#and since no one had been here i assume it was the thing in the ceiling bc parts of the ceiling is peeling off and underneath it it kind of

[immortalmrwavell]

Getting The Job

(Original story posted November 7th 2021. Original story title “Better Life, Cop Life”) This story has been mildly Updated!

Recently Eric’s life had been going down the drain. First he split up with his boyfriend Jake after discovering he was cheating. Then he lost his job due to staff cuts. And to top it off he then lost his old apartment since it was all in Jake’s name. Now his ex was living in their old place with the guy he cheated with while Eric was struggling to find a new job while living in the cheapest apartment he could find. As he applied for shitty job after job he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to deserve all this? Was it all some kind of cruel universal joke?

As he was job hunting, one of the positions that popped up was a job at a small clothing shop called “Threads for Life”. The description of the job itself was extremely vague but he assumed it would just be retail. Working a till and serving customers etc. So he applied.

Surprisingly they were the first to get back to him about his application and in such a short time frame as well. They emailed asking for him to come in for an interview. Of course Eric accepted. Why wouldn’t he? The only weird thing was how close this shop seemed to be. It was just down the road from his old apartment and still rather close to his current one but he could swear he’d never seen or heard of the shop before. He just chalked it up to him being unobservant and forgetful.

On the day of the interview Eric found the shop just where it was said to be. Even after seeing it though, nothing clicked. He could’ve sworn it wasn’t here before. He shook the odd feeling off however as he stepped up to the front door perfectly on time and looking his best.

Upon entering he was greeted by a middle aged man who introduced himself as the owner of the establishment, Tony. The two exchange greetings before Tony ushered Eric to follow him. Eric expected to be taken immediately to an office but instead Tony simply walked through the many isles of clothing with him while chatting casually about the shop and its history.

Before Eric had assumed this to be a simple clothes shop. One that sold shirts, pants and all the rest like most other shops. And it did. But something Eric was quick to notice was how most of the clothes seemed to be matched together in outfits. Rather than being separated into different sections, almost all the clothes in the shop had already been prematched. There were plenty of casual combos like t-shirts and jeans or shorts and tank tops however as they moved from aisle to aisle there were a very noticeable amount of clothes that seemed more like costumes.

Some were more understandable like suits. But a lot of the others?… Eric took note of medical scrubs, fireman uniforms, motorcycle gear, handyman clothes, police uniforms, cowboy costumes, construction clothes and so much more. Eric also couldn’t help noting that none of the clothes seemed to be marketed towards women. He supposed the shop specialised in men’s attire specifically. Still he couldn’t help but find the layout of the store to be… strange.

“Soooo… Eric was it? Before I can give you a job. I want to ask you a couple questions.” The owner said as he sat down on a cushioned stool near the back of the shop, prompting Eric to do the same.

Eric of course agreed to this as questions were standard procedure for almost any interview so he was ready for it..

“Okay first question then. Growing up, did you ever have any dreams of who you’d eventually become? What job you’d want to strive for? What kind of man you’d want to become?” Tony asked.

It was a strange question for sure but Eric still pondered it for a moment before answering. “Well I don’t think I was ever dead set on anything but I remember wanting to be something along the lines of a fireman… or a police officer maybe?”

Tony nodded, seeming pleased with that answer. “Okay then second question. Are you content with the current direction your life has taken or would you still like to fulfill that childhood dream if you could?”

Eric chuckled at the bizarre question. “Well… my life hasn’t exactly been going in a good direction recently. If I could change some things I would. But if you’re asking me whether I’d wanna become a cop then… I just don’t think I have what it takes.” He gestured down at his body. “I’m thin and lanky. Don’t really go to the gym that much and I’m not all that good with confrontation. To be honest I just don’t think I have the right mindset to be a cop you know?” Eric huffed before looking back up at the owner. “And no offense but what does that have to do with me working here?”

Tony didn’t answer at first. He just smiled before standing back up again. The owners eyes glanced around the store, mainly at all the costumes and then turned back to Eric.

“Alright. I think I can give you a job.”

Eric was surprised when he heard that. All he’d done was answer two silly questions. He tried to query as to how those questions even mattered but Tony simply asked Eric to follow him. Confused as ever, Eric did just that.

The pair made their way back down the isles of outfits. They passed by the suits, doctors scrubs and all the other costumes yet again. Only the weird thing was now that Eric was getting a closer look at them, he started to notice how real the costumes looked. They weren’t just silly fake costumes you’d wear to a party. They were the real deal! Actually looking as though they belonged to real firemen and real doctors. Even the tradie outfits looked dirty as if they’d been used for actual tradie work.

Tony stopped in front of the police uniforms. Eric was quick to notice just how real those looked as well. Not just uniform but genuine looking police badges as well. Not to mention the radio, utility belt and even a body cam that all looked completely real. As if they’d been taken directly from actual cops and put on display.

“Pick one.” Was all Tony said.

“What? Seriously?” Eric was baffled. This had to be some kind of joke right?

“Oh come on. Humour me a little. Pick one out.” Tony urged, patting Eric on the back. “Though if I were you I’d certainly pick that one.” The shop owner pointed out a specific uniform amongst the selection. Eric didn’t really see why it’d matter which one he chose as they mostly looked the same anyway.

Eric sighed. “Fine, I’ll pick that one then. Now what? Want me to go try it on.” He joked only to be met by an affirming nod from Tony.

“Changing rooms are just over there.”

Eric raised an eyebrow at the man but decided what the hell. He took the uniform off the rack along with the equipment. Tony then picked up the large black boots and placed them on top of the uniform in Eric’s hands. Eric shook his head as he turned and walked off towards the changing rooms.

He shut the blue curtain behind as he stepped into one of the stalls. It was a fair bit bigger than he’d expected it to be. Eric sat the uniform down on the bench before striping himself down to his boxer briefs. After setting his own clothes to one side, he began to get dressed in the police uniform.

First thing he did was pull on the pants which he found to be rather baggy. He sat down to prevent them from falling as he grabbed the shirt, pulling it on and buttoning it up. He made sure to tuck it into his pants before grabbing the utility belt and strapping firmly around his waist. He still couldn’t believe it had a real taser attached to it and everything. Lastly Eric slid his feet into the heavy black boots which were clearly a couple sizes too large.

With that Eric stood up to take a look in the mirror. He looked ridiculous. The uniform was far too big and baggy on him. He looked like he was playing dress up more than anything. He slid his hands into his pockets as looked at himself a little more, amused by the uniform. Though as his hands dug around in the pockets, he realised something was in one of them. It was small and metallic. Eric pulled it out to reveal a name tag with “J. Desmond” engraved on it. Jokingly Eric decided to pin it to his shirt for a laugh.

Eric shook his head again at how silly this all was. Why had Tony made him put this one anyway? With a shrug he was just about to start taking the uniform off, not wanting to look stupid when he stepped out of the changing room. But before he could even start unbuttoning the shirt, he began to feel…weird. Like a warm wave of pure pleasure began flowing over him. A wave so incredible that he almost didn’t notice his body starting to change.

His upper body was first to see a transformation. His back widening significantly as his flat chest began to bubble and swell into two thick hefty pecs. Pecs that grew larger until they started to strain his shirt slightly. The same shirt that’d been hanging loosely off his frame moments ago now starting to fill out at an alarming rate. Especially as his shoulders bulged to the size of cannon balls while his traps grew to match. His waist grew larger but tighter at the same time as fat melted away in place of pure raw muscle. Showing itself even more so in the form of abs. They weren’t chiseled washboard abs, they were thicker and softer than that but still impressive all the same.

But his arms. They were what really caught Eric’s attention. Partly thanks to the cop shirt he was wearing being a short sleeve which gave him a full view of their transformation. He got to watch as veins pulsed across his skinny twig-like arms as though they were being pumped full of unseen energy. And then with pain or warning they started to swell. His previously non existent biceps began hulking into reality as the muscle beneath his skin inflated. It should’ve been impossible. Seemingly gaining mass from nothing. But his eyes witnessed it all. His forearms expanded rapidly while his hands cracked and thickened. His biceps continued to balloon with power and size until they stretched his sleeves. Only then did they finally stop. His veins subsided as his arms reached their new colossal size.

His upper body might’ve been massive now but his lower body was getting ready to catch up. Eric’s waist and hips had already widened enough for the waist of the cop pants to fit securely. Now it was his legs turn to catch up.

In seconds they put on an unbelievable amount of sheer muscle mass. It was as though someone had plugged an air pump into his legs and started filling them up. But it wasn’t air. It was pure real muscle. Eric couldn’t help but groan a little as his pants began to feel tighter. He leaned against the wall of the cubicle for support as his thighs and calves continued to bloat thicker and more powerful by the second. The once baggy cop pants now fit him like a glove. But it wasn’t just his legs. His backside started to swell as well. His once average butt growing into a juicy muscular bubble ass that strained against the back of his pants perfectly. Not to mention his feet cracking and lengthening similar to hands. Growing multiple sizes until they fit perfectly inside the black cop boots he had on.

When the next change kicked in, Eric’s eyes widened as one of his hands instinctively flew towards his crotch. Grabbing his bulge tightly as even that began to swell and grow. His eyes began to roll back as his cock snaked down one his legs, growing girthier in the process. Meanwhile his balls followed suit as they bloated into fat heavy nuts full to the brim with cum.

His body was complete but his head still had to change. A stinging sensation came over his face as it started to morph. The shape of his head and all of his features altering dramatically until he was unrecognisable from the man he once was. His new look being much sharper and masculine in a way that would’ve screamed high school jock had he been a little younger. All the while the light stubble he’d always carried grew into more of a short well kept beard while the messy mid length hair he adorned shortened into faded crew cut.

“Fuuuuuck…” Eric groaned as the transformation subsided at last. There was a clear difference in his voice. It must’ve been altered with the rest of his body. He found himself looking back into the mirror with amazement. No longer was he that scrawny pale figure of a man he’d seen reflected all his life. Now he was… buff. Really buff! And hot as fuck!. It was unreal. The uniform that was more or less falling off him moments ago now clung to him as though he were made for it. He couldn’t stop himself from running his hands up and down his torso, feeling a set of strong abs hiding under his shirt before drifting back up to squeeze his power new pecs through the fabric. He never thought he’d actually have fucking pecs but here he was now! Groping and kneading them.

In all the excitement his cock began to firm up. Eric could feel the blood rushing to his crotch as his growing erection created a clear outline in his pants. He smirked as he brought both hands down towards his crotch. Gently he rubbed his hands across the length of his dick through his pants.

Eric looked back into the mirror before bringing both arms up into flex. His already hard cock twitched at the sight of his biceps bulging, threatening to rip his sleeves in the process. The strength he felt flowing through his arms… No, his whole body was intoxicating! With his left hand Eric proceeded to grasp and squeeze his right bicep. It seemed impossible, like he was living in a lucid dream!

Just then Eric thought of something he’d always wished he could do. He’d never been buff enough to do it before. But now? He lowered his arms to his sides, stood up straight before flexing his chest. His pecs bounced. Eric’s eyes widened in amazement at the sight of his new muscle tits jumping underneath the shirt. He bounced them a few more times before cupping them again with a sense of pure wonder flowing through him. “These feel fucking amazing…”

Once he’d finished admiring his pecs, Eric remembered something else that’d grown. He turned his back to the mirror and looked behind. His cock twitched extra hard this time as he caught sight of his muscular new cop butt straining against his uniform pants. He couldn’t help himself. Before long his greedy hands were reaching back and grasping at his thick bubbly ass. “Oooohh fuuck.” He growled, feeling just how hefty they were. “My ass is fucking huge!…” Eric murmured aloud, lost in the pleasure. So lost in fact that he didn’t even notice Tony peering through the curtains. Watching with a horny gaze as Eric squeezed and groped his fat new ass. Even watching as Eric went as far as to place his hands just under his ass cheeks and start jiggling them, dumbly laughing as he did.

Eric felt his cock pulsing and bucking uncontrollably as he played with his cop butt. So much so that he couldn’t hold back anymore. Soon enough he spun back around to face the mirror again before unzipping his pants. Tony continued to creep in on the show while Eric shoved a hand into his underwear, struggling to free his erection. With a little effort however Eric was able to let out a satisfied sigh as his girthy python sprung free. The thing must’ve been around 9 inches long and insanely thick. It was every man’s dream cock.

A slapping noise could be heard from the changing rooms as Eric began smacking his cock against his hand while he admired it. Every smack sent a pleasurable shiver through his body. He had to stroke it. He was just able to wrap his hand around its full girth before he started to pump. It had to have been at least three times more sensitive than his old cock as Eric couldn’t stop cursing while he pumped it.

He began to jerk faster as he looked over his new body in the mirror again. His handsome bearded face and buff body. How thick his legs were. How buff his arms had become. How massive his chest had grown. Just looking at it all reflected back at him allowed him to jerk off furiously. He then looked down at his cock. He loved seeing it. Soooo thick and excited as some precum started to drip from the tip. With how sensitive it was and intensely he was pumping it, Eric could tell he was gonna to blow any moment.

He turned to his left, getting a perfect side view of his body. He couldn’t help but fixate on how much his ass stood out. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching his free hand back towards it again. Before long he was groping his ass and jerking his cock all at the same time. The new cop was having the time of his goddamn life!

“Fuuuuuuuccck!” That was enough to send him over the edge. Tony, who was still watching, saw Eric's ass clench and his cock erupt with an enormous load. One so big that it shit cum all over the benches adjacent to the new cop as well as his old and now ill fitting clothes. His cock continued to buck and twitch for a good few moments afterwards. Shooting a few more times as it covered the floor in front of him with cum.

“See. I knew you’d like that one.” Tony finally made himself known as he pulled back the curtain.

Eric whipped around, still panting a little. “Fuck I… my deepest apologies sir… I couldn’t stop myself.” He tried to reason.

“No need to apologise Officer.” Tony smirked as he glanced down at Eric’ softening cock, still dripping cum. “Most find it hard to contain themselves after what you just went through. So no need to worry. I’ll even get it cleaned up for ya.” The store manager smiled innocently.

“Officer?…” Eric repeated what the other man had said to him as though it weren’t the truth. It sounded weird and off putting to hear someone call him that. So why did it sound so right at the same time?

“Well you are a Cop now. Officer James Desmond to be precise, so you better get used to hearing it.” Tony nodded towards the name tag that was pinned to Eric’s shirt.

Hearing that name triggered something inside Eric. Memories of being Cop flooded his mind along with a bunch of other unfamiliar memories. He still remembered who he used to be but now he had a whole new life filling his head that made his old one feel like a fleeting dream. A new life as Officer James Desmond.

“Thank you sir. You have no idea how grateful I am for all this…” James stated, his new manners kicking in right away. Immediately after he tucked his fat new cock back into his pants before pulling up the zip. “But I’ve got to be back at the station in half an hour.”

“No worries Officer! I completely understand. You head off and I’ll be sure to get all your ball batter cleaned. Might take me a while though.” Tony joked, earning a chuckle from James.

“Heh sorry sir. Got myself a pair of bull balls down here.” James gave his crotch a quick squeeze. “Well I’m off. If you ever need anything don’t hesitate to ask for me down at the staton.” He said, passing by Tony as he exited the changing cubicle.

“Oh don’t worry I will.” Tony replied, giving James’ ass a smack as he passed. He continued to watch James’ ass shake as he sauntered away up until the sexy new cop reached the front door.

James hopped into his car, not even noticing it’d been morphed into a cop car, before starting up the engine. As he drove towards the station he couldn’t help but daydream about plunging his cock into some other hot cop’s ass or having another cop fuck his new bubble butt. Surely some of his buddies down at the station would be down for some fun. According to his memories he seemed to recall catching his own partner checking out his ass a couple times…

Back at the shop. “Another life bettered and another hot stud on the streets. A pretty good day I’d say” Tony sighed to himself with a smile before turning back towards the changing room. Looking over at the huge mess of Cop nut he now had to clean. “Well… best get to work.”

[writteninlunarlight-years]

My Espresso

A repost of one of my first-ever stories. I guess it got deleted in my purge. Here it is back once again with a better name, lol

The day you died was tragic indeed for all parties involved. Your deranged stalker who killed you now serves life in prison, your fans continue to broadcast your music regularly, crying their eyes out, and your record label is on the hunt for the next ‘Hit’ girl. The only problem was you were a one-of-a-kind, naturally gifted with vocal cords, so sweet and sultry everyone fell for you. Your varying music genres make you an addiction to almost any music fanatic. You were the singer of your time. 

How did you keep that title for so long? Simply put, due to becoming the designated ‘shot of espresso everyone needs to wake up and have a good day,’ your fans were less than kind to any new artists or rising stars. You were an Angle, sweet inside and out, never letting your fame get to your head. However, many scandals and theories have been made that people can never surpass you because you sold your soul or hired people to knock down your competition. None of this was true, though. You were simply a bystander to your fan's actions, not wanting to seem unthankful for all the support that got you there.

Then it happened: your death. One minute, you were walking to the coffee shop by your apartment in the city when a strange man started yelling at you. Of course, the one day you don’t have a bodyguard leave with you, the paparazzi show up. If only that man were a paparazzi; as he got closer, you noticed the lack of camera, the deranged look in his eyes, and the shirt he wore saying, ‘Y/N be my wife.’ All you could think of doing at that moment was trying to make some distance between you and him, seeing as the streets were barren since it was late at night. Why did your best music writing have to happen late at night? Running as fast as you could, the man grew angry, and then bam, next thing you know, you wake up on the streets of a city, not your city; no, this was too red.

As you stood up from your prone position, you glanced at a window only to see not you standing there; well, it was you. It looked like you, but it also didn't look like you. Soft tan skin, chocolate brown hair, Hazel eyes, and a white, tan, and brown outfit adorned your body. You looked like the embodiment of the coffee you would drink at your go-to coffee spot. If only you hadn’t gone there that night. Maybe you would be your normal (E/c), (H/c), (S/c) self. 

