#and then i’ll wake up and endure the school day
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yumeyleo · 10 months ago
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goodnight guyss
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thecordelialetters · 1 month ago
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The Bionic and the Ballerina
Chase Davenport x fem!reader
wc: 2,495
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Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4
An exchange student comes to mission creek to do 3 things: pass highschool, dance, and fit in. But when a certain bionic boy comes into her life she realizes that maybe her dreams just got a little bit bigger.
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It’s been a week since the bionic siblings began living like regular teenagers—going to school, getting cell phones, and attending various events. They’ve mostly adjusted to socializing with their peers and trying to blend in. Each sibling has faced their own set of typical teenage challenges, from first dances and forgotten homework to pep rallies. But aside from Bree, their experiences with romance have been a bit lacking
This morning Bree rushed in the main doors almost knocking Leo over in the process. "Guys guess what ! I head there's a new exchange student from the France who’s here for the next 3 years. I've heard she super popular already and she just started." Bree jumped up and down excited for the potential to have a new friend. It was hard for her to make good friends after growing up in a lab with only boys. But a new person meant someone who had yet to figure out her quirks and weird family, that meant a possibility they could be friends.
Leo stood straight after brushing himself off. "Yeah I saw her in my art class. She's pretty and nice. She even told Trent off for knocking my books over. Oh there she is!" He waved his hands frantically trying to signal the new girl down. Chase turned around to see the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. You were beaming at the siblings, bouncing your way over in a short white sundress paired with a light pink cardigan. Two red bows adored the sides of your braids and your pink lips moved in slow motion. Chase's hand instantly began to sweat. Even since the Danielle incident he's been hesitant about approaching girls. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested more so the other way around. Although the confident front he put up, Chase felt he lacked the charisma and social skills compared to Adam and Bree.
Your voice rang out like a soft symphony, your french accent sounded like luxury in his ear. You started talking more but he blanked on what you were saying, too focused on the way your smile looked. Until a big hand punched him in the gut making him lurch forward. "Dude she asked your name." Adams chuckled.
You gasped and put your hands on his shoulders trying to comfort him. "Are you okay?" One of your perfectly manicured hands ran down his chest while the other patted his back to help him stand back up.
"Yep this is a pretty much everyday occurrence," He replied. Chase turned a deep red, he just met this girl and already his family is trying to embarrass him. "Hey don't worry about it, I grew up on a farm with 5 older brothers. You had to endure to survive." You laughed before introducing yourself. "Im (y/n) I just moved here. Leo says I have a lot of classes with you."
“Yeah dude she’s super smart! You guys have the same schedule.”
“ I’m a bit of a smart guy myself , I could help you out sometime,” Leo flirted, waking in front of Chase.
“That’s awfully nice I might have to take on the offer one day! But I better start heading to chemistry, don’t want to be late.” You chuckled. You were thankful for Leo’s directness but you didn’t come all the way here for romance. “I’ll walk with you!” Chase pushed Leo aside sending him tumbling into the lockers. “In fact I’ll escort you to all your classes.” He held out his arm.
You blushed and looped your through his, shocking him and his family. “That’s very kind of you Chase I’d be happy to be your partner for the day.” He beamed back at you. The two of you walked off leaving the rest of the Davenports in awe. "No way that just happened." Leo managed to say through a dropped jaw. "Maybe the guys in her hometown are really ugly." Bree determined. With a hum of approvals the group split to attend the rest of their classes. Meanwhile Chase and you were having a great time. Since no one wanted to parter or sit with the know-it-all teacher pet, you could hang out with Chase the whole day. The two of you developed a bond during these cruel morning hours. Chase found you to be a beautiful girl inside and out. You never laughed at or ridiculed him for odd tendencies and intelligence. In fact you were in awe of him. The way your big doe eyes stared him over his shoulder in chemistry while he was showing you how to do the lab, and then praising him for being so smart, really fed his ego. Compared to his siblings who made fun of him for his excitement, you encouraged it. The two of you came stumbling into the lunch room, once again arm in arm laughing about a cringy joke Chase made. "So a neutron walks into a bar, and asks the man ar the counter how much for a beer?"
Chase waved his arm as if to say ta da "He says for you no charge!"
He threw his head back laughing at his own joke while you chuckled next to him. Leo walked up to you, "He boring you yet? You don't have to be nice to him."
Chase glared at Leo. Typical his family would try to drive away the one nice thing in his life. But you weren't the kind of person who would be swayed so easily. "As a matter of fact Leo, he has been the most welcoming and I thoroughly enjoyed our time today." You sat down at the table next to Bree. Chase smirked back at Leo become taking the seat next to you.
In one swift motion you lifted out your lunchbox and with a thud hit the table. Bree looked at your lunch in shock "Dang girl, you got bricks in there?" She lifted it up with one hand slowly. You laughed, it did seem excessive. "No just a lot of food and snacks, I have to maintaining my food intake for training." You poped opened the lid and it was filled with healthy greens, carrots, rice, chicken and fruits.
"Training?" Adam questioned. "Hey maybe she's like us-" Before Adam could revel anymore Chase quickly interrupted, glaring at him before saying "Training for what?"
You looked at him with half a peach stuff in your mouth. "Fwor danch" Chase laughed at your cute face and moved to wipe some juice on your cheek with his thumb. You quickly swallowed your fruit, "For dance, I'm a ballerina. I train in the morning and everyday afterschool so I need to eat all this food."
You pulled another little baggie out of your backpack. "Dont tell me you have more food." Bree said. "Yes but this isn't for me." You opened the baggie to reveal a cupcake. It was chocolate with marshmallow fluff on top and a kit kat sticking out of it.
You pushed your hands to Chase, "It's for you, thank you for helping me today." Chase gently picked up the cupcake from your hands, "Wow Thank you (y/n)." Leo snapped out of his daze before whispering to Adam "We must be in an alternate reality because no way that just happened." Chase savored the taste of the cupcake you so graciously gave him. It tasted so rich and sweet. As he bit into it he imagined you in the kitchen making it. Maybe you wore a nice white apron with hearts on it with your hair tied in a messy bun. Your kitchen probably looked straight out of a cottage, filled with your garden goods and the smell of fresh pastries in the air. You noticed Chase had gotten a little of the marshmallow fluff on the edge of his lips and reached out with your pointed finger to wipe it off. The bionic sibs watched you slowly wipe the fluff before bringing it to your mouth, licking the white cream off. You looked around the table finding them staring at you before shrugging it off. After school, you were at your locker packing up your books to go home when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Whipping around you came face to face with Chase. He looked a bit nervous rubbing his neck and looking away from you. "Hey I had a lot of fun today, would you maybe...want to come over? I know our history test is coming up and since you new I'd be a good way to study." Chase braced himself for rejecting. Even though he thought the two of you connected, a small part of him expected you to laugh in his face and never talk to him again. You looked the time then at Chase. "I'd love to, but I have practice now. I'll be done around 5? I can come over after that if it's not too late?" You bit your lip looking at him.
It was hard making friends with your schedule. You were used to losing them faster than you could make them since you always had to cancel plans. But Chase was different, he was a sweet guy. "Sure Ill text you my address?" You nodded and pulled out your phone to exchange numbers. Little did you know his nosy family was right around the corner watching your exchange. The whole day they were in awe of what happened. Chase having game? Talking to a girl and she wasn’t scared away by him? They ducked behind the wall as the two of you turned to leave the school. Adam spoke up, "Oh I can't wait to mess with him tonight." Rather than let his younger brother have a chance, Adam was keen on pranking him. Bree sighed "There goes the one normal girl I was supposed to make friends with."
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Chase was busying cleaning the living room making sure everything was spotless. He prepared snacks, took a shower, and wore his best plaid shirt. He wanted everything to be perfect before you came. He informed Tasha and Davenport he was bringing a girl over to study, and through wide eyes they supported him. The one road block to his study date...Adam, Bree, and Leo. "Guys this girl means a lot to me. She's funny and sweet. Thinks I'm NOT a freak. And she's the most beautiful person I've ever laid eyes on. Please I mean PLEASE. Do not do anything stupid." He looked at the group who didn't seem too convinced, "I will do everyone's homework for a week." He watched their reactions light up a bit. "Make it a month and you got a deal." They bargained. He groveled a little and shook their hands "Fine but I'm serious, no pranks, no running in, no trying to bring out Spike." The siblings nodded in agreement before separating. Chase breathed out a heavy sigh, It wasn't like he was trying to become your boyfriend right now, he just really liked you and wanted to get to know you.
In the back of his mind, he thought it was only a matter of time before someone better came up to you and would replace him. Chase wanted to make a lasting impression before that could happen, then maybe just maybe you would stick around. You arrived slightly later than promised, 5:30. You were about to knock open the door when it swung open revealing the kind boy you had met on your first day of school. "You weren't standing at the door waiting for me right?" a nervous laugh following your statement. "Im sorry I took so long but practice ran a bit later."
Chase grabbed your hand to lead you in, "Don't worry about it, we still got plenty of time." You smiled at him and tucked your hair behind your ear. Chase noticed he had yet to let go of your hand, but you made no indication of discomfort so he kept his hand in yours. You followed Chase through a quick tour of the house meeting Tasha who was shocked by your presence saying "Wow, you're super pretty. Omg you're the girl Chase was talking about! I'm so excited we can start having girls' days with Bree and-" before she could embarrass him anymore you were pulled away back to the living room. The two of you spread out your work and began studying. Out of the corner of your eye, you couldn't help but stare at Chase. He was so handsome to you, his olive skin and beauty marks combined with his beaming smile when he talked about his interests. The beating within your chest seemed to quicken and the heat rushed to the apples of your cheeks when he caught your gaze. "Sorry." You said.
"For staring. You're just... I think you're beautiful." Chase looked down. He wasn't used to compliments. He also used to think beautiful was only for girls. But your sincerity and the way you spoke made him feel different about the word. A few hours into studying the American Revolution your head was starting to feel heavy swarming with information. You plopped your forehead on Chase's sturdy shoulder and closed your eyes. "If I read any more words my brain is going to explore." A hand reached to pat your head. Chase could smell your expensive perfume on your, the scent of roses and books invaded his heightened senses. He closed his eyes as well and inhaled deeply. The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes simply enjoying the contact. In the kitchen 3 sets of eyes could be seen watching the new friends. "What are they doing?" Bree questioned. They've been watching for a while but now it seemed the pair was just silent. "I think they're sleeping? Cuddling?" Leo commented. You made the first move to lift your head off of Chase's shoulder. "Sorry I didn't mean to doze off there, you're pretty comfy." Chase laughed, "Don't worry about it. It's getting late." You got up and gathered your stuff. Chase handed you your textbook and savored the feeling of your hand reaching his. Your skin was soft and smooth, he wanted to be able to hold it but it was too soon for that. He stopped you before you reached the door. "Hey let me walk you home, where do you live?" You gazed into his hazel eyes, the boy was a gentleman you had to give it to him. "Don't worry about it! I live 2 minutes away on my bike. It's not far." You proceeded to wrap your arms around his neck and planted a kiss on the cheek leaving a light pink mark. "Thank you for today and helping me. I'll see you tomorrow, Chase." Leaving him frozen you walked out of the Davenport residence with a permanent smile and and eagerness for the next day.
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Authors Note: I couldn't help myself. I've been reading soo many fanfics that I needed to write my own Chase one. I know this start is super sappy but I plan to continue this and follow along the show more. Don't worry I haven't given up on my Five fics Im rewatching the seasons to get a jump start on those.
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lemonsdaydreams · 1 year ago
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breaking the distance. |c.b|
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summary: You and Colby have been dating for nearly two years, enduring long distance and making the best out of time zones and chaotic work/ school schedules. The two of you knew one day the distance would be shortened to where there would be no more planes needed to see each other, and date night could finally be more than just facetiming and watching a movie together at the same time. One of you just happened to know it would be happening sooner rather than later.
~*~*~*~*~*~
No one ever expected Colby and I’s relationship to last, and I couldn’t really blame them. On the outside looking in, It seemed like it was a storm waiting to happen. Colby, a very well known social media content creator, constantly traveling and investigating new locations with his best friend in and outside the country, and lives on the west coast of the united states. Me, a non social media content creator, studying emergency paramedicine, lives on the east coast, and never even had a passport until two months ago. The main thing people always loved to throw at us was the distance. ‘Why date someone who lives a 5 hour plane ride away, when there’s plenty of people here in the same state for you to choose from?’
I personally didn’t fully expect us to be where we are right now when I met Colby over two years ago. It’s crazy how things happen though, how quickly you connect with a person. It’s as if I’d known him my whole life, as if I was connecting with an old friend I hadn’t seen in years that night at the bar. We talked and talked for hours, the rest of the crowded bar tuned out and all I saw was him. Colby and his friends he had traveled to the east coast with a few days later after we first ended up coming over to my apartment for a game night after constantly texting and getting to know each other more. Ironically, one of his friends that came with him, I knew from my childhood. Talk about a small world.
The buzzing of my cellphone in my hand snapped me out of the daydream I was in. A smile quickly spread across my face as I spotted Colby’s name on the caller ID before answering.
“Finally waking up, Mr. Brock?” I smiled as I held the phone to my ear.
“I’m so sorry beautiful, I slept through my alarm. I totally planned on waking up earlier to be able to talk to you in case you began to stress over your exam today.” His morning voice was something that always caught me off guard, the deep rasp. It always made me yearn for the day I’d be able to hear it in person, and not over the phone.
Of course over the past two years we’ve met up and spent time together, however it was usually when him and Sam were on a trip to film or when I had a small break between semesters at school and could afford to visit him.
“It’s okay Colby, I promise.” I smiled to myself and attempted to contain my excitement as I scanned the empty apartment once more. “I’ve been just cleaning and relaxing on the couch. I think if I tried reading any more of my textbooks my eyeballs might fall out of my head.”
Colby chuckled as my apartment door swung open, and I quickly muted myself as Seth, the friend of Colby’s that I’ve known since childhood came in. “Who’s ready to mo- oh shit, are you on the phone?” He quickly covered his mouth with a hand.
“Yeah, with Colby.” I giggled before giving him a ‘shh’ and taking myself off mute.
“You’re going to do great. You always do great. This is the final bridge needing to be crossed and then I’ll be able to have you in my arms every night and hear about the crazy encounters you have at work in person. God, I can’t wait for that to be real, beautiful. I miss you so much.”
“I can’t believe that it’s finally here. Just this semester and then I’m done, graduated, nationally registered to work anywhere in the country. By the way, My supervisor reached out to the base that’s not far from where you live, and they have an open paramedic spot that is up for grabs.” I bit my bottom lip and glanced at Seth who also shared the same nervous look.
I’ve always hated lying, and lying to Colby these past few months have been absolute torture. But he’s always the one surprising me, I wanted to finally surprise him. I ended up taking an earlier program that Colby didn’t know about, which allowed me to graduate and become a paramedic three months ago. However, Colby still thought I had another two months to go. During this time since finishing school, I’ve been working and studying protocols for the state I’d be moving to, coordinating with Sam on shipping my stuff to Vegas from New England without Colby seeing the boxes, selling stuff I don’t need to bring, and basically getting ready to move to Vegas. Of course, Colby knew this day would be coming, as we have a whole checklist we share on google docs to make sure we have everything lined up for when the day comes, He just doesn’t know it’s happening sooner. Or that I’m going to be there, in like 12 hours.
“Baby, Is it okay if I let you go? I can call you back later. I have to bring my phone to the apple store, I finally got an appointment to get my battery fixed.” I ran a hand through my hair, constantly reminding myself mentally the lying would be over soon.
“Oh good, I’m so glad you got that appointment babe, I have to get going anyway. Sam and I have to go meet up with some friends to film a video, but text or call me as soon as you finish your exam okay? I love you.”
After saying goodbye and hanging up, I groaned and laid back on the empty granite counter. “Dude, no wonder you hate lying. Thank god that wasn’t a facetime call or one look at your face and Colby would see your face and just know you were hiding something.” Seth chuckled and I flipped him the bird.
“Can we go get coffee before we head to the airport? This whole not having my own car thing sucks.” Seth chuckled once more before nodding and holding out his rental keys that I snatched out his hand before he could speak. “Yes, I’ll drive. You drive worse than my grandmother.”
~
“Now boarding Group A.”
“I’m really flying to Vegas without a return ticket.” I mumbled as I handed my ticket to the flight attendant at the gate. I glanced over my shoulder at Seth who stood behind me, laughing. “You’re finally moving to Vegas. Which means Sam and I won’t have to hear Colby talk about how much he misses your voice all the time and try to figure out what haunted places we could go see near where you live.”
“Are you sure he won’t question why my phone is off for over five hours? I mean we don’t talk on the phone all day every day, but we usually check in over text to say Hi and that we miss each other or something. I don’t think a phone battery replacement would take five hours.” I buckled my seatbelt once Seth and I got to our assigned seats. “You seriously worry too much.” Seth patted my hand as he smiled. “We’ve got it all figured out. He isn’t going to have any time to check his phone with what they’re filming.”
“This is going to be a long ass five hours, Seth. This is why teleportation should be a thing. I could already be there, with Colby.” I sighed as I turned to look out the window, anxiously tapping my foot on the ground. Seth laughed and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted him hold his phone out to take a photo.
“Don’t you dare post that.” I looked at him wide eyed, which caused Seth to laugh more. “Relax, It’s a video. For memories.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms across my chest. “Should I yell it out now that you’re a paramedic, just in case there’s a medical emergency?”
“Don’t you dare. I’m too nervous to provide any care, nor do I want to start my career as a medic off by taking care of someone on a plane. Why aren’t we moving yet?” I peered up and around the seats, huffing as I noticed not everyone was seated.
“God this is going to be so funny to look back on.” Seth mumbled as he put his phone down.
~*~
“I’ve got all your stuff in the storage unit, and your car should be arriving in the next few days.” Sam smiled as he drove Seth and I from the airport. Colby was back at the house editing and thinking Sam had just gone out to get food for the two of them. “It’s really good to finally see you, by the way. Colby is going to lose his mind.”
“I’m so nervous.” I mumbled looking out the window of the car and taking in the change of scenery. “He thinks I’m still in my exam right now.”
“Oh I know. Dude is a love sick puppy right now.” Sam laughs and gives me a smile. “Once we get to the house, I’m going to go inside to ask Colby to come out and help me grab some stuff from my car, but in reality it will only be you.” He added while Seth readjusted the camera on the dash of the car. I nodded and prayed we’d be arriving at the house soon.
Once at the house, I laid down in the back seat of the car to hide until Colby came out. “Yeah it’s on the passenger side in the back, If you can just grab it for me as well as the camera!” Sam called out, signaling that Colby was coming my way. Before I knew it, the door was swung open and I quickly sat up and smiled as my eyes landed on Colby. “Surprise!”
Colby stared in shock for a moment, eyes wide with confusion. Next thing I knew, He was grabbing my legs and pulling me out of the vehicle and up into his arms. My arms quickly wrapped around his neck, resting my head on his shoulder and wrapping my legs around him as he held me. “What is going on?” Colby yelled out, turning to glance at his friends back at the doorway before slamming the car door and moving so I was pressed against it and using one of his hands to pull my head back so he could see my face. “You have an exam?” His eyebrows furrowed.
“Baby.” I laughed softly. “Oh my gosh I’ve absolutely hated lying to you. I graduated early, That’s why I was so busy over break and couldn’t see you. I didn’t tell you because I wanted to surprise you by being able to finally be here sooner than you thought.” I cupped his face in my hands and blinking back tears as I finally got a good look at him. “I can’t believe I’m here.”
“I missed your graduation?” He frowned, resting his forehead against mine. “I’m so confused baby.” He quickly closed the distance between us and kissed me gently. “But dear god have I been dying to kiss you.” He mumbled against my lips.
“No, It was a winter graduation so there’s no walk you didn’t miss anything.” I kissed him once more. “But I’m here. no more distance. It’s finally broken.” I ran a hand through his hair as I stared into his blue eyes. Colby pulled me closer once more and began kissing me again, deeper this time before beginning to head towards the house. “You guys should probably head our for a while.” Colby mumbled as he passed Sam and Seth, his gaze still set on me. “Already planned on it. We’ll be back later. Welcome home!” Sam called out as Colby walked away from them, still carrying me. I let out a small laugh and began kissing Colby’s cheeks and playing with his hair at the nape of his neck.
“I can’t believe you lied.” Colby fake pouted as he gently tossed me on his, ours now, bed before climbing on top of me. “But it was so worth it.” He mumbled before kissing me. “Now it’s time for me to welcome you home.” He smirked.
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slowd1ving · 2 months ago
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✦ III. OH, HOW TRAGIC IS HE
'It was an accident.  “I’m sorry. Ah, shit—” Something wet splashed your cheek, followed by a fumbling hand that tried to brush it away but only succeeded in smearing the thin liquid across your face awkwardly. “Don’t— fuck, I’ll stay with you, alright?”  Fingers wrapped around your own, flesh against bone. Pulsing life alongside a silent end.  The last thing on your lips was an apology, in the form of a salty tear dripping from above.' • . * cursed prince ratio + alchemist m reader rough design for minoan fashion ratio here warnings: video game violence, death? kind of? tyranny (are we surprised), male-coded reader (or at least the in-game avatar is) wc: 11.9k
LAMENT OF OUROBOROS MASTERLIST
HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST
MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION
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‘If man’s hour were to come, no one could escape it: not the brave, nor the cowardly. In the case of the city-state of Metis—referred to by romantics as the ‘Eroded Kingdom’—its collapse was widely regarded as inevitable. Frankly, as al-Ghazali pointed out in his ‘Fall of Empires’, Metis was inherently doomed to fail from its intrinsic characteristics: military hubris (relying on the susceptible and corrupt polemarch Aetos in the final decade of the kingdom’s existence); economic failure (due to the recessions Aha created and failed to mitigate); the subsequent loss of capital, and perhaps, most poignantly, its alienation of alchemists and increasingly alarming anti-heretical laws which provoked regional rebellions that soon spiralled into the so-called ‘Scholar’s March’ of 786 of the Attican Calendar, or year 352 of the Amber Age¹. 
Who could’ve predicted that the citizens could grow so united in the face of such tyranny? For years the Metisians had endured the brutal taxation, the reforms in education, and the yokes of the cult-like Elation—the catalyst could only be the mass executions and disappearances that occurred the year prior the March. Of course, scholars like Ignis the Argumentative would insist it was the sudden disappearance of capable officials that set the cataclysm into motion—but further examination by other contemporaries reproached this interpretation as there was no real policy difference between the lawmakers in terms of addressing both long- and short-term triggers that led to the fall of Old Metis, as Antiquus the Elder points out in his ‘Treatises of the Archipelago’². 
Now, a millennium later, New Metis continues to repeat its historical mistakes from a bygone age—continuing legislation to heavily restrict and outright ban certain schools of thought. For most of the New Metis citizens, this isn’t an issue; but this begs the question, when will it be a problem? Tyranny has not been redefined—it’s still hiding in New Metis today, under the smiling masks of your politicians! Wake up, New Metis!’ 
— Inana, P. (1433 2AA). Civilisation: Modeling Metis as a continuation of a failed empire. Journal Politik, 47 (3), 101-110
.  ⁺ ✦ 
Like all days, the pills were particularly hard to swallow. Chalky, bitter—a tepid medley of medicine that neither made you more energetic nor erased the hangover of the liquor still remaining in your system. It was an unfortunate cocktail: vitamins and painkillers tossed from a drugstore shelf with no regard for its expiry date but rather the price and time you were running out of. 
It was a tepid day, that day was. Humid streams of vapour clung to the asphalt as you stumbled out of the store with a plastic, rustling bag slung onto your wrist hurriedly—reusable coffee cup grasped tight in one hand, the dose of tablets clutched painstakingly in the other. It felt like a rush to work, and perhaps it was; this day was like all others, in hindsight. For others, the routine mundanity of your life might’ve been hellish; for you, however, the brimstone and fire had long faded into a tired cliché, where all the impact of your suffering trickled into a steady background hum. 
There was a sort of beauty in the aches and pains of your life—not in the pretentious way, not in the nihilistic way—but rather in the sense that one might feel a brow raise at the sight of a pattern embroidered delicately into cloth. If you were to give a less quixotic analogy, it would be the satisfaction of a computer programme doing its job: lines upon lines of code melding seamlessly into a never ending loop with no errors. 
Yes. Comfort came in the shape of these grey roads, these monochromatic buildings, and the stink of pollution on your way to your monotonous job. Comfort came in the ritualistic bread (drugstore painkillers) and wine (bitter, cheap coffee) that you partook in each morning after Friday. Comfort came in the perfunctory, solid thump of sole against pavement; the cat you’d passed by for the past month; and the worn earbuds that were slowly reaching the limits with their tinny quality and exposed wire. 
It was a painful life. It was a painless life. 
Tragedy seeped in through the sterile nitrile of your gloves. Tragedy ghosted its fingers over your polyester lab coat, and tapped on the clear plastic of your goggles. Tragedy weaved through the tired yawns as you spun on your stool and waited for the centrifuge to settle to a halt. Maybe if you crossed your fingers enough, the seconds would pass by quicker, and maybe there’d be something decent in the cafeteria. Well. It was never worth the money, but then again, there was nothing to save for. No occasions to buy nice clothes for. No particular want or need for holidays. 
No one to treat, either, not even the nice old lady in the apartment next to yours. Not anymore, at least. 
You sighed, and the matter in the Petri dish sighed with you. 
And thus, a sense of purpose continued eluding you—but so did any profound pain. This was ordinary, as an achromatic existence like this didn’t stand out in the grand machine, and you didn’t think it ever would. That was fine. That was expected. In fact, it was downright comforting that you wouldn’t particularly matter in the long run. 
(Is it truly an anodyne, like you make it seem? Where is the solace, when your teeth worry at your lips as you gaze at human connexion?)
You lied. You lied, but who would persecute you for your sin, when the sin was merely doubt about your reality?
Like all other days, it began with a healthy dosage of denial, and perhaps that is what led to the events that transpired. 
.  ⁺ ✦ 
In retrospect, it was practically expected that your tired life would beget yet another tired cliché. 
There was something completely unoriginal in the series of misfortunes that befell the proletariat salaryman (read: you). In novels, movies, and the occasional game, the most ordinary of souls stumbled across a situation that chose them. For once, someone in their weary lives had need of them; not as a pushover, nor a lackey, but someone courageous and brave who became a hero. Forums and comments oft scorned these overused plotlines—and you agreed, of course—but it was an interesting premise to think about. 
“There’s a survivor on the third floor—”
Still, no matter how intriguing the promise of escape from the mundane was, it was pointless. It wouldn’t happen. 
