the glow cave literally any time after we kill ravenstar's bitch ass can we get on with it pls"

YES EXACTLY!! Honeysong and Darkstone are the Young Optimistic ones, Feathersight is very cautiously optimistic but has seen a lot of shit and is more realistic about the odds they're facing, Wolfbite is in Get Shit Done mode. she's locked in. her thirst for blood has died down a bit upon seeing her dad and now it is HER job to save her clan. weight of the world on this poor girl's shoulders

i'm sure there will be no consequences. dont worry

#fallenasks #dragon anon

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clarisse0o · 2 days

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 75

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

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Saturday, March 26th; 10:00 AM - Lucy and Ona’s Apartment.

"Come on, call her. You’re not going to stare at that phone all day, we’ve got other things to do," teased Lucy, who had just come out of the bathroom.

I groan to show my displeasure, but eventually, I dial my mom’s number. It was time to handle it, and I couldn't keep putting it off. The ringing tone echoed... for a long time... When it stopped, I was ready to speak, my mouth open, but I got her voicemail instead. My heart relaxed at this. I don't know why, but I felt relieved. I immediately hung up.

"I got her voicemail."

Lucy laughed. She definitely noticed my reaction.

"Well, better luck next time. Go get ready, or we’ll be late."

"You’re the one who spent forever in the bathroom."

"Oh, so now it’s my fault, huh?" she laughed as I was already heading down the hallway. "Remind me, who didn’t want to get out of bed?" she shouted so I could hear her.

"At eight-thirty, I had every reason to stay in bed!" I yelled back from the bathroom.

I could hear her laughing as I started putting on my makeup. It was the last thing I had to do. Lucy had wanted to take a shower, so I couldn’t access my things earlier because I wanted to give her some privacy. She needs to understand that weekends are sacred too. Not all of us are motivated to go jogging in the morning. I’ll never understand her on that. We’re supposed to grab brunch with our friends before heading to the gym. It’ll be good to all be together again. Aitana and Beth are supposed to join us later in the day, according to Lucy. I was finishing my makeup with mascara when my phone rang. I groaned seeing my mom’s face on the screen. Lucy came over at that moment, already making fun of me.

"Answer it, or I will."

"Definitely not."

I rolled my eyes, picking up my phone from beside the sink. She’s been pushing me to do this since yesterday, and I have to admit, she’s right. Otherwise, I’d never do it. I answered the call and held the phone to my ear with my shoulder while finishing my second eye.

"Hello?"

"Ona! Did you try to call me? Is everything okay?"

"Hey. Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Am I disturbing you?"

"I just got out of surgery. I operated early this morning. Well, more like last night. I’m about to grab some coffee. Are you sure everything’s okay? You rarely call me."

I smiled despite myself. I’ve always admired my mom for her work, even though it cost her a lot in terms of family life. It takes a lot of mental strength and confidence to perform surgeries. She’s a general surgeon. When Mapi needed surgery, she wasn’t the one to handle the case, but I know she made sure to be involved in every procedure for my sake.

"I’m fine, really. I just wanted to call to apologize, that’s all."

"Apologize?" she whispered. "For what?"

"For my behavior last time," I said plainly. "We left without me getting a chance to talk to you again. So yeah, I’m sorry. My reaction wasn’t directed at you."

"Oh... You don’t need to apologize, Ona. I completely understand."

I smiled like an idiot. She really thinks Mapi didn’t tell me how worried she was. From what I’ve heard, she was scared to death, yet here she is acting like nothing happened.

"No, it’s important. I need you to know my anger wasn’t directed at you," I said, smiling at my girlfriend, who finally turned around when she saw everything was fine.

"Alright... well, thank you for calling."

"I also wanted to let you know that we’ll definitely be attending your wedding, in case that wasn’t clear."

"Really?"

"Of course. We wouldn’t miss it."

"Will Lucy be coming?"

"Yes, that’s who I meant by ‘we.’ I hope that’s not a problem?" I teased.

"Oh no, no. We’d be delighted and honored!"

"Great... So, when is it again?"

"June 18th. I... Ona?"

"Yes?"

"I know it’s not the kind of thing you ask over the phone, and I’d understand if you say no, but... I’d like you to be my maid of honor, if you agree. You don’t have to answer right away, it’s just that—"

"Mom," I interrupted. "Calm down. I..."