Thinking hard about everything that happened, you remember being chased, him yelling obscenities at you, being shoved to the ground, something warm on your face, then a loud bang noise. What was that bang? You only remember the warm, sticky feeling, probably blood from hitting your head on the curb, then you fought a bit, squirming around; the bang must have been a concealed weapon of your assailant's choice. Jeeze, people are crazy…Oh fuck, your dead. You died. Gone. A memory. As this realization came to you, you began walking the streets of this new city.

All the inhabitants of this place looked like those demons you would see on TV or even read about in books. Looking up at the horizon, you see a large building with a flashing sign called the “Hazbin Hotel,” a giant ball to the left that looked like it had wings on it, and above you, a giant pentagram. The pieces finally clicked: you were in Hell, but why you were the sweetest human alive, even fame, didn’t get to you. Maybe Heaven reads tabloids and assumes you did participate in the fate of many of your rivals or that they thought you were a greedy pop star. Sighing softly, you turn your back on the hotel and make your way to the first place that helped you start up in the human world: a cheap manager at a cheap venue. 

~~~Years Later~~~

Years had passed since Mimzy and her crew had taken you in. She was the only demon in Pentagram City that didn’t ask for your soul immediately. Course, as you found out yourself, it’s because her soul, too, was taken from her. Meeting Mimzy was a breath of fresh air; she reminded you of your grandmother and all the pictures you saw of her singing and dancing at nightclubs when she was your age. Mimzy took you under her wing, gave you a palace to sing your sweet new music, and protected you with her clientele. Mimzy did have a habit of getting herself into some deep shit, though. Nothing you couldn’t help with, see as your popularity in Pentagram City grew, so did your powers. Some even compared you to Lilith when she was still around, a voice to conjoin the masses. You were no Lilith; you were simply ‘Y/N,’ so you compromised for a reprise of your old title: ‘ A shot of espresso to keep you going.’ Honestly, who knew demons still partook in human drinks and activities? 

As you began preparing for your next act at Mimzy’s club, said woman entered your dressing room. “Doll, oh, look at you so gorgeous. You're not as gorgeous as me, but you're still amazing. I have big news for ya’ Come and sit with me, deary.” Following Mimzy’s orders, you went to the small sofa in your Dressing Room and sat with her. “What is it, Mimz? Did you get in more trouble with those loan sharks? I told you they are dangerous; this owner of your soul is a real slow ass seeing as I have to save their ‘precious’ soul over and over again.” 

Mimzy just laughed, waving her hand in your face, resituating herself to look you in the eye before speaking again: " Don't worry about that doll. Of course, I would keep that opinion to yourself. He’s back and probably can hear everything around us. Speaking of which, that is why I came here. My dear friend Alastor and the princess of hell are coming to visit our lovely establishment. Make sure to knock their socks off!” 

You nodded softly to Mimzy, laughing at her; she was a firecracker of energy—a troublemaker, yes, but a firecracker of energy. Mimzy quickly excused herself, saying she needed to be ready to meet her guests and introduce the acts for the night. You sighed softly, returning to double-check your makeup and clothes again. 

Looking like a gorgeous espresso martini, as Mimzy calls it, you stood center stage, waiting for the curtain to rise. You hear Mimzy’s tiny heels hitting the stage and some mic feedback. “Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you our star of the stage, your shot of espresso to boost you through hard times, our dame so beautiful and sweet, Y/N.” Cheers erupted in the audience as the curtain rose and a soft amber spotlight landed on you. 

Looking out into the audience, you hesitated for a minute. A handsome man in a red suit sat in the center of the tables. He looked like a deer, not the oddest thing you have seen in the city. The way he was looking at you, though, was intense. You felt the need to cringe and back away like his power exceeded that of an average Sinner. He looked dominating, powerful, and scary even though he had a giant smile plastered on his face. Next to him sat a young-looking girl with big red cheeks. She looked so happy to be present at this event. Her blonde hair was pulled into a bun on her head, with a black crown adoring her. Your boss, Mimzy, was on the other side of the smiling demon, giving you a big thumbs up. 

You took a deep breath when the song started to play on the drums and guitar behind you. You began to sing the song that had never been released to the public before you died. This was an important night for Mimzy, so why not go all out? As you began to sing, the nerves washed off of you, and you started to do your choreography, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of deep red eyes following your every move. As the song ended, you stopped center stage again, a soft, elegant smile gracing your face. “ Thank you so much, everyone. That was called Espresso, and I do hope you all enjoyed it. I will freshen up; please enjoy our band as they play some classic and new hits throughout the ages.” As you bowed and motioned to the band, they began to play. You walked off the stage, quickly stopping at your dressing room before heading to the floor and meeting the others at their table. 

You finally heard this mysterious, powerful demon's voice as you approached the table. “I never took you as the kind to allow other music in your establishment, Mimzy. Weren’t you also one always found of our time's music.” Mimzy just laughed, slapping the demon's arm. Stopping behind the group, you noticed the demon's ears pull back; he knew you were there, good. You cleared your throat for the others and spoke gently, “I’m sorry. Was there a problem with my song, sir? I didn't realize I would be in the presence of a music critic in hell.” 

The tension in the club could be cut with a knife as the demon let out a soft laugh and turned to view you. The young girl beside him was visibly panicking while Mimzy held a laugh back. The demon stood, bowing slightly and extending his hand to you. “Well, dear Y/N, it's nice to meet you. My name is Alastor the Radio Demon, and if you would like to call me whatever it was, you just made music by all means; I must be your critic.” That smile on his face never faltered. It stayed plastered there, if not a little more strained. Gently taking Alastors hand, you curtsied for him and stood straight and tall again, preparing to speak. “Well, Mr. Alastor, you don't seem to have good music taste, seeing as I am a prized singer in hell.” The two of you stared intensely at one another, sparks flying between your eyes. Mimzy cleared her throat, “ Y/N, this is Alastor, as he mentioned, the demon that owns my soul; he also runs the Hazbin Hotel with Miss Charlie Morningstar here.” 

You let go of Alastors hand, breaking eye contact first to greet the young girl. Charlie was the polar opposite of ‘Mr. Music Critic’. She compliments you and tells you how you reminded her of her mother, who has been missing for seven years. Keeping conversation with Charlie, Alastor, and Mimzy began to speak on the side. “Isn’t she interesting, Alastor? She had to have been powerful even in her human form. She may not be your level of scary, but she is something. When I found her within a month, Valentino had come to claim her and ask for her soul; she whooped him physically and mentally; she's quick-witted and cunning.” Alastor nodded knowingly; this could be advantageous to him. 

“Mimzy darling, why have you not sold her off yet? Could make a pretty penny off of her, maybe enough to pay me back for your soul.” Alastor stared at you intently. He couldn’t deny you were attractive in a beauty standard since, and the fact you weren’t afraid of him even if he dominated you in power was intriguing. Mimzy slapped Alastor’s shoulder, “She's like a daughter to me; she's sweet, smart, and a helluva singer. Why would I risk losing business here selling her off to the Vees or any other overlord.”

Tuning into Mimzy’s and Alastor's conversation, you turned to look at the Radio Demon in the eyes once more. “She also can’t get rid of me due to the fact I save her ass more so than you ever have or will.” The authority in your voice even frightened you. The smile on Alastors face tightened more, changing from boredom to interest. “Oh, is that so doll? You save my property for me.” You nod curtly to the demon holding his gaze. The smile slowly morphed into a smirk. Charlie chimes in, “Well, guys, it looks like we have overstayed our welcome; Y/N, you were phenomenal. Please let me know whenever you have your next performance. You have my number!” You nod softly to the cheerful girl before returning to the Radio Demon. 

As you all begin to stand from your seats, Alastor disappears and reappears at your side. “Ms. Y/N, it seems I have a business proposition for you. As Charlie loved your performance so much and I seem to have bad taste in music, how about we strike a deal? You come to the hotel and live there for free; you can sing once a week, and if you can pull in some more sinners looking to be redeemed, I will admit you have the better music. I will also allow you to broadcast your music on my radio.” You stared at the demon timidly, but no one made a deal that didn’t involve losing their soul. You brace yourself for the answer and speak purposefully, “What is it for you if I lose?” Alastor smiled at you menacingly, “I get your soul, of course, and you will do my bidding.” 

You hesitated, contorting your face slightly; losing your soul was not something you wanted to happen; no one did. You looked between Alastor and Mimzy rapidly, a slight panic overcoming you. As you go to speak, Charlie takes your place, “ Alright, Alastor, enough scaring people; we are leaving now. Let's go.” Alastor looked at Charlie before looking back at you. He nods slightly before saying, “I will return in the morning. Have your decision ready.” With that said, the duo left the club.

The night continued like normal; you sang a couple more songs and mulled over the conversation. You won't lie even if you were sweet on earth. Being here in hell made you a lot more prideful than when you were alive. Had someone offered such a stupid bet in the human world, you would politely decline, move on, and let your fans handle them. Alastor, though, something about him and this stupid condescending attitude made your blood boil. As the night closed, you came up with your decision. You went to your dressing room and began to pack a bag for the morning. You were so wrapped in your thoughts hating that stupid Radio Demon that you didn't hear Mimzy walk in. As you finished packing and turned around, Mimzy sat on your couch, a frown on her face. Setting everything down, you walked over to her and sat with her. 

Mimzy looked at you softly, her regular, boisterous exterior fading as her calmer interior emerged. “Y/N, you don’t have to do this. I shouldn’t have done this. I only invited them to show Al how much better I was doing even after his absence. I didn’t expect him to bargain your soul with him.” You gently grabbed Mimzy's hand and looked at her, “Mimz, I got this. I am one of the best singers in hell. I will not lose my soul, and maybe I can bargain him into freeing your soul-” Before you could finish your thought, Mimzy stood up, tears in her eyes, “NO Y/N! You-You don't understand; Alastor is a notorious and powerful demon. He won’t give up mine or your soul. There is always an underlying bargain in his deals.” You looked up at Mimzy. She had never yelled at you like that before, even after ruining her favorite pink dress. Mimzy sat down gently and hugged you close before letting go. “Let me tell you Al’s story, the best I know of it anyway.” 

Even after hearing Mimzy’s story, you are set on proving yourself. Why did you feel the need to? You could only chalk it up to wanting to wipe that stupid smile off the demon's face. You stood outside the entrance of Mimzy’s club, holding her hand. “Y/N, you don't have to do this. Just ignore him.” You shook your head at Mimzy before responding. “I can do this, Mimzy. Trust me. You know where I am if you ever need me.” She nods somberly and hugs you close. The Radio Demon appears out of the shadows as you two part ways. “Hello ladies, Y/N, Mimzy, what a touching display of affection. Are you ready to strike our deal, Y/N?” You nod gently, extending your hand to the demon. With a soft chuckle, he grabbed your hand. Greenlight erupted all around you. Shadows and relic symbols appeared around you as the deal was bound. As the green lights faded, you were sucked into the shadows with Alastor and taken to a Hotel on the other side of Pentagram City. 

The hotel was lovely, nothing too overwhelming like when you were still alive. It was quaint and adorable. You could tell that Charlie put her heart into the place. Walking through the entrance to your left, you notice a bar with a black and grey cat sitting there drinking. Taking the initiative and having the desire to start already pissing the Radio Demon off, you walked away to greet the cat. “Hello, there one espresso martini, please; my name is Y/N, and I’m going to be a new resident and singer for the hotel.” Hearing your words, the cat looked up at you, practically spitting his whiskey onto the bar before collecting himself and cleaning up. In a gruff voice, he responded, “Never thought I would see the day we got more willing redeemers. Thought Sir Pentious would be our only one.” 

You laughed, covering your mouth politely as the cat put your drink before you. As he finished wiping the bar down, Alastor appeared behind you. “Ahhhh, good friend, you have met our new resident artist. Y/N, this is Husk or Husker, as some patrons call him.” You nodded politely to the cat demon, sipping your drink. Alastor sat next to you, staring the cat down. He acted like it was a sin that Husk even talked to you. As you finished your glass, a spider demon walked into the building, groaning about his day at work, sitting on your other side, and ordering a straight martini.

As he rose his head up, looking to great Alastor, he saw you. “WOAH toots, who are ya’ you gorgeous? I didn’t know another pretty thing like me walked these streets.” You smiled sweetly at the spider demon, sticking your hand out to shake his hand. You liked him. He had spunk. “My name is Y/N, and I am the new resident singer of this joint.” Silence filled the room; the spider demon's eyes widened. Looking at him confused, you pulled your hand back and awkwardly sat there. Behind you, Alastors voice rang, “Yes, dear flamboyant friend, that Y/N, the one who took Valentino down a few pegs before he became part of the Vees.” 

The spider's smile grew ten times as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Toots, let's be best friends, deal. My name is Angel Dust. It's a pleasure to meet you.” You laughed softly, connecting that this Angel Dust might be the soul of that awful month. “Deal, I need new friends now that I am out of Mimzys club.” Husker dropped his bottle, causing a shattering noise as he turned to stare down Alastor. “You were Mimzy’s singer; what are you doing here?” Alastor stared down Husker, the ever-growing smile present on his face as power exuded off of him. “Simple Husk, can’t you tell she's in a deal with me.” The room went silent as you looked down at your hands. Based on everyone's reactions, you soon realized you were fucked. 

The tension was thick between the three of you, Angel silent, not daring to interfere in a soul contract, Husker glaring at Alastor, and the Radio Demon eating up everyones distrust. What felt like hours passing was only a few minutes when Charlie and another woman appeared walking down the stairs. “I am telling you, Vaggie, I heard a new voice.” Your eyes connected with Charlie when she let out an excited squeal, barreling down to you. You laughed softly, happy the tension was broken, and hugged the excited girl back. “Oh my goodness, you came here! Are you trying to be redeemed? I am so excited! Vaggie, this is the singer I told you about!” You looked at the other girl and waved at her. When Alastor stood, she nodded back, getting ready to speak to you; however, Alastor had removed Charlie from your embrace. “Sorry, dear Charlie, but Y/N is part of my deal. She will be a new singer for the hotel, as Husk is the bartender, and Niffty the cleaner.” 

As if hearing her name, a tiny, child-looking demon crawled from the depths of somewhere and sat on Alastors shoulder. “Wowie lady, you must sing well for Alastor to vouch for you. You aren’t no bad boy, but you look like you could be tough.” You stood wide-eyed in shock at the minor demon that seemed to spawn into existence. Alastor stood beside you, shooing Niffty off him and placing a firm hand on your shoulder. “Alright, dear Y/N, why don’t I show you to the drawing room where you will perform? You have three days before your big performance.” Everyone looked at the hand placed on your shoulder, confusion laced on their faces. Was Alastor, not a touchy person? All you’ve known of this man was for him to be touching you in some dominating way. You nodded briefly, following the demon to the drawing room. 

You had been practicing hard for the last three days. You met Sir Pentious while in the middle of a practice performance. He was apparently your biggest fan and regularly played your music in his blimp. You signed some autographs for him and told him he was welcome to come and watch whenever he felt like it. Of course, he never did come back while you were practicing. Angel Dust said Alastor frightened the snake demon, who was “getting too close to you and distracting you.” This only confused you: why is Alastor so against any demon getting close to you except for the striking spider demon? Two, why does he care if you get distracted? Shouldn’t he want you to lose so he can keep your soul? These thoughts plagued your mind every day as you practiced. You decided to do a four-song set, your three most popular songs and the new one you debuted at Mimzys place before you left, as a nod back to your old home. 

Throughout your days here, you have noticed so many odd quirks about these residents, but nothing too crazy. I mean, it is hell after all. Angel Dust was a famed porn star for Valentino; Husker used to gamble at the high-end casino in town; Nifty liked cock roaches; Charlie and Vaggie were fighting with Heaven about Sinners being redeemed. Even Sir Pentious had a past saying he tried to kill Alastor, which made you laugh and congratulate the snake demon. The only major oddball was Alastor; every resident said he was acting different, more pompous, possessive, and aggressive. Before you showed up in his life, he was just a condescending asshole who smiled all the time and had a wicked sarcasm streak. 

What made you special? You have been nothing but mean to this man, trying to get a rise out of him and knock him down a few pegs. The main consense from every resident after they learned of your deal is to be careful; he's a master manipulator. The tidbits of information you learned of Alastor were as follows: he hosted a radio show that, up until seven years ago, played screams of his victims; he still very much missed the 1920s; Jazz was his favorite music, makes sense why he hated your pop music, and lastly like any true child of the bayou he enjoyed his coffee, his coffee with three shots of espresso. No wonder the man was wired 24/7. 

Alastor was also not a touchy man; the only person any resident had seen him touch so constantly was you. Why? No one knows the answer; Angel Dust has his theories that he “has the hots for ya toots.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that notion. The pompous, rude, robust, attractive, funny, charismatic Deer Demon didn't have a thing for you. Okay, yes, you have a thing for him, though; what changed in the three days of getting close to him and everyone else? You have no real idea; you only know that the day you realized you had more than aggressive feelings for him was two nights ago.

~~~Flashback~~~

You had been summoned to the famed radio tower by Alastor. He had a treat for you, as he put it. Following Niffty's instructions, you ended up before the radio demon's door. Now you heard the rumors already he killed and broadcasted in his tower. Did your deal mean nothing? Was it a ruse to get rid of someone with a little bit of power? You must have been standing there for too long in your thoughts because before you knew it, Alastor had opened the door for you. “Ah, dear Y/N, come on in. We have a broadcast to get to.” You nodded gently and followed him inside. 