“Hey— can you get up? Blink if you can hear me, alright? 
The accident in the lab was almost poetic. Of course, when a protagonist encountered an explosion in their place of work, there was always an accompanying montage that indicated something was wrong. Whether it be the change in key in the background chords, or a close up of cracking machinery, the audience got some sort of closure as to why. Was it fate? Was it the cruel machinations of man? Was it just an unfortunate accident?
“We need oxygen here—he’s going into shock! Help—you—get a gurney immediately!”
But actually, there was none of that fanfare for you. Just a sluggish warmth that crawled from your limbs and back into your heart, from limbs far too cold to move. No, not cold. You simply couldn’t feel them—much like when a body part suddenly fell asleep on you. 
If you scrunched your face a bit, you could smell the acrid wisps of rubble: paint chips and stone all congealing into an antiquated scent. You couldn’t exactly see, but maybe that was for the better. 
“What’s happen—” Your tongue felt leaden in your mouth: heavy and contorted as you awkwardly sounded out your question. An explosion? A gas leak? A mine that somehow went off? There was something wet dribbling from your mouth; tasting like white hot iron, seeping past your aching lips. A hero would know. A hero would have that information playing out panel by panel while they bled out, farewells and anguish for their loved ones already melding into the fabric of existence. 
Ow. 
“Shh, don’t talk, okay? We’ll get you out of here, alright?” There weren’t any reassurances for your state. No ‘you’ll be okay’, no ‘stay with me, alright?’. You weren’t stupid. You weren’t, but it was in that moment when you wished you were—dropping out before doing your degree and doctorate, keeping far from the lab, and holding on to your life with blissful ignorance on your side. 
You opened your mouth. 
“No, you don’t need to say anything, alright?” The voice was kind, you noted drowsily. If not a little clumsy, swaddling you in a foil blanket like some overgrown child. Well. You couldn’t see it, and neither could you feel its texture, but you could feel your limbs lolling this way and that way at the movements—like some grotesque, decommissioned marionette. 
At least it didn’t hurt.  
“Thank you,” you whispered. There was nothing outrageous about your last words. Like the rest of your life, the syllables were as ordinary as they came. A quiet beginning. A quiet end. There was nobody to say goodbye to, nobody to wait for past the veil. 
It was an accident. 
“I’m sorry. Ah, shit—” Something wet splashed your cheek, followed by a fumbling hand that tried to brush it away but only succeeded in smearing the thin liquid across your face awkwardly. “Don’t— fuck, I’ll stay with you, alright?” 
Fingers wrapped around your own, flesh against bone. Pulsing life alongside a silent end. 
The last thing on your lips was an apology, in the form of a salty tear dripping from above. 
.  ⁺ ✦
“Hey, wake up.”
Death came in the gentle touch of a rolling breeze; riding on its coattails was the disembodied laughter of a child, alongside the kiss of three words that stirred your sleep-crusted lashes. Death seeped into the loamy scent of petrichor: soaked past the balmy fragrance of wildflowers and grass, against the clean soap of freshly-laundered linen. Death trailed its sepulchral fingers past the damp ground cradling your slumbering body—rustling and tugging at the jewel-toned robe draping your limbs that rose and fell with your chest. 
“How peaceful,” you murmured, and the mouthfeel of the words was as crisp as water straight from a burbling brook. Copper no longer defiled your lips, and neither did the burning heat of your dying syllables. Rather, cool air replaced the oily blood that slid across your tongue mere moments ago. 
Had you trespassed the veil warding life from death?
Peeking at the haze hanging over your head, something had clearly gone wrong with your passage to the afterlife. No, was it even an afterlife? Clumsily, like a foal stumbling on its hooves for the first time, you sat up shakily—to find your limbs sprightly and healthy, with none of the gelid quality you’d felt before you woke up. In fact, your head was clearer than ever: not a hint of any throbbing in your temples.
Even the very breeze felt different: fuller, yet decidedly more empty. 
In hindsight, it was likely shock that delayed your registration of the very obvious problem at hand. Rolling, verdant fields aside, the firmament stretching from horizon to horizon shone bright with two heavenly bodies. Were you seeing double?
“Two suns,” you muttered, squinting at the brilliant sky. Brilliant, though it wasn’t blue like you’d expected—but a more melancholy array of hues, even with the twin bodies illuminating the vast canvas. Two suns, an unfamiliar sky, and alien constellations littering it. “Where the fuck am I?”
Great. Wonderful. A new headache had presented itself, because clearly you were no longer on Earth—which now begged the question, where were you?
Or, more poignantly, who were you? 
The first law of thermodynamics proposed energy was neither created nor destroyed, simply transferred from one form to another. In turn, perhaps it was less surprising that you’d reawakened in another form—rather, the puzzling element was how this new vessel came to be. Its movements were familiar, its shape and flow of limbs, too, was an exact replica of your Earthbound form, but far less bone-weary than you had been. 
You died. This you accepted. 
You… reawoke. Passed on? Ended up in a coma? Got stuck in limbo? That was something far more difficult to fathom: flung into a world far removed from your own, it was hard to suppress the epistemic needs of a human. 
Would it have been easier, being reborn into this otherworldly place, without any memories of before your death? Was it… normal, continuing existence like this? Were there any precedents? 
What the hell was going on?
It was perhaps on a whim that you finally looked down, gazing at the lush field and your vivid clothes. Staring at the garb that adorned you, you neither recognised the cut of the material nor the rich dye that stained it—but you supposed that was par for the course when not even the sky looked familiar to you. That was expected. 
The translucent, almost glass-like window that popped up over in your line of vision was decidedly not. Immediately, your focus snapped from the delicate embroidery right on to the rolling script appearing; a series of whorls and lines that somehow resonated with your tired brain. 
“Rida mis vizenia,” you murmured as the syllables made themselves known to you, something you didn’t even need to translate manually. Your breath caught in your throat when the mechanical pronunciation loosened your fumbling tongue—like speaking your mother tongue after decades of disuse. 
You squinted at the block of text, alongside the tiny mannequin depicting what you wore. 
[Robes of Ambiguity (◼◼◼◼◼ Robes): a style of clothing popular among New Metis officials wishing to keep their exact station unknown. Neither this colourful palette nor this traditional embroidery belongs to any particular rank nor department, ◼◼ning those wishing to stay obscure typically favour these well-made garments; ◼◼◼◼◼◼   ◼◼ ◼◼◼. There’s more to the wearer than meets the eye, you know? ◼◼◼◼ limited to those of high rank, thus regular civilians also enjoy wearing these for more special occasions.]
What was this, a game? An exasperated groan left your mouth at the new possibility—furious due to that, but also the lack of any helpful information given by these garments. No clue about your identity, only that these clothes were from New Metis. New Metis. There was nothing—no sudden recognition, no extra-heavy thump of your heart, and certainly not any memories from this new body that could point you in any direction. 
The only thing that was truly helpful was the appearance of this floating, rectangular entity: two valuable clues had sprung from it, after all.
One: this interface could be the light that would guide you, providing its information was reliable. Game or not, it could very well be that this apparent saviour was some sick ploy, for whatever reason. It was a welcome sight regardless; you’d seen it countless times in various media, whether it be in novels or video games. 
Still, you eyed the screen sceptically. Who was behind it, anyway?
Two: it appeared there was still information you weren’t privy to, judging by the error marks against the azure window. Or maybe this information was never intended for you in the first place; the screen blurred and glitched like it couldn’t wait to escape your view. Like cotton candy, its shape dissolved and formed just as capriciously in the rolling breeze: melting and undulating with virtual strands of data. 
[Name: ◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼◼, working currently as ◼◼◼◼◼◼. One of unknown origin, fluent in common tongue, honey tongue, and the ancient tongue of thought.]
“That’s it?” you muttered incredulously. That was your face displayed on the pixelated screen, your name that kept ebbing and flowing from existence like an evasive childhood song. Even the damn clothing you donned had a more detailed log of information—and the important part was erased from existence. 
It was the latter part that intrigued you most, unknown occupation aside. Common tongue. It felt right when describing the syllables leaving your mouth, even if you hadn’t realised you’d been talking to yourself in it for the past however many minutes. 
With a long-winded sigh, you unfocused your gaze and it seemed the window sighed with relief too: fading out with nary a blip. If this was a game, clearly you weren’t the protagonist; no cutscene greeted you, not even an introduction to the error-laden system it seemed to have anomalously assigned you. 
Honey tongue. 
Tongue of thought. 
They were important enough to mention, important enough that they were present in your profile without regard for anything else. But in a way, the lack of expectations was nice. A simple blank resumé, waiting to develop into a ‘you’. ‘You’ weren’t assuming someone else’s identity. ‘You’ were freshly dumped anew, without the ties to burden you to an overused plot and allegiance. 
But that wasn’t a tangent to mull over at the moment. There were far more pressing matters to contend with. 
Think. You were in the vast open country, with neither food, water, nor a map. Neither horizon boasted any traces of civilisation, which made your situation slightly more dire. No landmarks. No forests. No creatures either, but the abundance of flora called for pollination, right? Unless, of course, the rules of biology and physics have all been messed up… what’s the gravitational field strength on this planet…. is this even the same universe as Earth… does this follow video game mechanics or is it its own world… what does an atom look like….
Needless to say, the post-rebirth clarity hit you hard. 
“Useless,” you muttered in common tongue—turned to a long string of foreign-yet-familiar profanity as you tried to switch back to your mother tongue. It was only after a tense concentration that the word ‘fuck’ breached your stumbling lips; though, by the reverence and relief in your voice, nobody would ever think you were letting loose imprecations in this serene landscape. 
But that begged the question: to what were you saying useless to?
As it turned out, the hand rummaging through the luxurious fabric draped across you came back barren—utterly empty as you stared at the flesh, haggard. 
There was no map, and you could forget about a compass. 
There was no sustenance. 
There wasn’t even a fly to pitifully leave your vacuous pocket. 
Instead, the pulling and tugging of these sumptuous clothes revealed elaborate lines inking your roughened skin—colours melded into labyrinthine formulae you instinctively understood. Somehow, the intricate tattoos that wove against your dermis and shimmered expectantly—just like the window that faded in and out of view capriciously—resembled the long strings of formulae you’d derived and memorised for your degree and doctorate, to the point where blood dribbled from your nose each night. Metallic letters, meaningless without the painstaking effort behind them. 
But…
Your brows furrowed. Inked upon your arms and torso, and likely extending to your very legs, were shifting chromatic designs that visually could not be the same formulae you knew. That was what anyone from Earth would say, but something in your gut told you to decipher and understand these complex designs on you—like the most delicate of embroideries on a magnificent tapestry, your body was covered in the most exquisite of patterns. 
On your wrist, the characters grew incandescent as you clumsily sounded out the tongue of thought. This was neither the familiar shape of Earth languages, nor was it the common tongue you’d grown accustomed to—but something far more ancient, something far more unconstrained. It was guttural, it was refined: it was everything in between and outside of it as you mouthed the patterns on you aloud. 
“◼◼◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼.” Equivalent exchange, you finally read out—and something rose within as collateral. It was neither your soul nor your life, but a warm, pulsing energy: enough to make you drowsy with its absence. 
A prayer fluttered in the wind, just like the slow blink of your lashes as they fought to keep awake—heavy as they were from the price offered for your request. 
“Want… answers,” you slurred, unintelligible to all but the concentric circles forming beneath you and seeping into your flesh. “Humans.”
And the world whispered back, hearing your supplication. 
.  ⁺ ✦
It was with a dazed (though quite refreshed, you had to say) sort of stupor that you woke to the sound of light footsteps. Senses that had somehow been honed to a fine, sharp point now served you well as you stirred at the slightest tremors in the ground. In fact, the smallest of changes in air flow had already put you on high alert—but something was telling you to wait it out. 
People. 
Your plea had altered a predestined course. 
[Name: ◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼◼, working currently as an a◼che◼◼. One of unknown origin, fluent in common tongue, honey tongue, and the ancient tongue of thought.]
A◼che◼◼.
Change was good. Change would free you from stagnancy, even if you weren’t aware of its shift. 
.  ⁺ ✦
She gave a sweeping bow: complete with the elegant curl of her hand and not a strand of fiery hair out of place. It was perfect in all its points—though you didn’t quite know why it registered as such. A perfunctory standard greeting… complete with, but not limited to, the hand gesture that typically denotes merchants or nomadic ones… The thoughts whirled incoherently alongside the fragmented cerulean window that intermittently, though no information of the woman before you appeared. 
“Himeko, of house Murata, greets thee.” She spoke with the polite dialect of common tongue—the specific intonation in her words carried a query in return for her civility: who are you? Why are you here? Behind her was a sizable procession of wagons—or at least, what you thought were wagons. Their elegant shape was utterly unlike any of the crude wooden ones you’d seen; rather, colourful cars of various forms were interlinked. Almost like a train, if a train was pulled by beasts the size of a small hut: complete with a steely carapace and long, floppy ears that were scarily like a rabbit’s. 
You swallowed. No longer could Earth be considered your point of reference. 
This was not Earth. This was not Earth, so you gave the most basic of bows back—a hand placed gently on your chest sincerely, eyes fluttering closed—and hoped she didn’t take affront. This was not Earth, thus you didn’t quite know whether the abrupt guffaw she gave at your awkward greeting was positive or not. This was not Earth, therefore her continued introduction of being a caravan master meant little to you. Navigator and caravan master of the Blazing Trail, she’d summarised, though you were distracted by the glitching window that appeared promptly in the moment she spoke. 
[Himeko Mura◼◼a. Navigator and caravan master of the Blazing Trail, a renowned nomadic force known for its astute inter- and intra-continental diplomacy. Its ◼◼◼ makes it almost like a private army, though none can ◼◼ hire it. ◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼ she is utterly astute and a brilliant engineer.]
It was a name you didn’t recognise. Maybe if you looked through your games library on your old laptop, or pulled up each and every novel you’d read, maybe there’d be something similar—but at the moment, none of the information resembled anything you knew. 
The caravan master was kind, if not a little eccentric. Her kindness came in the form of a seat round the elegant burner—the two suns had long since winked past the horizon, after all, and in their place shone a lonely moon. 
It’s warm, you thought.
Her kindness also came in the round shape of a bowl of stew: handed unceremoniously into your fumbling hands by a hare-like creature who seemed all too accustomed to Miss Himeko bringing along strange things with her. The stares you received were curious, but not hostile—though one dark-haired man with frigid irises seemed to gaze at you as if saying ‘another one?’. And as unreliable as your system was, there were no introductions afforded to the other few nomads. 
“Could you tell me about New Metis?” The meat was salty and gamey as you chewed and swallowed, accompanied by the flatbread that needed no ingredients save coarse flour and a clear liquid that was likely this planet’s form of water. In fact, the bread’s unexpected soft texture distracted you enough that you almost didn’t see Miss Himeko’s eyes pause right on your clothes. 
Her blood-hued lips opened and closed, quite incredulously at that. From the cut of clearly Metisian garb, to the Metisian style of greeting, would you not have been the better authority than a nomad who flitted from place to place?
“Don’t get me wrong,” you continued in a more informal dialect, as did she after she invited you to sit with her round the small, contained fire. It flickered green in the engraved metal bowl, then a blazing azure. “I woke up and couldn’t remember anything, except my name and the name New Metis.” 
Without an ounce of shame, it was far better to simply confess your shortcomings, rather than masquerade as something you were not. 
“Better off than me,” the girl with cotton candy-pink hair sighed in solidarity. The tips of your fingers burned at the sudden acknowledgement—unused to any attention on you for prolonged lengths of time. “I didn’t remember anything after I awoke and Himeko found me, not even my name. I got called March 7th after the day I was dislodged from ice—funny how life works, huh?”
Does she make a habit of picking up amnesiacs or something? The fire crackled with your silent query. But before that, there was something in the girl’s words that gave you pause: lodged glaringly in her very name. 
March 7th. March 7th. Spoken with the common tongue accent, but undeniably the same system of dates as Earth—why? Unless this place shared ties to your former planet, it was nigh impossible for the calendar to be the exact same. 
Unless this really is a game. That would make more sense if this world was a creation of your past one; if small details were to match up with what you knew from Earth, then the evidence would no doubt point to this world being present in Earthen media. 
Nonetheless, you couldn’t take this place lightly, even if it wasn’t real. After all, there were books that took place on Earth—and that alone didn’t make the planet fictional. 
Nothing was out of the question anymore. 
“March 7th?” you muttered, half to yourself, half-probing. “What does the calendar currently look like?”
The cost of figuring out whether Earth played a part in the formation of this place was a mere question and a few scraps of your dignity. 
“Worldwide, the Amber Calendar is currently used—twelve months, three hundred and sixty five and a quarter days,” the man with those frigid eyes answered in a clipped, but not unfriendly tone. It was as if he was used to patiently explaining information to people, over and over—and for that he immediately became more useful than the stupid system windows. 
Thank you, March 8th, you replied, silently. 
“Split into twelve months? January, February and so forth?” you probed. The month names felt awkward to insert into the smooth flow of the common tongue, but there were no looks of confusion thrown your way. Well, shit. 
“Yes, that’s correct,” he affirmed quietly—gaze turning slightly less guarded in the face of what appeared to be an idiot.  “Are you sure you don’t remember anything?”
Three hundred and sixty five days and a quarter. What an oddly specific number to assign, even arbitrarily. It seemed the developers had unconsciously used Earth as a point of reference, once more. Or maybe this world used the same metric to assign ‘years’, with the exact same length of time it took to orbit the binary pair in the sky. In that case, it would truly be an amazing coincidence, would it not, that the angular frequency of orbit and the distance travelled by this new planet was exactly the same?
“How long is a day?” It was your final question, one so earnest he had to scrap the thought of you purposefully asking stupid questions. In actuality, the passion in your voice was a very final verification. 
“Twenty-four hours, with an hour being sixty minutes and a minute being sixty seconds.” Prompt and curt, in that melodious voice.  
“Thank you.” And there was a smile on your face this time, so mellow and warm that he couldn’t help but duck his head back to his bowl at your sincerity. “Looks like I won’t have to relearn as much as I thought.”
“Ah— right,” he murmured, but the crack in his voice went unnoticed by all but his dinner. That, and the countless stars dotting the ever-changing sky. 
“But New Metis still eludes me,” you sighed, dipping the spoon back into the broth. The utensil was weirder than the ones on earth—deeper and more cone-like in the centre, like a miniature ladle. It made savouring the complex flavours far easier; both piquante broth and the salty game were eagerly wolfed down by your hungry mouth.
“We’re pretty close to it now, actually, only around ten ro away.” The set of Himeko’s mouth was thoughtful as she unstoppered the carafe at her side, taking a large swig from it. Then, from an ornate tube hanging from her belt, she slid out a scroll of what appeared to be expensive parchment—revealing an intricate map of what appeared to be the side of a continent alongside a large archipelago. “New Metis is located—here, on that central island—and past the straits, the mountains on the continent signal the Borderlands. Well, it would be more accurate to say that these islands are all technically part of Metis—but the capital, New Metis, is located on the central one specifically. We’re currently on the northern isles.”
“I see.” You used the remaining carb to mop up the last of the stew in your bowl, scooping up what appeared to be aromatics—onion-equivalents, maybe?—and the last of the umami broth. “I think I’ll get more answers if I go there myself. Is there anything I should be wary of while I’m there?”
Ding! Something chimed, but you paid it no heed.
“Well, if you’re not a scholar, then regulations are a bit more lax. Uh, new legislation was passed quite recently, but it’s mostly just caution for nomads and merchants. If you’re completely new to the city—that is, if your memories of New Metis are completely gone, then the anti-heretical laws are pretty tough,” the man with inky curls rambled, causing your eyes to snap from Miss Himeko to his face in slight incredulity at his sudden talkativeness.
Ding! Ding!
“Anti-heretical?” you questioned, already feeling a headache form at the sudden onslaught of religion. “Could you expand on that?” 
Ding!
“Ah, yes,” he cleared his throat, setting his bowl down by his side with an awkward clunk. “Um, strictly speaking, they’re colloquially dubbed anti-heresy—since the legislation condemns it based on more fraudulent grounds than religious, but everyone who’s ever stepped foot in New Metis—”
Ding! You subconsciously swatted the window away as you stared right at him. 
“Dan Heng, get to the point before he falls asleep,” March 7th interrupted: looking at the man completely askance, as if asking ‘can you believe this guy?’. 
“Uh, sorry,” he said sheepishly, with a self-conscious smile. Dan Heng. Dan Heng. The name was no more familiar than any other, but it was pleasant to sound out. “They’ve banned most magical arts in the city and the wider span of islands for several centuries now, actually—”
Ding!
Irritatedly, you glanced at your hand, only to find an updated profile shining against the back of your wrist. What—you squinted, feeling a tad bit more sleepy, before the rolling script faded into focus. 
“—Heng, don’t just say magical arts without explaining what those entail.”
[Name: ◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼◼, working currently as an a◼che◼◼. One of unknown origin, fluent in common tongue, honey tongue, and the ancient tongue of thought.]
But… the section in the middle was glitching particularly furiously, as though it were urgently trying to tell you something. You furrowed your brow. What? 
Ding!
“Stuff like subverting from typical paths and orthodox elements—instead gaining power through sorcery, witchcraft and—”
Ding! Ding!
[Name: ◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼◼, working currently as an alchemist. One of unknown origin, fluent in common tongue, honey tongue, and the ancient tongue of thought.]
“—alchemy.” 
You paused. You stared. The headache you’d been anticipating finally had its advent. 
(Equivalent exchange.) 
“I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about,” March 7th smiled reassuringly, but her beaming face felt more like a threat. “Do you remember what your job was?”
“I’m a sculptor,” you deadpanned, working your jaw. It was said on a whim, but who knew the wavering between an art or a chemistry doctorate would finally come in handy today? 
Ding!
[Name: ◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼◼, working currently as an alchemist. One of unknown origin, fluent in common tongue, honey tongue, and the ancient tongue of thought. Although practising alchemists typically require various apparatuses to perform transmutation and practise the law of equivalent exchange, ◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼◼ is a bit unique in that his body is the medium for the price instead—rather than formulae in common tongue on paper, the tattoos he’s earned in the tongue of thought are far more effective. After all, he is the only alchemist to have survived the life ‘price’.]
What… did that mean?
“Life price,” you murmured in concentration. Was that related to your death? Not only that, the sudden influx of knowledge made you dizzy. It seemed you’d go undetected as an alchemist for the foreseeable future, but what were the limits? 
“Sorry, did you say something?” Himeko glanced to her left, but you only shook your head in defeat. 
Was that what you did earlier? Summoned help by offering your energy as collateral? Was it also your life that you were offering in exchange? More importantly, what did it mean by life price? Did your meaningless death coalesce into boundless regrets? 
Your heart throbbed. 
“Here.” An elegant silver chalice nudged the delicate patterns on the back of your hands, and you startled—all with what you could only assume was a very stupid expression on your face. Dan Heng looked equally taken aback, fumbling a hurried apology on his lips in his lilting common tongue (“Ack, sorry—you just looked out of it so I thought you needed something to slake your thirst.”). A crescent smile formed briefly on your face as you stared at his honest face; far less world-weary than yours, far more eager. You accepted the goblet, running your fingers across its intricate engravings. 
“Thank you,” you replied warmly, taking a sip of the sweet liquid within—some saccharine nectar that had a similar tartness to cherry. “It’s delicious.”
His fingers touched yours as he settled on your other side by the flames. He’s shivering slightly, you noted—a slight trembling that was out of character on this warm night. Well, you washed down the observation with drink thoughtfully, you always did run on the hotter side. 
To business—you instead prioritised, which was to figure out what game you’d landed in exactly. 
“Um,” you turned to Dan Heng as you munched on the fresh fruit set out, juice dripping down your fingers. Its flesh was orange and tender, seeping sweet across your skin as you tore into its fragrant body. Yum. Licking your fingers clean, it was perhaps for the best that you didn’t witness the rosy flush that spread across his face. After all, you were preoccupied with the equations that now heated the inside of your mouth—squiggling formulae now taking root on your tongue, all warm and fuzzy. “Have there been any heroes lately?”
“Hmm?” he started, fingers fidgeting against his own, well-crafted robes. “You’d… uh… need to be more specific than that.”
“People we look up to? People who’ve contributed to developing their nations? People who’ve made leaps and progressions in their industries?” Himeko interjected, and the three questions made you realise that this wasn’t a two-dimensional pixelated world, but a real one. Numbskull, you criticised yourself—of course something as ambiguous as ‘hero’ was wholly open to interpretation. 
“Like…” you paused. How the fuck would you describe it? A protagonist? Someone who saved the world? This looked like an open-world RPG, so maybe— “...a travelling hero who took care of threats to the world? Alongside companions? Defeated evil entities? Was extremely well-known globally?”
Your questions were as unsure as Himeko’s face was. 
“That’s not my expertise,” she answered hesitantly. “There are quite a few who fit the description, but perhaps you’re thinking of Akivili, the late founder of the Blazing Trail?” 
Akivili. That name didn’t ring a bell either, but it couldn’t hurt to probe. “When… was the Blazing Trail established?”
“Ah… about a millennium ago,” she replied, somewhat abashed. Your brows furrowed—of course, transmigrating into a game didn’t necessarily mean you’d get into the same timeline as the hero, but a thousand years… 
“Any prophesied heroes?” you questioned desperately.
“Hold on,” Dan Heng murmured beside you thoughtfully—tapping his fingers against his knee. “There’s a more recent one that makes more sense.”
“How recent is recent?” you deadpanned. 
“Three hundred years ago, this time,” he furrowed his brows. Okay, but there was still hope if this still wasn’t the protagonist. “This ‘hero’ got rid of the Stellarons, the countless seeds of destruction from which spawned countless monsters, with his companions. Then, after his glory, he abruptly disappeared.”
It sounded like a classic conclusion—a hero returning back to their homeworld after the game reached its end. Of course, had you not died back on Earth, maybe you would have despaired more; this protagonist might’ve held the key to allowing you to go back home. But as it stood, his existence would only serve to inform you exactly where you were stuck. 
“And this hero’s name?” you prompted. A slight foreboding trickled down your spine as you waited. 
“Odysseus.”
Odysseus. Odysseus. Odysseus. It sounded unpleasantly familiar, not just because it was the name of a classical hero, but also—
“What’s the name of this planet, again?” You prayed it wasn’t so. With a head bowed in supplication, and fingers ardently crossed, you were the picture of devout want. 
“Ouroboros,” he concluded, and it was then that a tear slipped down your face. 