I took a deep breath. This was hard for me, but I was doing it to keep my promise to my dad. He wanted me to be there when it happened.

"I accept. No problem."

"Really...?"

The surprise in her voice was obvious. A small smile formed on my lips.

"Yeah, it seems so," I teased.

"You know, if you’re feeling obligated or anything..."

"Stop. I accept, that’s it. Don’t make me change my mind."

"It really means a lot to me, Ona, truly."

"I figured."

"I’ll make sure to pay for your dresses, for both you and Lucy. We’ll pick them out together, so they’ll match."

"Whoa, slow down," I laughed. "We’ve got time."

"Can you come during your vacation? You know you’re always welcome at home, even though you’ve chosen to live with her in Manchester."

"I know, but we won’t be around this vacation. We’re visiting Grandpa and Lucy’s parents in Portugal."

"Really?" she asked, surprised. "She’s from Lisbon too? You’re meeting her parents?"

"She’s from Porto. We’re doing one week with Grandpa, then one week with her family. I still need to call him to see if he can host us."

"Oh, knowing him, he won’t say no. He’ll be thrilled to meet Lucy."

"Yeah, I’m not worried about that."

"Don’t be afraid to meet Lucy’s parents either. I’m sure it’ll go well."

"We’ll see," I sighed. "I should hang up, we’re supposed to meet for brunch," I said as Lucy reappeared, tapping her wrist.

"Oh really?With who?"

"We’re meeting our friends at eleven."

"Oh, well, I won’t keep you then. Have a great day, and let me know when you’re coming back to Barcelona."

"No problem, I’ll talk to Lucy, and we’ll keep in touch. Have a good day."

One last goodbye, and I hung up. Lucy immediately came over as I was putting away my makeup.

"Talk to me about what?"

I laughed, shaking my head. She looked so innocent, but I was sure she had listened to the whole conversation.

- Going back to Barcelona.

- Again? she groaned. That’s all we ever do!

- Oh, don’t complain. We’ve only been there twice together. And I think I just agreed to be her maid of honor. I don’t know what came over me.

Lucy laughed and wrapped her arms around me from behind, kissing the top of my head.

- Well, I’m proud of you. I assume everything went well?

- Yeah... she acted like everything was fine, as if nothing had happened. That’s a first.

- Well, that’s good, then. And why do we have to go back to Barcelona?

- She wants us to choose our dresses with her... and be matching.

- Wonderful, she teased.

- Hey, I said, turning towards her. Don’t make fun of me! I wouldn’t mind matching with you.

- That’s not the problem. It’s that I’ll have to endure another shopping session with the mother-daughter duo.

- Well, I have to meet your parents for the first time in a few weeks, I laughed in return. We all have our challenges, babe.

- That’s true, she replied, giving me a playful smack as I walked out.

I’d learned my lesson from last time, so I didn’t react to her playful gesture. We’d moved past that, and she didn’t catch me off guard this time.

- Did you remember to bring your design ideas?

I froze mid-step and turned back around.

- What would I do without you… I mumbled, making Lucy laugh.

I headed back to our bedroom to grab them. She wanted me to bring my ideas since she hadn’t had a chance to look at them this morning. After grabbing them, I got dressed to go out, and we left to meet our friends downtown. We’d noticed that the little Italian restaurant next to the gym offered brunch, so it didn’t take us long to decide to try it out today. The renovations were coming along great. We had time to finish up the locker room prep before the furniture arrived next week. Someone was coming to check if the plumbing was usable as it was. If so, Lucy said it would leave us with a little extra budget, though she wasn’t too hopeful. The place was pretty old and had been heavily used. When we arrived, I wasn’t surprised to see we were the first ones there. Lucy’s an early riser and hates being late. I’ve been on the receiving end of that before, and once was enough for me.

- So, when’s the wedding? You didn’t tell me the date.

- Oh, right. Uh, June eighteenth, I think.

- You *think*? she teased.

- It’s definitely the eighteenth. Are you done now?

She laughed as I playfully hit her shoulder. Looks like she’s in a teasing mood today.

- Oh, relax, I’m kidding. Maybe we can go after your exams, yeah? We’ll be on vacation, so we might as well enjoy it. It’ll take your mind off waiting for your results.