Taking your place beside Alastor, you notice how cluttered his desk is. You stifle a laugh; the thought of the infamous radio demon who looked so clean and polished having anything untidy amused you. You see Alastor pouring his regular coffee as you turn to the small end table with some chairs. “Alastor, I never would have taken you for a coffee drinker. You seem more refined to like English teas or other sophisticated drinks.”

Alastor just looked at you with a small, unstrained smile. As he finished his drink and poured you one, he said, “Nonsense dear Y/N coffee is highly sophisticated; Louisiana was a large export of coffee grounds we lived for this drink. Coffee was the way to go when we needed to work long hours tending to fields or making ends meet at factories.” You nodded gently, amazed that this man remembered his life so well after so long. While you sat and drank your coffee, Alastor got up to prepare the broadcast. While he was busy, you took this time to examine the Deer Demon in more detail. 

He was handsome; his fringe was odd but suited him well, the unforced smile looked attractive, and his suit was perfectly fitted, leaving just enough imagination about what lay underneath. As you caught yourself having this thought, you shook your head, setting your cup down violently. Alastor turned to look at you, his smile still soft but a questioning look in his eyes. You coughed softly into your napkin and stood to meet Alastor at his desk before speaking. “So Al, what is it you need of me.” His reaction to the nickname did not go unnoticed.

Now, the original reason you decided to use the nickname he hated was to get under his skin, but instead of doing that, he smiled at you wider. Gently, he placed a microphone and headphones in your hand. You looked up at him with a curious gaze. “I believe that for people to know you are here at the hotel and will sing, they need a sample. We may have a deal on the line, but I am no cheater.” You nodded, smiling at him; maybe he wasn’t so bad. As the broadcast started, though, the same pompous ass hole came out. Boasting about being missed and how he can't wait to give Sinners of hell an actual broadcast, he introduced you. “Now, my dear patrons, I introduce Y/N. Some of you may know her and even love her, but tonight she will be singing a song for you, a taste into her performance that will be happening here at the Hazbin Hotel in two days.” 

You gripped the microphone and started singing one of your more classic songs. Only the people at Mimzys club that night had heard the new song, and you didn't want to ruin the surprise you had been working on for your concert. As you sang, you couldn’t help but notice the red eyes boring into you. Was Alastor checking you out? No, of course not. This is just to even out the deal. However, how his eyes softened and he hummed gently to your tune made your heart flutter. He sure learned one of your songs for someone who hated your music. 