.  ⁺ ✦
Lament of Ouroboros. As the title suggested, the indie, open-world RPG narrated the woes of the planet and the hero come to save it—a format popular among most, if not all, adventure-themed video games. It was on a whim you downloaded it: clicking on the surprisingly well-drawn icon and quickly skimming the synopsis to escape your boring life for a bit. On forums it was well-known enough to be frequently discussed, but it didn’t have the widespread recognition to garner severe criticisms. 
With a large mug of tea and an abandoned pack of sweets, you’d booted up that game one August afternoon—worn keys clacking smoothly against your fingers as you tapped out your name. It was a nice interface, you acknowledged while erasing all traces of ‘Odysseus’. The graphics may have been the standard open world fields, but there was something charming about the two cheery suns and pretty backdrop of the sky. 
Your mouse selected the specialisation generator randomly, though you hadn’t paid attention enough to the animation apart from noting what appeared to be a sword, then a staff at one frame in particular. A warrior, and a mage, you observed in slight interest, but ultimately it didn’t matter what it picked. 
Although, neither warrior nor mage appeared as your final selection: rather, a pair of ornate scales floated into view from the tranquil lake. 
{Alchemist (S-Class) (hidden).]
“Cool,” you’d said at the time, clicking past the opening animation and into the story. Your brief fascination was just that—brief. The story was somewhat engaging, yet the plotline was saturated with tropes you’d seen time and time again in various games. A protagonist chosen to save the world, a home to return to, and companions that were pushy at best, and completely irritating at worst. 
Maybe if you hadn’t played through and seen countless media like this, the plotline might’ve been more engaging—but for your tired, exhausted mind, this clichéd game was not unlike your clichéd, boring life. 
It took the span of one afternoon for you to promptly delete Lament from your laptop, staring at the dregs of your tea in defeat. In any case, only the hero’s name and the actual title was retained in your disinterested memory: no lore, no plotline apart from what you could easily piece together based on context, and absolutely zero clue of the ending of the story. 
“Are you alright?” March 7th’s shoulder bumped yours on the large landbeast. The carapace was surprisingly comfortable to ride on, if you ignored the large tusks coming from that furry thing’s mouth, and the perpetual death stare in its red eyes. “I know it’s hard waking up and not knowing anything.”
“Yeah,” you replied quietly, resisting the urge to bash your head in. “It is hard.”
Seriously, what the hell did you do to reincarnate into this shitty RPG?
.  ⁺ ✦
“Do you think he’s grateful for the new opportunity?” In HER deft palms, the distaff continued to spin as the maiden began the conversation. Everything started with HER—the youngest, the most rash, but also the most creative. As it were, the threads SHE spun were of highest quality; mixed with the most tragic emotions and the most joyful, but humans would never appreciate the work SHE did for them. “His life was rather miserable, was it not?”
“He should be,” the matron scorned. HER own fingers unravelled the spool, pressing HER rod to measure adequate life spans fairly—for SHE was nothing if not just. “He’ll never grasp just how much probability we had to sacrifice to tamper with his string of fate.”
“You know mortals. They’re never grateful, Lachesis.” The hag’s shears didn’t hesitate to cut the string where marked—HER blinded eyes needed not to see in order to precisely locate where the matron had allotted an end. After all, THEIR habits were known to each other from the very beginning of time, when the universe was still in its cradle. 
“I was against this from the start, you hear?” Lachesis complained. SHE was the most cynical out of the three, or as SHE liked to describe: the most pragmatic. 
“Yes, yes, yet you were the one who opened up communications to find a suitable vessel for his rebirth,” the maiden scoffed. HER words were callous and sharp, but they parsed directly into the heart of the matter: the Moirai were far more soft-hearted than they appeared,
“If I hadn’t, then I would’ve missed the opportunity for Atropos to owe me a favour,” Lachesis returned, turning back to HER ruler. Those who knew HER saw the abashedness in her bowed head and clenched fists. 
“Ha. As if you weren’t also rooting for the prince still entrapped in stone,” Atropos cackled. HER gnarled hands were the only ones that paused in their duties as SHE wheezed with laughter; even as tears ran down HER wrinkled cheeks. 
“He’s paid too much already. Who else will settle the balance of fate if not us?” Lachesis rationalised, waving HER rod against the cosmos in frustration. “I do not pity mortals.”
THEY were quiet, for once. Only the sound of thread against thread, the whish of a rod, and the snip of scissors seeped into the silence. 
“This one too. He has also paid the life-price. He is entitled to lesser sacrifices to fulfil his whims,” the youngest commented for the final time, for Clotho enjoyed making the balance too. Both the beginning and end were HERS for this conversation. 
The three watched on.
.  ⁺ ✦
In accordance with your propensity to live a quiet life, there were three things you came to accept: one, it was impossible to get your old life back, not just because of your death, but Odysseus and his irritating cast were long gone; two, venturing into the city of New Metis for anything prolonged was probably the stupidest move you could do, even if your status as an alchemist wasn’t obvious at all; and three, to live a new quiet life as a sculptor, your new priority was finding a place to live. 
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” the caravan master worried, golden eyes surveying you up and down. Her arms crossed over her loose white robes, sharpened nails tapping right against her skin—a dead giveaway for her thoughts that clearly questioned your capacity to fend for yourself. Honestly, you couldn’t blame her; finding someone fast asleep in the middle of nowhere was sure to cast doubt into their capability to stay safe. “There’s always open spots if you wish to travel with us.”
A quiet life. Awkwardly, you scratched the side of your neck, and the chromatic patterns on your fingers pressed warmly into your flesh. A quiet life, unlike the suffering of your past one. There was no debt to pay off this time, no shitty apartment nor landlord, and nothing to tie you to one place any longer. A quiet life, more idealistic and stable than the previous one. It was far past time to take a rest—in a peaceful paradise that you’d create.
A truly serene life. Were you to tread on the fiery path they did, you would not find the future you wanted. This you deduced not from the unreliable system, but the careful observations you’d made over the past day. 
A quiet beginning, and a quiet end. You’d accept that. Thus, you bade the woman who’d rescued you a sincere goodbye filled with well wishes. 
“Stay safe.” It was Dan Heng who spoke to you last, pressing a talisman with his cool fingers against your own, heated palm. The spherical, intricately carved bauble resembled glassy jade—a soft green just like his robes. Corded through the middle was a length of twine that formed a loop, one that you slid over your head. Coldly, it lay against the dip of your chest, peeking out from your exquisite garb and shining right against the almost-incandescent equations etched into your body. 
The immediate acceptance of his gift made him flush—as did the evident trust you held in him. “I— this contains around ten minae, or about a thousand drachma. Breaking it down further, it’s around six-thousand obols, enough to get you board and food in New Metis for around two months if you’re frugal. Here—”
His thumb pressed into a specific etching on the jade: a snake that appeared to wriggle somewhat in invitation as you stared at it. Just like that, a shadow around a handspan wide appeared in front of you, then vanished just as quickly when he pressed it once more. This close, you couldn’t help but stare wonderingly at his face as he explained how to reach in and grab the exact sum of Metisian currency, how six obols were one drachma, a hundred drachma were one mina, six hundred minae were one talent, how a loaf of bread cost only one obol and so forth. He smelled faintly of mint. 
“—and that’s how it works. You can store other objects in there as well. If you get in trouble or change your mind, go to the local bank and let them guide you to the designated vault when you show them this key; there’s a way to contact us from there…” he rambled, trailing off when you clasped his hand in yours. 
“Thank you.” Perfunctorily, you performed the appropriate gesture of profound gratefulness—a kiss on a merchant’s index knuckle for his generosity—and watched his composed face melt into a stupid little smile. 
A wolf whistle pierced the air from where a certain pink-haired nomad sat. “The rich young master’s got moves!” she cackled gleefully, and you laughed for the first time in months: so bright it was hard to imagine it came from you. 
Your own face donned a drowsy grin—offering energy as a collateral once more. There were no flowers by the docks, after all, thus the bloom in your hands seemed to have been conjured from thin air. “One last thanks, Dan Heng.” 
Thus, there was only one thing you left behind on the isle of Thasos: a flower, pinned against a robe fluttering wildly in the salty breeze. 
.  ⁺ ✦
New Metis was cold, in the same way your parents were cold—one buried and frigid, the other gone with only debts left behind. 
Objectively, the city was stunning. Ancient architecture entwined itself with more modern innovation, blending into captivating citadels that held the essence of the past and the painstaking strides towards the future. Everywhere you looked, massive structures housed scholars and extensive collections of books, while the public buildings and amphitheatres were bursting with symposia and teeming discussions. 
This really is the scholar capital, you thought. Though, as you bit into the soft sesame ring you’d purchased at the toss of an obol, it seemed… stagnant. In comparison to the warm bread in your mouth, the metropolis could not be considered friendly. 
“No wonder, if what Dan Heng said was true.” You licked the remainder of the sesame from your lips, washing them down with an orange-like sort of juice that had the rich sweetness of honey and the sharpness of carbonation. If the city truly was as restrictive as claimed, there was little surprise as to why the scholars and every other citizen seemed a bit standoffish. Though, you couldn’t deny that the students that you observed in their element seemed to be in the throes of joy (and pain) as they buried themselves in their work and studying—the quality of teaching in Metis clearly was a cut above the rest, even with the restrictions in place. “Corruption really is everywhere, huh.”
In the places of reading, the students crammed on tables with books piled as tall as them reminded you sorely of your own days of youth. Your degrees were displayed proudly in your tiny apartment, alongside a small plaque you’d bought on a whim that simply read doctor’s office. 
The sudden thought made your heart ache. Where were those certificates now? 
There was nobody you were close enough to, nobody to carefully place your belongings into a cardboard box—then stow it away in some corner of their hearts. Nobody would miss you, not even your estranged mother. 
With a sombre expression, you thumbed through the tomes on the dark shelves. Synthetic methods and reaction mechanisms. Industrial and environmental chemistry. Inorganic and organometallic molecules. How far was this a creation of another? How far had the humans here developed on their own, outside the limits of a game? 
Bitterly, you left the library and walked back out into the stifling streets: past the agora, past the bustling market stalls, past a scholar earnestly discussing philosophy with passersby. The streets were paved with achromatic stones that appeared to have centuries-worth of wear on them, yet still seemed as pristine as if they’d just been laid yesterday—thus your shoes remained clean and unscuffed, though your heart certainly wasn’t. 
You… couldn’t stay in this city. Even if you put up a front and became an artisan, even if you assimilated into New Metis with your local clothing and perfectly accented common tongue, even if you decided to take back your chemistry certification in this world too, the sheer crowds and constant reminders that this was not Earth made you sick to your stomach. 
Bile spilled over your tongue and tainted the honey-sweet remainders of your drink. 
More accurately, it was the stares you garnered with the intricate formulae marking your skin. Though you wore their garb and spoke their dialect with native fluency, there was something clearly ‘other’ about you—enough that you didn’t even bother checking into a hotel, but asked around for an estate agent instead. Master of houses, etched carefully into the marble-like stone, was a welcome sight in comparison to the looks you’d received throughout the day. They weren’t overtly hostile. They weren’t, but the inherently elitist atmosphere and cold you’d felt in this arid climate answered for you. 
Would you like to see the rooms in the synoikia near the plaza? A firm diagonal slant of your hand signalled no: the quick, but also local way of traders and merchants communicating in busy environments. How about a townhouse? In the end, you flatly asked the housemaster if there were any remote houses for sale—to which a hologram from a recording stone showed a house nestled right in the Borderlands, surrounded by forests with mountains cradling the structure. House was too modest; the architecture, like all the buildings here, was practically a work of art in itself. 
Tense location at the Borderlands… remote location… universities located on the central island and concentrated in New Metis… 
You suppressed the devilish smile on your face as you smelled a bargain. It was a triad of real estate woes: poor location, low demand, and even more poor location. 
“Four hundred drachma is the asking price,” he offered with a tentative smile—less than half the market price for a box apartment in the metropolis. After even more haggling (in between maintaining a look of disinterest), the property was sold with twelve percent shaved off the already-bargain. 
Score for the penny-pinchers.
In the end, you made one final purchase from New Metis. Two technically, bought for only one drachma and one obol. 
The first was a set of chisels and a hammer. The second was a small wooden piece of wood. It was not a plank, nor an offcut, but had the perfect size for a plaque. A new doctor’s office, to carve in with painstaking effort and calloused hands. 
It was crude, and somewhat ugly—etched first in English, then below in the curling script of the common tongue (which was wholly unsuitable for this type of woodwork)—but looking at it made your bleeding heart ache slightly less. 
After all, it was your last piece of Earth. 
.  ⁺ ✦
Retrospectively, it would’ve been wiser to spend several nights in the city and send necessities to your new home by courier. More pragmatic, if you would—easing into your life in a new world rather than jumping headlong into it. But unfortunately, it seemed you’d become more lax as you crossed the boundaries between lives: electing instead to take the high-speed rail right across the sea and into the Borderlands, with nothing but the clothes on your back, a money dimension pocket, and a crudely made plaque. And your hammer and chisels, naturally, as well as some Metisian street food that vanished far too quickly. 
In fact, it was downright foolish to come to the Borderlands on your first day. Even the conductor stared at you in disbelief—though your clothing and your accent was purposefully as Metisian as they came—so you got the gist that it was even more fucking stupid to go as a complete newcomer. 
Borderlands, remnants of monsters from the Stellarons, highly volatile region, most travellers typically make the journey in groups, you nodded as you pieced together the rough state of the area whilst watching the sea and land speed by. Was it recklessness that endowed you with the guts to arm yourself with only a map and your wits? Were you perhaps… turning into an imbecile?
Actually, it was neither. The combination of brimming energy (from the street foods you gorged yourself on) and the updated character profile had ignited a chilling sort of passion for experimentation that was hard to extinguish, even as you crossed into this life. 
[Name: ◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼◼, working currently as an alchemist. One of unknown origin, fluent in common tongue, honey tongue, and the ancient tongue of thought. Although practising alchemists typically require various apparatuses to perform transmutation and practise the law of equivalent exchange, ◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼◼ is a bit unique in that his body is the medium for the price instead—rather than formulae in common tongue on paper, the tattoos he’s earned in the tongue of thought are far more effective. After all, he is the only alchemist to have survived the life ‘price’. The law of equivalent exchange for ◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼◼ specifically calls for energy, in return granting a ‘wish’. The larger the desire, the more energy will be depleted; but the most efficient ‘wishes’ involve transmuting one type of energy into another. Of course, a longer incantation—a more accurate incantation—will make the conversion less burdensome as well.]
So, quite literally, as long as you stayed fed and watered, you could transfer that chemical energy into explosive kinetic energy, or imbue weapons with heat or charge with the right ‘equation’. The Borderlands were yours for lab rat exploitation, essentially. 
But the question remained—what were the limits?
And more importantly, how were the limits of these ‘wishes’ enforced?
You didn’t actually have to wait all that long to test out your abilities as an alchemist, though perhaps not in the way you’d expected. The journey to the house—with its own garden and goddamn pillars and stunning architecture—was far more uneventful than you’d anticipated (read: hoped), thus in a last ditch attempt, you decided to take matters into your own hands. 
It really wasn’t on a whim, though. Seeing the sparse rooms, as well as a profound lack of a bed to sleep on—the binary suns had begun their slumber too, after all—it was perhaps pragmatic rather than foolish that you built up the long chant in the tongue of thought. More accurate, more accurate, you sweated, tracing the length of the equations up your arms and on your chest by using the small looking-glass attached to your belt. 
“◼◼◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼,” you finished the incantation, feeling warmth seep from your limbs as the payment. “Refurbish.”
It wasn’t the wisest move, not at all. But who could blame you, when the materialised gauzy fabrics against stone walls, as well as the jewel-hued rugs, looked so darn nice? 
Well, before you collapsed, of course—with a dopey grin on your face nonetheless. Those two things were all you could appreciate before you got totally knocked out. 
Thus, the limits were deduced to be large-scale summonings, enforced by a good night's sleep—noted cheerfully by the alchemist who peeled his face off a brand new ornate rug in the morning, rather than the bed he’d sacrificed his consciousness for. 
.  ⁺ ✦
When you unstuck yourself off the fastidiously complex rug (skin imprinted with its thread patterns, since you slept corpse-like in a single position), you almost didn’t recognise the once sparse house. To be more accurate, the intricate tapestries and glitzy trinkets, vases and decorations were familiar to what you pictured; but placed in conjunction with the stone walls, delicately carved pillars, and spacious, airy rooms took them to a completely new level. 
The wish was thorough, you had to admit. With your feel pattering against the almost-glassy, colourful tiles, you took in the area where you woke up: the kitchen. Dried bundles of herbs hung from copper-hued rafters, perfuming the air with aromatic fragrances and balsamic scents. Past sage cupboards were conjured utensils that gleamed with a disused sort of enthusiasm that made your brows raise. I didn’t even think of these, you noted, flinging open the cupboards by the elegant cooker to reveal stacks upon stacks of charming ceramics and everything else you might possibly need to exist in the kitchen. Even the icebox, a large storeroom imbued with enchantments above its doorway (the Metisian equivalent of a modern refrigerator) was packed with meats and vegetables that looked visually dissimilar to Earth’s, but were somehow familiar to your mind. 
It raised a question—if you ate food you conjured, would it not just be an endless loop of energy?
More importantly, would you even need the money still stored in the jade bead around your neck?
On the other side of the open-plan ground floor was the living area, strewn with various oddities and memorabilia. Two bookshelves stood proudly in a rich walnut colour, creaking under the weight of various books you’d skimmed in those reading-places back in the city. There were also titles you’d never come across before, but were sure to read on the plushy couches strewn with soft, patterned blankets and jewel-toned cushions. It was cosier than anything you might’ve desired, especially with the dim amber lamps perched on the dark-stained low table and the vibrant, low-hanging mosaic ceiling lights that looked like delicate baubles dropping from the heavens. 
You ignored the stairs that spiralled to the top floor—to where there were a few rooms still detailed on the floor plan—since they were likely to contain the same levels of decoration both the kitchen and salon had. Rather, you tiptoed through the sunny corridor leading to the eastern part of the sprawling home: gauzy, rich-hued curtains brushing lightly past your skin. There, past the stunning mahogany door was a bright, vast studio—complete with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the extensive gardens and the distant mountains, as well as all the tools you could possibly need for sculpting, alongside the hammer and chisels you’d purchased just yesterday. 
For a while you simply stared at the scenic landscape—nothing you’d ever seen on Earth, not when every day consisted of grey asphalt and ash-coloured buildings. There was a damn pond in your backyard, with a delicately wrought table and chair set at the edge. Had you imagined this too?
In any case, it was in a slight daze that you finally checked out the rooms upstairs; two guest rooms with large beds, desks and wardrobes; a large bathroom with picturesque views of the distant horizon and forests, as well as a massive tub; and finally, your room. 
How did you know it was your room? 
It looked lived in. Just like downstairs, a massive bookshelf lined the wall adjacent to the large windows: gauzy curtains fluttered over the tomes and let in the cool, fresh breeze. A large rug decorated the panels on the floor and slipped beneath your bed: a massive, round thing that looked like a jewel-bright, appetising cloud to simply dive into. And past the bed, an imposing armoire was stuffed to its seams in outfits both similar to the ones you were wearing (intricate, soft garments with detailed embroidery and vibrant palettes) as well as simpler, yet extraordinarily well-crafted, garments. 
In essence, you were set for life. This space was an ideal, permanent vacation home: even if it were in no-man’s territory, with monsters sullying its landscape. You intended to sequester yourself until you died once more—with a book laid on your chest, a mug of tea still on the table, and a fat bee bumbling past as you closed your eyes in peaceful, eternal slumber. That was the ignorant bliss you would afford yourself: the you who got a break in this idyllic game after you passed on. 
Perhaps this form of living would’ve been considered lamentable back on Earth. You, with the laurels of being a doctor in your profession, now spent the afternoon languidly draped over a soft couch simply reading. There were no samples to analyse, no reports to check, no research to work on. In fact, it was only a week later that you finally ventured out the sprawling gardens and into the forests. It wasn’t to check out the academic fruits of the bustling metropolis, nor was it to analyse the chemical makeup of the soil and flora—the most you’d done for that was conjuring some compost to make your new vegetable garden more acidic. 
No, setting out into the forest was more to idly take inspiration from these pulchritudinous sights, and maybe fight a few monsters to learn how real combat worked in this open-world, combat-based RPG. 
Maybe you’d get lucky and find some clay to practise sculpting before you found stone to work on. It was a forgiving medium, after all—soft and supple under your hands, rather than cold and flawless. Any mistakes could be worked away, any blunders would fade in the face of the cool, wet earth, and if you polished your rusty skills, you could make it into a job—it was a solid cover to disguise your use of alchemy. 
As the grass with no apparent paths was trodden on (for the first time in perhaps decades), the loamy scent of petrichor and foliage quickly filled your senses; it was so tranquil, in fact, that your hold on your metal pail grew more absent-minded as you swept a large stick this way and that to brush longer plants aside. If you unfurled the slightly-outdated map you’d paid a sesame ring for, there was… a river nearby, right? 
You squinted at the parchment, still unheeding of the warnings you’d received about this forest. With a full belly and over twelve hours of sleep, there was a dormant energy that was somewhat overshadowed by a bumbling drowsiness: only dispelling when you heard the sound of running water. 
Clay—your eyes lit up like beacons, and the formulae on your body seemed to glow as you rolled the sleeves of your loose cream shirt up, as well as the soft material of your navy trousers. It was casual, to the point of being somewhat scandalous—nothing like the classy drapes of fabric that constituted every day in New Metis.
Well, you thought with a smug sort of vehemence. This is the Borderlands. Thus, there was an unseemly sort of flippancy to your gait as you trod in the direction of what you hoped was the river, pail and stick in hand as your shield and sword. 
It was, perhaps, far too easy to find the softer clay deposits on the bank of the river; prying into the earth above to reveal the slick medium beneath and depositing it into your bucket. In fact, life had been going so smoothly in the past few days that you were lulled into a sense of false security. 
Had you forgotten how your life was prior to your death?
You’d gotten complacent as you dusted yourself off—shirt and pants plastered with a gorgeous mauve, though you paid it little mind. It would be hell to clean out, unless you simply dubbed these the ‘work clothes’. In any case, your biggest worry currently was the staining of your conjured clothes—a far cry from the life and death you’d experienced. 
It couldn’t simply be attributed to accustomising yourself to mundanity—no, maybe you were a bit of a reckless idiot as you strolled along the banks, sunning yourself with the binary stars in the heavens. There was not a care in the world as you closed your eyes to the Borderlands in favour of merely existing. Listening to the clear sounds of water cascading over riverstones. Feeling the clean breeze wash over your bare forearms and wet legs. Tasting the powdery, thick scent of clay after practically burying your face in it as you dug the mauve medium up. 
But like all good things, they eventually had to end. 
You weren’t foolish enough to keep turning a blind eye when you sensed danger. 
The leaves stirred. The waters vacillated—equilibrium was no longer an option. The forest, like a stricken pulse, seemed to constrict around you; the very wind took shallow breaths against your skin. 
Please, the Borderlands seemed to whisper. Get out while you can. 
Your stick tapped a rhythm against the soft mud—partly passively sinking, partly actively getting dragged into what was quickly becoming quicksand. 
For a brief moment, everything stilled—before you heard rapidly approaching footsteps coming right your way. Mentally, you began the long chant… tongue of thought for strengthening…. equation for charge… Coulomb’s law…. 
From the water too, came a sudden rush of volume flung to the skies—though the fleeting steps reached you first. A flash of blond. Your eyes met widened, almost-neon coloured irises. The stench of blood, too, filled the banks—before he crashed right into you, barrelling you against the rough bark of a tree whilst desperately clasping a hand over your mouth. 
“Niedra; ćhiho tu, albo ka arakhel,” he breathed, panic so thick in each syllable that you could only stare. It wasn’t the common tongue, but you instinctively got the message from his hushed cadence. No, wait. 
Don’t panic, the words had ghosted over your dampened flesh. Quiet, or it’ll find us. 
In a language so smooth that it sounded like song, like an intricate tapestry woven from gossamer, he’d conveyed to you panic, fear, and a camaraderie so primal that this partnership was instinctual. 
“Don’t speak, and hold your breath,” he then urgently translated into common tongue, when you merely looked at him, unblinking. “The Borderlands are very dangerous.”
The sudden switch allowed you to figure out why exactly you could parse together the clear meaning in his silvery syllables. 
“Xatarav,” you murmured. ‘I understand’, for it was not in a language you didn’t know. The language that had not seen use—the tongue of honey—had finally encountered one of its own. 
But the surprise in his face—the questions imbibed on insatiable lips—went unnoticed by you, for ‘it’ had finally found you. 
Water splashed against the tree where the two of you were pressed against—soaking into the bark, and seeping cold into the fabric of your shirt. You couldn’t see ‘it’ from your position, but you could see the behemoth reflected in those captivating eyes—towering in his sclera as the leviathan uncoiled from the depths of the now-raging river. It shook its mane out—webbed tendrils fanning out angrily as it swung its massive head this way and that. 
A frigid sort of fear washed over you, leeching any sort of warmth that had remained in your limbs. 
Well over forty-metres high, it was only its poor eyesight that prevented it from slithering round this tree and snapping the two of you up in its deadly snapping jaws—reminding you acutely of the thrumming iron that pumped deep in your veins, and just how easy it was to spill. 
You were painfully aware of the fact your only emergency ally was covered in gashes and wounds, bleeding into the already-purple mess of your clothes. His breathing was unsteady and his pulse was arrhythmic, but his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that seemed to ask ‘what will you do?’.
Would you run? Would you sling his arm over your shoulders and somehow evade the lightning-quick serpent? Would you leave him behind? 
Your grip tightened around the stick—interrupted equations leaving it with a slight prickly sensation, rather than the full extent of charge. He noticed the muscles of your arm clench in response to your urgent grasp, and he frantically slanted his hand diagonally in an abject ‘no’.
“Na ka umire,” you muttered, making sure he understood exactly what you were saying in his mother tongue. ‘I won’t die.’
And you wouldn’t. 
Not today, not tomorrow. 
You wouldn’t die in vain a second time. 
.  ⁺ ✦
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jopetkasi · 12 days ago
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The alarm goes off at 4 a.m. As much as I want more sleep, I can’t. It’s Sunday—family day.
Lying in bed, I think about how fast the night went by. Just a moment ago, it felt like we were having dinner, and now here I am, naked in bed with another naked guy.
I nudge Chris. "Wake up. You have to bring me home."
He barely opens his eyes. "It’s too early. I paid for twelve hours in this room." He turns over, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders.
"Can I go ahead? I’ll just take a Grab."
He sighs, exasperated. "Can’t we just enjoy this time alone? Don’t you ever take a break?"