- Really? But what if I have interviews? And what about the gym?

- We’ll make sure you have a school and a gallery lined up before you leave Camp Wiegman.

- Easier said than done...

- Are you done complaining yet? I heard from behind. We can hear you from the other end of the restaurant.

- Oh, shut up! I snapped playfully at my best friend.

- Hey, cutie pie.

I smiled as I stood up to hug her. I’d missed her. It’s about time she moved here so we could properly catch up.

- Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve heard that nickname.

- No kidding!

I greeted Ingrid as well. Mapi sat beside me at the head of the table, and Ingrid across from me after greeting my girlfriend too. Mapi and I exchanged goofy smiles. Looks like I wasn’t the only one who missed this connection.

- So, Miss "I’m stressed about my exam," how’s it going?

- I’m fine, I chuckled. Are you mocking me?

- Oh no, she laughed. It’s just funny. You weren’t like this in high school, and I never imagined you’d turn into this.

- Well, people change, what can I say, I responded with a genuine smile.

- What’s new since I’ve been gone?

- Not much.

- Really? she raised an eyebrow.

- Yeah, honestly, nothing major, I said, glancing at Lucy. Everything’s going well. I’m looking for a gallery, we’re working on the gym, and I’m studying for my exam... that’s about it.

- So, what’s the update on that interview you had? The big gallery, she probed.

- Fields hasn’t changed their mind. I don’t think I’ll accept, but for now, I haven’t heard back from the other galleries, so it’s tricky...

- Stop worrying.

- I’m a month away from taking my exam and I’m without a school. I have every reason to worry, I replied.

Lucy rolled her eyes. It’s been a bit tense between us regarding this. She takes it so lightly that I wonder if she’s hiding something from me again. Luckily, Alexia and Jenni arrived at that moment. We greeted them and ordered right after they settled in. We didn’t want to drag things out since we had a lot to do today.

Saturday, March 26th; 1:00 PM - Gym

It was just Ale, Mapi, and me in the break room, finishing up stripping the wallpaper. There was one wall left, and the goal was to have it ready for painting tomorrow. Our girlfriends were in the locker room since the others hadn’t shown up yet. The plumber finally arrived, and Lucy wanted to be there for the assessment. I didn’t mind. It was nice to hang out with my friends. The atmosphere was great, even while working.

- So, notice anything? Ale asked Mapi with a mischievous grin.

- Notice what?

I gave Alexia a wide-eyed look as she smiled slyly. She knew Mapi wasn’t up to date on the progress of my relationship with Lucy. I turned bright red as Ale motioned towards me with her head. Mapi, who was between us, stared at me.

- Well? What don’t I know yet?

Alexia burst out laughing. I didn’t find it funny. There’s no need to make a big deal out of every milestone in my relationship.

- Your best friend became a grown-up last weekend.

Mapi gasped and smacked my arm hard.

- Ouch! I exclaimed, rubbing my arm.

- And you didn’t even tell me!? When? How? You better tell me everything to make up for it!

Alexia was laughing hysterically. I couldn’t help but follow suit, despite myself. This was exactly why I didn’t want her to know. She always has to give me the third degree.

- You couldn’t help yourself, could you? I scolded Ale.

- Nope, I had to share! It was too memorable and funny to keep to myself. You should’ve seen her, covered in hickeys and grinning ear to ear the next morning, she told Mapi.

They both started laughing. Okay, maybe I was on a high at the time. Hearing how she described me now made me feel really embarrassed.

- So, how did it happen?

- It just... did.

"It just did"? Do you think that’s a satisfying answer for me?

Stop. Seriously, it wasn’t planned at all. It just happened, that’s all. And it was good. She was really great with me. That's it. You won’t get more details.

I stuck my tongue out at her when she groaned.

"I can’t believe you hid this from me again!"

"Hid what?" Lucy asked, just walking into the room.

Oh no, that’s all I needed. We all know how she reacts to Mapi in these situations.

"Oh, nothing. You just need to know how your girlfriend is so mute and stubborn," Mapi pouted.

"Hmm… I think she’s improving. At least with me."

I smiled as Lucy wrapped her arms around me from behind, rocking me gently. I leaned into her embrace.

"Can you come with me? I need your help," she whispered in my ear.

"Really? Well, sure, if you want."