As you finished your part in his broadcast, Alastor played some old-time Jazz, muting the mics before leading you out the door. You said your goodnights and began to walk away when Alastor grabbed your arm. You turned to look at him, a sweet, innocent look in your eyes; a part of you wanted him to kiss you right there. However, you could see his conflict. After a few seconds of staring at one another, Alastor let go of your arm and cleared his throat, “Good night, Y/N. Be prepared for our deal.” You nodded, and before you could ask him what was wrong, the door was closed and locked in your face.

~~~Present Day~~~

The day you had finally come for your concert. You had spent most of the day resting and preparing for the show. It had been over a week since your last live performance. You took your time getting prepared, wanting everything to be perfect. You double-checked your hair outfit and even dabbed on an old perfume you found while shopping with Angel. Did you buy this specific sent because it was trendy in the 1920s? No, of course not. You weren't trying to impress the famed Radio Demon during your performance tonight. It finally dawned on you as you did your last touches. You either become soulless tonight or beat the Radio Demon. A shiver ran down your back; you were so caught up in falling for the man that you forgot he was ruthless and owned you now. It's not that you minded the owning part; you minded the soulless part. 

A soft knock was heard at your door, and you released a quiet “come in.” As you turned from your vanity to see who had entered, before you stood, Mimzy, you ran to your mentor and hugged her close. “You came, you came. I thought you would be too mad at me to come.” Mimzy slapped your shoulder gently before speaking. “When have I missed one of your shows since you started working for me? Plus, Alastor personally invited me and gave me a front seat. I don’t know if it's to torment me that he's going to take your soul or if mister Deer likes you.” Mimzy began nudging your side. You stifled an almost forced laugh, your cheeks growing warm. “Mimzy, you need to lay off the alcohol. That is an absurd statement. Alastor doesn’t like me.” She gave you a knowing look. “You may think he doesn’t like you, but I can tell you sure like him.” You looked away at the floor.

Mimzy gave you a few more encouraging words before returning to the drawing room. According to Mimzy, there was already a large number of people filling the place. Charlie must be going nuts trying to recruit people. With a final glance in the mirror, you began to walk to your call point. Instead of your average tan and brown ensemble, you wore an elegant blood-red dress for tonight's performance. One that just so happened to be in your closet this morning when you started to get ready. You did your hair up and let some pieces frame your face, your makeup soft and subtle, giving you a sweet, angelic look.

Charlie introduced you to the crowd; as you took center stage and waited for everyone to calm down, you began your set. You looked out to the crowd like you did all those nights ago, and sitting right in front of you were your new friends and him. He didn’t look smug or dominating this time. No, this time, he looked calm and compassionate. Even if you looked hard enough, it almost looked like he was enjoying himself. He wore a suit practically identical to your dress in color. You promoted the hotel between each song as you sang. Your first three songs went perfectly, keeping the crowd entertained to the fullest as you always did. Once your last song died down, the crowd erupted. 

A slow interlude played as you spoke softly: "I wrote this last song a long time ago when I was alive. I have only sung this song once at Mimzy Speakeasy, so if you were one of the lucky few to hear it, please feel free to sing along and enjoy it to the fullest this time.” You smiled softly before landing your eyes on Alastor. You don’t know what possessed you to sing this song, looking directly at him, but you couldn’t help it. You felt compelled, too. As the begging notes to Espresso started playing, a small group of people cheered, including Charlie. 

You began your normal choreography and sang your heart out, never taking your eyes off of Alastor for long, and from what you saw, he never took his eyes off of you for long, either. Singing your heart out as you finished the outro of the song you posed, letting the cheers and lights fade out. Charlie rushed to the stage and informed everyone about food, refreshments, and signing up to join the hotel. You, however, hid behind the curtains, blushing. Why was he looking at you so intently? Why were you suddenly so shy and concerned you sang poorly? You always had confidence in your singing.

Collecting yourself, you quickly refreshed your look in the bathroom before joining the after/recruiting party. As you were going down the hotel hall to get to the main part of the drawing room, an uneasy feeling hit you. An anxious, familiar feeling. You turn your head, and down the hall, you see a man making his way towards you. You turn around and keep walking, ignoring his shouts as you try to beeline for the entryway. You are panting at this point, memories of your death coming back to you, everything feeling too close to that moment. Just as you are about to turn the corner into the doors for the drawing room, the man reaches out for you. You brace for impact; however, nothing happens. You hear sickly screams emanating from before you as a pair of arms gently encase you in a protective embrace. As you open your eyes, you see shadows tearing the man who looked to be a part of the Vees team apart. Alastor covered your eyes before walking you back towards your room.

You didn’t even realize you had begun to cry or shake when you got to your room. The anxiety of reliving that night you died catching up to you. Alastor never let you go, even after you got to the safety of your room. Once you calmed down, Alastor went to the bathroom connected to your room. You sat there holding your face in your hands, probably looking like a mess from your actions. Alastor re-entered the room and brought you a fresh, damp towel. “To wash your face off; you probably don’t want all that on you anymore.” You nodded softly and began to wipe your face. Alastor scoffed, then took the towel from you, crouching down. Alastor gently held your face and began to clean it off. You two never broke eye contact. He was so gentle.

After your face was cleaned, Alastor took the pins out of your hair and went to find some more comfortable clothes for you. You were ushered into the bathroom and began to change when, through the door, Alastor began to speak. “Did he hurt you at all? I tried to get there as fast as I could. Before you came on, Mimzy was telling me about the night you died. I assume the Vees and their minions must have overheard and, in an attempt to weaken your resolve, make you remember that night.” You sniffled lightly, slowly opening the door, and you looked up at Alastor. Where was a man like him when you died? No, where was he when you passed that night? A choked sob left your lips as you hugged him close to you, crying into his shoulder. Alastor was amiss on what to do, but slowly, as you cried, wrapped his arms around you as well. 

As the tears faded, a green glow surrounded you and Alastor again, like when you first made the deal. No one signed up for Charlie's hotel, whether because the demon was mutilated one door over or because you didn’t come to socialize with the guests. It didn’t matter; Alastor had your soul now. Oddly enough, you weren’t as upset by this as you anticipated; you were happy about this. You felt safe, protected even. 

Alastor bid his farewell to you after you had finally calmed down. Neither one of you speaking about the contract or lost deal. You lay in bed, exhausted from all the crying and anxiety. As you drifted off to sleep, you saw your assailant again. This wasn’t an uncommon dream for you, but this time, it hurt worse due to the raw emotions. However, just as you were about to die again for the millionth time in this dream, a man dressed in red with brown hair and a soft smile protected you and saved you. 

You had been asleep for a little less than 24 hours when you woke next. Your body needed a recharge. You made your way to the kitchen to make some coffee; if you were staying at the hotel to sing, you could start putting together new songs and programs. You made your drink, noticing that Alastor's cup was missing from the cabinet. Taking your hot coffee back upstairs, you passed the hall to your room when you heard a piano playing your song Espresso. 

You made your way to the door and entered quietly to find Alastor playing your song, humming quietly in tune. You knocked gently and said, " Al, if you wanted a concert yourself, I would have given you one.” You smile softly. Alastor, unfazed by your appearance, probably already knowing you were there, hummed in amusement before speaking. “As a thank you, why don’t we perform a duet for me saving you?”  You made your way over to the piano, sitting down next to him and setting your coffee cup next to his on the piano. 

He began to play the start of the song, and you two began to sing together. Softly, you rest your head on his shoulder, allowing yourself to be vulnerable with your feelings for the man next to you. You had never sung this song like this before, and it felt special between you two. Some of you began to believe that this song was made for you and Alastor. Before you died, you knew you would meet your match—someone who met you as an equal yet also an opposite. Alastor finished the last few notes of the song. Comfortable silence surrounds you. 

Alastor smiled more naturally, “You know, Y/N, I do like your music. It did catch me off guard the first time I heard it, but your music has a lot of truths in it.” You look up at him from his shoulder, listening to his words. “From the moment I looked at you, I couldn’t get enough of you; when I met you, and you challenged me almost instantly, I knew I had to have you. You keep me awake at night thinking about everything that has happened between us in the last few weeks.” You smile softly, thinking back to the lyrics of your song. You lean up gently and place a kiss on Alastors cheek. He laughs softly when he turns to look at you thoroughly. “I’m sorry, doll, but you may have misunderstood me. I like you a lot; I feel that deserves more than a mere peck on the cheek.” You laugh wholeheartedly, this time without covering it up, before placing a soft, chaste kiss on Alastors lips. You pulled back, both of you smiling. “Now that’s an espresso I would happily take any time.” You laugh at his antics before placing your hands on the piano, now playing an old song you remembered from when you were a kid. 

All was well. Who would challenge the infamous Radio Demon, especially now that he had the notorious addictive ‘Espresso’ singer as his girlfriend? With your powers combined, he could overcome the deal he made, but that is a story for another time.

[codename-adler]

when you cannot handle class discussion;

a non-aftg post still addressed to the aftg fandom because i know the aftg fam got me.

CW below: Harry Potter and JKR.

TERFs et al. not welcomed, fuck off.

one of my uni classes this semester is called Children's Literature in English. i will abstain from relating my whole life background, but here is the issue: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone is on the syllabus, due to be discussed for the next 2 weeks. other works on the program are: both Andersen's and Grimms' fairytales, Enid Blyton's The Twins at St. Clare's, The Catcher in the Rye, A Little Princess, Gene Luen Yang's American Born Chinese and Neil Gaiman's The Wolves in the Walls. (the latter is a whole other issue in itself that is not the point here)

the objective of the class is worded as followed by the professor in the syllabus:

This course will involve a critical study of children’s and young adult literature (in English) by analyzing historical and cultural connotations of childhood, adolescence, and related subjects. By analyzing a variety of texts students will explore several dimensions of children’s literature including children’s education, questions of race and identity, children’s understanding of abuse and trauma, young adult adventures and more. Literature in this course will range from the eighteenth-century concept of children’s texts, twentieth century popular school stories, as well as contemporary popular fiction including picture books and graphic novels. Students will be expected to critically engage with the texts and appreciate the sophisticated themes present in them. Children’s literature is often considered to be repositories of cultural values and deemed as agents of socialization—students will be encouraged to dissect these texts from their literary and political perspectives.

now. i've known about HP as assigned reading since the summer. initially i was very, thoroughly disappointed. and pissed. and helpless, because i did not know who the professor would be. therefore i had no clue as to how it would be handled, from what angle it would be approached. from the list of texts, i could assume a certain theme around school as a major setting for children's socialization and growth. fairytales is also always the starting point. but apart from that, no clue.

then the syllabus came, and it was grief all over again. because as you can see, nothing indicates that HP will be discussed with current events in mind. moreover, the thematic section under which it is to be read, in the syllabus, are: coming-of-age stories, adventure, YA fiction. so... nothing, you know. and so since August, i've been nursing this weird wound?

i'll admit, i was much, much, much more affected by the news than i ever thought i would. i haven't interacted with the texts and fandom for years. i actively avoid it. my ex-bestfriend who i've 'broken up' with in April was the only contact i had, because she is a die-hard fan that, although disagreeing with JKR, did not try to change the ways she engaged with the content. i rarely discussed HP with her, because i did not like it, and it was never as of major importance to me as it was to her; she has grown up with HP, whereas i only read the series around 14, never saw the movies in theatre, etc. that is not to say that i was not an ardent fan; i was immensely taken with the books, the world, that author herself. i was in awe of her genius. was.

all this to say, i have carefully curated what i'm exposed to and what i engage with. i've laid down pretty good boundaries. a little too good, perhaps, if my deep shock and perpetual grief are anything to go by. my surprise at my own feelings certainly does not help to lessen them and process them.

and now has come the time for discussion. i won't reread HP1, because i still have it pretty much memorized, and because i simply refuse to. i have so many other things to do and read and write for other classes and clubs, i cannot be arsed to give that book a single glance. but for the next 2 weeks, the next 6 hours of that class, everything will be HP and JKR. and i do not know how to handle it.

because. because the students of the class are, mostly, fans. still. and the professor too, i believe. i do not see a discussion on transphobia, homophobia, racism, antisemitism and misogyny in the cards. i'm really not getting the 'vibe' from the prof that there will be a portion reserved for those aspects. i hope i'm wrong. but i cannot prepare myself on hope.

just the discussion from some girls, during the break, about their favorite fanfics and eagerly and enthusiastically chatting about HP and the reboot and whatnot, i'm feeling awful. and, well, apart from me, these women are among the students that participate the most in discussion. (as it is, a discussion-/seminar- based course)

i understand, okay? i understand. that HP/JKR permanently changed the children's lit landscape and market. whether it was deserved/original or not, it remains that they have had a very important role in the history of kids' lit. it cannot be erased, though i wish it would. and that is, fine. nothing anyone can do about that. the mark (stain) is there to stay. i understand.

so i cannot change:

the syllabus

the professor

the students

history

i can only control the way i will handle this. i will try my very best not to engage in the discussion. though 15% of our final grade goes to participation, i have secured my full mark by now and know after HP i will pick up the work again. that is no concern to me. when i say try not to engage, i mean try not to waste energy and peace over whatever bs is bound to be said. i'm not afraid of outright far-right problematic 'opinions' or responding to them if be the case, but i doubt it will happen, which is a tiny bit of relief.

but i cannot skip those sessions. it remains that i must be present and actively listening. that is tiring and hurtful enough. and i do not know how to plan how to cope. i do have a dear friend i know i could talk to in person afterwards. and i have you guys.

so what i'm asking, after all this blah-blah, is advice, tips, ideas, to help me remain calm and well for the next 2 weeks suffering through the HP bs.

i sound dramatic af. i feel dramatic af. i don't understand why i am so affected. i don't even know for sure if the professor will skip over that crucial evil of JKR. i might be pleasantly surprised.

i'm happily open to provide any additional info if you have questions or need clarifications. i don't know how coherent i'm being. feeling real blurry rn.

yeah. that's all.

- Love, Adler xx

[searchingforgravity]

Graceland Experience - PART 9

Fandom: Elvis/Elvis (2022)

Prompt: You are trying to nativage how you feel about your and Elvis' night together, and it causes something to stir within Sonny as well.

TW: Swearing, heated arguments

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1796

A/N: This chapter is a little shorter than the last one, but I plan to make chapter 10 longer!

The world feels like it falls out from beneath you. You're falling, trying to clutch onto anything that can save you, but there is only darkness around you as you plummet towards the unknown. The world feels like it's spinning. You're nauseous, your head pounds.

Surging forward, you gasp for air. You instantly regret this decision, your head feels like it will split in two as a searing headache presents itself. You groan as your head falls to your hands, giving you deja vu. Then your blood runs cold, is it happening? Now? Are you traveling back to your own time.

"Honey, are you alright?" A grumbling voice calls from beside you.

Elvis' voice. Then you remember how much alcohol you drank last night. You almost laugh at yourself. No time travel, just a hangover.

"Yeah, sorry, I just had a bad dream. And I have a crazy headache," you laugh at yourself.

He chuckles, a croak in his voice.

"Yeah me too, my head is killin' me," he groans, his hands coming to wipe his face.

You realize you are still in the same position as last night, your body on his chest. You move stand up and get your clothes on when his arms come to wrap around you. You stop.

"Would you just wanna lay here for a minute? It's still early yet," he whispers, his lips coming to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

When he pulls away, his eyes lock with yours as he pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You smile.

"I had a really good time last night," he mumbles, hope in his eyes.

"I did too," you sigh, you hand coming to push his messy hair away from his face. "But..."

You pause. Maybe you could be with him, just for the time you are here. Would it really change much of anything?

"But," he sighs, his hand falling from your face.

His face falls into a frown. He knows what you are going to say.

"Elvis, I had a nice time, really. It was the first time I've had fun since I've been stuck here."

"Stuck?" Elvis remarks, his eyes coming to meet yours again.

You see hurt in his expression. It makes your heart sink.

"No! I didn't mean that. But, we shouldn't get used to this, right? I'm not even- I can't put my focus on this."

At this, he changes completely. His expression turns completely cold and closed off.

"Honey, I never said this was gonna happen again. Just had fun is all. Don't worry, I'm not gonna ask you to be my Goddamn girlfriend."

If feels like you've just been slapped in the face. Maybe you were stupid to assume he was implying he liked you. You thought that's how he felt, you're definitely developing feelings.

"Oh."

You can't think of anything to say, you're so embarrassed. Without looking at him, you get off the couch and grab your clothes, quickly throwing them on.

"Uh, gosh I didn't- I'm sorry. I shouldn't've said that."

You don't respond as he comes to grab his underwear pulling them up his legs. You try to avoid his eyes as you make your way to the stairs. You don't get far before he steps in front of you, making you stop. You look up at him.

"What?"

"I'm a- I'm sorry, honey. Can you forgive me? I really don't wanna stop spending time with you. I just, I don't like bein' rejected."

"I'm not rejecting you."

"But you don't feel the same way, that's rejection to me."

You sigh.

"I never said I didn't feel the same way, Elvis. I just- do you think it's a good idea?"

His hand comes to brush your hair, tucking the same strand that feel out again.

"I don't know. I know I don't want it to stop, though. We can...spend time together while your here. Maybe you can come see me in the future when you get back. My old man self would be so happy to see a pretty thing like you."

You have to stop yourself from lingering on your feelings, you don't want him to see how sad that statement makes you feel. You wouldn't be seeing him when you find your way back to your own time. You wouldn't see him ever again. You smile softly up at him.

"I would love to see you when I get back."

Taking your face in his hands, he leans down, softly connecting his lips to yours.

---

Sitting down to breakfast, it's hard to keep the smile from your face. Elvis keeps looking at you.

"Honey, can you pass me the salt please?" You look up as he gives you a mischievous look.

Rolling your eyes with a soft smile, you hand him the salt.

"Thank you baby. You're so kind," he purrs, not caring that there are two other people at the breakfast table.

Sonny clears his throat, looking between the two of you. A Silence falls on the group as you begin enjoying your breakfast. You wish you were closer to Elvis, to feel him beside you, but his position is across the table. Now seemingly so far away.

"(Y/N), I was thinkin' about going to the library later today. Would you want to go with me? Maybe return those books and get some new ones?

Pulled out of your thoughts, you turn to look at the source of the voice and see Sonny alternating between glancing at you anxiously and picking at his food.

"Oh! Uh I'm still-"

"When do you ever go to the library, Sonny?" Elvis interrupts, his gaze intent on him.

"Well I thought maybe I should start," Sonny shoots back, his eyes snapping up to Elvis.

"Hm. Okay."

Elvis starts picking at his food as well. You and Jerry are silent as you both watch the tense conversation. You can see the subtle signs of anger come to the surface of Elvis' face. Sonny doesn't seem to notice, or rather, care.

"What is that supposed to mean? I can't like the library?"

"Sonny, you can like whatever you Damn well please!" Elvis shouts suddenly, making your heart leap.

His eyes snap up to you as he sees you jump slightly. Elvis' looks softens.

"Man, can we just drop it? So you like the library now, that's great. If (Y/N) wants to go to the library, I can take her."

"Why, are you fuckin' her or something?"

Everything stops. No one makes a sound. Your stomach drops as your eyes dart over to Sonny, then Elvis. He looks as if he almost couldn't believe his ears. Sonny takes in the room as he realizes what a mistake he's made, until his eyes finally land on yours.

"I-I'm sorry honey, I didn't mean it like that. Elvis just fucks everyone so I thought-"

You don't hear the rest of his statement as your ears ring. Your shock turns to humiliation. You don't get the chance to respond as you look to Elvis, his eyes set on Sonny.

"Sonny, get out of that Goddamn seat. And don't call her honey again, you sonofabitch."

Sonny gets out of his seat, knowing better than to stay. But he looks back to Elvis, his face set.

"Oh, I see. You couldn't have stopped yourself one time, could you? Just one fuckin' time, E."

Elvis scrapes his chair on the floor as he stands up. For a second you think he's going to hit Sonny. You wouldn't blame him, you want to hit Sonny yourself.

"Sonny I'm not gonna fight you. Get the fuck out of this room."

It seems Sonny doesn't want to get hit today, because with a mutter under his breath, he storms away from the kitchen, leaving an awkward silence in the room. You suddenly feel exposed, the statement Sonny made lingering in the air. You look to Jerry as he stands up as well, looking uncomfortable.