"You can stay and get some more sleep," I offer.
He rubs his eyes, then sits up. "Fine. I’ll take you home."
The motel room wasn’t exactly cheap, but it came with the essentials. The bathroom dispenser was filled with body wash, but the stuff was so slippery it took forever to rinse off. And the shampoo? Way too floral.
As I dried off, I muttered to myself, "Tangina, amoy motel nga ako."
Driving through the quiet streets of Pasay, Chris breaks the silence. "Aren't we grabbing breakfast?"
"What for? We ordered room service last night."
He huffs. "You can be a jerk sometimes, Jopet. Starting to feel like you’re just here for the sex."
I gave a sigh. "You enjoyed yourself last night too, right? Besides, we’re not in a relationship."
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Back home, my parents announced they were headed to Laguna to visit a relative. I politely bowed out, dreaming of a full day spent catching up on sleep. But, as luck (or a severe lack thereof) would have it, the manongs showed up, looking way too enthusiastic and insisting I join them for mass and lunch.
So here I am, reluctantly donning semi-decent clothes, assuming we’d hit up the church nearby. But nope, these guys had bigger plans. For reasons beyond comprehension, they decided to attend mass all the way in Ateneo—on the other side of town—when St. James, a perfectly good church, was a whole ten minutes away.
I resigned myself to the free ride (and the silver lining that I wouldn’t have to drive) as we piled into the car and headed off to Katipunan. If nothing else, I figured I could use the commute to catch up on the sleep I’d hoped to have.
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It’s not that I hated my Jesuit education, but returning to campus stirs up a whole Pandora’s box of memories. You guys know what went down back in the day, right? Sure, it’s all ancient history and everyone’s probably moved on—but still, the past hits me like it just happened yesterday.
I tried my best to keep a low profile, but then, as luck would have it, familiar faces started popping up, which meant I’d have to endure the obligatory post-mass catch-ups.
“Is that you, Jopet? Wow, you still look young—but tumaba ka!” Mrs. Concio, the mom of an old friend, spotted me before I could make a run for it.
“Auntie! You look beautiful. Sino derma mo?” I replied with a forced smile, deflecting as best I could.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw Cherryl waving enthusiastically. Ah, yes, Cherryl—the picture-perfect lady everyone thought was Miss Prim and Proper, who in reality, well… let’s just say she got along very well and screwed the attractive guys back in school.
“How are you?” She air-kissed me. “Wow, you gained weight!”
“Love your shampoo, by the way,” she teased, sniffing as if she could detect it from miles away.
“Oh, yeah, it’s… motel shampoo,” I fired back.
She laughed and gave me a playful slap. “loko loko ka pa din” she giggled. “Vegan diet and pilates for me! look! Mother of four at thirty-four!”
I forced a smile and nodded, biting my tongue. Yeah… mother of four and none of them look related, I thought to myself, but hey, I was in church—gotta behave, right?
Then I spotted another familiar face. Too familiar, in fact. He looked up at me, a knowing smile crossing his face as he made his way over… along with his wife and kids. Just then, my cousin swooped in, rescuing me with a quick, “Hey, let’s go! there's an exhibit at the Arete!”
As I turned to leave, I threw the guy a polite nod and a quick wave. Thank God for family—they sure know when to save you from ghosts of the past...of hurried sex during vacant hours… or at least the ones that show up with their families.
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We finally peeled out of Katipunan around two in the afternoon. I was starving, so I suggested we hit up the KFC right across from campus—classic, quick, and absolutely hitting the spot in my mind. But, of course, my cousins had other ideas. Instead, they decided we’d meet another cousin at Podium because they were suddenly all craving Thai food.
“Thai food?” I protested. “I barely know anything about that.”
One of my cousins rolled his eyes. “Stop being maarte. Wouldn’t hurt to try something new for once—like, something other than the penis of your ex-boyfriend.” Ouch. Shots fired.
And so, Thai food it was at Basil. Dennis, the family foodie, went all out and ordered what felt like half the menu. Surprisingly, everything was amazing, though the chilis were no joke. And just like any Filipino family gathering, our “quick lunch” turned into an hours-long storytelling marathon, the kind that stretched long enough to justify moving to another restaurant for dessert.
And there I was, quiet but amused, soaking up all the juicy family chismis from my rumor-peddling cousins.
So, that was my Sunday—nothing like a family feast, unexpected spice, and cousins who can roast you like no one else can.
s
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sehodreams · 9 months ago
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sex money feelings die - the start
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masterlist ↬ the start ↬ first visit
WC: 2.6k
TW and Tags (permanent for the story): rich client!Anton x stripper!reader, smut, fluff (?), a touch of angst for the moment, inexperienced reader, fingering, kissing, lots of silly conversations.
Summary: Working at a night club was difficult in many aspects, your sleep schedule was messed up for life, your feet were more used to high heels than sneakers and you had to lie about where you went to work those nights. Still, even with all those cons, you didn't hate your job, you had more than enough to pay your bills, feed your brother and save money for his college. However, what happens when your boss makes you do the one thing you asked to never do.
Mornings were usually a chaotic thing for most people, you remember the news striding into your ears first time you waked up and your mother calling for you to get ready while she prepared your and your little brother’s lunch. You’d help her checking your woke up and got ready on time too and then you'd kiss her cheek in a rush before the two of you ran to catch the bus.
When you asked your friends most of them said their routines were similar. Not having time to eat at home, all of you ate a quick breakfast together before first period started and then your day would consist on you trying to stay awake as long as you could to avoid getting scolded by your teachers and get good enough grades to apply to a public college around.
You expected your mornings to be that chaotic only when you were in school, and that your boring routine would change when you gained your independency, you never thought that, years later, when you were supposed to attend college in the other side of the city like most of your classmates did, you would be the one preparing the sandwiches and screaming for your little brother to wake up and get ready for his senior year.
‘’I have two shifts today, so I’ll be late, I’ll leave dinner in the fridge, but you’ll have to buy your lunch, okay?’’ you said while giving him the exact paper bag your mother used to give you with his sandwich and some pocket money. Your little brother, not so little anymore, nodded before leaving with half open half-closed eyes from studying until late the night before, not giving you a goodbye kiss. Teenagers, you thought and let him go with a smile.
Soon you were alone again, and listening to the new anchor talk about fruits prices increasing you decided that you had enough stress to think about how you would have to separate more money for groceries that week.
Your bed called for you and when you saw the hour, 7:05 am, and you thought a good nap wouldn’t hurt anyone since you’d have to stay up until late that night, again.
The afternoon came in a blink of an eye, when you opened your eyes, it was almost mid-day already, and now your real morning would start. You took your long daily shower and did your second routine, making sure not a single hair interrupted the smoothness of your well cared skin and your body was fresh enough to endure the next eight hour you would be at the club, working your two shifts.
Well, it was only one shift, but your brother couldn’t understand how a (supposed) part timer in a dinner had to stay until so late when people in your town didn’t buy anything after 11 o’clock. The true was that you had to travel to the other side of the your district to attend your shift in one of the numerous places that looked like normal clubs from the outside, where you did help behind the bar from time to time, but most of it you had to stand in the scenario and bear with the brazing lights reflecting on you while the customers left you their whole wallets to you, sometimes even their whole paychecks.
You started as a waitress, and you were great at it, of course it didn’t need much science, but it needed tons of patience. Smiling through the whole night left you exhausted, but you’d always leave with good tips on your pockets, so it was worth it. You were so good at it that your coworkers would glim every time you arrived to have the same shift as them since the rule was everything gets shared, if someone broke a glass everyone would chip in, and if someone earned two hundred from a drunk guy, you would all receive a part. It may sound inconvenient for some people, but you knew how much you needed to be on their good side if you wanted to keep things in peace, and you had broken enough glasses to be in a long debt on your first days too, so you owed them, and in exchange they also had your back in emergencies.
Still, even if you captivated clients into buying disgusting overpriced beer and enough cigarettes to kill a man, your boss was quick to convince you into becoming one of the girls in the spotlight.
You’re not sure how much a ‘’we have to let you go’’ sounds like convincing, but you didn’t have much of a choice to start neither, you had a brother about to start college and no one else to take care of you, bills were piling in your letterbox and the price of academies were starting to breath your neck, so after crying for three nights straight and signing your brother for afternoon lessons, you went and accepted you fate.
It was hard at first, learning how to be at least half as good as the other girls with your boss following you around pressing you to appear on stage as fast as you could, not caring that your first show was so lame the men around practically left pity bills only because of your pretty face and your big chest.
‘’Trust the process’’ one of the other girls said when you were crying in front of the mirror after your third show. She was kind enough to lend you her makeup and teach you how to make a smokey eye dark enough to hide the redness of your eyes after crying for hours, and you decided that, if you couldn’t dance as good as them those days, the least you could do was pretend you had the confidence to not care in front of those men, so after fixing yourself you went and smiled to everyone out there, and in three months you gained the tittle of favorite girl of the month.
Your brother had no idea of what you did for work but sincerely it was for the best, you didn’t need to be a genius to know how shocking for a student would be to know that his big sister danced for money, so lying to him after coming with the idea of you being a normal waitress in a faraway dinner wasn’t hard to decide, even the aunty that brought the daily ration of drinks said the same, ‘’angel, if you want to live in peace, don’t let anyone out there know what you do here, and I’m not saying it only for your own good, but for the people around you’’. She sometimes said bullshit like ‘’chicken tastes better with vodka than with beer’’, but you considered the first one good advice so you listened to her, you knew how cruel kids could be, and you wouldn’t like your brother to suffer the repercussions of your choices.
Dancing had quickly become a part of you, you never expected to have a talent in it, but even if sometimes the eyes of the men there disgusted you, it felt good to only hear the music and leave your body do its own thing until the song ended. The way your mind would forget about everything, what would you have to cook tomorrow, if your brother was sleeping enough, even the melancholic memories with your mom you had every time you had when you were tired, just felt incredibly good. You didn’t hate it anymore, you never hated it in first place, you knew most of the girls there by when you started, and they all had their own story. A few of them were studying at the same time, others had children to support, and one did it because she simply enjoyed too, so you never felt fair to judge them when each of them choose to stay there, just like you.
Even if the first times you felt sick, all their eyes over you almost making you throw up right there in the middle of your boring choreo when you had to take off your bra, you knew it would pass. You couldn’t help it, your mother had always taught you that the purity of a girl was important, reason why it took you so long to lose your virginity, but after a couple presentations, and a long honest conversation with one of the aunties in the kitchen, you stopped having those thoughts, ‘’there’s nothing wrong with what you do, even if you didn’t have a reason, your choices shouldn’t be influenced by what others think, you do what you have to do to earn your bread, and you don’t hurt anyone in the process, so give yourself some respect’’.
The environment started to feel part of you after you paid all your bills and had enough money left to buy your brother fruit, so now you didn’t feel sick anymore and tried to enjoy every little thing you could. You had found that a lot of nice people worked there, you had a free ear to listen to you everywhere, the security guard, the aunties in the kitchen, the guys mixing drinks at the bar, even your regulars wanted to listen to you while you danced over their laps, but you tried to keep certain distance with them, reason why you told them only mundane things like stuff you liked, dishes you knew how to prepare or how was your day, ‘’I hope your night gets even better’’ your favorite said when you finished, leaving two big bills inside your garment.
You arrived earlier than normal to give Sungchan, the security guard, his coffee. The coffee maker there worked like shit and the poor guy had to stay awake for almost sixteen hours, he was there when the place opened and he’d stay until it closed, so giving him some of your coffee had started to be another of the little routines you had in your life that made it more bearable.
‘’It seems today the boss will announce some exciting news’’ he said with a smile.
‘’Just look at that grin, I hope it’s a bonus or at least a new coffee machine in the kitchen’’ you laughed and passed him his thermos. He laughed with you too and accepted it, quickly putting a granola bar in your hands, he shushed you before you could ask him why he would give you that and pushed you into the changing room, his loud laugh echoing with each of his steps in the corridor.
You shook your head and cleaned your mirror before doing your makeup. Mondays were often a slow day, if you were lucky some office workers would scape to have a reunion there or some college boys would arrive with curious eyes looking all around. You preferred the last kind to be honest, they were so shy they never tried to touch you and even if the money they left was probably from their parents, they were still generous with the girls.
Everything was going like usual. You were polishing your platform heels when your boss called you to his office, interrupting your typical ritual before going to the scenario.
You walked there still wearing your street clothes. You saw almost everyone getting ready running around making sure the place was spotless before customers arrived when you felt a weird sensation in your stomach. You didn’t know why but you knew something would happen that night, and before you thought twice about it your boss closed his office door.
He almost never called girls into his office if it wasn’t important so, playing with the hem of your long-sleeved blouse, you patiently waited for him to start.
‘’I need you to do me a favor’’ he said after a couple of minutes checking some papers over his desk in silence.
The girls had taught you another important lesson, to never let yourself be into any situation without knowing how uncomfortable it could be, so you remained silent waiting for him to continue talking and tell you what he wanted from you.
He sighed when he saw your unsure eyes. ‘’I know this is just a strip club and nothing more, and I know I told you I would never push you to do anything you didn’t want to, but there’s an important offer I think you should take’’. You felt it coming, the bile was going up your throat and your eyes started to get wet even without him talking. He didn’t need to talk for you to know what was about to come out of his mouth, even worse than a punch, or the first time he threatened you to fire you, he was about to mention the only thing you asked from him, and that, after convincing you it would never happen, reason why you accepted to be a dancer in his club.
‘’Shotaro, this is not a brothel’’ you said before he continued.
‘’I know angel, but I really think you should see it’’ He pushed a paper well organized that showed in bold a price that almost made you choke with your own spit. Personal company services was written at the start of the document, as if they were hiring you like a bodyguard instead of a prostitute.
‘’Please don’t make me do it’’ your voice was already breaking and your lower lip quivering. Shotaro walked to your side and patted your shoulder, giving you his fake sympathy well hidden under his blank face.
‘’You don’t have to do anything angel, but I need to be honest here, this is an important opportunity not only for you, but for me, the loss would be too big if you don’t take it, and I’m sorry, but I would have to let you go.’’
‘’How could you say that Shotaro? I bring some of the best clients to this shithole, they come to see me, not to drink your half water half alcohol drinks and hear your dj tasteless playlist’’ you attacked. You were tired of receiving the same warning again and again, as if your presence had no value and he could replace you with anyone.
He sat back on his big chair and, completely put together, which irritated you even more, continued.
‘’I have nothing to discuss with you, the doors are open if you want to leave and find a place that serves pure alcohol and has a better music selection, but I must tell you, none of them will treat you as good as this shithole has.’’
A shiver went through your back after remembering how right he was. There weren’t many places like his club around, most of them were also brothels and, remembering what the other girls had told you, took a bigger portion of night profits.
You had lost the fight the minute it started, you couldn’t say no to what Shotaro asked you, not if you wanted to keep earning enough to pay your bills, maintain your brother well fed and clothed, and a roof over your head. It didn’t matter how many part time jobs you applied for, none of them would pay you enough to send your brother to college and pay for his extra lessons when you had no education further than high school, and feeling your eyes burning, like when he made you stop being a waitress to become a stripper, you nodded to yourself, being utterly crushed.
‘’Will this become regular? You selling me’’ you shrugged in your place just thinking about it.
‘’Not at all, like you said, this is not a brothel, he’s an exception.’’
‘’Who?’’
‘’Anton Lee’’
masterlist ↬ the start ↬ first visit
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tojiscumdumpster · 11 months ago
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CHAPTER SEVEN - TOJI
⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page
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Within the next few minutes, I’ll be dead. I knew this the moment I saw that blue-eyed freak reappear after when I thought I killed him. Fucking sorcerers and their cursed technique bullshit. Maybe I was too confident thinking I would win the second time. I doubted myself at first, but then I calmed down… No. 
 I was just too confident.
 A world like this wasn’t meant for a monkey like me. I was born into a fucked up family that treated me like shit because I didn’t have any cursed technique. The scar on my lip reminds me of it every day. I got over it, though. I accepted this was my faith. I served my purpose, and it was time for me to go.
 Still, I can’t help but wish I made it out alive. That I had a little bit more time. 
 “Nah,” I replied, vaguely. 
 How am I supposed to answer some cliché question like that? 
 Any last words?
 Why would I tell him that? 
 Tell him about the thoughts and images that’s in my head.
 Tell him that I had a wife who I actually saw some good in me. Good enough to get pregnant and raise a kid together. Tch, me? Toji Fushiguro? A husband and father? I never thought I would live to see the day. And of course, it didn’t last long. 
 My wife died because of an incurable sickness. I never felt pain before. Not when I’m standing here with half my body blown off. Not when my family tortured me. But the day she died, I felt pain. I didn’t cry. I just felt empty. Felt like I had no reason to be decent anymore. How was I supposed to raise a kid by myself? 
 She told me I was going to be okay. 
 I wasn’t okay. 
 I’m a fucked a person.
 A fucked up father.
 . . . I was never made to be a fucking dad. Me selling my son to my family is better than what I could’ve done for him. It wouldn’t make any difference if I was or was not in his life because I would never be good enough to be a father. . . A person. . . But I met. . . Her.
 In my final moments, I think of my late wife, my son, and—
“Dad!” Megumi’s deafening voice wakes me up. “It’s almost five. We have to go to the store.”
  What the…
 What the fuck was that? 
 Lately my mind has been clogged with thoughts and what feels like memories I used to have. Could never decipher them, but that dream was probably the clearest I had. 
 Me being on the verge of death (wouldn’t be the first time), apparently being killed by some blue-eyed fuck. Giving Megumi away to the Zen’in Family? Like fucking hell. I would endure the shit they put me through every day for the rest of my life knowing it would keep my kid safe. I just don’t understand these dreams I’ve been having.
 Are they signs? Is my judgment day coming where I would have to atone to my sins? Some bad shit about to happen to me? Megumi? I don’t fucking know. 
 I don’t care for karma. I don’t care for faith, destiny, or any of that manifestation bullshit. But I do believe in purpose, and sometimes I feel like I don’t have any. That there isn’t any.
 I’m a dad. For what? To fail my son. I was a husband, had my flaws but shit, I tried. And for what? To lose her only after being parents together for eight years? It was unexpected. Nature calling, and at the moment, I never hated whatever fucking god above so much because they took her away from me. 
 From me and Megumi.
 Please take care of Megumi.
 It’s like I can hear her lecturing me about all the times I had our kid eating take out or having him walk home alone from school. 
 Take care of Megumi. . . Yeah, I’m trying.
 I have to do better.
 I need to.
 The little purpose I have is left for him.
 “If you can’t go anymore, can you at least give me the money so I can go by my-”
 “No,” I interrupted, clearing my throat. “No, let’s go. Sorry, kid. Your old man was dozing off.”
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 Here’s another thing about being a parent. Being around other parents who force small talk while their kids go off and buy shit. Because we’re parents, that means we have to share funny stories and randomly show baby photos to people you don’t even fucking know. Why? I don’t know, but I bet the mom next to me that has been talking my ears out for the past fifteen minutes could tell you.
 Having Megumi as my kid means he’s going to have most, if not some, of my traits. One of them being how much of a loner I am that appreciates his space. After my failed attempt to walk around with the kid to maybe have some father-son bonding, I figured I just stand at a comfortable distance and let him do his own thing. 
 No pressure. I’m on his time. Not the other way around.
 Still, me standing alone was not a fucking invitation to talk to me.
 I respect women. I do, but I’m two seconds away from telling her to fuck off in the nicest way possible. 
 Though, I have a reason why she approached me to begin with. 
 How she’s invading my space, trying her hardest for me to look at her tits. The extra pout she gives her lips while talking to me. How she’s still asking me one off questions, despite my vague one word answers.
 She’s looking to get fucked, but she’s just too shy to say it. 
 Attractive for most part. Probably five-foot-ten, maybe in her late thirties. Strong perfume. Hair drops right below her jaw. 
 Hm, not my type. 
 “So, here’s another photo-”
 “Sorry, why are you showing me these again?” I abruptly asked. 
 “I—” she stumbles over her words, pushing her hair back while giving me a timid smile.
 “Seems like you had other reasons.”
 “Like?”
 I shrug. “To get fucked.” I can tell that my brute honesty throws her off a bit, but she gathers herself. 
 “Are you offering?”
 “No.”
 She’s probably taken back by my response. I wouldn’t know because I casually walked away to the next aisle. 
 Back in Tokyo, I gained attention, but in America? The women here look at me like I’m a fucking piece of meat. Not that I don’t mind, but shit. 
 What would help if they didn’t waste both our time with trivial chit chat and just cut straight to the chase. 
 Anyways. 
 Told the kid I’ll be walking around the store if he needs me, and of course he replies with whatever . Like I should be surprised. 
 He’s my son, after all. 
 Pretty packed for a Tuesday night at the store. Guess all the parents are out buying their kids shit, too. While Megumi is getting his supplies together, figured I could go to the meat section to make dinner tonight. Probably hot pot for the kid and offal for me. 
  Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing this parenting shit right. You know, letting Megumi be by himself to buy things while I roam around. Probably not because I see families throughout the store and they look happy, for the most part. 
 The look on their faces, the light conversations they’re having about who knows what. . . I can tell this is going to be one of those fucking nights for me. 
 Remember there was a point in my life where I was content with the small family I created. My wife. Megumi. Living in the shittiest apartment building back in Tokyo and barely making ends meet. 
 I came from a wealthy family. One of the wealthiest in Japan. I was supposed to be a silver spooned brat that was grateful to be born into money, only later to be beaten and emotionally abused, which eventually left me in the streets. 
 And you know after all the shit those Zen’in fucks put me through regardless of the amount of money I had access to, I’d always choose what I had with my wife and my strained relationship with Megumi. 
 But of course, any good that happens to me is only temporary. Can only imagine how long I have left with Megumi until he turns eighteen and moves far away from me if he decides to go to college. 
 Is it wrong for me to wish my kid would cut me some slack? Probably, but that’s not something I would ever ask him. Though, I can fucking admit that it stings how he addresses me has changed over time. 
 Daddy to Papa, now to Dad. Soon he’ll start being formal and shit by calling me father or even my first name. I guess I should be grateful he’s calling me anything at all. 
 Damn, if I liked alcohol, I would’ve said I need a drink right now. Maybe a few. Being in family settings makes me feel the emotion I hate feeling the most. Vulnerability . 
 It makes me feel weak, like I’m pitying myself. I don’t care for pity. I don't care to say I didn’t deserve to experience trauma. It happened. There’s shit I can do about it. No point for me to keep thinking about it. 
 It’s just hard when your son doesn’t even want to be seen with you in public to go school supply shopping. 
 I need to clear my head. 
 Already worked out twice today, and clearly that’s not working. Maybe some pussy. It’s been a while since I last had sex. Maybe I need…
 Y/N .
 Here I am again thinking about her at the most random fucking times. I said I need her. Would I ever tell her that?  Most likely not. 
 How can I tell a woman that I don’t know that I need her? To be around her and have her bubbly personality overshadow my grumpiness. To stare at her in dead silence and think how fucking pretty she is. How good she smells. How can I tell Y/N that? 
 She’s good company. 
 That’s all she is…
 Soon she’ll see I’m no good. 
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  “Miss L /N told me you’ve been doing good in class, kid.”
 Been home with Megumi for about two hours now. School shopping is not fucking cheap, to say the least. My job pays well, but the cost of shit in America is still something I’m trying to adjust to, especially in comparison to Japan. 
 Megumi is the only reason why I haven’t gotten broke yet. 
 “Yeah,” he responds flatly.
 I stuff my mouth with a piece of meat. “Want to talk about it?”
 “Not really.”
 “Alright.”
 There goes that loud silence. 
 I continue, trying to keep conversation. “Food's good?” He nods. “Think you got everything you needed for school?”
 “Yes, Dad.” Annoyance fills his voice, making it very clear that I’m bothering him. 
 “Everything’s okay?” I asked. 
 “Can’t we just eat in silence? Why are you forcing conversation?”
 Oh.
 “Sorry, kid. Just trying-”
 Megumi pushes back his chair, standing up with his plate in his hand. “I’m going to my room. Thanks for dinner.”
 What the fuck am I doing wrong?
 I talk, he’s annoyed with me. I don’t talk, I feel like he’s being neglected again. Not sure if I’m giving Megumi too much space or just enough space, but it’s kind of fucking hard when I don’t how he feels. 
 When you come from an abusive family that doesn't know how to give or receive love, it passes onto you and potentially it’ll pass onto your child. 
 That’s what I’m trying to prevent. 
 I was scared as shit when my wife first told me she was pregnant. I mean, how the fuck was I supposed to be a dad? I don't know what it feels like to have one. But I knew I was going to be okay if I had her by my side.
  I’m a fucked up person. . . A fucked up father. 
 “Fuck, I need to take a walk,” I say to myself. 
 I get up to put the leftovers in the oven so I can finish later. Before I walk out the door, I tell Megumi I’m stepping out for a while and guess what he says? 
 Whatever. 
  Patience, Fushiguro. Patience.
  Be kind to yourself, Toji . That’s what Y/N told me the other day. I have messaged or contacted her at all since I got her number yesterday. Maybe I need to talk to her… see her… just for a little bit. 
PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER
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discussion question #3 — the more we see toji and megumi's relationship, struggles are shown between them. more so, on toji's part. do you think he should continue making small talk or allow megumi to come around whenever he's ready? looks like toji is afraid to let that happen because he doesn't want megumi to feel neglected. thoughts?
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kirisakiss · 7 months ago
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— hi guys!! i’ll be updating this every few days so check if you wanna know more! :)
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Character profile (WIP)
“let our blood intertwine the way our love does.”
TW: Suicide mention, child abuse, neglect (?)
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GENERAL INFORMATION
— KANJI: ヴァンソーン・ヒカリ
— RŌMAJI: Vanthorn Hikari
A living puppet, one of the many attempts of Karlheinz to create the perfect creature, Hikari was adopted alongside the Mukami brothers from the orphanage, but was kept locked in Rotigenberg for a long time as Karlheinz experimented with her. Lilith, he called her, his first prototype.
— ALSO KNOWN AS:
Lux Mortis (Real name) Lilith (by Karlheinz) Bitch-chan, Hypocrite-chan (by Laito) Lux (by Ruki and Azusa; her real name.) Hika-chan (by Kou) Hikari (by Yuma) Annoying woman (by Kanato)
— HER NICKNAMES FOR THE DIABOYS:
WIP
PERSONAL INFORMATION
— AGE: 18 (physically) — BIRTHDAY: January 25th — SIGN: Aquarius — STATUS: Alive — RACE: Human? / Doll? / Homunculus? / Humanoid thing? — GENDER: Female — SEXUALITY: Bisexual with no lean! — HEIGHT: 167 cm — HAIR COLOR: Brown (dyed), Bone white (natural hair color) — EYE COLOR: Turquoise — OCCUPATION: 3rd year High School Student at Ryoutei Academy — AFFILIATION: Karlheinz, Mukami Family — RELATIVES:
Karlheinz (Caretaker?)