She let go, and I took her hand to follow her. It was the perfect time to be honest. Maybe Mapi would forget about this whole thing… though I’m probably being too hopeful. Before we left, my girlfriend added:

"By the way, we’re thinking of going out to a bar tonight with the others. So, if you're not up for a night at The United, now's your chance to have a girls’ night."

Her suggestion surprised me, but of course, my best friend jumped at it.

"Oh, that’s a great idea!" Mapi exclaimed. "What do you think? Since I’m already here."

"Yeah, why not," Ale agreed.

"We’ll talk about it when I get back, to figure out whose place we’ll go to," I said.

The girls agreed before I left with Lucy. She led me to the main room.

"So, what about the guy? Did he give you a rundown of what’s working and what’s not?"

"Yeah. We could keep the plumbing, but he can’t guarantee it’ll last another three years, so instead of taking the risk and redoing everything later, we’re just going to replace it now."

"Ouch... That’s a shame."

Lucy shrugged and gave me a small smile.

"It’s fine. We anticipated this. He’ll give us a quote to see how much it’ll cost since we’re not doing it ourselves."

"That makes sense. Painting and demolishing is one thing, but this is more complicated."

"Exactly."

We reached the main room, where I noticed the guys had arrived, along with a woman I didn’t recognize. I slowed down when I saw that she was holding my sketches, the ones I had given to Lucy earlier in the day. She was tall, about Lucy’s height, with a normal build and heels. She was charismatic, with long, silky black hair and lightly made-up blue eyes. Lucy smiled at me, seeing my hesitation.

"Don’t be shy. Come on," she said, pulling me forward.

"What’s this about now?"

"Oh, here she is," Beth said when he saw me. "Hey Ona."

"Hey..."

I went around, greeting everyone, including the woman holding my drawings. I quickly returned to Lucy, who had opened her arms, letting me snuggle into her.

"Let me introduce you to Grace," Beth said. "She has an art degree, but she mainly works as a street artist. She’s the one who did the decoration at my paintball place."

"Wow," I said, remembering the place. "Well, congratulations. You’re really talented. I loved what I saw."

"What she means is, she was completely blown away by it," my girlfriend embellished.

Grace laughed, shaking the papers in her hand.

"Thank you, I’m flattered. I could say the same about you. You’re very talented."

"Thank you," I replied, blushing.

I smiled shyly, sinking further into Lucy’s arms. I don’t handle compliments about my work well since I’m not used to people looking at it. Lucy smiled at me, kissing my temple.

"I imagine you’re not here for no reason?"

"No, indeed," Grace smiled. "Beth and I recently reconnected, and he’s been talking about you and how hard you’ve been searching for a gallery. It just so happens that I recently opened one myself to start working more seriously after all these years."

I listened carefully. No… Don’t tell me...? I glanced at Lucy, who was grinning mischievously. I couldn’t believe it! She surprised me again.

"It turns out I was supposed to collaborate with a friend who backed out at the last minute. The gallery’s already open, but I’m not keen on hiring someone when I’ve just launched it."

"You mean…"

"I’d like you to come work with me. As an apprentice, of course. You’d cost me less, and based on what I have in my hands, you’re talented. Our styles are very different, but I think we could complement each other. Plus, with your management degree, you’d be a great help to me."

"Oh, I’m not sure you should rely too much on that degree..."

She laughed heartily. I guess I’ve said enough times that management isn’t my strong suit.

"Well, what I mean is that your résumé is interesting to me. So, if you're up for it, we could do a trial at my gallery to see if you like it. Of course, the condition is that you need to get your diploma first… Although, to be honest, I’d take you anyway, but your girlfriend here doesn’t seem too fond of that idea, from what she just told me."

I smiled broadly. I playfully hit Lucy’s chest, pushing her away slightly. She laughed.

"You hid everything from me again! You’re unbelievable!"

"Hey, I didn’t know," she defended herself. "Beth just told me this morning that she was bringing someone for you today."

"Is that true?" I asked her.

"Yeah," Beth replied, amused.

"I hesitated a lot," Grace admitted. "I hope you’re ready to work because there’s no shortage of it."

"I’m not afraid of that."

"Good, then there won’t be any problem," she said. "Lucy told me you’re going on vacation soon, but if you’re up for it, you could visit the gallery one weekend and do a trial run, like a day or two, to see if it works for both of us."