"Uh, I'll catch up with you later, Elvis," Jerry states awkwardly as he makes his way towards the door.

Elvis looks like he wants to ask him to stay but he lets him go, leaving just the two of you. Looking up at Elvis, he's already looking at you.

"I'm sorry, he's just mad cuz he likes you."

"I know."

It doesn't hurt less hearing that he sleeps with many of the women that come here. Are you just like those other women? Has he been sweet to them as well knowing it didn't mean anything?

"Baby."

"Yeah?"

"Are you upset with me?"

You look at him. A concerned expression plays on his face.

"No, I'm not."

"Because the girls I've been with, they've always known what it was. Whether it was serious or not. Whether it was a one night thing or not. I don't want it to be a one night thing, sweet heart."

You look at him from where he stands. You smile softly at him and see him relax.

"I know, Elvis. I'm not upset."

It's not exactly the truth, you are upset, but you still believe him.

"Well, alright then," he mumbles a little sheepishly. "Would you, uh- wanna finish breakfast together?"

You look to your barely eaten eggs, and realize how hungry you are, needing the nutrients from the alcohol you had last night. Your stomach grumbles as you nod your head. Picking up his plate from where he sits across the table, he scoots Jerry's plate from where it sits beside you, taking his seat.

"I'm thinkin' Jerry wouldn't mind to much if we switched spots. Sonny would pitch a fit. I'm sorry he acted like that."

You shake your head at this. A small part of you feels sorry for Sonny. You know what it's like to have feelings for someone who doesn't feel the same way.

"I understand him being upset," you respond, your fork poking at your eggs.

"He can feel any typa way he wants, but there's no reason he has to treat you that way. I woulda knocked his lights out if you weren't in the room."

You look to him, his his face blush with anger. Seeing him getting protective over you...it makes you feel a certain way. Safe. Certain. Aroused.

Blushing, you turn your attention back to your food, picking up the fork and biting down on the scrambled eggs.

"What?"

You look up into his eyes. He's looking into yours already, lingering.

"What do you mean, what?" you question, that same blush returning to your face.

"You went quiet. Did I say something wrong?"

You look away again, trying to hide your sudden embarrassment.

"No, you didn't."

You leave it at that as you enjoy your meal.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Tag List:

@horrorgirl4life @goldobsessionsworld @tantamount-treason @peaceloveelvis @father-of-2cats @sissylittlefeather @elvisalltheway101 @littlehoneyposts @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab @msamarican @presleyhearted @bettybloopy

[dreamer1084]

Some Strange Feeling I found in Natsuyuu Ch.131

Ever since I finished reading this chapter yesterday, posted the spoilers here, went to bed and then got up to go to work, I have been having a strange feeling in my heart.

So I'm going to share about what makes me feel strange. Well, maybe I just think too much, but I don't feel comfortable without talking about it.

Spoilers under cut.

First, just like what I said yesterday. Natsume talked about things sometimes got weird at home with his expression nature.

Maybe he had finally gotten used to the fact that Youkai often come to Fujiwara's house. But just...not like that?

If there was really something strange at home, shouldn't he worry about the Fujiwara couple's safety first?

Than, in this page. I saw someone else mentioned that Tanuma's reaction was a bit strange. Personally, I don't think it's an issue. Maybe he just didn't understand cuteness well LOL

But the point is, when Taki asked Natsume who he wanted to give it to, this page does not directly say who. It is odd. Because Natsume wanting to give Touko-san a gift is not something that needs to be hidden. We readers understand everything. I think only a line of dialogue is needed, like "because Touko-san said she likes rabbits, I want to give it to her", it doesn't even take up much space. And Tanuma's respond also didn't have the subject ('who' will be happy?) , though it is normal in Japanese grammar. From the context of the context, we can assume that he wanted to give it to Touko-san. (And got another one for Shigeru-san) But why do the dialogue need to be hidden here?

Natsume thought that Sensei would catch mice. This did make me feel a little odd, but it wasn't really weird.

But the scene of Touko leaving the house should be on a different day than before ('I also have something to do today'). It's just the panels of this page that made me think it was the same day when I read it at first glance. There is no scene change from day one to day two. I don't think this is a storyboard(name) issue, maybe it's intentional?

.

OK, I am not saying Natsume in this chapter is not Natsume. But he felt too relaxed. Someone said the whole chapter is like in dreaming, I start feeling the same...

Or maybe I really just think too much.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hiii! Do you think Harry stopped growing at 17? If he was as tall as James in DH I would imagine he was taller than his father. I have three brothers and my family is full of male cousins and they all had growth spurts after 17. I could see him growing another couple of inches after the war. His mind and body is finally at peace after 16 years. I always hc him to be 6’0-6’2 at the age of 21.

As far as Harry being scrawny… aren’t most teenage boys? My brothers were into sports and didn’t get into the gym until they were done with high school. With the profession he’s in I would assume fitness would be a requirement for the role. Yeah, you have a wand but what if it breaks or you lose it? He has a huge target on his back having defeated the darkest wizard of all time, and I can’t imagine him not learning how to physically defend himself and his loved ones. I don’t see him a huge buff gym junky, but I do see him as someone who has a lean athletic figure and someone who concentrates more on leg day than arm day. I think going to the gym would be an escape for him and help him decompress. I know the hp world prefer a shorter skinny hero (probably because of Daniel Radcliffe) who looks like an underdog, however every underdog grows up and barely anyone has the same physique as their teenage self.

Honestly, all this differs a lot with genetics. Harry's growth spurts in the books reminds me of my younger brother. Like, my brother was like 5'2 at 15, then, in like, one month near his 16th birthday, he grew to 5'10 and when he was around 19 he grew again by two inches. So, Harry could definitely still grow taller, but we don't really have a way to know.

Like, men can still grow in height until their late 20s, and it's possible James didn't even finish his growth since he died at 21, so he might've grown even taller if he survived to 25. Like, that's possible. I just don't really have evidence for or against besides saying, yes, it's possible, but I wouldn't call it likely since it's highly individual and based on genes. Like, I know guys who stopped growing at 16 and have been stuck at the same height since then. I also know guys who are 25 and still grow taller. It's the magic of genetics.

Muscle mass, physique, and the ability to gain weight are also heavily dependent on genetics and age. Men in their teens and early 20s usually have a much higher metabolic rate, which keeps them lean regardless of how much they eat (again, genetics play a big role here and this isn't true for everyone). Physical activity like Quidditch, would make the already fast metabolism faster. This naturally fast metabolism, combined with certain genetic makeup, can leave you looking lean regardless of how much you go to the gym as well. Some men need to reach their mid-20s before they can actually start gaining the weight necessary to appear buff.

I think Harry would look less lean as he got older. Like, I can hardly imagine a Harry in his mid to late 30s being as lean as 16-year-old Harry. I think his physique will change as he grows, as happens to most people. But I agree with you I don't see him as a super buff gym dude at any point in his life. He's always on the leaner side in my head, but this is all in headcanon territory since it isn't covered by the books.

I would like to add that all the super short and scrawny descriptions of Harry come from the first 4 books when these descriptions are correct. In book 6 Harry is thin, but no one describes him as a scrawny boy with knobbly knees past book 4. Not even he himself. So I definitely see Harry of the final 3 books as more lean than scrawny.

And yeah, you're right about Radcliffe messing up everyone's mental image of Harry, both in looks and personality. It's one of the things that bother me most about the movies. And, everyone can headcanon whatever they want, but I personally don't like short Harry (when he's older, when he's 14, make him short). It's not his canon character and when writers write him short, it's sometimes accompanied by him being written as too passive and meek for my liking because Harry James Potter is not passive or meek. (Radcliffe Harry in the movies is much more passive, hence the skewed mental image I mentioned, but I digress).

Besides, while malnourishment and food intake could affect one's growth, people tend to overlook the 6 years of Hogwarts and Molly's food which would be a huge boost during his puberty years in which he's having most of his growth. Additionally, some people's food intake matters less to their physical development than others — again, I can't stress enough how specific genetic makeup is super important in all this discussion.

TL;DR

Harry might grow taller to be 6' or 6'2. We don't have any evidence for or against really, so it's up to your preference on what you want to headcanon. But it's definitely super possible. If Lily was taller than the average it would even be likley (but I couldn't find any notes on Lily's or Petunia's height). In the books, he is very lean, and it's a combination of a lot of different factors working together: his lifestyle, genetic makeup, and yes, being a teenage boy with the fast metabolism that comes with it. As Harry grows up, he'd probably want to stay fit, but to what degree is also in personal headcanon territory (I personally don't like him becoming an Auror, but that's my preferred headcanon. I still see him staying pretty fit out of paranoia, sort of. I mean, he spent all his teenage years with a Damocles sword over his head. He literally died. I think he's allowed to be a little hypervigilant after that. I mean, he already is, but you get the point).

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

What is/are the Red Herring(s) of “Rings of Power” Season 2?

In Season 1, the major red herring was “The Stranger = Sauron”, with several characters assuming that the being that fell from the sky was Sauron returning to Middle-earth, and with the visual clues teasing it several times. So, the red herring/plot twist of Season 1 was connected with the “mystery box” of “who is Sauron?” 

Assuming Season 2 is following the same formula (and my guess is it is, because show writers love this kind of stuff), what’s the red herring of Season 2? Similar to Season 1, it has to fulfill the following requirements:  

It has been mentioned throughout the season;

Talked about by several characters;

Drive the plot forward (in some way);

Be resolved at the finale (2x08).

Season 2 has two mystery boxes remaining concerning identities: “who is the Stranger?” and “Who is the Dark Wizard of Rhûn?”  

(yes, I’m straight up ignoring all those crack theories about Adar = Celeborn or Mirdania = Celebrían)  

Sauron rises in the West; the Dark Wizard in the East. Every soul in Middle-earth is in danger. Tom Bombadil warns “The Stranger”, for push him into finding his wizard staff and earn his name.  

The Stranger = Gandalf

Ever since Season 1, the show has been dropping clues that “The Stranger” is actually Gandalf, with 1x08 confirming he’s one of the Istari (“Order of Wizards”). For context: the Istari were a group of Maiar sent to Middle-earth by the Valar to help the Free People defeat Sauron. And they were five: Gandalf, Saruman, Radagast and the Blue Wizards (Alatar and Pallando).  

We have to forget the timeline of the books here because, obviously, the show isn’t following it, and as Adar told Galadriel in 2x06: there were many stories about what happen, and since the “The Silmarillion” is somewhat written from the Eldar (mainly the Noldor) POV, the show can afford to take some liberties (I know this makes the Tolkien purists fume, but oh, well).  

In Season 2, in particular, the clues that “The Stranger = Gandalf” are everywhere, with Tom Bombadil going as far as using some of Gandalf iconic quotes. Poppy talking about “gand”s, and The Stranger’s quest of finding his wizard staff and earn his name (which will happen in 2x08). But is it possible that the show is pushing the “The Stranger = Gandalf” so hard, for it to end up being the red herring of Season 2, and him turning out to be an entirely different Istar at the finale?  

My main issue with this is: the red herring of Season 1 was already connected to The Stranger’s identity, and doing the same thing in Season 2 would be kind of lazy writing. It does fill all the requirements to be the “red herring”, though. But I don’t think so, my guess is “The Stranger” will be revealed to (actually) be Gandalf at the finale.  

"Who is the Dark Wizard of Rhûn?"

I don’t think there is any red herring here, mostly because we don’t have enough clues about who he is, at this point. I think Season 2 might even leave his identity ambiguous, mostly because, in 2x08, we’ll have the big reveal of “who is the Stranger?” in that plotline.

Let’s analyze the strongest contenders: 

Beware: there could be more than one red herring, because we can’t forget that in Season 1 we also had the "reveal" that Halbrand was, in fact, the lost heir to the throne of the Southlands, and we all know how that turned out...

I would also argue that the petals of Nimloth (the White Tree of Númenor) falling because of Galadriel’s presence on the island was also a red herring, back in Season 1 (it was clearly about Sauron/Halbrand, and maybe he was the one who caused them to fall, in the first place, to prevent Galadriel from leaving without him).  

1) Celebrimbor’s death at Sauron’s hands

Celebrimbor being at risk of Sauron’s corruption is not exactly a “red herring”, because we know it happens, and he’s deceived by Sauron/Annatar into forging the Seven and the Nine rings of power.

However, there is a sense of urgency throughout Season 2 in saving Celebrimbor, not only his mind from corruption and stop the "rings of power" project, but his very life. Several characters (mainly Galadriel and Elrond) have mentioned how Celebrimbor’s life is in danger, and it’s highly implied that Sauron will kill him in Eregion (Galadriel’s vision; Elrond remembering his father’s prophecy of how, one day, Celebrimbor’s life would be on his hands).  

But, will Sauron actually kill Celebrimbor, himself?  

In the books, it’s established he does. However, Season 2, right from the start, in 2x01, has shown us, the audience, that Sauron has some interesting methods of killing his enemies. Because Sauron is a mastermind, a deceiver, and so he enjoys manipulating others into doing his dirty work for him (like we saw with Waldreg and the Warg).

Can Sauron employ someone else into killing Celebrimbor? Could it be that, Celebrimbor and all other characters believe that he safe and sound (because Sauron has left Eregion and won’t return), and, boom, Celebrimbor gets killed by other character, doing Sauron’s biding?

2) The Three Elven Rings are free from Sauron’s influence 

The current ring-bearers (Gil-galad, Galadriel and Círdan) seem to believe the Three are free from Sauron’s influence. Galadriel, mainly, seems to trust Nenya completely, using the visions it provides as guidance. However, Círdan did say they have, yet, to discover the whole truth about the Elven Rings of Power, and that they should be, indeed, feared. Elrond, from the start, suspects the rings might be connected to Sauron, because he, as Halbrand, worked alongside Celebrimbor for some time, trying to find the right alloy for the mithril.

In “Rings of Power”, the Númenóreans say “the sea is always right”, and in this house we say that “Elrond is always right” (and his only sin was not throwing Isildur and the One Ring into the fires of Mount Doom)! Because the Three are not, in fact, free from Sauron’s power.  

In the books, the Three Elven Rings do not bind their ring-bearers (Gil-galad/Elrond, Galadriel and Círdan/Gandalf) to Sauron’s will, but they allow the Dark Lord to look inside their minds, and that’s how the smiths of Eregion knew that they were deceived by Sauron and perceived he forged the One Ring. The Three also lose their power after the One Ring is destroyed by Frodo in the Third Age, so they are, indeed, connected to Sauron’s power in some way, and perhaps Season 2 will reveal this to the audience. 

3) Galadriel will resist Sauron’s temptation

While several characters (Gil-galad, Elrond and Adar) do foreshadow that Galadriel might succumb to Sauron if she faces him alone in the finale, there’s always a sense of certainty she’ll resist him. With Adar being the exception here. However, Galadriel seems to be utterly sure that she can resist Sauron again, and defeat him (or die trying).

Galadriel believes that she can resist Sauron’s temptation because: (1) what he offered last time (power) isn’t enough to tempt her, and (2) she’s aware of his deceptions and manipulations, meaning there is nothing he can tempt her with. Or is there?

Sauron will bring the big guns this time around, and so the question is: will Galadriel be able to, in fact, resist him, again? 

4) Balrog of Moria

Season 1 revealed it, and Season 2 has been teasing the Balrog of Morgoth that dwells deep in the mountains bellow the kingdom of Khazad-dûm, in the mines of Moria.

Both Disa and Prince Durin are already aware of its presence (they doesn’t know what it is, only its something dangerous, ancient and powerful). And Sauron/Annatar is also aware of its presence. Now, we see Sauron performing some kind of blood magic in 2x06, which might lead the audience to believe he’s “summoning” the Balrog or trying to control it, for him to join the Battle of Eregion or something of that sort. Hence the red herring.   

In book canon, we know that Sauron can’t control the Balrog, because they are the same kind (both Maiar corrupted by Morgoth), and the Balrog doesn’t join his forces. You see, the Balrog just wants to chill in the mines and be left alone.  

Season 2 has been teasing that the Balrog might have a bigger role than it’ll actually have. In the canon, the Balrog was, literally, dig out by the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm, due to their greed, and we already saw Disa and Prince Durin trying to stop the Dwarves from digging near its lair.

By bet is: Durin III, guided by his ring of power (controlled by Sauron), will dig out the Balrog himself, while the Dwarves are busy in the Battle of Eregion. And like in the books, the Balrog will kill him, and earn the nickname “Durin’s bane”. And that’s pretty much it for the Balrog plotline.

That's it, folks. Is there any other potential red herring that you can think of? Do you agree or disagree that some of these clues are, indeed, red herrings?

[rockwgooglyeyes]

Although this is extremely late, what would you say happens during and after Nyx’s and the other’s escape?

HI (I am assuming) PARA!! I'm so sorry that I never wrote something for the aftermath of Nyx's round, I had a draft but I just moved into my flat at uni and my flatmates moved in last Sunday and it's been kind of super chaotic since. I haven't had much time to write. But the finished product will be in this ask-response, for simplicity's sake. If that's okay with you

LOG (SUBJECT: Round 18 - ONYX LOSS)

SPECIMEN: 001247 (ONYX)

When the lights go out, fear is the furthest thing from Nyx's mind.

Why would he be afraid? Lang won, she won, he's so happy he could cry. She deserves it, she deserves the world, he wants to hug her and kiss her forehead and tell her that he loves her before he goes. He clutches onto her, their dance stuttering to a stop in the muddy black. He can hear the alarms going off, the panicked screams of the crowd, the footsteps clattering through the arena and the gunshots ringing out, but it all feels far away. Lang starts to push him away, her hands shaking, but he holds fast.

"It's just me, please," he rasps, voice breaking on the last syllable. She goes still in his arms, wariness clear in the steely potential energy of her limbs. He finds her forehead with his hand and brushes away her bangs from it, bending down to press a kiss to the revealed skin. "Thank you, Lang, for being my friend. I love you." She hesitates, hands twitching where they rest on his chest, before hugging him. She squeezes him tightly and lets go all too soon, distancing herself from him. She takes one step and then another, getting farther and farther each time.

Letting out a shaky breath, Nyx lets her go. Lang doesn't turn, she doesn't run away, she watches him unflinchingly in the murky darkness. If there really is an afterlife, he thinks, I will miss her when I get there. Maybe I'll get to see Kyo, or Cas. Tov might even name a constellation after me. He doesn't follow her, simply standing there and waiting for death to come. He doesn't care how it's done, whether it be a bullet through the chest or someone slams him to the ground and bashes his head in, it doesn't matter. If his last memory is one of pain, then so be it. He deserves it, after all this time of living past his expiration date.

See, it was as soon as he realized that Kyo would never love him back, it was when he first set his eyes on Asahi, it was when he stood on stage at graduation- those were the moments that told Nyx that he wouldn't make it past twenty. Here he is, though, twenty and something months, however many days over his allowance. He doesn't regret it, the moments he had in that stolen time. He was able to tell Tov he loved her, he got to tell Vera goodbye, he saw Aurien one last time and Solei, well, Solei is still alive. He just hopes that they're happy.

Nyx can't help but laugh- Tov will be absolutely furious with him for dying. For losing. At least, he hopes she hates him for it, that it makes it easier to accept that he's gone. Part of him still wishes he had done something other than laugh. He wishes that the last thing he said to her was something gentle, sweet, but he supposes it wouldn't have been true to form. He's not a sweet, gentle person. He's brittle and sharp around the edges and cruel when it counts, bitter when it hurts. Still, he wishes that he had done something better than laugh when she told him to win. He laughed because he had nothing to say, because he was surprised, because he was astounded that Tov thought he even stood a chance. After all, she knows the truth, that Cas threw the round, that he'd done it as some kind of sacrifice, some sick act of love.

(Really, Nyx should have known from the beginning, that something was off, that Cas wasn't trying as hard as he should have been, that he wasn't pouring his heart out into it like he would've been had the circumstances been different. He should've known that the calm, the acceptance in Cas' eyes was a harbinger of doom, an omen for what was to come. He didn't. He was too foolish, too naïve, too stupid to see the truth.)

When a hand clamps down over his mouth from behind him, he doesn't scream. He doesn't fight. He waits for the end, no resistance, no questions, no fear. Maybe that's why it takes him a moment to make out Aurien's voice, pleading with him.

"Nyx? Nyx, can you hear me?" He blinks, turning to see his little sister, standing stark in the darkness. Inky strands of hair is dripping into her wild eyes, she pulls down a mask covering her mouth, breathing heavily as she watches him.

"Aurien," he murmurs, breathing her name in a hushed whisper, reverent as a prayer. He takes a step forward and tucks her hair behind her ear, cupping her face with a hand, stroking his thumb down the delicate curve of her cheekbone, the gentle flutter of her eyelashes. She leans into his touch, smiling slightly and releasing a sigh of relief. "You're not supposed to be here." What happens next doesn't make sense, her eyes flashing open, fury flashing in their obsidian depths.

"Nyx," she intones, warning obvious in her tone. She places her hand on top of his, her jaw twitching with barely constrained rage.

"I've already stayed too long," he tells her, running his fingers through her hair, just as he used to when they were children and he was comforting her while she cried. "Please, save Lang instead. She doesn't deserve to die." She jerks backwards, ripping his hand away and stumbling, looking shaken to her core.