— HOBBIES: Drawing — FAVORITE FOOD: Rice and Curry — CV: Saori Hayami
APPEARANCE
(insert an illustration i havent done yet !) WIP
PERSONALITY
WIP
HISTORY
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Born to Lysandra Mortis, a woman renowned for her otherworldly beauty and rumored to possess magical powers, Hikari's early years were tainted by tragedy. 
Lysandra, a prostitute whose enchanting beauty captivated her clients, met a grim fate at the hands of one of them, leaving behind a small baby with eyes as bright as the stars. Lux, as she was named, was born into a country torn apart by conflict, and her mother’s death added to the countless casualties of the war. Her father was never in the picture; leaving her orphaned and alone at a young age. Lux was placed in an orphanage, where she endured years of neglect and hardship like the majority of children that were victims of the war. 
Lux inherited her mother’s rare beauty, which captivated those around her. She was considered a beautiful child, with bright turquoise eyes resembling gemstones and ivory, long wavy hair, decorated with a pale, almost doll like skin; which made her stand out among the multitude of children. 
Thanks to this, Hikari was given nice treatments, she was given beautiful clothes, toys, and delicious food that she had never even seen in her life; along with a room of her own that was in a better state than the others. However, her beauty became both a blessing and a curse when the orphanage's caretakers, desperate to make ends meet amidst the chaos of war, started offering children up as merchandise and "entertainment" for the aristocrats in the country. 
Lux was one of the first children to be offered, and she quickly became one of the most popular among the aristocracy to use. She quickly gained fame by being compared to her mother, some of them called her“little Mortis”, directly comparing them. They enjoyed seeing the bruises form in her skin, and the contrast the scarlet of her blood made against the white of her hair. 
Her innocence was ripped from her without a warning, leaving behind scars that ran deeper than the surface ones showed. 
Hikari’s only comfort was a small group of kids she met through Kou, a bright child that approached her one day in the aristocrat-filled clubs, a victim of the same fate she had endured. 
One day, a tall man with white hair, arrived at the orphanage, promising hope and happiness to Lux and her friends. Karlheinz was his name. He took Lux and four boys to the demon world, where Lux would see her best friends for the last time. 
Waking up in an unfamiliar room, Lux found herself alone with Karlheinz, who revealed they were in Rotigenberg, her new home. Karlheinz, aware of Lux's potential from her mother's stories, began experimenting with his magic on her. He gifted her a new heart crafted from his powerful magic, granting her abilities beyond those of a normal human. His plan was starting, and she was to be one of the first subjects.
However, as his experiments progressed, it became apparent that Lux's severe trauma rendered her unfit for the role of the perfect "Eve" he so craved. “Lilith” he called her. The original, broken one. 
Disappointed by his failed experiment, Karlheinz slowly withdrew his presence from Lux's life, leaving her alone in the tower where she had been subjected to his experiments.
The abandonment by Karlheinz, after initially showering her with attention and affection, shattered Lux's fragile state of mind. Faced with reminders of her past torment, she resorted to drastic measures to cope with her pain, including cutting off her long, silver hair that made all the memories from her childhood come back like a knife against her skin.
Years passed, and just when Lux had resigned herself to a life of solitude, Karlheinz returned with a new proposition. He presented her as a crucial component of his Adam and Eve project, a pawn in his game now started game with fate. He renamed her Hikari, meaning "light," perhaps as a cruel reminder of the beacon of hope she once represented. Desperate for a sense of belonging, Lux accepted her new identity and dyed her hair brown as a symbol of her desire to leave her painful past behind, she grew it again, but kept it shorter than it used to be in her childhood, and resorted to wearing thick chokers again. 
She had one mission, to serve as motivation for them to fulfill his plan. She was then sent to the Sakamaki mansion under the excuse of a new bride, her true motives hidden beneath a façade of compliance and obedience perfectly crafted to charm the potential "Adam"s.
RELATIONSHIPS
WIP
ABILITIES
Immortality - Hikari ceased to age due to Karlheinz's experiments, and cannot die of natural causes. Her immune system is almost perfect, so human illnesses don't really affect her, she can only die if the wounds are too much for her body to heal itself.
Faster Healing - Her body has the ability to heal from injuries at an accelerated rate. Wounds that would be dangerous to humans heal within a short moment for her.
Enhanced senses - Hikari’s senses are heightened to be more than a normal human's. She can see better, hear better, and moves with grace and agility that surpasses human limitations.
Magic - It's unknown if Hikari's talent with magic is due to Karlheinz own magic or due to her mother's supposed one; but it seems she has an easier ability to it than a common human.
ETYMOLOGY
Hikari's name is written in katakana, but can also be written in kanji as 光.
Both of her names Hikari (ヒカリ) and Lux (ルクス) mean "Light" - Lux being in Latin and Hikari in Japanese, her name just seems to be a translation unlike how the Mukami's have different original names. (Like Yuma being called Edgar and Kou Emilio).
Her last name "Vanthorn" (ヴァンソーン) comes from the word "Vanus" in Latin, which means "vain" and the English word thorn.
Her real last name, "Mortis" comes from the Latin word "Mors" which means death.
TRIVIA
WIP
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ghoststyles · 1 year ago
Text
Fairway to Heaven - Part 6
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WC: 8.8K
Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
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Instead of hurt, betrayal or disgust, Briar feels heartbroken. Heartbroken Harry had to endure that. She moves closer, embracing him in a hug.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he violently cries into her shoulder. She rubs circles on his back, letting him get out his upset and frustration. 
“You didn’t deserve that. At all,” Briar says softly. Harry nods, just thankful she’s not upset at him. It took him years of therapy to be able to openly speak about his situation. 
“Do you know his name?”
“Oliver,” Harry rasps. 
“That’s beautiful. I bet he looks so much like you. I bet he has your kind eyes. Your charm. Your ability to make anyone feel special. I bet he’s clumsy like you. And I bet he’d like to meet you, too,” Briar says slowly. 
Harry cries harder, the sobs wracking his body.
They sit there for over an hour before Harry finally calms down. He musters up the courage to look at her. His eyes are so puffy and red, and snot is dripping from his nose.
“I understand if you’re upset with me, and if you never want to see me again,” he sighs in defeat. 
“Harry, look at me,” Briar grabs his face and runs her thumb along his cheek. “I’m absolutely not mad. I wouldn’t wish this situation on anyone. I want to help you deal with this, whatever way you need to.”
“Thank you,” he whispers. “I think I want to sleep for a while.” 
“Of course, let’s go up.”
~
“Harry, baby. Wake up,” Briar whispers, gently waking Harry from his sleep. It’s well past 11AM. She called Niall to let him know Harry isn’t feeling well. 
Harry stirs, the memories of last night flooding his mind. He’s not even sure if he slept. Briar runs her finger nails along his back, gently soothing him.
“I called us both out of work today, so we’re going to spend it how you want to.”
Harry exhales. He can’t even think of the last time he took a day off. Or the last time he had a panic attack. The two probably coincide.
When Camille left him, he buried himself in work. He quickly rose to the top as an associate, eventually becoming a manager. Now that his predecessors are retiring, Harry sometimes works from 6AM until 8PM. Even on Christmas Day. 
He takes some labored deep breaths.
“Can we go get breakfast?” 
Briar scrunches her eyebrows, not expecting his answer.
“Of course. Take your time getting dressed.” 
Briar leaves the room, already having been up and dressed for hours. She tossed and turned wondering how anyone could treat him that way. Harry loves so strongly and so deeply. She already knows he’d be an incredible father, based on his love for Gus. But, she didn’t know him in his 20’s and 30’s. Maybe he wasn’t as mature as he his now.
Her heart broke again watching him sleep. He looked sad, even when unconscious.
Harry eventually comes downstairs, slowly and solemnly. He pets Gus, reveling in his fluff. He is truly their emotional support dog.
“C-can we go to this place to get a full English? You’ve had it before, right?”
“Yes, when I went to London in high school. Will you eat my beans?”
Harry laughs softly, “Yes, I’ll eat your beans.”
She guides him out to her car, knowing he’s probably not in a state to drive. She’s too nervous to drive his nice car. It’s a beautiful day, so she took the top of her jeep off. She can’t wait to see his hair flying in the wind.
They pull up to his requested breakfast spot. The parking lot is a little deserted. She is relieved, because if he needs to cry a little he can do so without judgement.
The waitress greets them with a chipper tone, but quickly adjusts based on their sad demeanor. Briar orders them both a coffee and full English breakfasts. 
They sit in silence for a while.
“I know I don’t know her, but, should you call your mom? Is this something you’d talk to her about?” 
“I did in the beginning; my sister, too. But then it just became a cycle of discussing the same thing over and over. So I just stopped bringing it up.”
Briar nods, knowing the feeling. After her dad died, she was enrolled in therapy. As a 6 year old, she didn’t have much else to talk about. 
“I saw a therapist for a while. I was a little unwilling to talk about any of my other issues, so after a while they just gave me a prescription and sent me on my way. I felt like I got kicked out.” 
Briar grabs his hand across the table, squeezing it. “That’s the tough part of it; they give you the tools and you’re supposed to just figure out how to use them. There were so many times I just wished my therapist had told me what to do and what to say.”
Harry hums. The food arrives a few minutes later. He gently breaks his egg yolk, “I’d really like you to meet my mum and sister.”
She smiles, “Aw, yes, I’d love to. It didn’t even cross my mind since you met mine so early on. Well, not my mom, I guess.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” He asks, happy to move onto a different topic.
Briar blows air out of her mouth as she tries to recall the last time she saw her mother. 
“Christmas, I guess.” 
“Can I meet her? Or do you just want to wait until it happens organically?” 
“No, no. I should call her soon, anyway. I’ll try and set something up,” Briar says, pushing her food around. She supposes they're both facing their demons head-on today. “Do you mind if my brothers come? They usually need to be coerced into seeing her.”
“Of course not. Whatever is most comfortable for you guys.” 
They eat in silence, only speaking up when the waitress returns to the table every so often.
“I send him birthday cards,” Harry says, staring at his hands.
Briar lifts her head, giving him a look to continue his thought.
“Every year around Christmas time. I’m not even really sure when his birthday is. I’ve never written a note, or anything. I just sign my name ‘Harry’. For all I know, she’s never even told him about me. Or even given him the cards.”
Briar’s sadness returns, evident in her facial expression. 
“H-have you tried contacting your mutual friend? The one that introduced you?”
“I did, years ago. Everything was kind of fresh at that point, and I definitely think he took sides. I’m pretty sure they’re together now. His parents own an art gallery and are involved in high-society over there,” he coughs. “I just look  like a schmuck in comparison. The craziest part of it all, I don’t know what I did to deserve no contact. I’m scared I’ll die never knowing.” 
Briar closes her eyes, willing herself not to cry, “Did you ever fly to France to try and find her? Or her family?” 
“I did. Once. I’d say about 6 months later. I drank whiskey the entire flight to Paris. I didn’t even have any luggage with me. I just marched off the plane and went to where I last knew she lived. I should’ve known her keeping her Paris apartment meant something.” 
“You couldn’t have known,” Briar says softly. 
“I knocked on the door. She opened it so quickly. I think she was expecting someone else. Her jaw dropped, and she tried to close the door on me. I was able to get inside, but she started throwing bottles at me. Then she threatened to get a restraining order against me. She was really showing at that point, so I didn’t want it the police to get involved.” 
Briar is horrified the more he tells her. 
“I went home to my mum’s for a while. Then flew back to the US and just went back to work. I can’t say I’ve done anything substantial since then.” 
“Oh, stop. You renovated a gorgeous house. You started going back to Wynnewood. You’ve become your own boss,” Briar rattles off his accomplishments.
“I just thought I’d be married by now,” Harry chokes up a bit. She moves to his side of the table, leaning her head on his shoulder. 
“I know this is ironic coming from a 23 year old; but, there’s no timeline on life, baby. You faced adversity and are moving on from it. That takes a lot of courage.” 
Harry chuckles, wiping away a stray tear. Briar is so emotionally intelligent for a 23 year old. 
They leave the café, opting to go back to Harry’s house. They grab books from his shelf and read them outside on his comfy lounge chair under the cabana, hoping the sunshine heals them both. Harry eventually dozes off, finally achieving deep sleep after a rocky 24 hours. 
Briar massages his head, twirling his curls in between her fingers. As much as she wants to comfort him, she can’t help her tendencies to meddle. 
She visits Niall’s Instagram, immediately checking his following list. She scrolls, closely examining every profile to find even a tiny breadcrumb that could lead her to Camille. Harry never said her last name, so she’ll have to pull out the big guns of internet stalking.
Nothing stands out tremendously; He doesn’t follow many people. Just a few OnlyFans models, golf companies and Barstool Sports. She spots a familiar name, Lydia…Where does she know that name from?
Briar’s thumb gives one last ditch effort scroll, when she lands on an account: @Fingermonkey
She clicks on it, and her heart immediately stops. Camille. The woman who made her boyfriend lose sight of who he was. The account is public, so she cautiously proceeds. 
She’s a striking woman; she can see why Harry fell for her. She exudes beauty and class. It’s almost palpable.
Briar shudders, unsure if she should continue. She’s on her page for selfish reasons; to see Harry’s son. Her curiosity gets the best of her. She scrolls some more, before stopping at a photo of a tiny hand. Briar bites her lip, staring back down at Harry.
“No going back,” she whispers to herself.
After another few scrolls, she finds what she’s looking for. It’s from around 5 years ago. Camille is holding a tiny boy with dark brown curls and green eyes, bright as day. They’re on the swings, bright smiles adorning their faces. 
Briar feels like she’s been sucker punched in the stomach. He’s a beautiful little boy. A boy Harry never even got the chance to love and help raise. She takes several deep breaths and scrolls back even further to 8 years prior. 
Another blow. The engagement photos.
Briar winces, zooming in. They seem to be taken in California, just as the sun is setting. Camille is holding Harry’s face as she kisses him, the ring being the main focal point. She reads the caption:
J'ai trouvé mon éternité.
I found my forever.
She clicks off Camille’s page, rolling her eyes. She clears the search history, knowing she’s been caught stalking in the past.
Briar has so many questions. 
Does she want Harry to find her? Why is Niall still following her? 
~
Briar is physically at Wynnewood, but mentally elsewhere. After her stalking session, Harry woke up feeling better, so they decided she should go home. As much as he loves her company, he always needs alone time to process things. She was happy to oblige, needing her own time to breathe.
Briar is taking inventory after her shift when she spots Niall on the practice green. A lump forms in her throat, but she knows she needs to confide in him. He smiles, waving her over. 
“Hey, Briar. I heard about the other day. I was up in the clubhouse already when everything went down. How’re you doing?” He asks, pulling her in for a hug.
“I’m good, thanks for asking. Everything was taken care of, so I just needed some time to shake it off.” 
He nods, fiddling with his putter. Niall looks around, not really sure what else to say.
“Hey, Niall, can I ask you something?”
His eyes go wide, clearing his throat, “Listen, if it’s about Lydia and I…”
Finally, it clicks. Lydia from the party. Lydia who told her she’s also dating someone from the club. Briar gasps, “I, uh, what?” 
“Fuck.”
Briar crosses her arms in front of herself, “Um, I was just going to tell you that Harry told me about Camille, and about the baby.”
“Fuuuuck,” Niall scratches the back of his head. “Can you ignore what I said before?”
Briar laughs, “For now. We can talk about that later. I just wanted to see if you had other insight. It was obviously a very emotionally charged conversation.”
“Yeah. Are you off now? Do you want to go inside for a drink?”
She nods and waits for him to clean up his stuff. They walk back to the clubhouse in silence, so Briar grabs a table outside while Niall changes in the locker room. The club is empty enough, so she’s not worried about members seeing them together.
He sits down, sighing, “I-I don’t really know how to proceed. Do you just want to tell me what he’s told you?”
“Sure,” she says quietly. Briar begins filling him in about their dinner at Ashmont and Jonathan revealing more than Harry was willing to share. Her heart races as she shares more details.
“That’s tough, darling. I know he was going to tell you eventually. The situation absolutely wrecked him. It took years to feel like I had my friend back.” 
She nods, biting her lip, staring down at her shoes. Harry bought her a pair of lavender and white New Balances; her initials stitched in the tongue. 
“You’re a very rational person, even at your age,” he smiles, leaning to put his elbows on his knees. “So, I know you’ll both work through it. But, what are your feelings?”
Briar sucks in a breath. “I’m not angry, and I want to support him, of course. But, I can’t help but have this sinking feeling in my stomach. I did some Instagram stalking.”
“You found Camille on there?”
“Yeah, through your account,” she waits for Niall to look back up at her.
He meets her eyes, “I keep a distance. I don’t speak to her or our mutual friends from study abroad. But I like to keep tabs. He’s my mate and I want to protect him.” 
Briar nods, picking the skin at her cuticles. 
“He’s a cute kid, isn’t he?” Niall smiles. 
“Yeah, he is. Harry didn’t deserve that. At all,” she says, sitting back in her seat. “Should I meddle? Or just stay out of it?”
“I would hate to see this kid get any older without meeting his father. And, if you think you’ll be,” he trails off, smiling to himself. “Sticking around for a while, I think you have the influence on him to face it head on.”
“I hope I’ll be sticking around for a while,” she smiles.
~
Briar feels slightly better after talking to Niall. She has to remember to ask Harry if he knew about Lydia. 
Briar was in need of some cathartic release. If Harry was willing to face this obstacle, she’s willing to face hers. She sits in the driver’s seat of her Jeep and scrolls her list of contacts before landing on Catherine Barlowe. 
She dials, going through several cycles before finally being answered on the final ring. 
“Hi, Bri. How are you, sweetheart?”
“Hi, Mom. I’m good, how are you?”
“I’m so good, honey. I’m so happy to hear from you. Dean and I are actually getting ready to move in a few weeks.”
“Oh? Where are you going?” Briar scrunches her eyebrows. That means her mom is selling the house she bought with her dad. The house she lived her first 9 years in before her mother’s addiction led to the 5 of them being placed with her aunt and uncle. 
“I thought your brother may have told you. We’re going to California, honey.”
“Who? I thought the last time we all saw you was at Christmas time? And why California?” 
“Jasper. He comes to see me. A lot more recently. The other boys only contact me when you do. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from Welles on his own,” Catherine sighs. “Dean is from California. He has young daughters, so we’re moving there to be closer to them. You remember? I told you about them.”
Tears begin welling in Briar’s eyes. Her mother, now 4 years sober and remarried gets to go play house with Dean’s young children. Instead of tending to her own.
“Yeah, I remember. There’s three of them, right? But they weren’t at the wedding,” Briar says quietly, remembering the rushed ceremony that took place the week after they finished their program together. Welles was furious, Jasper and Callum didn’t say a word, and Cormac cried the entire time. Patrick couldn’t bear to go. Meredith went in support of the siblings. 
“Yes, he didn’t have custody rights at the time. But, that’s all settled now. We’re so happy, Bri.”
“I’m glad, Mom. Listen, I have to go, but I wanted to see if you’d be interested in going out to lunch soon. I’d like you to meet my boyfriend,” she rasps out.
“That sounds great, honey. Just text me the details. Talk soon.”
“Bye,” Briar chokes, throwing her phone into the passenger seat. She takes a few deep breaths to regulate her breathing. The tears continue to fall as she pulls out of the parking lot of Wynnewood. 
Her phone begins to buzz, seeing Harry’s contact photo pop up.
“Hi,” she says solemnly before placing the phone between her shoulder and ear. 
“Hi, Birdie. Are you okay?” He asks, sensing her tone.
“Yeah, yep, I’m good. What’s up?”
“Nothing, I figured you’re leaving Wynnewood. Was gonna see if you want to grab Gus and come over. I can make us dinner.”
“Um, I’m kind of tired. Think I’m just gonna go home, if that’s alright.”
“No, yeah, of course, love. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yes, I promise. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”
“Okay,” he says softly. “Bye.”
She hangs up, not even bothering to say bye. Briar knows she shouldn’t take it out on Harry, but she’s struggling to hold herself together. She hears a crack of thunder before feeling thick rain drops hit her face.
“Fuck!” 
Briar never put her Wrangler’s roof back on the other day. The droplets get more intense as she nears her apartment. Pulling into her spot, she frantically runs to her storage area to grab her roof parts. 
It’s down pouring now, but she charges forward with her parts, lining them against the car. Her biceps are burning trying to lift the piece on top of the car. Tears are starting to roll down her face, her hair beginning to stick to her neck.
Briar squeezes her eyes closed, defeated as she feels two arms wrap around her. She whips her head around, startled by her boyfriend. 
“What’s going on, love? Let me help,” Harry says, pulling her down from the step of her Jeep. She steps to the side under her apartment’s overhang, watching him effortlessly put the roof of her Jeep back together. He’s absolutely soaked, his gray sweatpants now a charcoal color. She watches the way his back muscles move under his white t-shirt. 
He fastens the parts from the inside of the car before grabbing her backpack in one hand, and her hand in the other. He guides her to her apartment while fumbling with her keys. Gus greets them at the door, unsure who to go to first. 
Harry sits Briar down on her ottoman before grabbing the fuzzy blanket from her sofa.
“What’s going on? I’m a little scared,” Harry says, his eyes full of concern. 
She takes a shaky breath before sobs take over her whole body. She folds in on herself, burrowing into the blanket.
“I-I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she wails. Harry is stunned, unsure what she’s apologizing for.
“I should be supporting you and here I am getting so overwhelmed and then trying to deal with my own bullshit,” Briar cries. He places his hand gently on her back.
“Baby, I’m lost. Did something happen today?”
“I called my mom. She’s moving to California to raise her new husband’s kids,” Briar cries, snot pouring from her nose. “I should’ve fucking known. I don’t even know why I called.”
Harry can’t help but feel a little guilty. He mentioned it at their breakfast to get himself out of the hot seat. She took his bait. 
“And because I can’t stop meddling, I looked up Camille online,” she confesses. “I even talked to Niall about it all.” 
Harry freezes. He figured she would confide in Niall. But he didn’t think she’d look Camille up. He’s too afraid to ask what she found. 
Harry guides her to sit up. He grabs her cheeks with one hand and makes her face him, “Hey. Hey. I need you to breathe, Briar.”
Briar cries harder at his use of her name. She can feel herself start to hyperventilate. He wraps himself around her tight. He holds her until she stops shaking. Gus has brought them 5 of his toys to try and lighten the mood. 
“Gus, go to your bed,” Harry commands, voice deep. Briar flinches. 
She lifts her head, taking in a deep breath.
“I hurt my own feelings today. I went looking for information I shouldn’t’ve,” she admits quietly.
“I think we all do that sometimes. Which part do you want to talk about first?”
Briar loves how diplomatic Harry is. Even when they have their spats, he always makes her feel like an equal partner. She also loves when he completely dominates her in the bed right after.
“W-we can talk about my mom,” she says, assuming that’s the easier of the two. “Her husband has 3 young daughters. So, now my mom gets a do-over. Poof. Our family is just out of the picture.”
Harry sighs. His father did something similar after his parents divorced. It stung for years, and took time to mend. Now they’re very close. 
“That’s awful, Birdie. I’m so sorry. Are you going to see her before she leaves?”
She nods, wiping her nose on his chest, “Yeah, told her about you. Apparently my brother has been visiting her in secret. I’m so angry.”
He smiles lightly, “I’m happy to come along. Or not. Whichever makes you more comfortable. Don’t hold it against him. You all have to deal with things differently.”
“Thank you,” she says.
“Of course, baby. Now, do you want to tell me about the other situation?”
“Only if you want to. I crossed a line,” she starts to cry again.
She wraps her hand within his, squeezing tightly. Comfortable silence is usually never an issue for them, but the tension could be cut with a knife. 
“Well, social media is public information, baby. I could’ve done it years ago, but never did.”
“I saw him,” Briar blurts out. It was now or never.
Harry closes his eyes, feeling nauseous. He takes a deep breath through his nostrils, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. He’s gorgeous, Harry. Really,” she sniffles. “You shouldn’t give up. She’s wrong for what she did. And I want to help you fight for this.”
He can’t help but feel his heart swell with pride. His tough girl is ready to sit in the trenches with him. To fight the biggest demon holding him back from his happiness.
“I wrote a letter years ago,” Harry starts. “Let’s send it.”
Briar gasps, sitting up to face him, “I don’t want you to feel pressured by me.”
“I’m not. I’m not sure if this is too soon, but I already know I want to keep you around for a long, long time. This will help me get over my last hurdle.”
Briar cradles his face, kissing him gently.
“I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”
They huddle together.
Briar starts to snicker, “Did you have any idea that Niall and Lydia, the server from the club, are dating?”
Harry’s head shoots up, “Huh?” 
“Okay, good. I would’ve been pissed if you hid that from me."
“How’d you find out?”
Briar laughs, “I said, ‘Hey, Niall, can I ask you something?’ And he confessed immediately.” 
Harry throws his head back laughing.
~
Harry is in his study, silently reading his letter from years ago. His tears are falling onto the paper, dotting and blurring the ink. He was 32 when he wrote this. It sounds old, but he was a kid. It was hard to keep him at home. He had access to disposable income, so he used it to its fullest.
Camille lived a simple life, finding pleasure in gardening, reading and going to cafés. Her job always came first, which kept her busy traveling around the world. Harry was restless; always chasing the next big thing, and partying until his body physically shut down. 
It didn’t help that he was a touchy person. Even though Camille had his whole heart, he shamelessly flirted with other women. He let them hang on him at bars, on yachts, and anywhere he could get attention. People in their circle talk; leaving Harry in the hot seat more than once.
He’d be naïve to blame it on Camille’s attachment style. She was generally cold, not showing him much affection. But, nonetheless he pursued her, absolutely enamored by her beauty and grace. 
He was dumb enough to suggest an open relationship one time; about 6 years into the relationship. His needs in bed became too much for Camille. She didn’t understand his need to get off and dominate her. He slept at a hotel every night that week. She gave him an out, but he couldn’t take it. 
When Camille left, he started hooking up with women more regularly. His heart hurt so bad, but he was finally getting his physical needs met. None of them lasted, until Briar. 
Over the course of 8 years, his heart slowly healed. It’s not ideal that Briar is so much younger, and an employee of his country club. There’s a strange power dynamic there. He loved how flustered she got when he looked at her; she still does sometimes, but he can feel the difference. 