"Yeah, we’ll arrange that," Lucy agreed. "Maybe we could exchange contact info to stay in touch?"

"Sure," Grace said with a smile. "I’ll handle the arrangements with your school. I’ve got some former professors who might be able to help you secure a spot."

"Thank you so much. I really don’t know what to say."

"Oh, don’t thank me. You’ll be just as helpful to me, so I’m happy to help in return. I hope this will turn into something good for both of us. Who knows, maybe if the sales go well, I’ll be glad to keep you on afterward."

I was thrilled and incredibly relieved. A huge weight was starting to lift off my shoulders. We exchanged contact information and promised to keep in touch. She left shortly after, and I kissed Lucy deeply without hesitation. I really hoped this would work out.

"Oh my God. I can’t believe it’s real. Thank you so much, Beth."

"No problem," she replied. "I’m glad I could help. It wasn’t even planned. We just happened to reconnect, and I mentioned you. She immediately showed interest. From what I just saw, it looks like she likes you too."

"Same here. She’s really cool. Nothing like Fields, for example."

"Oh, definitely," Lucy agreed. "So, are you good now? Can you relax?"

I stuck my tongue out at her in response. She laughed heartily. Unlike me, she had never doubted, and honestly, it felt good. Even when I couldn’t believe in myself, she was always there to remind me that anything was possible. And today, I had proof. I’d found a gallery. This was going to be the new driving force in my life. In our life. I no longer had to consider Fields’ offer, and I was so happy. I could finally turn it down with no regrets.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Now, should we get back to work?"

"Yep."

"Come with me. Let’s go over your sketches and see what we can come up with."

I smiled, following her to the back rooms. I couldn’t wait to start this project. Even though they were just small images without much cohesion yet, I was sure Lucy’s imagination would help bring them to life. And so, our day continued.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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flythesail · 1 year

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Alright my nace people! I think we all just need to

#some of those arguments.. good angst #plus nancy being the first one ace calls when something horrible happens and nancy showing right up- i-#i think they spent too much time with the ghost though #main thing is it worries me that it feels like we need to take a big leap to get nace back together #however... something something life is precious... something something nancy's role in things will make a decision more immediate #idk i do worry because we only have one chance to get it all right #but they did pack a lot into 3x13 for example #and just generally speaking i want to be hopeful now #i have the rest of time to be disappointed.. and i want to enjoy this last week as much as i can #nace #nancy drew cw #nancy drew #nancy drew spoilers #flythepost

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skunkes · 11 months

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#something he keeps saying lately #also idk how to word this but my stuff almost never looks good when i flip the canvas but aiming for symmetrical too Stiff #i hope my stuff is at least a Good wonky and not a ''dude this looks so bad you just cant tell yet'' wonky...#i want it to look like i made it bad on purpose not like its bad because im just unskilled....#but it definitely is not ever on purpose or in an informed; breaking the rules ive learned way lol.#<- speaking generally here bc as of rn i dont think this doodle Sucks its just lopsided i think...thats what the canvas flip says at least #i always say this but i wish i cld switch between my perception of my stuff and someone else's perception #i hate feeling so in the dark about my own stuff. i wont even be able to tell if this sucks bad until anywhere from one day to 5 years #from now. ykwim.#a doodley #ok gn ^_^

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longagoitwastuesday · 3 months

Note

So so indebted to u for posting those lovely illustrations from Cyrano <333 & even more so for yr tags!! I'm completely in love w yr analysis, please feel free to ramble as long as u wish! Browsing through yr Cyrano de Bergerac tag has given me glimpses of so many adaptations & translations I'd never heard of before! I'll be watching the Solès version next, which I have only discovered today through u ^_^ As for translations, have u read many/all of them? I've only encountered the Renauld & Burgess translations in the wild, & I was curious to hear yr translation thoughts that they might guide my decision on which one I buy first (not necessarily Renauld or Burgess ofc). Have a splendid day & sorry for the likespam! 💙

Sorry for the delay. Don't mind the likespam, I'm glad you enjoyed my tags about Cyrano, and that they could contribute a bit to a further appreciation of the play. I loved it a lot, I got obsessed with it for months. It's always nice to know other people deeply love too that which is loved haha I hope you enjoy the Solès version, it may well be my favourite one!