"What are you talking about?" She demands, throwing her hands up in the air. "You don't deserve to die, either." Nyx barks out a laugh, shaking his head.

"Of course, you would say that," he sighs, looking down at the ground. "But Cas died. He died so that I could live. Kyo is gone, Vera too, that's not even mentioning Tallis. You and Solei are happy, now. I'll just drag you down, with my cynicism, my baggage. You're better off forgetting about me."

"You-"

"I don't deserve to be saved."

"Well, good thing that I don't fucking care whether or not you deserve it," Aurien snaps, eyes flashing dangerously. "You're coming. We're saving you. No buts."

Of course, right after she says that, a whistle pierces the air and punctures her in the side. Right where she was shot the first time. Right where Cas was shot. Nyx catches her when she falls, grasping at her arms with shaking, sweaty hands. She coughs out blood onto his shoulder, trying to push herself back up and failing. Nyx should be helping her, he knows he should be helping her. After all, she's real.

But his vision is flickering in and out, Aurien's hair turning curly, the color of dried blood, hemoglobin on silk. She looks up at him, says something, but he can only see Castor's face, smiling at him with bloodied lips. Nyx can only hear the laugh that bubbled out of Castor in his last moments. Nyx's heart is beating the drums of war in his ears, chest heaving and tears budding in his eyes. He presses his hand to the wound in her side to stem the bleeding (like he did with Cas) and she hisses in pain just like Cas did.

Nyx chokes on his own breath, stuttering backwards, unable to do this any longer. Aurien makes a noise in surprise, crumpling to the floor, just like Cas did. Just like Cas did.

"It's not, real, he's gone," Nyx hiccups out, shaking his head, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. "He's gone, he's gone. Please, please," He repeats it, a broken record catching again on the needle, attempting to self-soothe in the face of a fracturing psyche.

"Onyx," a voice cuts through his delusions. He barely hears it and when a hand suddenly grabs his forearm, he flinches away on instinct, eyes wide, panic taking over every other faculty of his mind. The owner of the hand is he doesn't recognize, with white curly hair and a face mask just like the one Aurien was wearing, and they're looking at him sternly. "We need to get out of here."

"Wh- I- alright," Nyx acquiesces, too tired to fight anymore. "Where're we going?" His voice is hollowed out and rough, broken by his crying.

"Surveillance room," the white-haired person grunts out while picking up Aurien gingerly and holding her over their shoulder. "You know a way there?" Nyx nods, scanning his mind for the shortest route from the stage. He beckons them to follow him and darts off, lowering himself down off of the stage and going to the undercroft beneath the stage through a hidden panel. The person ducks in behind him, seeming surprised at where they end up, the racks of costumes, the tools and other supplies, microphones and cords strewn about. Nyx weaves through the mess quickly, leaving his companions to catch up as he rewires the lift to bypass the security lockdown.

"I wouldn't risk the lift if we didn't have someone injured," Nyx says quietly, fingers tangles and disentangling the cords he pulled from the outlet. Finally, the lift dings, the light turning on as the doors open with a hiss. The person holding Aurien nods to him and enters the lift. Nyx presses the button inside and opens up the admin panel to program a no-stop straight shot to the surveillance room. "See, the thing is, the undercroft and the surveillance room are directly connected because they're both backstage work areas." Nyx doesn't know why he's talking, not really, but the words are spilling out of him and it feels good to fill the silence up with something other than the hum of the electricity and the whispers in his head insisting that this isn't real either, he's already dead and this is some grandiose delusion of heaven.

They actually reach the surveillance room before the person holding Aurien even responds to his rambling which feels a bit like a blessing in disguise. There are two people already in the surveillance room, one of which whips around to face them while the other stays hunched over the admin panel, presumably doing damage control. Funnily enough, they look like Ryu and Ji-Woo but that's ridiculous. Those two went missing.

"Nyx?" The person that looks and sounds like Ryu exclaims, amber eyes widening. "Shit, what happened to Aurien, Bunny?!" The person carrying Aurien, Bunny apparently, lets out a sigh and walks out of the lift, dragging Nyx with them.

"She got shot, Ryu, obviously," Bunny answers. "Now, where's our muster point? We can't just hole up in here."

"I'm working on it," Ji-Woo barks out. Nyx has decided that they must be the real Ryu and Ji-Woo, no matter how ridiculous that is, because they both sound like them and look like them and Ryu got called Ryu by Bunny and Aurien is the real Aurien and- fuck, he should really just shut up. Ryu glances at Nyx out of the corner of his eye.

"Hey, are you okay?" Nyx blinks, frowning at Ryu in confusion. "You seem shaken up." Nyx stares at him for a moment longer before trying to smile.

"Never been better," he lies through his teeth. He's definitely been worse but suffice to say, this not one of his better days.

"I've got a muster point from Solei, c'mon, we need to go," Ji-Woo says as soon as he sends out a command for a system wide 24hr shut down. "We meet at docking bay 4D in the Φ wing. You know where that is?" Ji-Woo glances to Nyx who blinks in surprise before nodding. He finds his way to the front of their pack before darting ahead, scanning the hallways for any guards as he slowly orients himself and takes them through the weird back alleys of the arena.

"How do you even know these are here?" Ryu asks at some point while they're in an abandoned fuel cellar in Φ wing.

"Uh, trial and error mostly," Nyx replies as he tries to remember whether they go right or left from here. "Oryon took me to the last two seasons of ALNST but it didn't really supervise me well so I wandered around."

"And you never got caught?" Bunny inquires, skeptical and for good reason.

"Oh, it's left," Nyx realizes, beckoning them to follow him through the gap between two walls where there used to be insulation, before the wing was decommissioned and set for demolition. "I mean, I haven't gotten caught doing this yet." Finally, they emerge in the bay after going through the vault in the ceiling, where all the old electrical is still hanging from the rafters.

"You would have been useful to have when we did this before, Ji-Woo and I kept getting lost," Ryu remarks. Ji-Woo blushes and elbows his partner before breaking off to find Solei. He waves them over to a bulky object covered by a dusty tarp after a moment. He and Ryu drag the tarp off and Solei pops up from the bed of the truck, eyes huge and wary in the dim. Bunny settles into the bed of the truck as well, putting Aurien down gently in the pile of bedding there so that she won't get jostled too much. Solei chirps, panic obvious in their tone and Nyx feels guilt pool in his stomach. He gets into the passenger seat after Ji-Woo settles behind the wheel, unable to face his sister who he was unable to help when she needed and the friend who loves his sister as much as he does.

Nyx thinks the best thing that happened tonight was Lang surviving.

Perhaps, Nyx is not good at accepting good things.

I will tag @starry-skiez because Ryu & Ji-Woo belong to him, @bluemoonscape because Castor & Kyo belong to him, @apriciticreveries because she's Aurien's mama, @solei-eclipse is Solei's creator, @rosedeleca for Bunny & Rose. um. @zerostyrant because he asked to be tagged <3 oh and @ivanttakethis because i mention Tov <3

[boombambaby]

An opinion on sexuality no one asked for, and I’ve been putting off for a long time because it’s a little bit touchy for me;

I kind of refuse to put any label on Kuzco, and here’s why.

In the movie they portray Kuzco as flamboyant, feminine, sassy, arrogant, narcissistic and lazy before the big llama fiasco— which to some, automatically makes him gay, or as some people put it ‘a bi/pansexual icon’ or whatever.

The scene with the brides is and has always gone down as a ‘LOOK! Here’s the proof!’ that he’s gay because he’s so dismissive and condescending to them, and insists the match maker could do better. When in reality, it’s because he’s 17 IN THAT SCENE, and is more concerned with his upcoming birthday and the meeting with the peasant who’s hill he’s going to destroy to build a WATERPARK ON. Because he is a selfish little PUNK, and does not care about the bride stuff. At all. Not because he isn’t interested in women.

The brides thing is a tradition— a boring one at that— and while yes he has to marry to hold the throne, I’m of the mindset that it has been DRILLED INTO HIM from the moment he could walk that as Emperor, he is FLAWLESS AND PERFECT in every way, the ideal of the Incan people and a literal descendant of the Sun God— any potential bride he chooses should be AS perfect or flawless as he is, to carry on the Royal genes and continue the perfect bloodline. Which? If he thinks HE is the ideal and the most perfect Incan and a gift to all mankind, WOULD MAKE IT IMPOSSIBLE BECAUSE NO ONE WOULD BE ACCEPTABLE TO MARRY, since there is NO ONE as perfect as HE IS.

It literally says it in the song;

“The quintessence of perfection, that is he.”

“Years of such selective breeding, generations have been leading to this MIRACLE of life that we all know!”

I dislike the idea that BECAUSE he is a sassy man who at that point in time (before character development) had incredibly high, near impossible standards and no interest in following along with a boring tradition, is automatically assumed to be gay or at the very least, not the ‘western’ interpretation of straight or whatever else.

The scene was meant to portray him as an arrogant, selfish prick who finds enjoyment in belittling others and has little care for anything that isn’t himself or something that can immediately benefit him. It was supposed to give us an idea of what his personality is like, how cold and dismissive he is, not that he’s not interested in women or that he’s gay.

In Incan times the Emperor often had a harem of women at his disposal, marrying several who held his fancy, but his ‘main’ or primary wife would often be his sister and any children they had would be of the official royal bloodline since they kept it in the family, continuing on the perfect genes.

I don’t think it’s fair to classify Kuzco as anything based on the movie, because the only thing we saw of that nature was the bride scene and all of the sass he carries like a security blanket (bc it is but that’s a different Headcanon) and the fact that he doesn’t have a love interest, but WOULD have if the original adaptation (kingdom of the sun) had more influence on the very troubled finished movie.

[twig-tea]

Thoughts on The On1y One Finale

Long story short: I did not like it. A romance narrative in which neither couple actually gets together, not even temporarily, is just not satisfying. Especially when we felt the time being wasted week to week near the end.

Not only did neither Sheng Wang nor Jiang Tian admit their feelings to each other--both think they're in a one-sided crush--but Jiang Tian can tell that Sheng Wang is pulling away and lying about it, and Sheng Wang is fucking up his future in order to keep away from Jiang Tian and manage his own feelings. But they still live in the dorm together, because they've promised each other to stay together through the year, and Sheng Wang knows he can't break that promise without wrecking Jiang Tian. I appreciate that Sheng Wang is finding ways to sabotage his own future cleverly, so that nobody can call him on it, without breaking the promises he's made [I stay on my competency kink train, always], but that is not a satisfying place to end a story.

Meanwhile Zhao Xi has finally had it confirmed that actually Lin Bei Ting [returns his feelings] has real feelings for him, and...we end there, again with no resolution.

Two sets of presumed one-sided crushes staying away from each other for internalized homophobia (and other) reasons, one as kids and one as adults, neither of which left resolved. That sucks!

Here's my thing. Beyond knowing that the show added this adolescent-feeling conflict to the teacher storyline [h/t @thisonelikesaliens] that dragged down the pacing of the show (I'm genuinely upset that they decided to take away the opportunity for queer elder content!), the back third of this show was circular, slow, and felt intentionally time-waste-y. I do get wanting to leave things in a place to encourage a drive for season 2 (I'm assuming, since the director has been telling people to ask for s2 as per @bluesuns3t), but I also expect folks to leave season 1 in a satisfying place within that constraint, and for me this was not satisfying. The only thing we resolved is that Sheng Wang knows he has feelings Jiang Tian, which is a realization he's had for at least the last 3 episodes in a row.

And like I said, where we left them is such an awkward place; Jiang Tian knows something is up and is upset about it. Are we supposed to believe this awkward tension is going to exist through the end of their high school career unchallenged? Even though they still live together in the dorm? With everything we've seen between these two?! We saw how he reacted the last time Sheng Wang put up an invisible barrier between them.

Without Season 2 confirmed, I have to judge it on what we got: 8 great episodes of Grade-A excellent slow burn romance mixed with yearning, well-handled family trauma, some excellent visual metaphors, and school being treated as high stakes (which feels right for kids this age), followed by 4 episodes of wheel-spinning, window dressing, and an ending that feels unresolved and unsatisfying.

Obviously I want season 2, but I am both not counting on it and less excited if we get one than I would have been a few weeks ago.

[prinzrupprecht]

To Live or Die

Chapter 5 - the truth and acceptance

I’m back to my next level of Okita stage coping since the leaks. If you’re new here, read the previous parts!

Synopsis Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

TW: hurt/comfort

WC: 965

Kondo-san and your uncle were in another room talking. You assumed they were practically catching up over the years. Souji was quiet like you were. Were you both waiting for the other to break the silence? You sighed while deciding that Souji won this game with the awkward tension. “It’s been a while…” you mumbled while keeping your head down.

You couldn’t even make eye contact with him. He was just as shy and nervous as you were. “How have you been?” he asked. It was better to change the subject for the better. His question made you think after the war you didn’t honestly expect to see him again. His words struck you before how he wanted to help his friends in battle fighting for their lives and beliefs. Souji said if he were to die then it would be in a spectacular battle. What changed?

“I’m… doing okay. What about you?” You had no idea whether you were telling the truth. Were you okay? Probably not. Your heart started fluttering again. You casually brought one of your fingers up to your cheekbone while awkwardly smiling. You tilted your head a bit to get a good look at him.

“I told you already with the letter I sent.” He muttered as if he was more disappointed with your response. You looked down and thought for a moment what he said. Was he hinting how he missed you?

“Sorry, I’m not great with words.” You muttered and it was silent for a good minute between you two. You didn’t really give him much about your new life in your letter. You wanted to ask him things as he did but neither of you knew how to talk to one another properly like before. Were things completely ruined between you two?

“Are you still mad at me?” he gripped the top of his knees unsure if what he did would ever be forgivable to you.

“To you? No. I am with myself. You shouldn’t apologize when I can’t even properly give you one.” Your words affected him when he knew you all too well. You still somewhat resented him for leaving and choosing to fight in a war that wasn’t winnable. What did you mean by that? He has already long forgiven the things you said.

You were closing yourself off from people getting close to you again. “No. I can’t ever make up for the past. I don’t regret choosing my beliefs and keeping my promises to the others, and Kondo-san. I still always cared about you, it was just the wrong place at the wrong time for both of us.” Okita realized what he was saying would hurt you, but he couldn’t lie either.

You kept silent and pursued your lips from getting emotional. “But— but we’re here now right?” Okita saw how saddened you were. You tried to crack a smile at his enthusiasm.

“Ya… I suppose,” you quietly said. Kondo-san and your uncle returned laughing with one another. You and Souji looked at them wondering what they talked about.

“What is going on?” you had asked and your uncle looked at Kondo.

“I think you should go back with them,” your uncle broke the tension in the room. You stared at him with confusion.

“Huh?” You were wondering why. You looked at Okita who didn’t make eye contact with you.

“I don’t… understand?” This was difficult for Arashi to explain to you how the area is consumed with illegal gangs and former members of Tosa have migrated down to Yokohama to operate their crimes in the dark.

“You’re just not safe here, if you can at least give them a chance… you’ll find that closure but it won’t be here. I know things have been hard for you.” He stopped and saw you looking down at your hands. Kondo stood back in silence while he was relatively glad you weren’t resisting the temptation to stay in Yokohama.

“What about you?” you asked. Your uncle sucked in a breath before looking at Kondo.

“After you got attacked earlier, that man knows your face and the gang he associates with… it’s too dangerous for you to stay here.” He avoided your question and it was difficult for you to decide.

You wanted some time to decide whether you would risk your life staying in Yokohama or go back with Kondo and Souji. “You didn’t answer my question.” You chewed the inside of your cheek.

“I’ll— I’ll be fine, I promise. Your life is more in jeopardy than mine. I run the docks down here, they won’t come for me.” Arashi ruffled your hair a bit making you pout. You had no idea if he was telling you the truth or just making the situation sound less bad than what it already was.

“If anything we’ll come back if Arashi-san is in trouble, right Kondo-san?” Souji spoke up. You crossed your arms but thought of it as him trying to get you to leave but maybe he was right and that your life is in danger now. Who would be better to keep you safe? The obvious answer would be Kondo and Souji.

“Fine, when do we leave?” You looked at Kondo and back to Souji.

“Soon, I have to get back to the department in a day or so since I’m here without proper clearance.” You briefly looked at your uncle and excused yourself to grab a few of your things.

How did things have to turn out this way? Now you’re returning to live with them again like old times? It feels incredibly odd and not real. The war took that from you, right? You were hurt still but maybe over time you’ll heal again and move on. Only time can do that.

[would-you-punt-them]

Possible reasons: heart/blood issues (ie: maybe your heart was beating too fast or there was a sudden change in blood pressure), thyroid issues, or hypersomulance (ie: narcolepsy or IHS). But there is a LOT it could be. These are just ones that I’m aware of. I highly suggest seeing a dr if you can and at least getting SOME kinda test done! Hope it’s nothing super serious!!

I genuinely don't think it's that serious; I was worried for a while because before it was happening constantly, but it's been happening less and less frequently each day, and today it hasn't even happened at all

So I think whatever was causing isn't a long-term condition, and I'm in the clear

Actually I think my willpower proved too strong for it, because I can control it now - even though it doesn't seem to do it randomly anymore, I can still do it on command, so at any moment I can decide now is sleepy time and shut down instantly, whether I feel tired or not

Though I do think there might be some lingering side effects that are super weird, and I do want to know if anyone can relate because I've never heard of this kind of thing happening before

Basically, since this started happening I've only been able to sleep in short bursts, even at night, and that hasn't changed - I wake up for like 1-2 minutes, and then go back to sleep, over and over again, so instead of a solid 8 hours in bed I'm basically taking a series of naps

Now here's the weird part - my dreams carry over

I'm having a dream, I wake up, and I'm like "wait no I want to know what happens next", so I make myself fall straight back asleep and it picks up where it left off

And I've discovered that apparently I can use this against my enemies - last night I had a dream where I was in court, and because I was struggling with the case I asked for a recess so I could grab my phone real quick, woke up, picked up my actual phone IRL, googled legal advice, then went back to sleep and got back to the courtroom, and was like "sorry I'm back, I just looked it up and have an objection now" and the judge allowed it

When I got up properly I assumed that me "waking up and using my phone" was part of the dream (you know like how sometimes you wake up, go through your morning routine, then wake up a second time because the first time was actually still in the dream)

But then I checked my phone and the website was still open

Shit like this has been happening every night for days now, has anyone had experiences similar to this

[lilbeetlebean]

I dunno what possessed me to decide to write this out but here we are. It is not proof-read or edited. I may come back and clean it up at some point but who knows.

Themes: slight enemies to friends, pinning, happy dunkardness + violence mentioned.

Ennjoooy :)

Outside of the Farm Wisp spent a good amount of her free time hanging at the tavern, often leaving far later than any sane farmer would dare.

She was slamming back a few beers when she heard the familiar bell ring as the front door was pushed open. In walked March most likely here for his evening meal after completing his own days work. Wisp bit her lip as her inner conflict kicked in. She had kind of been avoiding him since they had their Saturday market altercation over his comment a few days previously, but he HAD been right and she HAD asked Vera to cut her hair shorter. Her clear dew coloured eyes were a little cloudy from the alcohol she had consumed, as they stared into the contents of her glass. She took a sharp inhale, slammed the rest of her beer and turned to wave March over to the seat nested to her.

“March, c’mere sit with me, let me buy you a drink”

“Why?” His voice was flat, cold. Wisp pretended not to hear the tone and grinned up at his face her cheeks burning she assumed from the, was it 3 or 4 drinks she’s had?

“As a peace offering, for losing my temper the other day….”

“….And punching you”

“….alright ONE beer”

Her face beamed at that response, waving hemlock down and ordering two more pints for them. That warm fuzzy glow of drunkardness was beginning to make itself at home in the pit of her belly. She took another swig and before she could stop her mouth had started out on some long ranting apology of her earlier behaviour.

She was so frustrating, one day she’s physically attacking him, the next she’s completely ignoring his existence. He only knew this for fact as Olric had mentioned her asking when they wouldn’t be around the forage for her to be able to smelt down some ore she had recently acquired. Usually the infuriating woman had no problem invading his space during working hours to accomplish one of the many tasks she seemed to set out doing. It had been almost four days since he had even laid eyes on the brunette farmer.

March signed and pushed his hand through the front of his hair pushing it back out of his face only for it to flop right back into place. ‘At least She’ll stop by on Friday’ he thought to himself. Blinking once, twice March shook his head irritated by this thought. Why did he even know the exact timeframe he had last seen Wisp, and WHY did he even care if she stopped by on Friday.

He pushed the tavern door open, he must’ve been tired from work. A good meal and some rest would clear his mind of these thoughts. That’s when he heard his name being called from the corner by a familiar albe slightly slurred voice.

The first thing he noticed was her hair. It was significantly shorter than the last time. March scoffed, so that’s why she’s been avoiding him. She was to proud to admit her wrongness in their previous fight.