They bring encourage each other’s confidence. They drive each other to be a better version of themselves. They feed each other’s deepest desires; scratching every itch that had been culminating over several years. 
Harry begins rewriting the letter; changing the tone from blinding rage, to one of neutrality. He wishes her well. He hopes she’s healed.
From what? He’s not sure. He hopes she understands his point of view, and will consider letting Harry meet his child. He’d do anything at this point. 
He seals up the letter, addressing it to Camille. Not even sure she still lives at this address, he walks it out to his mailbox anyway, lifting the red flag to signal the post man. 
He feels weight lift from his chest that had been there since the day he met Camille.
~
Briar and Harry are sitting at a nice restaurant on the water. She sips gingerly at her mojito while they wait for her mother to arrive. Briar extended the invite to her brothers, but received radio silence from them all. 
She’s anxiously bouncing her leg, to which Harry firmly grasps her thigh as he locks his jaw. She inhales sharply, closing her eyes. After the emotional turmoil they’ve experienced over the last few weeks, their sex life has toned down immensely. She misses his hand around her neck and his dirty whispers. 
“Relax. I’m right here,” Harry whispers in her ear lowly.
Briar gasps when three of her brothers appear from the restaurant’s entryway. Jasper must’ve picked up Callum and Cormac from Patrick’s.
Briar stands to hug her older brothers, while Harry pulls Cormac in for a hug.
“Where’s Welles?”
“Not sure. I haven’t heard from him,” Callum says simply. 
She rolls her eyes. He’s 28, but he is the most immature out of all of them. 
They sit, easing into a conversation with Harry. She’s grateful she can entertain them while she’s somewhere else in her head. He reaches over to lock pinkies. 
Her mother walks in, looking stunning. That’s one thing that Briar has always been jealous of. It’s why her addiction flew under the radar for so long. She was always put together and exuding happiness. But in secret, she was struggling. 
Her strawberry blonde hair is longer than when she saw her last, loose waves falling over her shoulders. She’s in a floor length floral gown, a sweater over her shoulders to fight the chill of the restaurant. 
She spots them after speaking with the hostess, her smile lighting up the room. 
“Hi, my babies!”
Jasper stands to greet her, while her other brothers hold in a groan. She walks around the circular table to press a kiss to Briar’s head, before turning her attention to Harry.
“And who’s this? Don’t think I popped him out,” she laughs, waiting for Harry to stand up.
“Mom, seriously?” Briar grimaces. 
“Hi, I’m Harry. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Harry says smiling, pulling out the chair for her. 
“Pleasure is all mine, Harry. I’m Catherine. Isn’t my daughter incredible?”
Harry smiles, nodding. He can sense Briar’s discomfort. He assumes this praise is just for show. 
Her mother brings up every topic under the sun, effectively avoiding topics regarding Briar’s father, the move, and her new husband.
They eat, letting Cormac talk about school, Callum talk about grad school and his new girlfriend, and Jasper about his new job. Briar realizes she’s done a shit job at talking to her brothers lately. She doesn’t know any of this.
“Where’s Wellie, Briar? Didn’t you invite him?”
“I did. Didn’t hear from him.”
“It would’ve been nice for you to follow up with him,” Catherine snipes. “It’s not everyday I get to see all five of you.”
“Really? How about you? When was the last time you talked to him?” Briar crosses her arms at her mother.
“It doesn’t matter. This is family time,” Catherine raises her eyebrows, waiting for Briar to snap.
“You know all about that, don’t you mom? Just counting down the minutes until you can go play house with Dean’s kids in California.”
Callum and Cormac look between the two women, stunned. Jasper’s eyes widen.
“California?” Callum questions. “Mom, what is she talking about?”
Catherine looks around, “I thought Jasper would’ve filled you all in. I’m moving to California with Dean to be closer to his kids. They’re younger.”
Jasper looks down, pushing the vegetables around on his plate. Callum shakes his head, throwing his napkin on the table before storming off. Cormac starts to cry, to which Harry puts a hand on his back. 
“Mom, how can you leave?” Cormac asks, his lip quivering. 
“Baby, you’re all adults. You don’t need me anymore.”
“I’m only 17, Mom,” Cormac chokes. 
Briar has tears streaking down her face. Briar hasn’t needed her mother since she was 12 years old, hoping and praying for her to come back. Cormac barely knew her; only fantasizing what their relationship could’ve been. 
Harry pays the bill before suggesting Catherine leaves. She nods, standing to grab her purse. She silently looks each of her children in the eye before walking out of the restaurant. 
“I’m sorry, Bri. I thought she changed,” Jasper says solemnly. 
“It’s okay. You deserve to handle your relationship with her however you want.”
Harry and Briar walk out hand in hand after spending 20 minutes consoling her brothers. 
They climb into Harry’s car, silently staring ahead. Harry grabs her hand again.
“That was rough, pup. I’m sorry,” Harry says softly.
“Can we just go home? I miss you, Daddy.”
Harry clears his throat as his cock twitches.
“You have me, Birdie. Let’s go home.”
~
“Be rough with me,” Briar pleads from the bed. “I want it so bad.”
Harry chuckles as he pulls his belt from the loops on his pants. She’s completely bare, her wrists fastened to each corner of the bed. He opts to leave her feet out of the restraints, hoping he can toss her around a bit. 
“Daddy’s been taking it easy on his Birdie for the last couple weeks,” Harry says, trailing his knuckle along her rib cage. She keens, shivering from the light touch. “But don’t think I forgot about your stunt at Ashmont.”
Briar freezes, remembering their escapades. She taunted him, removing her panties in the stall, waiting for him to come after her. It’s a shame the night turned into a disaster soon after. She whines, not sure what else to do.
“Hm? Remember that, Birdie? Words,” he stares straight into her eyes.
“Yes, Daddy. I was naughty,” she bites her lip. 
He doesn’t like that. He shoves his middle and ring fingers into her mouth, choking her a little. “Leave that lip alone. I bite that.”
She purrs around his digits, goosebumps rising on her skin. He removes them from her mouth before sticking them at her core. He barely grazes her folds, seeing how she’ll react. She jerks around, slightly moving her pelvis to meet his hand. 
“Ah, ah. No. You’ll be taken care of how I decide.” 
She nods, swallowing thickly. She’s eating up everything he throws at her.
“Think I’m gonna take my time tonight,” Harry let’s out an exaggerated sigh. Briar whines, pushing her face into her shoulder. “Mm-mm. None of that.” 
Harry pushes Briar’s legs in the air, holding her ankles together, so the lips of her vagina are peaking out between her thighs. He growls at the sight.
“This little pussy is so used to getting what she wants. What does she want tonight, Birdie?”
“Your mouth, Daddy! Please!” Briar balls her fists, wiggling slightly.
Harry spits, watching the liquid drip down her thighs and cunt, “Nah, I’m good.”
Briar’s jaw locks in frustration. She watches as he walks to his closet grabbing her plug and vibrator. He generously applies lube to the plug, gently circling her ass. Briar closes her eyes, laying her head back. 
He gently pushes the plug in past the tight muscle, moving it in and out a little. 
“Oh my godddd,” Briar exhales. Her chest is rising and dropping fast. 
“I think tonight’s the night, baby.”
Briar whines, half out of horniness and the other out of nervousness. He flicks the vibrator on, pressing it firmly on her clit. She throws her head to the side. 
“Look at me. Don’t look over there,” Harry threatens, increasing the speed. 
She wills her eyes open, staring into his, her mouth opening slightly. The tension is building in her pelvis. She’s sure to come once he starts circling the vibrator on her clit; his signature move. Within seconds of him doing that, she’s crumbling. 
Harry shuts off the vibrator and adjusts her leg position so her legs are open wide, one resting on his shoulder.
“Wanna see your pretty face when I fuck your ass,” He says, peppering kisses on her face and neck.
“Please,” Briar whispers. 
Harry reaches between them and pulls the plug out and tosses it on the floor. He’ll clean it later. He extends his hand to rest in front of her face. 
“Spit.”
She spits on his fingertips, a line of spit connecting them to her lips. He lowers his hand to lightly touch her hole before inserting his middle finger. Briar groans, pulling on her restraints. He quickly inserts another, rocking them in and out of her gently. 
Harry’s cock is neglected, standing tall and proud, nearly touching the tip to his torso. Briar begins to panic, unsure if his girth will fit in there.
“Relax, baby. I got you. Do you remember your word?” He says, petting her cheek.
“Bogey,” she says softly. 
“Good girl,” he kisses her again. Harry has never withheld kisses, even in her worst punishments. “One more and then we’ll go for it, okay?”
“Mhm,” she nods, a single tear escaping her eye. She trusts her boyfriend with her entire being, but her heart rate is skyrocketing. 
The third digit enters her, eliciting a whine. Harry flexes his fingers, giving her a delicious stretch. A thick layer of sweat has formed behind her knees and on her forehead. 
Harry kisses her forehead, licking the saltiness from his lips, “All good, Birdie. Doing so well for me.”
After a few more minutes of stretching her out, Harry pulls his fingers out and lowers himself to be eye level with her ass. He licks a long stripe over the now open hole. Briar shivers, pulling on the restraints.
Harry rises from his spot on the bed to pull his underwear all the way off, his cock bobbing as he moves. He grips his length firmly, giving himself a few generous pumps. He kneels over her, undoing her right hand’s restraint. She looks at him curiously, but understands when he entwines their hands. 
He uses his right hand to line himself up at her delicate center. Briar sucks in a breath in anticipation. Harry presses the bulbous head of his dick in, groaning as he moves. His pace is painstaking, taking in every facial expression from the angel below him. 
“Such a good girl. Letting Daddy be the only one to fuck this little hole,” he pants, nostrils flaring. His forehead is starting to drip with sweat.
“Only you,” she whines as he pushes in little by little.
“Let me know if you need me to stop and take a break, lovie.”
She furiously shakes her head, still holding in a breath. Harry is finally working his way up to full thrusts.
“Breathe with me,” Harry pleads. “1,2,3, exhale.”
Briar feels high. That breath sent her senses all the way to her pussy.
“Daddy,” Briar breathes heavily. 
“What do you need, baby?”
“Fingers. I-In my pussy,” she cries. “Please.” 
“Okay, baby. I know y’empty in there,” he smiles down at her lovingly as he untangles their fingers so he can stick them inside. “So wet f’me.”
The sensations are too much once he starts petting her g-spot with his fingers.
“Coming, Daddy,” she babbles.
“Go ahead, Birdie. So fucking proud of you.”
She squeezes her eyes closed, letting out a cry of relief as she hits her wall. 
Harry chuckles at her babbling. She is fucked out to high heaven. He wants one more out of her before he comes. He alternates thrusting into her ass and fingering her pussy. He releases her other hand from the restraint. She’s too distracted, so her hand remains in the same spot.
“Rub your little clit, baby. One more f’me.”
“Ugggghnnnn,” Briar whines, drool coming out of her mouth. She circles her clit three more times before she’s clenching hard on his fingers and cock.
The squeeze of her ass pushes Harry into his own orgasm, a ringing forming in his ear. He gives two last lazy thrusts, emptying himself into her. He closes his eyes and hangs his head low before slowly pulling out.
Briar squawks, so he shushes her gently. Harry could come again at the sight in front of him. His come is leaking out of her ass hole, dripping onto the sheets below. He picks some up with his finger, smearing it on her pussy. She mewls, her head lolling to the side. 
“So fucking good for me. Gorgeous, baby.”
Harry takes a mental image before hustling to the bathroom. He starts the bath, making sure to throw some epsom salt and lavender oil in there. He wets a towel with warm water for Briar, and throws two towels into his towel warmer. 
He reenters the bedroom to find his girl curled up, her back to him. He runs his knuckles down her protruding spine. Harry gently dabs the towel along her labias and ass to clean up.
“Birdie, I ran us a bath. Gonna lift you,” Harry coos. Her eyelashes flutter as she looks up at him with moony eyes.
Harry lifts her from her armpits and knees, and swiftly carries her to the tub. Her eyes are shut, but she rests her head on his chest. He’s become a pro at maneuvering themselves into the tub.
Harry positions Briar at the front of the tub, before finding his seat at the back. He leans forward to pull her body to his chest. Harry closes his eyes and rolls his neck along the edge of the porcelain tub, listening to their uneven breaths.
He plays with Briar’s hair; twirling the long pieces between his fingers. She hasn’t said a word, but he knows she’s elsewhere right now. He moves his fingertips to her scalp, gently scratching around the nape of her neck, hoping she’ll come back to him soon.
“Mmmmm,” Briar hums, smiling to herself.
Harry smiles, increasing the pressure and speed like he’s petting Gus.
“Stop,” Briar whines, her hair now in her face.
“Sorry, Birdie. How do you feel?” 
“Good. Sleepy,” Briar yawns.
“Hungry? I can order us something,” Harry taps her sides.
“Can we have Caesar salads and Diet Cokes?” She cranes her neck to look back at him.
Harry laughs, “Sure, baby.”
“And french fries.”
“You got it,” Harry leans down and kisses her.
~
Briar is staying at Harry’s while he’s in the city for a few in-person meetings. It’s been nice; she does yoga outside in the mornings, takes Gus for walks around the picturesque neighborhood, and cooks using his expensive appliances.
🦊: Hi, Birdie.
🐥: Hi Daddy
🦊: Miss me yet? 
🐥: I like being able to lay sideways in your bed
🦊: You can do that when I’m there.
🐥: You’re too hard
🦊: How’d you know? Send me a picture.
🐥: It’s 10AM. Pay attention to your meeting
🦊: I’m not asking. 
Though Harry isn’t home, Briar still walks around his house scantily clad. An idea to terrorize her boyfriend pops into her head. Bolting up the stairs, Briar grabs her plug from Harry’s special area in his closet. She smirks to herself, feeling the cool metal in her hand. She walks outside, peering over Maureen’s fence to ensure no one will witness what she’s about to do.
She gathers spit in her mouth before lubricating the plug. She places one foot on the lounge chair for leverage, before nudging the plug past her entrance. Waddling around, she moves two lounge chairs to face one another. Propping her phone up on one, she shuffles to the other to get into position. She removes her sleep tank top and silk shorts, staring up into the sky to get some sun on her face.
She kneels, making sure to pop her ass out more. The phone is set to video so she can take screen shots of the poses she likes best. Or just send the whole damn video to him.
She makes sure to twist her body to fake some curves, looking over her shoulder and touching her hair. She fiddles with the plug, making her whine. 
Yup, she’s sending the video.
After a few minutes, she gets up from the lounge chair, being sure to flash the camera. She grabs the phone, scanning it over her body before blowing a kiss.
Delivered
Looking around again, she quickly throws her clothes back on, opting to leave the plug in for the day. Gus joins her outside, laying on the chair opposite hers. She has an urge to shut her phone off completely, just to push Harry’s buttons a little more.
Her quiet morning is interrupted by her ringtone blaring. She picks up without saying anything.
“Do you think you’re funny?”
“Who is this?” Briar is holding back laughter.
“I am in a meeting, little girl. You sent that video when all I told you to send was a photo.”
“So are you jerking yourself in the bathroom?”
“What a fucking mouth on you, huh? And yeah, your little video is causing a problem,” Harry grits.
Briar whines, “Don’t you wish it was my little hand, Daddy? Or my mouth?”
Harry slams his fist against the bathroom stall. His neck vein is protruding as he growls.
Briar is full on smiling to herself. She’s not particularly horny right now, but she’s happy to aid Harry with his issue. She can hear his panting increase before a clattering of the phone. 
“Harry?”
“Fuck, I dropped my phone,” he laughs incredulously.
“Oh my, well, maybe I should let you go,” Briar trails off.
“No, baby. Almost done. Just tell Daddy how much you love,” he groans. “Love him.”
“I love you, Daddy. So much. Come for me,” Briar says, leaning into her chair.
Harry releases into the toilet with a strangled moan. He prays to God the conference room walls are thick. He grabs a wad of toilet paper to wipe down his misfires before flushing.
“Thanks, Birdie. You’re in so much trouble when I’m home. Love you.”
“Okay, bye.”
She hangs up, shaking her head. She looks over her shoulder to see Maureen standing at the fence, watering her plants. Briar gives her a tight smile and wave, to which Maureen grimaces in response.
Briar lounges for a few hours before feeling intense boredom. She cleans a little bit, making sure to dust Harry’s various trinkets from his travels. She lightly wipes a ceramic elephant he got in Thailand, a Russian nesting doll from his time in St. Petersburg, and a clay shark from South Africa. While Harry has been all over the globe, the two share a desire to one day back back in South America. She hopes a llama trinket will one day sit on this shelf. 
It’s been a few weeks since the lunch with Briar’s mom and since Harry sent the letter to Camille. While she’s happy Harry is attempting to get to know his son, Briar can’t help but feel extreme anxiety. Why hasn’t Camille responded? 
The shrill sound of the doorbell and Gus’s subsequent bark breaks Briar’s train of thought. She can see a figure through the frosted glass of Harry’s front door, lingering at the table of snacks designated for delivery drivers. 
Briar can see the UPS logo on the man’s shirt, so she lets him pick his goodies before opening the door. She waved to him as he drives away, looking down at the package at her feet. She wonders if Harry sent her something for when he returns. 
Bending over, she’s surprised at the package’s weight. If it were new lingerie, it’d be light. She bends at the knees, inhaling when she lifts the package. Shooing Gus away, she manages to get the package to Harry’s long kitchen table. 
She’s wracking her brain what it could be. The entire package is wrapped in brown paper. She flips it over to see the label. Harry’s name written in cursive letters using a Sharpie. Her eyes are drawn to the left hand side; the sender.
C. Rowe 4 Rue Dupetit-Thouars Paris, France 75003
A lump forms in Briar’s throat. It’s been a few hours since she talked to Harry this morning. Her fingers start to dial his number.
“If you’re calling for a follow-up to this morning, I have to let you know that Niall is right next to me.”
She hears Niall groan in the background. When she doesn’t laugh or respond, Harry tries again. “Birdie?”
“Hi, I-I wanted to tell you that a package came f-for you,” Briar chokes out. 
Harry scrunches his eyebrows, “Okay, just leave it with the others. Anything else?”
He wants to be sweet with her, but she knows not to call about random things while he’s in meetings.
“I-it’s from Camille.”
Silence. Briar closes her eyes. 
Harry sighs, “I see. Okay, thanks for letting me know, pup. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. Are you going to be okay until then?”
“Y-yes, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous.” 
“It’s okay. This whole thing is a little odd. Just try to take your mind off it. Throw it in my office if you don’t feel like seeing it.” 
“Okay, I will. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you.”
Harry sighs. Niall looks over at him empathetically. 
“So when were you gonna tell me you’re dating one of the servers?”
Niall’s eyes go wide before rubbing his temples, “She told you?”
“What? Why wouldn’t she? She’s my girlfriend.” 
“We’re not dating. We hooked up once...twice.”
“Mhm,” Harry laughs. “Better nip that in the bud, then.”
Niall groans again just as their next meeting begins.
~
The anticipation is killing Briar. Harry is due home any minute, so she’s pacing between his kitchen and living room. Sitting on the sofa, sitting on the stool, sitting on the chair, standing by the window. She can’t keep still.
She joins Gus in his outburst of barking and running from window to window when they hear Harry’s car pull into the garage. She pokes her head into the garage to see Harry unloading his bags from the back.
She walks over to him, pressing her hands into his chest. 
“Hi, Birdie. Missed you,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to her mouth.
“Welcome home,” she smiles back at him.
She grabs the wheeled suitcase, lifting it over the threshold of the door. 
“Let me change and we can open it,” Harry says simply. Briar’s stomach drops.
“Okay.”
Briar corrals Gus to the sofa, the two of them perching in the corner seat. Harry changed into colorful sweatpants and a t-shirt that says ‘vote vote vote’. He grabbed the package from his office on his way back into the main living room. 
He places the package on the coffee table. The two of them stare at it silently. 
“Are you sure you don’t want to do this alone?”
“Mm, no, it’s okay. If there’s a letter, then I’ll read that on my own.”
Briar nods, waiting for him to open the box.
Harry peels the brown paper from the edges, tearing straight through his and Camille’s names.
He removes the paper in its entirety, examining the oversized shoe box before pulling the lid off. He places it off to the side while peering at the contents. From first glance, it looks like junk. 
He scrunches his eyebrows when he spots one of his old shirts. Did Camille really use this as an opportunity to send his shit back?
He moves the shirt to reveal a few envelopes, a baby rattle, a small pair of vans, a stuffed dog, and drawings. 
Harry opens one of the envelopes to find a stack of Polaroid pictures. He can feel his eyes start to sting. They’re in chronological order, showing his son grow from a tiny baby to an excited 7 year old. Briar has her head on his shoulder, silently viewing the photos. The birth photo has words scribbled in Sharpie at the bottom.
Oliver Styles Rowe  18-11-2016 3.3kgs | 53 cm
Harry is crying now. Briar rubs his back, trying to encourage him to keep going. 
He flips through the photo, feeling vomit bubble up his throat. This kid looks like a lot of fun. Fun that’s killing him to not have been a part of. Camille keeps him well travelled; there are photos from Tokyo, Australia and Mexico. 
Unlike most babies, Harry’s had his signature curls from the start. Briar gasps at the photos as they get closer to present day. Oliver is Harry’s twin. 
Oliver receives great marks in school; he’s pictured with several certificates and trophies. He even seems to be a footballer. 
Harry puts the stack on the coffee table, turning to face Briar. 
“Wow,” Harry says, wiping a tear from his eye.
“What’re you thinking?” 
“Just heartbroken all over again.” 
~
Harry went into his office to read the letter. He stops at his bar cart to pour himself some tequila.
It’s short, but gives Harry some closure. Over the last 8 years, Camille embraced motherhood by focusing less on work. She meditates, volunteers regularly, and is extremely involved at school activities.
She and Theo, their mutual friend from study abroad, have been together since she moved back. That sends a pang to Harry’s heart. They got married about 5 years ago, and have a little girl named Amélie. She only talks a little about Oliver, saying how much he reminds her of Harry. 
Camille apologizes, which Harry didn’t expect. She recognizes cutting him off from his son was wrong. She also left her contact information, followed by the last line. 
He would love to meet you. I think it’s time. 
C
Tears are fully falling on Harry’s cheeks as the heaviness of the last 8 years hits him. His son has Styles in his name. He smiles to himself, feeling the butterflies in his stomach. 
He shoves the letter in his desk drawer before wiping his eyes. He joins Briar and Gus back in the living room cozied up by the fire.
____________________________________________________________________
OHM YGOD. SOMEONE PLZ TALK TO ME AB BIRDIE AND HARRY I AM LIVINGGGGG
Taglist:
@daphnesutton​ @pandeebearstyles​ @anxiouswaterss​ @gem1712 @stylesfever​ @awesomenavy​ @crazygirlinthisworld​ @butdaddyilovehim-hs​ @luxiorchive​ @alchemxx @narry-heart 
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rosuuu · 1 year ago
Text
Beyond the Music Room- Chapter 6: Academia White
TWST Idol AU x Reader (Twisted Idolland)
CW- Epel curses once (1), Vil being angsty kinda?, Yuu is a separate character from [name] (Yuuken & Yuuka), (Y/N) has been changed to [name]
WC-
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The crunch of snow. the background noise of useless, meaningless chatter. And the crisp smell of the apple scented perfume they had been gifted so long ago.
This was [name]’s bleak and dull routine. Completed with smiles that never quite met their eyes. The uniform they wore, the scarf they donned it was all usual. The only think unusual was that person’s absence
It was one of those days. The kind of day where you’re always too cold but too hot simultaneously. It’s an uncomfortable sort of humid day where you can’t help but feel the weather align with your ‘darker’ thoughts.
These days are the result of an already irritable individual and an unfortunate coincidence. [name] hated these days most of all however. When you convince yourself you’ll be fine and some as simple as the weather ruins that. It’s one of those horrible days that overstimulate your very soul.
Y/n let a sigh escape their lips as they walked side by side with their ‘friends’. They weren’t as close to them as they were with Epel but they were all [name] had left at this point. They thought that they’d better be grateful for at least this much.
Regardless they just couldn’t wait to go home. A horrible thought with the realization that they were only just on their way to school. It was unbearable, they felt utterly drained and if they could just shut their eyes for a moment they felt as if they would wake up hours later. And though an oh-so tempting idea they had to get to school.
Opting for a long drawn out blink they observed the cold, brisk wind tossle uncomfortably with their hair. Before opening they’re eyes once more they confined walking a bit. They’d don’t this sort of thing multiple times so why now did they bump into something.
Forcing their eyes to open they gazed up at the obstacle only to be met by a tall man wearing a uniform.
“Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Ah it’s alright-“
“Hey hurry up we’re gonna be late at this point Enma!”
“[name]! Hurry up we’re running behind already!”
Letting a drawn out sigh escape from their lips [name] turned to face the man again.
“That’s me, I’ll see you around I guess.”
Without a second to waste they turned from the man and lightly jogged to catch up with whoever had called for them. they still felt indifferent about their feelings and hated it. Indifference was a disgusting feeling to them at the moment. But they’d need to endure it no matter how they felt.
Be it due to current events or just the fatigue. And not to get cynical but it was the opposite of love after all. Even so [name] knew that regardless of what they were thinking they had things to do. The wake up call they experienced from bumping into someone somehow became energy to at least make it to 3:00.
Back between the man and the person who had called for him a conversation ensured
“Was that them?”
The man turned towards the voice before wordlessly confirming the question.
“Well it seems like was have our work cut out for us then, huh.” The girl turned towards [name]’s retreating form. Shifting her wight to her left leg and placing her gloved hands on her slender waist.
“I suppose we do, Yuuka” The man replied calmly before turning and advancing in the same direction [name] had previously gone.
“Come on the headmaster must already be anticipating our arrival.”
——
“I’ll see you after class, [name]!” One of names friends called out towards them. Name was required to meet with their Physics teacher, Miss Anna this morning instead of attending their regular Language Arts class with their friends.
[Name] turned and replied, a faint smile gracing their lips “You too, Staris”
Diverging from the path they had formerly walked. The sluggish student dragged themselves to their locker straining their memories to remember their combination and slamming the narrow walls open. Hyper focused eyes scan the walls in dissarray and can’t help but gaze upon one specific section.
Clad with tape sticky tack and magnets like a stationary war zone were printed off Polaroids of a life now discarded. A life they should of abandoned long ago but still so desperately held onto. This was too much, this needed to end when would such a wretched day conclude.
With misplaced fervor the door is hastily slammed shut as they once again, turn their back on their precious past.