About translations, I'm touched you're asking me, but I don't really know whether mine is the best opinion to ask. I have read... four or five English translations iirc, the ones I could find online, and I do (and especially did, back when I was reading them) have a lot of opinions about them. However, nor English nor French are my first languages (they are third and fourth respectively, so not even close). I just read and compare translations because that's one of my favourite things to do.

The fact is that no translation is perfect, of course. I barely remember Renauld's, but I think it was quite literal; that's good for understanding the basics of the text, concepts and characters, but form is subject, and there's always something that escapes too literal translations. Thomas and Guillemard's if I recall correctly is similar to Hooker's in cadence. It had some beautiful fragments, some I preferred over Hooker's, but overall I think to recall I liked Hooker's more. If memory serves, Hooker's was the most traditionally poetic and beautiful in my opinion. Burgess' is a whole different thing, with its perks and drawbacks.

Something noticeable in the other translations is that they are too... "epic". They do well the poetic, sorrowful, grief stricken, crushed by regrets aspects of Cyrano and the play in general, but they fall quite short in the funny and even pathetic aspects, and that too is key in Cyrano, both character and play. Given the characteristics of both languages, following the cadence of the French too literally, with those long verses, makes an English version sound far too solemn at times when the French text isn't. Thus Burgess changes the very cadence of the text, adapting it more to the English language. This translation is the one that best sets the different moods in the play, and as I said before form is subject, and that too is key: after all, the poetic aspect of Cyrano is as much true as his angry facet and his goofy one. If Cyrano isn't funny he isn't Cyrano, just as he wouldn't be Cyrano without his devotion to Roxane or his insecurities; Cyrano is who he is precisely because he has all these facets, because one side covers the other, because one trait is born from another, because one facet is used as weapon to protect the others, like a game of mirrors and smoke. We see them at different points through the play, often converging. Burgess' enhances that. He plays with the language itself in form and musicality, with words and absences, with truths masking other truths, with things stated but untold, much like Cyrano does. And the stage directions, poetic and with literary value in their own right in a way that reminded me of Valle Inclán and Oscar Wilde, interact with the text at times in an almost metatextual dimension that enhances that bond Cyrano has with words, giving them a sort of liminal air and strengthening that constant in the play: that words both conceal and unveil Cyrano, that in words he hides and words give him away.

But not all is good, at all. Unlike Hooker, Burgess reads to me as not entirely understanding every facet of the characters, and as if he didn't even like the play all that much, as if he had a bit of a disdainful attitude towards it, and found it too mushy. Which I can understand, but then why do you translate it? In my opinion the Burgess' translation does well bending English to transmit the different moods the French text does, and does pretty well understanding the more solemn, cool, funny, angry, poetic aspects of Cyrano, but less so his devotion, vulnerability, insecurities and his pathetism. It doesn't seem to get Roxane at all, how similar she is to Cyrano, nor why she has so many admirers. It does a very poor job at understanding Christian and his value, and writes him off as stupid imo. While I enjoyed the language aspect of the Burgess translation, I remember being quite angry at certain points reading it because of what it did to the characters and some changes he introduces. I think he did something very questionable with Le Bret and Castel-Jaloux, and I remember being incensed because of Roxane at times (for instance, she doesn't go to Arras in his version, which is a key scene to show just how much fire Roxane has, and that establishes several parallels with Cyrano, in attitude and words, but even in act since she does a bit what Cyrano later does with the nuns in the last act), and being very angry at several choices about Christian too. While not explicitly stated, I think the McAvoy production and the musical both follow this translation, because they too introduce these changes, and they make Christian as a character, and to an extent the entire play, not make sense.

For instance, once such change is that Christian is afraid that Roxane will be cultured (McAvoy's version has that infamous "shit"/"fuck" that I detest), when in the original French it's literally the opposite. He is not afraid she will be cultured, he is afraid she won't, because he does love and appreciate and admires those aspects of her, as he appreciates and admires them in Cyrano. That's key! Just as Cyrano longs to have what Christian has, Christian wants the same! That words escape him doesn't mean he doesn't understand or appreciate them. The dynamics make no sense without this aspect, and Burgess (and the productions that directly or indirectly follow him) constantly erases this core trait of Christian.