His head rested in his hand as he watched Wisp talk about her more recent finds within the mines, his one beer turning into three. With her hair finally out of her face he could clearly see the features of her face. This being the first time March had seen her not scowling or fighting or yelling or throwing hands at him. The sound of her laughter was like bells as she laughed at a cheesy bartending joke Hemlock had made that he hadn’t quite caught. A lopsided smile curled onto his lips as he continued to watch Wisp chatter away. Beaming, bright like a full moon.

“Huh…..she’s actually…kind of…….cute”

Wisps head whipped from the conversation she was having in his direction ‘shit did I say that out loud’

March quickly turned his head away a gentle hand coming to rest on his upper arm “hmm? Did you say something March ? Sorry Hemlock was just telling me about his latest concoction” her fingers wiggled in front of his face as she said Concoction and whatever breathe he had been holding in freed itself. She hadn’t heard him, thank god. March stood abruptly then hands resting in the bar surface “I have to go, early day tomorrow n’all. thanks for the dinner Hemlock” he placed the appropriate amount of tesserae on the countertop and rushed out the door.

Wisp looked surprised as she looked between the door where March had just exited and Hemlocks face increasingly hard to read in her current state.

[awrkive]

r we getting tlp3 anytime soon 😖😖😖

anon asked: Could you please give us a little tiny spoiler about tlp pt.3?🥹🫶🏻

hi first anon! no i dont think i can give u guys a date yet. im actually currently joining an architectural competition at uni so thats keeping me a bit busier than usual, but i am writing tlp 3 during my breaks so ... thats that. ANYWHO. i will make sure to update u guys when its ready to be out!

anyways, to second anon. a tiny spoiler under the cut proceed if u wanna.. 🤓

You’re pretty much drained the moment you arrive at your place.

Sighing heavily, you punch in the passcode and almost feel your knees buckling at the sight of the interior of your apartment when the door opens.

It feels like it’s been so long since you’ve been here, and coupled with the discussion that you had with Doyeon two days ago, everything suddenly feels overstimulating and there’s a certain burn at the sides of your eyes that urges you to cry. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you breathe in and out as you enter the threshold, noting the fact that anybody is not home. Or Jungkook isn’t present anywhere in the living room. You’re a bit grateful for that if you have to be honest to yourself – after all, the last time that you talked to him, it did not exactly go as well as you’d like. 

He could be in his room, though. That’s what you assume as you go straight over to the kitchen in hopes to heat up the take-out that you bought at the driveway. But the to-go container from Chipotle at the island catches your attention, as well as the laptop that is left open beside it. 

So Jungkook is home. 

The question is, where could he possibly be, leaving out his stuff here in the kitchen? Might be in his bedroom to grab something real quick? 

You don’t mean to do the next thing that comes to your mind, but your feet – your stupid feet – track back from the microwave to the island, and your eyes betray you as they go look and read the words on Jungkook’s macbook. 

The tab that's left open shows an apartment listing website, and the following tabs beside it are some familiar real-estate names you’ve come to visit on the internet before when you were looking for a place yourself.

It makes you freeze in your spot, eyes glued to the daunting images of the apartment layout that Jungkook must’ve clicked on awhile ago, and you take note that he’s seemingly, specifically, looking for one-bedroom and studio apartments. 

Your mind goes into a sudden haywire at the sight. 

What does this mean? 

“Oh, hey,”

The embodied voice makes your head snap to its direction, and you see Jungkook standing in front of you in his sweats and shirt – his usual home clothes – with a charger in his hand. 

“Jungkook.” You say, or more like, breathe out. There's a heavy feeling that sits in your heart when you look at his face – but most of all, it beats a little above normal.

But Jungkook looks just as surprised as you. 

“I… I didn’t know you’re coming ho– back.” He says, and you feel a sudden twinge inside that you ignore when you caught him pointedly avoiding the word home when pertaining to your place. Somehow, it felt intentional.

But you give him a smile. Probably a weak one. Probably doesn’t really look like a smile at all and more like a grimace.

If Jungkook notices, he doesn’t say anything. Just goes straight to the direction of the high chairs on the island and plug in his charger on his laptop. 

Then, he turns to look at you. “Uh.. you just got off from your shift?” 

“Uhm, yeah. You too?” You say, nibbling your bottom lip with your teeth. A nervous habit. 

“Nah, got off a few hours ago.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

“Yeah.” 

You nod your head. You stand there for a while, letting the silence that’s admittedly awkward hang in the air. 

It’s weird, really. Jungkook and you usually have a lot to say to each other – but right now, there doesn’t seem to be a single thing that you can bring up.

There's a certain kind of melancholy in the case. 

“Well, uhm. That’s Zillow.” You say, pointing to his laptop. The moment the words left your lips you swear you could have slapped yourself. 

How stupid to ask him about it. How incredibly stupid for that thing to be your choice of topic after weeks of no proper communication with him. 

Jungkook seems just as taken aback by this, though, turning his head immediately to look at his laptop. There’s a slight jerk in his movements when he glides his fingers across the trackpad that closes the entire window of the internet and shows his PC wallpaper instead. 

“Oh. Yeah. That was… Zillow.” 

Stupid, stupid you makes everything even more awkward when you say, “You’re looking for a place?” 

Jungkook stares at you for awhile. There’s a pregnant pause, and then he nods his head. A bit hesitant. But his voice is full when he speaks. 

“Yeah.” 

So he’s moving out. That’s what you think as you avoid looking at his face, letting your gaze fall back on his laptop.

You give him a small smile. 

“Ah. Good luck with the search, then.”

Your hope you hide the way your heart completely breaks when you say the words. 

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Wishing on Golden Stars [2]

Intertwined Fate and the Yashiro Commission

genre: isekai, slow burn, fluff, hurt/comfort, humor(?)

chapter warning(s)!!!: none to note!

chapter w.count: 4.4k

a/n: dw ayato shows up in this one c:

Even if it wasn’t all that long of a detainment, the time you spent sitting in your single person cell with Tenryou guards giving you shifty glances felt like way too long. Though, the sanctioned time alone and lack of conversation from said guards does help you process things. 

Firstly, your little transmigration journey as you’ve grown to accept it, was at least merciful enough to place you into Teyvat in clothing that didn’t scream ‘I’m from a whole other world’. If you had just spawned out of nowhere in sweatpants and a graphic tee that you washed so many times that the graphic was more of a distorted splotchy mess that a design, well things could’ve been worse. The plain white set of jinbei- equip with a pair of loose shorts and kimono styled top- was quite generous of the transmigration gods to gift. Though your new apparel that are now stained, were better than Earth clothes. 

The chill of the prison was a constant annoyance as your skin was breaking world records for how long goosebumps could last. The guards could have at least provided you with an extra blanket or something; the cot’s blanket could very well pass as a top sheet instead of a blanket at all. 

Second, you accept the fact that this wasn’t some really long dream you’d just wake up from and laugh at. The emotional turmoil and sore arm from your fall earlier that had already scabbed up was proof enough of that.  You’ve read isekai manwha before and when a character who has been reborn takes chapters upon chapters to accept that where they are is their life now? Irritating honestly. So, unless you wake up from some sudden, unexplained coma in reality, this was your new life now. 

Third, from the whispered voices of the guards, you had appeared in Inazuma at the start of the Sakoku Decree. That being said, you couldn’t come to figure out when exactly that is since Genshin didn’t have the best timeline system. Would the Traveler show up at some point? If so, when? And who would it be? Would it be Aether or Lumine or maybe someone completely different. You had no idea and all you could do was wait and see if that would ever happen- if you ever get out of this cell. 

You were laying on your jail cot, staring out the small, barred window at the sky that began to cloud over. It was late afternoon already, and you expect that you’ll be here the next few days at least. Who knows when the Tri-Commission would actually get around to caring about the random girl who showed up in Ritou. Still, as barren and cold as it was, you would be provided scheduled meals and a roof, so you couldn’t really complain… aside from the blanket situation. 

Still lost in thought, your attention is brought back to your cell door when a click of a lock echoes into your cell followed by the rattling of the door sliding open. Sitting up, you twist to see who was coming in assuming it was another Tenryou guard to ask questions. Just like with Thoma’s sudden appearance, your voice caught in your throat when you saw the complete opposite of who you were expecting. 

Thoma had reappeared in your vision, though in the dim lighting it was difficult to see him, but you knew it was him. And with him, was none other than his master.

Kamisato Ayato stood in your jail cell, holding eye contact that was definitely filled with genuine awe on your side. Even though you couldn’t see him well, he was still a beautiful man. His in-game model couldn’t hold a candle to the real deal. He must’ve found your silent blinking and agape mouth amusing since he chuckles silently- maybe even condescendingly- at you before Thoma starts talking behind a step behind his left shoulder. 

“I told you you’d be taken care of,” the ginger enthusiastically tells you, his voice echoing off the barren stone walls. The deadpanned look of unenthusiasm from you once you get your eyes off Ayato and jaw clacked shut sends him into a small laughing fit. If you had a better pillow on your shotty little prison cot, you would’ve thrown it at his dumb face. 

“Yes, because it’s so accommodating here,” you mutter. More to yourself than to him since the last thing you want to do is act like a spoiled rotten, supposed criminal in front of a commissioner who had more power than you ever had in your (previous?) life. If Ayato suspects you of being even the slightest bit hostile? You didn’t want to be a victim of one of his little schemes. Favorite though he may be, you weren’t controlling him on a screen right now; in fact, you had no control here at all! 

“Don’t worry too much!” Thoma attempts to placate. “You’ll be out of this cell in no time!” The quizzical look you give him continues to make him chuckle as he steps around his lord and closer to you. Helping you off the cot by offering his hand. You take his offer because as a pyro user you know his skin is warm and you were currently not, you come to stand among the two men once on your feet. “As of this moment, you’re being put under the protection of the Yashiro Commission.” 

“Excuse me?” You were baffled. Hand slipping from Thoma's back to your side, chilled fingertips brushing your thigh just beyond the fabric of your shorts.

“Well, I guess it’s less protection and more ‘employment with supervision’. Just until we can figure out just who you are and how you got here.” 

“Now, wait a second,” you cross your arms. He expected some form of rebuttal from you, but he was ready. He could curb all your doubts and easily convince you to- “I know who I am.” 

“I know you must have your- wait, what?” His practiced line of persuasion just flew out of your cell window. 

“I know. Who I am,” you slowly repeat yourself as if to get the message through. “I’m not an amnesiac, I just don't know how I got here. If you want to know my identity, you just need to ask.” You cross your arms over your chest and almost huff at his bewildered face.

“... Out of everything I just told you, that’s what you have an issue with?” The bafflement that was once yours to hold was passed to The Fixer like a baton in a track and field race. Swiftly. 

“Looking for a job would be a hassle if I was to just be tossed out of here without a care by the Tenryou Commission. In this case, having a solid employer ready and waiting is the best course of action. Why would I turn that down?” 

“But, aren’t you upset? We’re putting you under supervision?” 

“Okay? What sort of boss doesn’t do that to just any other regular member of their staff?” Of course, you knew exactly what he was getting at. Who in their right mind would be okay with being constantly watched because everyone thinks you're some sort of fraud or crook. Sure, the insinuations stung a little, but just as you feel lost in this world, you know that you were also an intruder in their home. An outsider. It’d be more suspicious if they didn’t suspect you. 

While you both exchange words, Ayato had been busy analyzing you to try and get a read on your character. He couldn’t detect any sort of demeanor in you that leaned towards you being an insincere woman when it came to your word. Plus, your little banter with Thoma amused him greatly. 

“Pardon me,” he finally spoke, splitting the back and forth you held with his servant in half. Thoma and your attention turn to him. The commissioner stands with his arms positioned behind his back with a perfectly practiced smile resting on his face. “Would you mind showing me what’s in your pocket?” 

“Pocket?” You question. Your first word to this man and all you have to say is ‘pocket?’ because did jinbei shorts even have pockets? You didn’t even notice. Patting around your sides, you feel a small slip and with a small noise of bewilderment, you slide your hand inside the fabric. You feel a small, bumpy sort of bead in your pocket and pull it out and open your palm and show it to the Commissioner. 

When you see it, your mouth opens and you wonder how the hell that managed to follow you here. Ayato looks at the small piece you pulled from your pocket then at your astonished face filled with a small sense of familiarity. 

“Do you recognize this?” He asks and you slowly nod. 

“A piece of candy?” Thoma asks, looking at the blue and purple entanglement in your palm with a finger crooked in front of his chin. The very same bead-like object you had dug out of your bag and then thrown away under your desk in reality just before falling asleep and waking up here. Being in this situation with these two directly in front of you- somehow it finally clicks that you actually know what this thing is. 

“I,” you start but swallow your breath before trying again. “This is something I thought I had thrown away. Guess I must not have.” You couldn’t just say ‘yeah I found this after some rando bumped into me in an alley and promptly threw it away in my bedroom’, because you know a swift interrogation of where you come from would be next. You’ve read enough manwha to know that the random stranger from the alley was more than likely the whole reason this was happening to you! Thinking back, his voice did sound odd- that should've been tell enough. It felt aggravating. More than anything, you just keep feeling more lost than the moment before. 

You surely haven't been gone long, but you were already missing home. Your stupid job and your coworkers. The people who were close to you. You missed the familiarity of your home, the comfort of being in a place you knew was quickly becoming a sensation you feel like you’d never experience again. 

Curling your hand around the in game Intertwined Fate, you put it back into your pocket. 

“Thoma, we should get going. Our new acquaintance here could very well freeze if we don’t get back soon.” It was obviously a joke, but you feel your face get hot at the realization that he figured out you were cold. Maybe you weren’t hiding your shivering as well as you thought. 

“Oh! I didn’t even realize- here.” Thoma slips off his jacket before pushing it onto you. The folded sleeves didn’t cover your arms fully and the cropped design did nothing to cover your chest, but once again, the heat from a pyro user never seems to disappoint; part of you wonders if others are this warm too- like Diluc or Amber. Thoma looked empty without this jacket. Just dawning his black shirt and necklace tags made him look naked in the eyes that’s so used to seeing him in his full ansambel. 

“By the way,” Ayato steps closer to you and you have half a mind to back up instinctively. If he looks this pretty in a prison cell’s dull lighting, you can’t imagine what he’s like outside. “I never caught your name.” 

“Oh,” that's true. You were so caught up in everything that you had completely forgotten. “It’s y/n.” 

“Is that your first name?” 

“Yes?” 

“And your surname?” 

“Uh,” you toy with the idea of telling him or not. Would it sound absolutely out of place in this world? Then, with a moment longer of thinking, you yield and tell him the truth. Ayato would probably know if you were lying or not anyway and lying wouldn't help your predicament. He nods approvingly at your compliance before turning on his heel and walking to the open cell door. 

“Come along then. We have much to arrange for and the day will not last much longer.” 

With Thoma ushering you out, you pass by the guards who were no doubt listening to the whole conversation. Without a doubt, they'd definitely be spreading gossip about how the Yashiro Commission picked up some new stray who washed up on Ritou within the next day or two. Still, you didn’t feel uneasy about your position. A new job, Thoma who would be acting as your mentor (according to him), a place to sleep that was warm and no need to worry about where and how to get food and water? It all sounds like it all fell right into your lap. 

Despite all that in mind though, the pit in your gut will continue to stay. Until this world would start feeling like home to you- you have no doubt that the feeling would never truly go away. No matter how much you accept it at face value. 

At least you ended up in pretty damn good and capable hands. The Yashiro Commissioner and head of the Kamisatos'? On top of Thoma, his most trusted companion. Eventually, you’ll be able to meet the young lady of the family, Ayaka, as well. You were just counting your lucky stars that you didn’t end up in some wooden cage as a hostage for some ronin or something. 

Ayato continued to watch you from the corner of his gaze the whole trip back to the Kamisato estate on the other side of Narukami. He wondered if he should take you up the mountain to the Grand Narukami Shrine, but held off the idea. Until you complete your work training and learn your way around, on top of leaving the Tri-Commission’s sights of suspicion, it would be for the best for you to remain strictly on his premises. 

A distraction from his typical, stressful, paperwork filled life is exactly what he was wishing for. 

“y/n! Could you bring this tray to his lord!” Another working woman well into her 40s, had stopped you in the middle of your task of cleaning off shelves that needed a good dusting. 

“I’ll be right there!” You call back, tossing the rag you were using in a small bin and dusting your hands off on your legs. The tray given to you contained a teapot made of fine china you knew was pricey- so you best not drop it- along with matching teacups and a small dish of treats.

This was a fairly common occurrence. Ayato would often get trapped in his office with paperwork and the such, so regular tea-trips were passed around by different staff members. Sometimes even small scraps of paper were left on the tray as well as means of communication between master and staff. 

You had been employed by the Kamisato’s for two weeks now and have brought Ayato’s tea to his office at least twice already, but that didn’t mean you were any less nervous when the task fell into your assigned hands. 

You were always afraid he’d stall you; press you for details on the circumstances you still didn’t know how to explain without sounding like a liar or just plain insane. At least, thanks to Thoma’s quick teaching, you learned the ins and outs of proper etiquette when it comes to working for a prestigious family.

Like- for example- when the Yashiro Commissioner is busy with work and taking just a moment to drink his tea for a quick break, do not interrupt him with idle chit chat. Not because it’s wrong or ‘improper’, but because even if the family head dislikes small talk, he’ll take any excuse to get a little less work finished by yapping. 

It may not show on paper or in appearances, but he can be quite the slacker when he wants to be. Much to Thoma’s dismay and Ayaka’s (slight) amusement. 

Speaking of, you had quite the liking for the young lady of the Kamisato name. She was as lovely as you expected her to be in this reality. After being suffocated with the Tenryou Commission and then finding yourself as an unplanned, emergency employee to her family, she was a breath of fresh air. She often sneaks you sweets if she comes across you running errands and such. It was mostly small, wrapped candies that she could inconspicuously drop into your hand or pocket.  

With semi-practiced balance, you place your palm under the center of the tea tray and raise your free one to knock twice on the wooden frame of the sliding door to Ayato’s office. 

“My lord, I’ve brought your tea.” Internally, you still hadn’t gotten used to the verbal lingo in this world yet. Addressing the man you were so used to addressing by name- and even giving stupid nicknames to behind your computer screen two weeks ago- as ‘my lord’ felt cringeworthy. It wouldn’t be good for you to be too familiar with him though, you could seriously earn yourself some grief with a stunt like that. So, all you could do was grin-and-bear it.

“You may come in.” His voice was muffled behind the door. Sliding the door open easily in its groves, you step inside and shut it behind you just as you had before. Without stopping his brush strokes of the document he was working on, he gestured with his chin over to a small round table. “Please, place it over there.” 

You were confused for a split second before you just accept his orders. Normally, you would pour him his first cup and then place it on his desk next to him for him to nurse as he sees fit before leaving and coming back later to retrieve the empty cup and pot. 

As you kneel to set the tray down on the low table, you flinch when Ayato is suddenly in your peripherals. As you jolt away from him, you let out a deep, tension releasing breath while he blinks owlishly at you. It was like he wasn’t expecting you to jump away from his sudden presence; you didn’t even hear him get up from his desk! With it being positioned on the floor with a cushion for comfort, you should’ve heard the rustling of his clothes at the very least. You must’ve been too lost in thought or something. 

“My apologies,” he tells you, chuckling as he does. He seats himself down at the table’s edge while you pour him a cup and offer it on a small saucer in front of him. You were mid-knee, ready to get up and excuse yourself, when Ayato cleared his throat in a quick fashion. “Ah-ah,” he stops you like a mother stopping a misbehaving child and you freeze. “Sit back down.” You listen. Although your nerves shoot through the traditional, wooden-beamed ceiling. “Very good.” 

“Do you need something from me, my lord?” 

“Partially.” 

Partially? What kind of answer is that? One that makes you that much more nervous, that’s what! This man could be so wishy-washy with this replies it was insufferable sometimes.

“I'm afraid I don’t follow.” Lifting his cup to his lips, he took delicate sips of his hot tea. Being careful not to burn his tongue or overindulge and cause a mess on his suit. Setting it back down with just as elegant movements as when he first picked it up, the teacup met the saucer with a soft clink. 

“Are you aware of just how rare it is for someone to be accepted into Inazuma while also not being a citizen under the Sakoku Decree’s strict ruling?” 

“I imagine it isn’t common.” Your eyes travel to the tea set and trace the designs on the pot with your eyes over and over again. 