Confirming the time on the clock mounted on the wall the drained student decided on their next move.
It was a uncomfortable morning and they had to be in class soon however AP Physics didn’t exactly sound appealing on an empty stomach.
letting out yet another sigh their feet turned in the position of the cafeteria.
With their newly purchased Apple juice in their left hand as well as a cookie baggie secured to the outside of the chilled bottle with their pointer finger the student grabbed the door handle and twisted it open just as the bell had rang.
“Nice of you to join us, Name”
Shifting their focus to the voice that had spoken beyond the now ajar door they’re eyes land on the three individuals standing before the class. First of all was The ever-present Miss Anna.
Miss Anna (short for Anastasia) is [name]’s kind but Stern Physics teachers. She has medium length red hair that was commonly secured with a bow. She wore a white blouse with a green ribbon (to match the one in her hair) as well as a dark grey skirt.
“But of course, pleasure’s mine” The student strained their smile as they uttered their reply. It wasn’t that they didn’t like Miss Anna it was just that they were particularly drained today a fact they couldn’t seem to stress enough.
As Miss Anna replied to [name]’s words, the students eyes were elsewhere. With eyes averted towards the 2 individuals standing beside Miss Anna they conducted their observations.
The guy was kind of bulky and seems to be some kind of athlete, he had an undercut with dark hair and an fairly large frame that would tower over that person especially. He wore some kind of uniform that although familiar to [name] they were unable to pinpoint from where. They also noticed that this was the same man they had previously bumped into
The girl beside him was unfamiliar to name though. they could only assume that she was the one who’s voice had called for him earlier by the name ‘Enma’. The girl was about an inch or two shorter than the man. She was slender but still relatively built. She was rocking a pixie bob haircut with onyx black hair as well as a few peircing and an uniform that matched her companion’s.
Despite their appearances the guy seems to be kind enough while the Girl reminds me in a way as a sly fox.
Just as [name] had finished their (thorough) investigation Miss Anna noticed their focus. “Oh I’ve almost forgotten, These two beside me are none other than Enma Yuuken and Yuuka Hirasaka.” The teacher finished.
[Name] paused those 2 names were definitely ones they’d heard of before but they were unable to pinpoint from where. It was a similar case with the uniforms they were wearing and [name] was convinced on their relation.
Miss Anna answered their questions almost as quickly as they had manifested in [name]’s mind.
“They’re in charge of all of TWST Entertainment’s Exchange Events, In fact, it’s the reason I called for you this morning I’m sure you’ve figured out what this is about already!”
But [name] hadn’t pieced together what was going on so Instead they just stood still and stared at their teacher and their silence resonated through the empty classroom
“Well you did apply didn’t you?” Miss Anna’s words were accompanied by her nervous laughter.
“Excuse me?” [name]’s voice shook slightly at the Teacher’s words
The boys dull violet eyes fixated on the illuminated screen in front of him. He leaned his head against the cool surface of the table, resuming his activity. Epel’s slightly calloused fingers (result of many gruelling hours of dance practice) absentmindedly swiping to the left every so often. As a new image would appear for him to focus on he would once more let a sigh out.
More and more the the tension grew between his uncomfortable position against the desk and the emotional turmoil he was experiencing. How foolish he had been. After all those years he couldn’t understand how this was a reasonable end to all their time together. Once again adjusting his position the boys finger slipped up double tapping on the pictures he was previously observing.
“Ahhhh shit…”
The space of the dark room was not familiar. Nothing in this place was. And as such he had adopted this horrible habit of skipping practice every so often he felt overwhelmed. Switching apps and closing out of ten Magicam application he moved onto veiw his phone albums. The boy continued scrolling and he reminisced on memories that once held priority over him. As his tired frame scanned the screen a faint smile reached his face before a kind slam interrupted his thoughts
“H-huh!”
As quickly as the purple haired boy could utter his confusing the click of heels resonated through the room. The sound Epel had become familiar with despite the short amount of time he’d been acquainted with the perpetrator. The click continued for a few more paces before they paused and long, manicured fingers forcefully parted the curtains
“Ah, it’s light?” Epel’s shocked form sprang up at the intrusion of the sunrise dyed illumination
“Epel, dear what are you doing in here, and goodness what happened to you? Rook and I have been looking everywhere!”
The voice that had became a thorn in Epel’s side belonged to none other than that of Vil. Vil Schoenheit who viewed vanity above all else. Above emotions or friendships and perhaps over his own feelings. Though it was hard to blame him, his surname meaning beautiful had carved his path for him long before he was born. Epel knew of this but his apprehension was still present
With long strides Vil efficiently made his way towards Epel. Grabbing onto the shorter male’s upper arm and pulling him upwards. Epel groaned as his sore muscles stretched beyond what he had allowed recently as Vil ignored his yelps as usual. With Epel now on his feet Vil wasted no time with dragging Epel towards the doorway.
“ We’re running a bit behind schedule now, we the choreographers added a few new changes to the choreo so we must learn that immediately.”
“Listen Vil I’m really not in the mood right no-“
The petite boy was abruptly cut off when perfectly managed hands rushed to cup (squish) Epel’s cheeks side to side to preform an inspection. Epel’s under eyes were baggy and raw a result of his fustrated rubbing of the tender skin. His hair was a bit messy from his constant tossing through his feel hours of rest and his uniform wrinkled beyond a margin that Vil would have allowed
“To the seven, you could carry our merchandise in the bags under your eyes. Your hair is unkept and frankly lazy. Are you even using the skincare we bought!?” Vil ranted desperately trying to get through to Epel.
Vil’s calculative eyes observed Epel's form with with scrutiny, he knew he was not mistaken with the overwhelming potential he saw in the younger boy but honing such potential proved difficult. The more he stared at Epel the more flaws he found. Blame it on his compulsive perfectionism but he couldn't help that think that he had mistaken such a spark. As it is Epel's current form was not suited for a member of Pomefiore.
Vil’s words were always vain and blunt. His image was perfect and clean the splitting image of what many would regard as perfection. The same perfection that was expected of Epel now. that spark these people had seen in This only made Epel’s that had caused his departure from a simpler, dare he say better life. All these factors only made Epel’s already apparent irritation grow.
“God what is wrong with you people!” Epel’s voice resonated throughout the otherwise quiet room and throughout the halls beyond it before either of them could think. “It’s always ‘dance practice at 6’ or ‘vocal training at 2’ can’t I catch a damn break or something!?” Epel harshly ripped himself away from Vil’s grasp.
Epel was sure he meant his words. That he knew of course that these were truly his feelings. However he was also certain his execution was affected by the adrenaline brought forth from his emotions currently pumping through his veins. The boy winced at his harsh execution of words preparing himself for another of Vil’s infamous scoldings. Perhaps this one would be about his blatant ignorance of his ettiquite lessons. Though such a response didn’t come.
Instead the Queen of beauty slowly stepped back, clearly taken aback by Epel’s words. Vil watched silently as Epel walked towards the desk he was previously at and harshly sat down wood scrapping against words in an irksome sound. “Care to leave me alone now?” Epel’s voice slightly quivered as he experienced the loss of adrenaline.
Vil let a silent exhale escape his glossed lips slowly but confidently moving to lean against the window sill beside Epel’s claimed desk. With his long form leaning back stabilized by his arms Vil’s stared and observed the small dust particles swaying through the air. His eyes taking in the beauty of the skylight displaying the early morning riding sun’s display. Before opening his mouth once more and steadily confessing his thoughts.
“I know how you feel, Epel.” Vil’s words came as a shock to Epel. And furthermore, I’m fully aware that I’m nothing than that of a tyrant striving for perfection in your eyes.” Vil paused raising on of his hands up in front of his eyes obscuring the bright light and shining upon his hands instead. The tragedy spoke again. “But let me ask you Epel, what choice do I have at this point?” Epel could’ve sworn he recognized a look of regret in Vil’s eyes. Accompanied by the glassy look that Epel could easily pinpoint.
The blonde closed his eyes and the opened them once more. With each and every motion he could veiw upon a glimpse of his old self, filled to the brim with happiness and youth. Dropping his hand to rest in his lap Vil slightly lowered his gaze before glancing at Epel with a defeated look on his face. As the window light graced the side of his head before he spoke again.
“Epel, I have sacrificed so much of my life for this dream of mine. A dream so faraway I find it difficult to place. So even if you have to grit your teeth in anger at me. I see a light inside of you, And I’m sure that they saw it too.” Vil slightly gestured to Epel’s phone and the youth straightened up.
“Vil-“
“As idols we must become the guiding light that makes our fans look at us fondly. Regardless of what happens and how we feel we’re forced to keep it up and I know it’s not easy when you start. But even so. I ask of you Epel, to find your smile and become someone who the fans will look at fondly, If you could do that much than my wish could too be granted. And if not for the fans or even that of my wish than do it for yourself, as well as your own dreams and ambitions.”
“And If that’s not enough; think of that person that you gaze at so fondly. And do it for them”
“But what exchange event? And more importantly I don’t remember signing up for anything like this.”
The student frantically pleaded with them as the limosine steadily cruised towards their destination.
“Of course we know that.”
“Then why” the student was growing more irritable by that seconds
“We can’t tell you that yet but-“ Yuuka sly expression widened as took a lollipop from the limousine’s bar
The limosine stops as the doors are opened to display a grand campus
“I’m sure we won’t need to worry about you finding that out for yourself”
——
Beyond the Music Room- Chapter 6: Academia White
TWST Idol AU x Reader (Twisted Idolland)
-end-
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Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9
Author’s note~
Sorry for being absent did you guys miss me? 🫶🏾
Also I turn 15 in 5 days 🤭
Taglist! (Ask or Dm to be added or Removed
@sunnyshineblaze @lionar0und @cupids-chamber
@hearts-like-iron @raix-lv @lucian-kinnder
@lynihana @otaku-explosion @kiriesdreamworld
@m1chij0u
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bluehouryoongi · 8 months ago
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BITE ME- 3: The Trap
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Pairing: Jake x Female Reader
Genre: Vampire Enhypen and Human Reader College Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU
Synopsis: Set in present-day Pacific Northwest US. Y/n in a college student, and keeps to herself. One day, she has strange encounters with two statuesque men, one of which invites her to a party (at their mansion ofc) where she drunkenly confesses that she can't pay her rent. Vast and highly believable events ensue, leading to her live with 7 a-little-too-perfect guys. That's all you need to know.
A/N: Sunoo is scheming and about to catch everyone by surprise;)
← Masterlist – Next→
I took Jake’s advice and drank lots of water and took Advil when I got into my apartment, so my head is only minimally pounding when I wake the next morning.
The events of the night before replay hazily in my head. Did I really do all that? I feel a sense of pride when I remember how much I let go. I live my life in so much fear and anxiety that I won’t reach the level of perfection I expect of myself, which results in a whole lot of nothing. Last night, though, I had fun. I didn’t think about what assignments I needed to do, or how I looked when I danced. I felt good. I get goosebumps thinking of how close I was to Sunghoon, or the fact that I was alone in the car with Jake.
Today, I feel exhausted. However, I remember the fact that I need to at some point meet up with Jake to go get my car, so I crawl out of bed into the shower and take a little too long getting ready. Is it a crime to want to look cute when I know for a fact I’ll be seeing a very attractive boy? I don’t think so. I settle for a simple crop top- jean combo, with a chunky cardigan on top because, I am me after all.
Just as I get out the door and have the moment of realization that I’ll have to walk to school, seeing as I have no car, I stop short. Jake is standing by the door of his car, which is parked in the same parking spot he dropped me off from last night.
What the hell? Did he come here for me?
Of course he did, but still, it takes me off guard.
How he looks also stops me in my tracks. A dark brown sweater, likely cashmere, with the sleeves pushed up just effortlessly enough to show his arms. A watch is on his wrist, rings on his fingers, and black jeans complete the look. To top it all off, his hair is just messy enough to tell that he didn’t spend too much time on it (attractive), and sunglasses shading his eyes (double attractive). He waits, as if he has no other plans than to simply look hot leaning against his car. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.
No wonder girls drive themselves mad trying to get his attention. Hell, I’m practically drooling and I have been standing here all of five seconds.
“Jake?” I say, catching his attention.
He turns to look at me, a ghost of a grin playing on his lips. Did he always have that dimple?
“Y/n hi. I hope it’s okay that I'm here. I realized this morning you didn’t have a way to get to campus, so I figured I would just come straight here.”
“That’s totally fine! You didn’t have to do that, thank you. I feel like I keep saying that, but really”
I walk up to the car, and get in immediately. My heart is racing. Something about him makes me so nervous, but not in a “i’m scared” way, but a “what’s gonna happen next, and how do I get there faster” way. He smiles, this time dimple on full display. Would he find it weird if I got out my phone and snapped a photo? Probably. I’ll tuck away that idea for now.
We get on our way, settling into the same comfortable radio softened silence as last night. Although today I am much more sober, and much more aware of how much space he takes up.
“How are you feeling today?” he asks.
“Good! No complaints here.”
“Did you take medicine?”
“Yes, I did. Thanks for reminding me, by the way”
“Of course. I’ve experienced far too many hangovers to let you endure the same” That was… really sweet actually?
“Thank you,” I say, with a closed-mouth smile.
In no time we arrived at his house, just as impressive in the day as it was last night. As we step out of the car and meet at the front, I say: “Your house is… gorgeous.” because I can’t help it.
“You think so?” he asks. He looks at me, and I look at the house. I feel his eyes on me, but I just nod.
“It’s perfect.”
He chuckles, looking up at the house now. “All of this is…far from perfect”
Before I can ask what he means, Sunoo comes out of the front door. “Y/n!!”
“Sunoo! Hi!” I am genuinely happy to see him. We just click, which has never really happened to me before. I don’t know what to do with it, but I have so much friendship potential to give. I just hope he wants to take it.
He comes over, pulling me into a hug. “Adorable, as always, Y/n.” Always? We met a couple days ago, but I'll take the compliment.
“Come in! Please?” he says, before I can reply to his previous statement.
“Oh, I…I guess I can come in for a minute?”
He is already turning around and leading me inside. Jake follows in afterwards muttering under his breath: “what are you planning Sunoo…”
Sunoo leads me into the living room, which already looks spotless despite having an absolute rager last night. It's honestly impressive. The living room has five other boys scattered around, two of which I recognize from last night: Sunghoon and Jay. The others I know from around campus, although I have never learned their names.
“Guys…I want to introduce you to my friend, Y/n.” He introduces me, and I don’t know what to do with myself so I just reply:
“Hi!”
A tall, serious faced, dark haired boy looks up. He honestly looks uninterested as he just nods in hello. Not that I can blame him. Sunoo points to the boy, saying, “That’s Niki. He keeps to himself a lot, but we all love him.” To this, Niki only raises an eyebrow and goes back to the much more interesting phone in his hand.
Next Sunoo points to the boy sitting on the couch next to Niki, introducing him by saying “Next to him is Jungwon, and over there” he gestures to the boy with a laptop in his lap “is Heeseung. And that’s everyone. I know you already met Hoon and Jay, and of course Jake.” It is a lot to take in. I never expected I would be standing in the Statues living room, although I guess I can think of them by their actual names now. It’s almost surreal. Although, I don’t really know why it's happening. Not that I don’t care to know them, I just don’t know why it would matter for us all to be acquainted.
“Nice to meet you all.” I say, because, what else?
“Alright so now that you all know each other, I told you guys I wanted to talk to you about something.” What is he getting on about?
I lean into him and whisper, “What’s happening right now?” Why do I feel like I just walked into some sort of trap?
“You’ll see.” and he gives me a wink. I have a bad feeling about whatever is coming next.
“What is this about?” Jake asks as he wanders over to the couch and situates himself next to Niki and Jungwon.
“Well, you see, Y/n has a little problem. One we can EASILY fix. She needs a place to live- a room- and we have plenty. See the connection?” Oh no…this is not happening. I could only vaguely remember him bringing this up last night, but I tried to brush it off as drunk mind tricks. Heeseung looks up, his face a picture of confusion. Similarly, the other boys give the same expression.
“What are you suggesting?” Heeseung asks.
“Y/n needs a place to stay. That place can be here. Right?” Sunoo responds as if this is the simplest ask in the world. This is the farthest thing from simple.
I am feeling a little sick. “Um…actually.. I need to go to the restroom. Then I will leave. You guys don’t have to give me a room, I’m perfectly fine.” Before I can utter any more mumbled excuses for Sunoo and his wandering mouth, I leave the room. I don’t even know where the bathroom is, but at this point I just need to get out of this room.
Eventually I find a bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. I will go out there and clear all this up. I’ll just tell them this was all a misunderstanding, and that they don’t have to see me ever again. Yes. Solid plan. Ok go.
Before I reach the room I catch hushed voices talking frustratedly at each other.
“You realize just how insane this is right? Her? Live with us?” that’s Heeseung for sure.
“Come on, it’s not that crazy.” Sunoo.
“It is, actually.” Jungwon? I think? It’s hard to keep track of all of them.
“Our house is too big for its own good, and you guys know it. Plus you all are always wanting to do things to clear your conscience or whatever.” Sunoo replies. Okay, weird. I guess some people really believe in karma though.
“There’s too much at stake.” Heeseung again.
“Come on, we have more than enough experience being discreet” Sunoo again. I am lost to what all this means, but it is crystal clear that they don’t want anything to do with me living with them. Sunoo excluded. I can’t even blame them.
“Yeah, but this is the one place where we don’t have to be discreet.” Niki chimes in.
Okay, this is getting way too personal. I should not keep listening. I should definitely go in there.
“She’s one of the good ones. I can feel it.” Sunghoon.
“Why-though? Why risk it?” Heeseung.
“She really doesn’t have any other options?” Jake.
This hurts. I feel so pathetic. They shouldn’t be arguing with each other over whether or not I should interfere with whatever they have going on.
“You really think we should consider this?” Heeseung.
“I just think that we shouldn’t totally rule out any option of doing something right, for once.” Jake. Cryptic.
“What does that mean?” Heeseung.
“You know what it means.” Sunghoon.
Before I hear anything I shouldn’t, even though I am not entirely sure I haven’t already, I walk in.
“I’m really sorry, guys. I don’t want to cause any turmoil between you, even though I know I already have. Don’t even think about it anymore. I’m leaving now and you don’t have to think of me ever again. Although your party slayed last night. Ok, bye.” I do a small, pained smile, and start to walk out.
Before I can reach the door, Heeseung calls out: “Wait.”
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moldygreenblue · 1 year ago
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Careful Girl
(AO3 link is here.)
Every day, Josephine’s internal alarm clock wakes her up at six o’ clock. Monday through Friday, and on the occasional Saturday. Josephine sets her actual alarm clock set up to wake her up ten minutes after six as a failsafe, though she always wakes up before it gets the chance to do so. On Sundays, and the occasional Saturday, Josephine turns off her alarm clock to catch some extra sleep. However, her body gotten use to waking up early, so Josephine never gets the chance to do so.
It's rare for Josephine to find herself waking up before six o’ clock. This Saturday though, Josephine found herself waking up at four-thirty with an empty stomach that couldn’t be ignore. What does someone do regarding an empty stomach?
Get something to eat, of course, and Josephine is doing just that. Josephine is quietly traversing the hallways to get to the kitchen. Most of the adults stationed at the City’s Headquarter arrive at six o’ clock. Some though, like the cafeteria staff, tend to arrive between five and five-thirty to prepare breakfast, before moving onto lunch and dinner.
As Josephine makes one more turn, she thinks about what snack she’ll be making. She thinks about two slices of toast rubbed over by tomatoes, drizzle it with olive oil, sprinkle on some salt and pepper, and top off with anchovies. It’s a snack Josephine can somewhat recall her mother making, sometimes without the anchovies when guests arrived to their home.
Josephine really likes it with the anchovies.
Josephine continues to walk down the hallway that will lead to the kitchen directly, she plans on also stealing a few dried fruit packets for Olivia, her dormmate. Olivia, unlike Josephine, never got her weekend free time privileges for the week. That means Olivia, like several other students, has to attend the full half-school day.
Weekend free time privileges determines if a student will get out of the half-school day early, or get the whole day off. Losing those privileges is different than never getting them. Losing them means having to attend a regular full day of school and getting assigned extra homework. Never getting them means you endure the regular half-school day.
Josephine is lucky with her privileges, for she always gets the whole day off. Olivia normally gets the same deal too. At least until this week. Josephine as such plans on stealing Olivia the dried fruit packets, for lunch is pushed back from twelve to one on Saturdays.
“Maybe I’ll get Olivia the dried fruit packets with the cantaloupe,” says Josephine, opening one the metal double doors to the kitchen. “Olivia loves cantaloupe. But would she—”
Josephine finds herself going quiet upon entering the kitchen, with the onset of panic rising through her body. There in the kitchen, is Hector A. (full surname unknown), and Isaac ‘Ike’ Anwhistle. Ike is standing right beside the counter, holding a bag of open tortilla chips. He’s mid-way pouring them into one of two bowls meant for soup.
Hector is also standing right beside the counter. Hector however, is holding a sharp metal knife, hovering it over a big circular block of white cheese. He’s holding a sharp metal knife even she can’t use, despite being thirteen-years-old and thus moved on from children’s cooking tools.
“Put. The knife. Down.” Josephine speaks with clear emphasis on what she wants Hector to do.
Hector does just that. He puts the knife down on the counter, though he doesn’t look happy about it. Ike however, is oblivious to Hector’s dismay, as well as Josephine’s own worry and frustration. Ike stops his pouring and smiles and wave at her.
“Good morning, Josephine! It’s good to see you awake!” Ike briefly glances at the soup bowls and then back at her. “Would you like some bootleg chilaquiles for breakfast?”
Josephine blinks a few times. “…Bootleg chilaquiles?”
“Yes! Bootleg chilaquiles!” Ike shakes his head as he speaks, still smiling. “Do you know what chilaquiles is?”
“No.”
“Chilaquiles is a Mexican breakfast dish that is made from corn tortillas cut into quarters and then fried or baked,” says Hector. “It’s then poured over by green or red sauce, depending on the person’s preference, and topped over with crema, queso fresco, sliced onion, and avocado slices. You can also put an egg or shredded chicken over it, if you want.”
“You’re using tortilla chips though,” replies Josephine.
“That’s why it’s bootleg chilaquiles, Josephine!” Ike continues to pour the bag of tortilla chips into the soup bowl, before moving onto the second bowl. “Hector and I can’t use the stove and fry anything, and we don’t know how to work an oven. We discovered that tortilla chips make a good substitute!”
“You know you’re using bootleg wrong, right?”
“Oh yes,” answers Ike, nodding his head. “I just think it has a nice sound to it.”
Josephine couldn’t help but nod her head in agreement. “It does, actually. Well, I’m glad to know you’re not using the stove or oven for your bootleg chilaquiles, but I’m still concern. Hector was cutting into cheese with a sharp metal knife meant for adults. Why not use pre-shredded mozzarella, or any other pre-shredded cheese available? It’s better than shredding your own with a hand grater and risk cutting your fingers.”
“This isn’t the first time I used an adult knife in preparing food,” says Hector, picking up the knife once again. He then carefully cuts into the block of cheese, cutting out three wedges of uneven proportions. “And pre-shredded mozzarella, and any other pre-shredded cheese for that matter, doesn’t taste the same as using queso fresco. Using the real thing is more better.”
“You mean ‘much better’ Hector,” corrects Josephine, now curious about the block of cheese itself. “Are you saying that is queso fresco?”
“It is!” Ike sets down the bag of tortilla chips onto the counter —behind the bowls — and grabs a nearby paper towel roll. He tears off a sheet, and walks over to Hector, picking up the biggest wedge out of the three. Ike then walks over to Josephine, and gives her it.
“You should try it,” says Ike, “at least once.”
Josephine stares at the white wedge of cheese in the paper towel, then at Ike, and then back at the cheese again. Josephine soon shrugs her shoulders, and quickly pops the whole wedge into her mouth. It’s a big wedge, but it’s one she can eat in one bite and in a few chews.
The cheese, like many other cheeses kept in the refrigerator, is cold. The cheese is also soft and moist. It’s soft and moist unlike any other cheese Josephine ate before. To say it melts in her mouth is wrong, but Josephine thinks there’s a crumbly texture to it that makes it seems it’s melting in her mouth. She chews a bit more, and then swallow the cheese. Josephine now understands why Hector would want to use queso fresco instead of pre-shredded cheeses.
“That is pretty good cheese,” says Josephine. “Where you get it from? I doubt the City’s Headquarters would have queso fresco as an ingredient on hand.”
“Not typically,” answers Hector. “Headquarters also doesn’t have tortilla chips lying around either, as well as salsas. The meeting the adults had last week in auditorium apparently served food though. Food offered at the meeting included tortilla chips, salsas, and queso fresco. I suspect the last one was used for a cheese platter of sorts.”
“So, Josephine,” says Ike. “Do you want some bootleg chilaquiles?”
“I don’t see the harm of trying it,” says Josephine. “It’s not every day you get to try something new to eat.”
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vivakitkt · 1 year ago
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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ Sweet Dreams~
Character(s): Albedo
Synopsis: In which you find yourself drifting to sleep in your boyfriends cave waiting for him.
Warnings: Bad grammar(?) and kinda cringy concept. Not !proof read!
A/n: hey guys…I’m back? I took a little break. By little I mean a three month break I was not very motivated and was kinda busy with school and stuff. But it’s summer break now and I just happen to have written this little wip. I don’t think I’ll continue to post regularly because this is just a hobby of mine but please look forward to my future stories!!
With that being said, enjoy reading!!
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You stepped out onto the familiar land. It had been a while since you had last gone out on an inspirational trip. When you left Mondstadt to venture out, you had promised Albedo that you would return as soon as possible.
You finally made it to Dragonspine and the fridge air quickly hit your skin. You never liked the weather here but you endured it so that your boyfriend wouldn’t starve to death while up here.
You weren't made for this kind of weather. You were a musician, not an adventurer, and definitely was not wearing the appropriate kind of clothing for the weather in Dragonspine.
You had just came back from Sumeru, the land of the fender archon, after wishing to go there one day to discover new ideas for your music. So the clothing that you were wearing wasn’t the best material to block out the cold air.
As you continued to make your way through the tall trees and various scarlet crystals in your way, each gust of wind piercing into your skin more than the last. The morning sky quickly turned into the evening and you needed to seek shelter(because you did not prepare to travel through dragonspine)
You quickly made your way to Albedos researching cave. You made your way over, dodging giant monsters and harsh winds. You eventually made it over and peered around for Albedo.
/Albedo?/ you shouted out looking around his cave.
Still looking around, you couldn’t help but notice that all his various instruments used for research. Jars filled with suspicion looking liquids and cluttered shelves with dusty books, glass bottles, and alchemy tools.