Another key moment of Christian Burgess butchers is the scene in Arras in which Christian discovers the truth. Burgess writes their discussion masterfully in form, it's both funny and poignant, but it falls short in concept: when Cyrano tells him the whole discussion about who does Roxane love and what will happen, what they'll do, is academic because they're both going to die, Christian states that dying is his role now. This destroys entirely the thing with Christian wanting Roxane to have the right to know, and the freedom to choose, or to refuse them both. As much as Cyrano proclaims his love for truth and not mincing words even in the face of authority, Cyrano is constantly drunk on lies and mirages, masks and metaphors. It's Christian who wants it all to end, the one who wants real things, the one who wants to risk his own happiness for the chance of his friend's, as well as for the woman he loves to stop living in a lie. That is a very interesting aspect of Christian, and another aspect in which he is written as both paralleling and contrasting Cyrano. It's interesting from a moral perspective and how that works with the characters, but it's also interesting from a conceptual point of view, both in text and metatextually: what they hold most dear, what they most want, what most fulfills them, what they most fear, their different approaches to life, but also metatextually another instance of that tears/blood motif and its ramifications constant through the whole text. Erasing that climatic decision and making him just simply suicidal erases those aspects of Christian and his place in the Christian/Cyrano/Roxane dynamic, all for plain superficial angst, that perhaps hits more in the moment, but holds less meaning.

Being more literal, and more solemn, Hooker's translation (or any of the others, but Hooker's seems to love the characters and understand them) doesn't make these conceptual mistakes. Now, would I not recommend reading Burgess' translation? I can't also say that. I had a lot of fun reading it, despite the occasional anger and indignation haha Would I recommend buying it? I recommend you give an eye to it first, if you're tempted and can initially only buy one.

You can read Burgess' translation entirely in archive.com. You can also find online the complete translations of Renauld, Hooker and Thomas and Guillemard. I also found a fifth one, iirc, but I can't recall it right now (I could give a look). You could read them before choosing, or read your favourite scenes and fragments in the different translations, and choose the one in which you like them better. That's often what I do.

Edit: I've checked to make sure and Roxane does appear in Arras in the translation. It's in the introduction in which it is stated that she doesn't appear in the production for which the translation was made. The conceptualisation of Roxane I criticise and that in my opinion is constant through the text does stay, though.

#I have a lot of opinions about translations in general tbh but this is not a semi clear case like in Crime and Punishment #in which there's one detail that a translation must do for me to recommend it (it used to be the one but now in English several do it)#I wouldn't recommend Burgess as a first approach to the play‚ but having already read the play and knowing the text and characters #and how Burgess may modify it‚ then I wouldn't not recommend it because it is the best in form in many aspects #And while he fails in direct concept‚so to speak‚ form is particularly important in this play and in conveying concept and characterisatio #So idk personal taste is it I guess? Again I am not an English or French native #I vehemently recommend reading the play in French if you can and haven't done so already #Even best if you want a translation to read the translation alongside the French text #to see how the translation bends the play in form and subject #Anyway... Sorry for the long delay and the too long reply. I always end up talking too much #Oh by the way I think I saw you talk about the blood/tears motif in the act IV in some tags? It's not just act IV #The tears/soul motif is repeated through the entire text linked to Cyrano and is opposed to the body of Christian #That's why the culmination in the last act and the tears in the fourth hit so much #Like the constant of Cyrano being linked to the moon and the darkness while Roxane is the sun and the light #And also I would argue the 'pearled perfection of her smile' is not an unidentifiable trait or intangible #It's poetic and metaphoric but it's a description of her teeth. Small‚ straight‚ white. Perfect teeth. That wasn't so common back then #It's quite common in classic literature to find poetic references of good teeth spoken of in these terms #Anyway...#I hope you'll find some use in this that would make the insufferable wall of text worth some of the time at least #After all time spent is a little death. I would have hated to kill a fragment of you for nothing haha #Cyrano de Bergerac #Did I tag asks? I usually delete them after a while so I think I didn't? I never recall #I talk too much #That will suffice #Hmmm it's useless in any case. I think I've talked for over twenty tags before tagging that #A wall of text and somehow I ramble in the tags nonetheless ugh #I will reread this in a bit to see if it's coherent enough. The little screen of the phone always makes me lose track of things when I writ

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