“That’s correct. So, as your employer, I feel like I should be allowed to pick your brain in a sense.” You think you hide the fact that this whole conversation was making you nervous decently, but you don’t. At least, not in Ayato’s eyes. He who has been trained to see discomfort for a long time now is a formidable foe. “You needn’t get so antsy,” he chides. He’s enjoying this, the sadist. “I’m simply curious about where you come from.” 

“But, my lord-” 

“Ah,” he shuts you down again with another sharp, quick tut. You nearly scowl at him for it but control your facial contortions. “Let me finish.” He takes another sip of his tea. “It’s obvious you aren’t originally from Narukami Island, your little scuffle in Ritou is proof enough of that.” You want to curl in on yourself remembering your brief prison time. “I suspect however, that you are from beyond any of the Inazuman Islands altogether.” 

Your hands that rest in your lap were fidgeting. Picking at your nails and rubbing your fingertips over your knuckles, wringing them together just for something to fiddle with since you had nothing tangible. Ayato sits in silence with you, and you knew that he was waiting for an answer. The accusation was something he expected you to admit or deny; it wasn’t rhetorical.

After sitting under the weight of his accusations and presence, you let out a heavy breath that was pretty much admission enough. 

“That’s correct, my lord. I’m from somewhere… very far from here. I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more than that since it’s a bit complicated.” 

“Complicated how?” 

“It just,” you let out another deep boned sigh that was cloaked in frustration. You couldn’t lose your temper to your employer of such strong power. You clutch one of your hands tightly in the other to keep it together. “It just is.” 

“Hmm,” he hums, swirling the remains of tea in his cup. “I see.” 

In truth, you could try and explain it all to him.

Given your knowledge of the Traveler and how everyone just accepts without question that they’re from a whole different world, there’s a chance you could get the same acceptance. Of course, not everyone knows that the blond outside isn't Teyvat native.

But then, what would happen if you didn’t get that wholly acceptance? What would happen if you told the truth about how you were magically transported here with no rhyme or reason as to why- taken away from your day-to-day life of work and play? You don’t think being thrown in prison for a second time because you were deemed a kook was something you wanted to happen. So, for better or for worse, the truth of your fantastical origins would need to stay put solely within you. 

On top of that, you were not about to be the person to drop the unbelievable story of ‘this is actually a fictional world in a game’ bombshell. As long as you’re in Teyvat, that little tidbit will go with you to your grave- fictional or otherwise. 

Ayato watches you sit adjacent to him at the tea table, seeing your face contort in ways that show off your inner conflict. Whatever your reasons for not telling him, he couldn’t blame you. He was still a stranger to you. He may have employed and sheltered you, but it was all under Thoma’s request when it boiled down to it. At the time, back then two weeks ago, he only agreed on a whim.

When Thoma had rushed towards where he had left the Commissioner in Ritou for some business and explained the situation of the strange girl who was being questioned by the Tenryou Commission, he had been intrigued. Ayato trusted Thoma and his judge of character, so when he asked if his lord would be willing to take her in, at least temporarily, he had no reason to refuse outright. 

Then, he met you. In that prison cell, something in him knew that not only did you not deserve a cold, isolated cell, but you were someone special. The air around you felt different than an ordinary person, but different from someone who had a Vision and elementally energy at their beck and call. You were an immediate enigma, which intrigued him all the more. 

Though, it was that small intertwined charm in your pocket that really piqued his mind. Ayato didn’t know how he knew it was there. Bringing it up was a case of his mouth talking before his brain could stop him. Though, when you showed it in your palm, he thought instead of a piece of candy like Thoma guessed- it resembled something like a star to him. 

‘Asinine,’ Ayato thought at the time. Who would compare cool-colored candy to a star? Perhaps the brightest star he had ever seen flashing across the sky the night before your arrival was still fresher on his mind than he had originally thought and clouded his perception. 

In fact, it was odd that he was still dwelling on it. The Commission had seen plenty of shooting stars before, yet that specific one was so… different to him. 

“Regardless of how you ended up here, you are under my protection and employment." Ayato decides he should give you a break. You fidgeting could easily become more annoying than adorable if this keeps up. "Please, see to it that you maintain your behavior as you have. My sister seems to have taken a liking to you, so I expect you to continue to treat her well.” 

“Of course. Lady Ayaka is a wonderful person.” 

“Hm, that’s very true.” 

The rest of his small break was cloaked in a silence you were grateful for. Anymore awkward chit chat would just ruin your mood. Eventually, he finishes his tea and you gathered everything up to return it to the kitchen to have it washed and waiting for its next tea run. Before you could leave the room, Ayato walks to his door and slides it open for you with some parting words. 

“If you ever want to discuss your home, or perhaps indulge any concerns you have about the estate, do come and find me. I wouldn’t mind chatting with you, if that’s what you’d prefer.” You look at him inquisitively. Another odd thing he’s said today.

Still, just to get out of there, you nod and agree that if you ever wish to, you’ll find him. With a small bow so as to not drop the tray, you scurry away from him and his office. 

Sliding the door shut with the sides of his fingers nestled elegantly in the vertical indentation, he stands in front of the closed door with his opposite hand cupped under his chin. That hand feels his lips quirk up before his cheeks do.

Ayato couldn’t help but think that you would be a very amusing person to tease. 

a/n pt.2: ayato makes his appearance! first one-one-one time with ayato and it's awkward teatime yeehaw

Prev. / INDEX / Next

[agerefandomstuff]

little soldier boy???

I think he'd be small but also have bigger ages? But if you could write about him being a small guy it be much appreciated!

Soldier Baby - Is it Him or the Drugs?

Content warning: not kids’ appropriate media. and has not been censored to be even though it involves sfw age regression.

(if you’ve watched The Boys you have an idea of what to expect from the characters’ vocab and personalities.)

Word count: 3175

Tags/warnings: Regressor Soldier Boy - Ben, Caregiver Billy Butcher, Hughie Campbell, poor hughie’s always bullied, Soldier Boy and Butcher accurate cursing and sexual jokes, general vulgarity, Ben being borderline racist/sexist/homophobic/ OUTDATED THINKING except I didn’t actually wanna make it as bad as he actually can be and I also don’t know how to be, anxiety, mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of violence, threats, insults, French fries dipped in frosties, if that’s something that disturbs you idk, my American attempt at writing a British man played by a Kiwi man, first time regressing, confusion, panic, misunderstanding, I don’t know, Ben commenting bad things about The Little Mermaid, Butcher being dumb, Butcher taking charge and being a dad, not beta read. Never beta read. I don’t know who I would be if it was beta read.

Perhaps it was because he had taken too much. Or more likely Butcher gave him something laced since his body filtered out most drugs within minutes and he'd been feeling this way since he’d started yawning a couple hours earlier. His yawns started while watching dumb new century movies, one moment he was bitching to Hughie about how his generation relied too heavily on special effects instead of getting creative (like back in his day) the next he was getting asked when the last time he slept was. As if he was some toddler and not a grown fucking man who can occasionally yawn if he wants to damn it! Hughie might’ve been his “babysitter,” as Butcher titled it, when they were alone but he wasn’t a fuckin child for him to fuss over like some sniveling house wife.

“I’ve stayed awake for over a month before partying, kicking ass, and slinging pussy all while doing my damn job as a hero. Then I was asleep for decades because of Russian scum. This is nothing.” He growled at Hughie, the poor boy shaking like one of those fuckin rat dogs he use to see rich women carrying around at those mind numbing Vought galas. “I am not tired. And you'd be wise to stop assuming I was.”

Although if Hughie hadn't said something about it he probably would've put more thought into it. because… beyond just yawning he was feeling… uncharacteristically spacey, even though he really hadn't been awake long enough to excuse that. He hadn't been here for more than a week, right? Doesn't matter now. He was stubborn and would purposely not give it any more thought because Hughie was a cunt.

...that was until his eighth yawn of the day. It was like he was yawning all the time. He couldn't stop himself and at this point he wasn't even watching the movie let alone making his usual commentary. His mind was just focusing on fighting the yawns and the odd feeling in his mind. He couldn't remember a time he felt so unfocused like this. Even in his most fucked up state at the first Herogasm party he threw, he didnt feel this way.

It had gotten to the point that even Butcher had noticed once he had come back from his food run. However Butcher’s attention on him only fed into Ben’s theory that he’d been slipped something and they were just waiting for him to go down so they could do something to him. Maybe the food he’d brought just had more of whatever supe roofie was inside and they would use it to get a second dose in so they could drag him back to the Russians to be tortured again. Maybe they were working with the evil sons of bitches to turn him into this perfect weapon they wanted and this had all been a ruse to gain his trust.

“The fuck you lookin at?” He snapped out at Butcher but the man only raised his hands in surrender, not even putting up an argument which almost made him feel bad since he… had respect for the guy. He was a badass leader that did–albeit unintentionally–released him from his permanent cyro torture. Even if he was suspicious of him right now… He somewhat owed the man.

Also he was placating him with his favorite things. Drugs, trashy food, his own movies. Only things that would make his time better would be to not be spending it in this shithole hotel unless it was with a woman.

Or a few women.

Aged-like-wine women.

Maybe he was overreacting to this spacey-feeling bullshit.

He probably just needed to do a couple lines to get rid of the yawns and he would be good as new.

“Didn’t say nothin, mate. Calm yer pretty little ticker down.” Butcher responded, glancing down at his chest in warning, reminding them all what would happen if he didn’t get over whatever he was getting so defensive about. “Take some pills, take a nap fer all I care. Whatever keeps this buildin from shambles and our goals within sight.”

The nap line was really all he heard and it was definitely the worst thing to say. The bottle in his hand shattered between his fingers like it was nothing more than a breakaway and Hughie’s face drained of color in time with the beer that dripped down his arm.

Ben stood up his finger pointing at Butcher in a real warning, “Whatever the fuck you think you accomplished–whatever shit you roofied me with–it’s best you undo it right now before I turn your queer side piece into– into…” he couldnt even think of a clever threat. It's like his brain was completely malfunctioning leaving him to just angrily settle for a more embarrassingly simple correction. “Before I fucking kill him.”

The Brit raised his eyebrow as he had to take a second to actually will his mouth to hold back a sarcastic comment about the tongue trip, shockingly actually valuing their lives for once since he was so close to getting Homelander with Soldier Boy in his pocket. “A’right.. hold on now. I ain't got a clue whatcha accusing me of but we ‘aven't done it.” he closed his laptop softly, never taking his eyes off Ben the same way he would never take his eyes off a wild horse. “Why d’ya fink we roofied ya? Beyond the actual roofies yew requested, that is?”

His reaction made Ben second guess his theory again. He never second guessed himself like this. Even when he was wrong. And he sure as shit didn't share his feelings. Feelings were for pussies like Hughie. You didn't have feelings in war or at Vought. Yet…. he felt oddly compelled to answer Butcher’s question honestly and without more threats. He couldn't rationalize this strange compulsion other than maybe it was the way Butcher talked to him or managed to not be afraid of him. Or maybe it was because he was potentially slipped something–he still hadn’t ruled it out!

“I feel… wrong. My head ain't clear but everything I’ve taken should’ve worn off by now.” His hand dipped in the air like a physical indicator of his current lowering confidence and defenses which Butcher–in true Billy Butcher fashion–promptly took a shit on.

“Sounds like someone’s backed up. How boutcha go have a wank in the shower while we plug our ears and pretend we hadn’t noticed yer on edge?” Ben scoffed at the suggestion, his defenses rising back up. Butcher didn't get it. He didnt have blue balls, he had a fucked up head!

“No, you fuckin foreign– guy! ” this was really getting pathetic.. “I-it’s like… like–”

“Like PTSD…?” Hughie nervously piped up from where he was watching, still frozen to the couch. The other two men looked over at him and Ben opened his mouth to shut him down but hesitated. While he was actually kind of glad the little runt was taking him more seriously than Butcher had.. he also didn’t have an answer. He wanted to say no, I've seen shell shock, idiot. I don't have it! He wasn't really sure this time because he really didn't feel normal which was only making him feel more… antsy.

Picking up on his discomfort and hesitation, Butcher turned back towards Ben and watched him for a second, actually deciding to have a good look at him beyond his front of anger. He was tense but his body language was severely lacking its usual arrogant confidence. Like he wasn't comfortable within his own space right now. Once Butcher really looked, even his face, which normally lacked any expression beyond irritation, was practically screaming; I don’t know what’s going on! Someone fix it!

He’d seen that look more times than he could count in his life with his line of work but something about it reminded him more of a little kid than an adult in the middle of a PTSD episode. The look was similar to the one that made him call Hughie “kid” regardless of him being a full adult and insisting on it all the time.

He could see something in Ben right now that activated the part of his brain that had always taken care of Lenny as a kid.

The softer part of him that insisted he help the poor sod’s silent beg for help.

“Oi..kay, kid.” Butcher softened the gruffness in his tone and stood up from his seat at the table, snagging a bag of greasy fries and the frostie he had yet to dig into. “Let's get on then, yeah?” He slung an arm around Ben’s shoulder and led him back to the hotel bed in front of the TV he had long set up shop on.

Although still confused, Ben didn’t stop him. Instead following on autopilot while his mind still reeled with thought until his knees bumped against the mattress.

“No– I'm not tired. I told you I'm not tired–” had he told Butcher that or had he only yelled at Hughie today? “I’m not taking a damn nap–!” christ, he sounded like a whining child! Sleeping wouldn’t kill him for fuck’s sake! If the Russians hadn't figured that out after this many years surely they never would– unless they did. He didn't want to be tortured more– how long would it be before his mind broke for good? Before he died?

“No, y’ain’t so hush and stop yer worrying. Were jus’ gonna sit and eat the food I boughtcha before my money goes ta waste.” Ben looked surprised to have been effectively told to shut up and do what he's told but what he was most shocked about was the fact he didn't immediately get the desire to punch the shit out of him for having the audacity to do so. He just felt… odd. Like there were butterflies tying uncomfortable knots in his stomach. Like… it was almost nice to have a direction to go into so his thoughts would pause.

“Come on. Don’t make me wait. Fries ain’t neva last too long outside the frya.” Butcher pat his lower back, almost like he was a little kid getting encouraged forward and he listened. He crawled up onto the bed and sat in his spot looking at him with big eyes, clearly at a loss with the situation. He felt like he didn't know himself. This was a part of him he’d never experienced and he didn't know what to do, yet Butcher… seemed as at ease as ever. Like he’d dealt with a hundred men with nukes in their chests yelling at him.

Though he knew him longer than Ben did, even all Hughie could do was watch with the same odd mixture of shock and amazement when Butcher sat down beside the supe, tossed the fries between them, then changed the channel. No one had touched the remote since Ben had figured it out just enough to channel surf onto his own films. He had guarded that thing like a kid who found a new toy he didn't want to share.

“I.. was watching that.” Ben struggled to get out in a mumble that had never left his lips before.

“Won't spoil the ending for ya then, just say it ain't worth more than a prostitute that's got the clap.” Butcher casually informed him while he looked through the menu. The hotel, although shitty in every other aspect, actually had a Vought+ subscription, which begrudgingly had a pretty good selection. “Hughie, be a good lad for me an name a tolerable animation that aint Disney.”

“The Little Mer…maid..?” Hughie stuttered out, his brain automatically picking the last Disney movie he’d watched with him, too scared to really absorb the question.

“That’s Disney, Champ. Lookin fer somethin on Vought+”

“Oh. Right. Um..” He racked his brain for a moment trying not to mess this up and get his butt chewed by Soldier Boy later for choosing a movie he would hate sitting through. But the more he thought about everything the grumpy old man complained about when they were alone the less movies he could think of. In fact all he could think of was Ariel. Ariel.. Ariel, save me. Oh wait. “Isn't… isn't there a Disney princess section on Vought+ now?”

“Hn.. There is. Good thinkin.” Butcher cleared his throat a bit as he clicked on the movie then tossed the remote to reach for a fry, not paying attention to the way Ben was currently staring at him like he was an alien. “Redheaded broad it is.”

“Disney.. prin…cess? Like… the films for.. little brats..?” Ben slowly asked out, his voice not really feeling like his own with how insecure and… small it sounded. This all felt like a drug fueled dream. A really weird one, not one of the fun ones. Maybe he’d already fallen asleep and was back in some cyro-coma.

“Mmhm. Hughie likes em. Usually he leans more towards that lil boffin Belle over the glorified sushi princess but–”

“I like Ariel!” Hughie instantly defended but his cheeks went pink as he realized he meant to defend himself in a different way. Like one that might keep his reputation intact or keep himself from being relentlessly bullied by resident tough man, Soldier Boy. “I-I mean–” He gave Butcher an embarrassed, desperate look as he hissed out between his teeth a clear plea. “Butcher..! Come on..!”

Ben’s head swiveled between Hughie and Butcher feeling like he was missing out on something. He felt like that a lot recently since the world was so much different than it was back when he was last in it but this felt like he was out of the loop on something he should know.

“Why… why does Hughie like–” Before he could even finish his question, Butcher had slipped an ice cream dipped fry in his mouth, surprising him further. His reaction time was lacking, he hadn't even seen the man’s hand until it was too late. His senses were dulled. Could only imagine the foul shit his father would say if he saw him now.

“Film’s startin, kid, eat yer food.” Butcher spooned a mouthful of frostie into his own mouth with the grace expected of a grown man whose shirt was stained as much as it was and Ben watched him as he slowly followed instructions and chewed what had been given to him. His gaze flicked over to Hughie still trying to figure out what was going on but all Hughie was telling him was that he’d rather be swallowed alive by the couch than make eye contact with him.

The sound of water splashing alongside loud music on the tv stole his attention away from his less than stellar detective work and he watched for a few seconds as sailors began to sing. His brows furrowed and he turned to Butcher to protest and ask again about why the hell grown men would watch cartoons like this but the moment his mouth opened he was spoon fed some frostie. And while it was more careful than how the Brit had fed himself the action was aggravating. Ben looked at the Brit with an unhappy glare that probably looked more harmless than his usual happy expression if the rest of him looked as pathetic as he felt. But when he was given no attention from it he finally turned away to begrudgingly watch the stupid movie they insisted on making him watch instead of dealing with his problems.

Twenty minutes was all it took for Ben to be fully enraptured, his thought process having melted away with the colorful fish on the screen without his knowledge. Butcher had kept a casual eye on him after he’d realized he was dropping, mildly worried that the loose cannon might start to get anxious again if he broke out of his distraction. It was a little rockier at the start of the movie when he was still incredibly uneasy with the situation and unhappy with having been fed twice without permission; however Butcher was stupid and confident. An that’s what got ‘im this far in life, right?

So sue him if he let himself feel a bit smug as Ben obliviously settled into this new headspace, watching the movie as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever witnessed. The only time he occasionally turned away from the screen was for the brief moment it would take to be spoon fed another bite being offered. Nothin beat the tried and true combination of an age regression classic an comfort food t’keep someone perfectly satiated in a headspace, eh?

Kid would barely wait to swallow before pointing at the screen to yell something about it because he was trying so hard to listen after having been told “ta swallow ‘is food ‘fore speakin,” but still NEEDED to give his commentary on everything since at his core he was still Ben. He might be acting younger but he was still who he was for better or for worse. And that included movie commentary.

Ben: “That crab is such an ass-munch! I mean look at him! He’s practically makin out with King Trident’s butt.”

Butcher: “His name’s Sebastian, you’ll like him more later on, bud.”

Ben: “I don’t like commies.”

Butcher: “Now why’dja go an call the poor ol bastard that?”

Ben: “He’s red.”

Butcher: “That don’t mean… he’s a crab, mate.”

Ben: “And? Crabs can be commies.”

Hughie: “That’s weirdly the most inclusive thing I’ve heard you say.”

—

Ben: “Hell yeah King Trident!”

Hughie: “You can't cheer for him, he just destroyed his daughter’s most prized collection!”

Ben: “Uh yeah. She didn't do what he said so she earned it. And she was probably kissin on that statue like a weirdo. Anyway he looked cool doing it.”

Butcher: “An how’dja know she was doin that?”

Ben: “I dunno.”

Hughie: “Ariel wouldn't kiss a statue!”

Ben: “Shut up, Hughie, you don't know that!”

Hughie: “Yes, I do! I’ve watched this movie more than you!”

Butcher: “Boys.”

Hughie: “Sorry..”

Ben: “Well I’m not sorry.”

Once the junk food was gone, Ben started his yawns again but Butcher counted himself lucky that his anxiety didn't notice them this time since that was the only thing he could guess set him off earlier. That or he just took too much while he was gone and got paranoid. Supe was a nutcase anyhow and Butcher probably trusted him even less than Hughie did.

Near the end of the movie though was when the brick of a man made himself comfortable against Butcher’s side and without making it a big deal, the infamous bloke wrapped his arm around his shoulder to pull him in tight. He was softer than he looked. Maybe that level of comfort he was providing was why Ben’s aggressive commentary died away before he could give a final scathing review and instead slipped asleep the moment the next movie started. But Ben would certainly deny that to anyone that brought it up. Including his own thoughts. He’d rather blame those supe-special roofies he never confirmed.