You genuinely wondered how a musician like you and science came to be together.
You continued to wait for Albedo to return however he still hadn’t came home yet and you desperately wanted to see him after being away from each for so long. But the flare of the flaming torches and comforting cave made you drift off to sleep.
Before you eyes could fully close, you heard footsteps leading up to the entrance of the cave.
/no, I can’t fall asleep yet../ you struggle to wake up again. But you were too late. Your eyes dropped and you fell asleep before you could see your beloved boyfriend chuckle to your adorable sleeping posture.
“Sweet dreams my dear.”
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voraciousvore · 11 months ago
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The Half-Blood Giant (39/51)
***Contains soft, safe, unwilling vore***
Chapter 39: A Wolf among Sheep
As much as Hunter would just love to lay down and bask in the sublime feeling of Hannah crawling around in his digestive system, he needed to go to class. He couldn’t raise suspicions by ditching class, after all. He stood up and felt the small weight in his belly topple over with his motion. He was amazed that he could feel every subtle gesture and movement of his cherished human prisoner from within. He hoped, with time and forced proximity, Hannah would get to know him and learn to accept him. Maybe even love him. 
Hannah cooperated and stayed quiet in his stomach, even when she was jostled around when the giant walked or shifted. She was petrified that Hunter would make good on his threats to digest her or harm Hector. Besides, she didn’t think anybody would be able to hear her pleas for help on the outside. She felt like she was in a waking nightmare, with the living flesh churning, pulsing, and gurgling around her. Everything was hot, putrid, sopping wet, squishy, and alive with sound and movement. As nervous and uneasy as she had been living with giants, she never believed that one of her classmates would go so far as to devour her. The whole situation was so ghastly. 
She wished she wasn’t in total blackness, yet at the same time she didn’t necessarily want to have burned into her memory visions of the interior of the wrinkly pink sack encompassing her. The bones, clothing, and food floating in the bubbling puddle with her eventually disintegrated and disappeared into the next stage of digestion. Hannah was grateful to be alive, and not torn apart by teeth or acid, yet she was unsure how long she’d have to endure this abysmal torture. 
Unfortunately for poor Hannah, Hunter had no intention to let her out anytime soon. With her inside, he wasn’t plagued with hunger. He was satisfied and full, and he loved the sublime feeling. His magic could hold out indefinitely when he felt so refreshed: He theorized he could keep her alive for several days, if not weeks, in his belly, if he was so inclined. He’d have to let her out occasionally to feed and water her, at the minimum, since he doubted she’d be able to survive on food and fluids he ingested himself. 
Hunter’s intention wasn’t to be excessively cruel. He wasn’t trying to punish or torture her. He just couldn’t resist the temptation her divinely flavored flesh offered. He was designed to eat humans, so having a human within him felt right. He would let her out when he felt like it, perhaps afterschool in a secluded area. Besides, he still wanted to interact with her, pet her, kiss her, admire her, show her how much he adored her. Once she understood she belonged to him, maybe she’d forget about Hector and learn to love him instead. He’d be her provider, her benevolent captor, and take care of her every need. She wouldn’t have to worry about school or the stresses of life any longer. He would be her entire world. 
After a few hours of stewing in his belly, Hannah had reached her wit’s end. She had a mental breakdown during lunch, when Hunter ate more food and a slew of masticated slop rained down on her. The giant drank some milk and the cold liquid drained into his stomach, drenching her. While the temperature provided some relief from the heat, being soaked in saliva-infused milk was not fun. Hannah started to cry again at her misfortune. 
“Hunter, I can’t take this anymore! Please! Let me out! Throw me up or something!” she wailed. “I’m going insane! How long are you going to keep me in here and torture me like this?” 
“As long as I please,” Hunter’s voice boomed back. The deafening volume made her flinch as the sound reverberated through the spacious cavity. 
“Take pity on me! Help me! I thought you cared about me! Let me out!” Hannah begged hysterically, her supplications rising to a fever pitch. “I’ll do anything! Please!” 
“Shut up,” Hunter warned. He didn’t want her making too much noise, even if her voice was barely discernible even with his own hearing. He wasn’t going to take any risks. 
Hannah was past the point of reason, however. She continued to scream and cry and beg. Hunter grit his teeth. He didn’t want to do this to her, but he didn’t have much of a choice, if she defied him. With a flick of his fingers, he reduced the potency of the protective spell, not enough to kill the poor girl but sufficient for her to experience the dangers of his digestive system. Hannah gasped as the air grew thinner and the acid stung her skin and burned her eyes and nose. Hunter clenched his stomach around her, and Hannah shrieked as the fleshy walls collapsed on her and squeezed her. 
“Stop!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, even as her senses began to fade into gray static. “Alright! I get it!” Hunter restored the spell to full potency and relaxed his belly back to its default state. Hannah labored to breathe as her wits came rushing back. She knew she was entirely at Hunter’s mercy. He could kill her at any moment. She maintained an obedient hush. 
“There, that’s much better,” Hunter praised. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? You don’t have to do anything. Just stay quiet.” Hannah didn’t respond. She was beyond terrified as she realized how close she was to dying. Hunter finished his lunch as if nothing had happened and went to his last class of the day. 
The disappearance of the three human students that Hunter ingested did not go unnoticed. There wasn’t a large number of human students at the school, so all the humans knew each other. Hector’s friends were concerned that he never returned to the dorm after school, especially when his girlfriend came looking for him. He didn’t show up to his classes either. The human girls noticed that Amber was missing too, and hadn’t gone to her classes. Hannah had been seen that morning, but her teachers noted her absence. With the ugly history of human students going missing, Milton didn’t hesitate. He called the police. 
Ray and Joey were sent to investigate, since they had been critical in solving the case with the missing students in the past. The first thing they did was check the security cameras. The cameras didn’t cover the entire campus, but they did guard the entrance with the big metal gate. The footage didn’t show any unwelcome strangers entering the school grounds in the timeframe of the disappearances, nor did the missing students leave. Thus, Joey reasoned that either the students were still on campus somewhere, or if there was foul play involved, somebody who worked at or attended the school was responsible. 
Milton was disturbed by this revelation, but he doubted anyone on his staff would be so cold-blooded as to steal or kill a human student. Hopefully, the humans were still alive and well on campus. Joey and Ray did some investigating to find out where each student was last seen. All the students had attended their classes yesterday, through the end of the day. However, Hector and Amber had disappeared afterwards. Through interviews with the human students, Joey and Ray discovered the connection between Hannah and Hector, and that Hannah had been looking for her boyfriend yesterday after school. Thus, he had gone missing somewhere between the end of the school day and when he was supposed to meet his girlfriend after school. 
However, the officers couldn’t tell if the connection was coincidental or not. They couldn’t establish a clear link between Hector, Hannah, and Amber beyond the fact that they were all humans. Where did Amber fit in? Reportedly, she had stayed in the library after school to study, but nobody had accompanied her there or seen her after that. The librarian had left early, before the end of classes, so she hadn’t seen the student at all. Her story was corroborated by the cameras.  
During the interviews, Joey asked the students if there was anyone who might want to harm any of the humans. Inevitably, Hunter’s name came up. Many of the students reported that he seemed to stare at Hannah a lot, and he’d bullied her during class. He was also seen with Hector more than was typical. He was characterized as a human-hater, an outcast, a beast who was dangerous and universally feared among the human population. They had never seen him with Amber, though. Joey puzzled over how she fit into the story. 
He brought up Hunter to Milton, and the principal blanched. “Oh, Hunter... I hope he’s not responsible for all this.” 
Joey tilted his head. “What do you mean?” 
“He’s been prone to behavioral problems and violent altercations with other students, both human and giant. He grabbed Hannah during class without her permission and frightened her. He also threatened to eat Mr. Pablo.” 
“What?” Ray exclaimed, bristling with anger. Pedro hadn’t mentioned any of this to him. 
“Can we interview him?” Joey asked. Milton nodded and went to fetch the student. When the principal returned, the two officers were startled by the absolute unit of a giant that trailed behind him. Hunter was massive, easily thirty feet taller than Milton, who was already a very big giant in his own right. But the teenager wasn’t just absurdly tall: He was broad and muscular as well. He bled off a hostile, sullen aura. When he saw the officers in the room, he stopped in his tracks. 
“What’s all this about?” Hunter demanded to know, squinting his cold eyes. Ray glared back at him. 
“Have a seat, Hunter,” Joey requested. “We just have a few questions for you.” Hunter slowly sank into a chair, tension in his back and limbs. He gripped the armrests of his chair with meaty hands. 
“What’s your relationship with Hector and Hannah?” Joey began. 
Hunter’s features betrayed some nervous energy, but he recovered quickly. “They’re my classmates.” He didn’t offer any more information, lapsing into his characteristic reticent attitude. 
Joey beckoned with his hand, slightly exasperated. “And...?” 
“I’m not especially close to either of them. I don’t fraternize with humans if I can help it.” As he spoke, his hand trailed down to his belly, which audibly whined. “I’m sure Principal Henderson has told you, I don’t like humans. I did pick up Hannah and mess with her during class, but it was nothing personal. I didn’t know her at the time.” 
“Why would you do something like that?” Ray questioned. 
Hunter shrugged. “I just wanted to prove a point related to the lesson. I did apologize to her later. We haven’t had a problem since.” 
“What about Hector?” 
“I met him though Hannah. We’ve been on friendly terms. Hector has always been nice to me.” Technically not a complete lie. 
“Do you know a student named Amber?” 
Hunter stared blankly. “Who?” 
“Small human girl with long ginger hair?” 
“Doesn’t ring a bell.” 
“Hm. Okay.” Joey scribbled some notes on his scratchpad. 
“Can I go now?” Hunter asked with an edge of impatience. 
“One more question.” Joey leaned forward, pushing up his glasses and clasping his hands together. “Where were you yesterday after class?” 
“I went to the cafeteria, took a walk around campus, and retired to my dorm to do homework and sleep,” Hunter answered smoothly. “Nothing special.” 
Joey gave him a penetrating gaze before excusing him. Hunter got up out of his chair and lumbered off. Joey had an unsettling feeling in his gut as he watched the hulking brute of a teenager leave the room. That boy was trouble. “You need to keep a close eye on him, Mr. Henderson,” he remarked. “There’s something off about that kid.” Milton nodded. As much as he hated to admit it, Joey was right. 
Once Hunter was out of earshot of the office, he pressed his fist into his gut angrily. “Be quiet, you stupid bitch,” he muttered gruffly. She’d almost exposed him with all the racket she was making. He halted in his tracks when he heard a high-pitched squeak at his feet. Hunter had been so angry, he hadn’t been paying any attention to where he was stepping. He looked down to see Pedro staring up at him with wide eyes. Hunter froze, hoping Pedro hadn’t noticed him talking to Hannah. 
“What are you looking at?” he growled. Pedro’s face turned pasty and he scurried out of Hunter’s path, back to his own office. Hunter kept walking, pushing his knuckles harder into his abdomen and squeezing his insides. He glanced around to make sure he was alone this time. “Just for that, Hannah, I’m not letting you out for the rest of the day. Unless you decide to be quiet and obedient. Then, MAYBE I’ll consider it.” 
Pedro continued to his office, shaking. Hunter scared him. The teenager seemed like he was becoming more and more unhinged by the day. He perked up when he heard the familiar bass rumble of Ray’s voice echoing down the hall from Milton’s office. He followed the heartening sound to its handsome source.  
“Hey, Ray! You’re here early!” Pedro chirped to announce his presence. He looked over at the other officer. “Joey? You’re here too? Did something happen?” 
“Pedro! Just the person we wanted to see!” Ray replied with enthusiasm as he scooped his little boyfriend off the floor. He deposited him in his lap, petting him gently on the side of his face. “Did you hear about the missing students?” 
“No!” Pedro cried. “Students have gone missing? How horrible!” 
Joey leaned over, examining Pedro closely. “You work with the human students, right?” Pedro confirmed with a nod. “The students missing are Hector, Hannah, and Amber. Do you know them, or what they may have in common?” 
“Yes, I’ve spoken to each student,” Pedro confirmed. “Hector and Hannah are in a romantic relationship together. I don’t think they were in the same friend group as Amber, but the human students are a close-knit community, so they all knew each other.” 
Joey listened carefully, but Pedro hadn’t told him any new information. “What about that giant student, Hunter?” 
Pedro shuddered at the mention of his name. “He’s a scary guy.” 
“Why didn’t you tell me he threatened to eat you?” Ray interjected sternly. 
Pedro flushed. “I-I didn’t want you to worry.” He sighed. “He’s a troubled loner. Mentally and emotionally unstable. I wouldn’t put it past him to hurt someone if he snapped...” He gulped at the though of those giant hands breaking a human in half like a twig. 
“Did he ever interact with Amber, as far as you know?” Joey asked. 
“Yes, actually,” Pedro informed the officers. “He stomped in the bike lane and knocked her off her bike.” 
Joey and Ray exchanged glances. “So he was lying,” Ray said. He looked down at Pedro. “Hunter claimed not to know her.” 
“He might not know her name,” Pedro pointed out. “Just because he bullied her once doesn’t mean he knows who she is.” 
“Do you think... he might be responsible for the disappearances?” Ray inquired. 
“I could see him doing... something like that,” Pedro admitted, huddling into the safety of Ray’s curled fingers in his lap. He hated the thought of a giant harming little humans. 
“It’s possible,” Joey agreed. “But we don’t have any evidence to prove it or know for sure. We’ll have to keep investigating.” 
Chapter 40
Chapter 1
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chouxtranslations · 2 years ago
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Shizun - 005 - Test of endurance
Mo Changkong is about 195 cm tall, without an ounce of extra fat.
Lu Yunzhen dug around the closet for quite a while before he retrieved a shirt he got at his part time job a while ago. It was two sizes too big on him with the slogan “Shut up and live good” printed on the front.
It fit Mo Changkong pretty well.
He also dug up some unworn underwear and some dorky paisley print pants. They didn’t quite fit but it was good enough.
Lu Yunzhen was a little embarrassed, “I’ll buy you new clothes tomorrow.”
He paid for school with scholarships, bursaries, and student loans, while his living expenses were paid with part time jobs. He was quite good with hands and could fix things like phones and computers. The income wasn’t bad, but his luck was just too awful. No matter how hard he tried to save up some accident or another would happen.
His belly was full and the household didn’t starve... and he wasn’t so poor that it was a big burden...
He was used to his bad luck, and was frugal in his day to his day life. But he wasn’t stingy when money needed to be spent.
A while ago, Lu Yunzhen’s ancient computer finally kicked the bucket. Thinking that he’d need it for his capstone project and job hunting, he saved up money for laptop with pretty good specs. He has about 2800 yet left. Between his repairs income, and part time job, it’s enough to live off of...
But it won’t be enough now that Mo Changkong is here.
Water bill, electricity bell, phone bill, toothpaste, towels, soap, underwear, clothes, rice, vegetables, meat...
Everything costs money.
Lu Yunzhen glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost 4 am. The night was thrilling, soul shaking even. It was almost dawn, but thankfully he’s an optimistic person. There’s no class anyway, if there’s anything to worry about he’d think about it after he wakes up.
He grabbed the old folding bed, put on clean bedding, and put it beside his own bed.
A battered pink teddy bear fell out of the bedding...
It was too late for Lu Yunzhen to hide it.
Mo Changkong picked up the small toy and looked at him in confusion.
It was a little awkard...
“This was a gift grandpa gave when I was little.” Lu Yunzhen was flushing to his ears from the embarrassment. He was worried he would be mocked and hurried to explain, “the toys in that store were very expensive, I stared at the display every day but didn’t dare to ask for it... Grandpa noticed, and ate nothing but plain buns and water for three months to have the money to buy it for me... But grandpa got it wrong, I was looking at the toy helicopter beside it...”
All his toys were discarded junk, only this bear was something that grandpa had bought with money. It was too expensive, so expensive that he couldn’t bear it... so he hugged it to sleep every night, and now more than a decade later he can’t sleep without it.
It’s just a small habit, he’s definitely not a girl!
Normally when he has guests over, he hides it!
Lu Yunzhen was fully in a panic, a rattled things off nonstop. From kindergarten to recent times, he just couldn’t stop himself...
Mo Changkong couldn’t help but laugh. Ten thousand years, countless reincarnations, but Shizun’s personality hasn’t changed at all. Whenever he was embarrassed or guilty, he would gain the gift of gab. Especially when he’s in front of his disciples, he would desperately struggle to maintain a master’s dignity, even to the point of doing ridiculous things. It was very cute...
Shizun’s dignity were torn apart in his own hands. Step by step, cruelly, he forced Shizun into the path of no return. So that there was nowhere he could accept himself, there was nowhere he could be accepted.
Mo Changkong suppressed his smile and passed the bear back, replying softly, ‘You’re nostalgic”.
Back then on Wujian peak, Shizun had a tattered old sword tassel. He loved it to bits and could only sleep at night holding it in his palms. One day A-Sui accidentally destroyed it, and Shizun had been sad for a long time before finally changing his habit.
Now, Shizun has become this immature young man, and his personality has also returned that when they first met, back during those halcyon days... How lovely...
In this life, he will never destroy this loveliness again.
...
Lu Yunzhen saw that he understood his little habits without laughing, and finally calmed down.
The folding bed was too small and Mo Changkong was too tall. It was just not comfortable.
Lu Yunzhen wanted to take the folding bed himself, but was met with Mo Changkong’s stern rejection. He pressed him into the bed and said that there was no reason for Shizun to suffer while a disciple enjoys things. Lu Yunzhen saw how stubborn he was and didn’t push it.
He so sleepy that he just shook off his shirt and short and crawled into bed in just his underwear.
Mo Changkong took a single glance and felt immensely unwell.
Shizun has never challenge his endurance like this. Is this a test?
Lu Yunzhen didn’t think anything of sleeping half naked. It was a normal habit for men. He saw the shock on Mo Changkong’s face, thought about it for quite a while, and finally realized the other man wasn’t used to modern living. He explained with passion, “Try it, it feels good.”
Mo Changkong was in a daze, “Fe-feels good?”
SHIZUN WANTS HIM TO FEEL GOOD?
Lu Yunzhen responded, “sleeping naked feels great, and it’s good for your health.”
“No.” Mo Changkong finally grasped the situation and rejected the idea immediately. He secretly cursed this shamless era which has ruined his good Shizun. He didn’t dare to look at the scene for a second longer and quickly got into the folding bed facing the other direction. After closing his eyes for quite a while he quietly muttered “This is no good....”
Lu Yunzhen noticed that he was bothered and put on a large t shirt.
Mo Changkong’s senses were keen, and finally released the breath he was holding after hearing the rustling of clothes behind him.
“Good night.”
Lu Yunzhen thought that he might have a hard time sleeping after all that happened, but he was really too tired. After just a little while, he sleepily drifted off while holding onto the ears of the little bear.
The old windows weren’t tightly closed and quietly creaked in the cold wind.
Mo Changkong had too many thoughts in his head and couldn’t sleep. He got up to close the windows only to see that Shizun had kicked off the blanket under the moonlight...
Shizun had always had bad sleeping posture, but with his conservative night clothes the most he’d reveal are his collarbones and calves. Now his loose shirt was rucked up.... his white skin, tight waist, shapely legs, everything was on top of the peonie red sheets, unguarded and spread out, as if inviting him to have a taste of the feast...
So careless!
Mo Changkong’s throat was parched.
He was anxious and angry.
Shizun doesn’t know what kind of beast he was, doesn’t know what can happen betwen men. That’s why he let his evil disciple get his way in his last life.
And he still haven’t learned his lesson in this life!
But he didn’t dare say that...
Mo Changkong swallowed the cup of cold water on the table in one gulp, calmed the burning and anxiety in his body somewhat, and tried not to think about the dazzling scene in front of him.
Then, he grabbed the blanket and covered Shizun properly again.
It’s a chilly night, he might catch a chill.
...
When Lu Yunzhen woke up, it was already past nine. He felt exhausted still and wanted to go back to sleep. He wiggled around the bed a little but suddenly remembered the events of the previous night. He immediately opened his eyes only to see Mo Changkong holding the plastic wash basin and standing by his bed like a javalin...
Mo Changkong said sincerely, “Good morning, Shizun.”
Lu Yunzhen replied in a daze, “Good morning...”
Back in the day, the sects valued respect. All the disciples had the duty to tend to their masters. But Wujian peak didn’t have many disciples, and Shizun didn’t fuss over rules. Mo Changkong was used to be left to do whatever he want, little shidi was used to being spoiled, and only the old fashioned second shidi He Jinnian would fuss over the little things. He would say that “a teacher for a day, a father for a lifetime.”
Shizun always said that He Jinnian was filial, was a good disciple.
Now, Mo Changkong also decided that he was going to be a good disciple. He woke up early, stood by the bed, prepared breakfast, and then politely handed Shizun a hot towel.
Lu Yunzhen grabbed the towel sleepily, gave his face a quick wash, then climbed off the bed, dressed, brushed... He also gave a spare toothbruth to Mo Changkong and told him to brush his teeth.
After he cleaned up he was led to the desk. It was filled with all kinds of breakfast foods. There was porrige, pickles, fried noodles, youtiao, soy milk, mantou, baozi, jianbing, tea eggs... everything smelled fantastic. He hasn’t seen such a spread in a long time and could feel his stomach yearning for the food.
Lu Yunzhen ate the baozi and felt moved. The taste was familiar and must have been from Chen-jie from the street corner. Her and her partner were both good good people. They used good ingredients and the food was tasty. The entire street loved their stuff and Lu Yunzhen would also buy it when he had some spare money.
“Don’t just stand there like a dummy, eat with me”, he exclaimed while eating excitedly. “Thanks for the treat, this is so embarrassing. Tomorrow I’ll get food for you instead. Just tell me what you like and don’t be too polite to say it.”
“En.” Mo Changkong saw that he was happy and sat down to sip at the porridge.
Lu Yunchen passed him a chopstick-full of pickles, then suddenly remembered something important. Last night... Mo Changkong’s rags were all thrown away and he didn’t seem to have a phone or wallet?
How did he pay for breakfast?
Mo Changkong saw his doubts and opened his palm. There’s a small black totem there which led to his seed space. It was about the size of a small palace and could be opened with a little bit of demon energy.
Unfortunately, there was nothing that he held desire for other than Shizun. The seed space can’t hold living things, and he didn’t have many treasures. There was all kinds of junk in there, mostly beast corpses and garbage.
When he was defeated and sent to the demon slaying platform, all his artifacts other than his sword self was broken. The chain that he now wields was the demon sealing chain. After ten thousand years of company, endless quenching, and the assimilation of the soul, it has now become his own artifact after leaving the peison.
This detestable chain...
If it hadn’t sealed his powers and prevented him from opening the seed space, he wouldn’t have to watch as Shizun’s corpse crumbled into dust in front of his eyes.
Luckly, he found him again.
Mo Changkong grabbed a handful of spirit stones from the seed space, “I have money.”
He’s a famous demon after all, even if he didn’t care that much for money he isn’t poor. There was no need for Shizun to worry about his livelihood.
Lu Yunzhen stared at as he seemed to do a magic trick and pulled out.... a bunch of... teal... round... pebbles. He was so scared he dropped his baozi.
This rock might be pretty, and he couldn’t tell what it was, but it definitely wasn’t jade! And not a jewel either! It looks just like rocks you can pick up on the riverside!
Lu Yunzhen asked while stuttering, “Yo-you used these rocks to buy breakfast? They sold it to you?”
Mo Changkong replied sincerely, “Yes.”
Shizun had taught him, you have to pay to buy things.
He remembered that stuff in the moral realm were all very cheap. Whenever he wanted anything he’d just throw out a spirit stone and the sellers would smile happily and let him take whatever he wanted.
For this breakfast, the seller seemed a little frightened of him... but still smiled, took the spirit stone, and politely gave him the food.
Lu Yunzhen asked a bunch of questions and finally figured out what’s going on.
He looked up in despair. He saw Mo Changkong’s face, the evil aura that couldn’t be hidden by his beach trunks... With the scary face tattoo, when he isn’t speaking he looked like some kind of gangster, the type where you couldn’t wait to just hand over your wallet if you met him in the middle of the night somewhere.
To forcibly buy breakfast with pebbles...
Chen-jie must have thought he was shaking her down for protection money!
Lu Yunzhen quickly jumped up, grabbed his phone and wallet, and dashed towards the street corner...
This is a lawful society! Extortion is punishable by law!
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froilan-26 · 2 years ago
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“Love in the right time”
                         There is a girl named Maxine,she is kind,sweet and beautiful.Her  parents died when she was 5years old due to car accident that’s why she grow to her auntie Marie who is an arrogant.Her aunt not like her that’s why she mistreat her everyday.
Auntie:Hey Maxine wake up! Clean the house and cook breakfast don’t be lazy you brat!
Maxine:Yes auntie,I’ll do it.
Auntie:After that laundry my clothes and by something for me.
Maxine just do anything what aunt said because she can’t do anything since she only have her auntie and she can’t go anywhere,that’s why she endured all the bad attitude of her auntie.
One day in school he met Daniel who is known a playboy and arrogant.He has two friends,Lucas and Tobbie.They always bullied Maxine because of her cheap clothes and cheap looks but Maxine never fought back and just gave them a smile.
Daniel:Oh there you are loser.
Maxine:Please Daniel,stop bullying e.
Daniel:Well I won’t,I hae your looks and taste.
Maxine:Why?Did I do something bad to you?
Im sorry if im not good looking kije you,Im sorry if im poor and not rich like you.
Maxine start crying because of frustration and leave Daniel scene.While Daniel on the other side start feel guilty because of her attitude toward Maxine.
One  day,
Daniel:Hey Maxine,sorry for my attitude.
Maxine:Its okay,I  forgot it.
Daniel:Please don’t be mad anymore,its just that im such as an asshole and arrogant.
Maxine:HAHAHA!I It’s okay,just don’t do it again.
Danie:Yes I promise,youre really a kind person.
Maxine:I just don’t like keeping hatered in my heart.
The two continue talking and become closer.
As time goes by Daniel starting to like Maxine,he court her and sorry for his wrong doings.
Daniel:Hi Maxine,can I ask you something?
Maxine:Yeah sure,what is it?
Daniel:Actually I think it thousand times and I can’t keep it anymore?
Maxine:What do you mean?
Daniel:I think Im starting to like you Maxine.
(Maxine was sock and can’t speak.)
Maxine:What are you saying?!
Daniel:Ahmm Maxine can’t I court  you?
Mxine:Wait Daniel sorry but I can’t process what you are saying,please give me some time to think.
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