#don’t ask about how I relate in less you want to be in my DMs for hours hearing about my childhood trauma

[philsmeatylegss]

I’m am ashamed to admit that I wasn’t sure I was that into Dead Boy Detectives an account of its dog shit name but I find myself relating a bit too much to Edwin’s backstory episode one and then I got to the consensual cat king in episode two and I’m terrified to admit I’m so beyond hooked

[forjongseong]

pine-fresh // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: slytherin!jay x gryffindor!fem!reader

genre: hogwarts!au, somewhat rivals to lovers, smut (minors dni)

warning: profanity, a lot of making out, fingering // word count: ~4k

summary: a dash of bickering and a whole lot of miscommunication in Potions class landed you and Slytherin's Park Jongseong in detention. did you ask for it? no. did you regret it? also, no.

author's note: at last, the Slytherin!Jay of my imagination has now, sort of, come to life...

ever since I came across that edit you see on the header, I've thought about him A LOT. now that his hair is actually silver, I have thought about him MORE. especially when @jaylaxies made this, which I thought about ALSO a lot... let's just say that Slytherin!Jay has been occupying my mind a lot more than I expected.

my knowledge on the HP universe is quite limited, so please excuse if some scenes don't seem too believable (like Snape somewhat being less strict here, or detention being scrubbing the bathroom). the title of this fic refers to the password that is needed to enter the Prefects' bathroom.

now, I know I say when I post oneshots I intend for them to be standalone fics, meaning that I most likely won't write a part two. but for this one??? if a lot of you like it, and a lot of you ask for it, I might be open to writing a sequel (once I conduct a lengthy research on Hogwarts grounds)

anyway, I hope you enjoy this little treat! I'm trying to shake off my writer's block, so please expect secretary!Jay to return soon.

taglist: @jaylaxies @excusememissiloveyou @thots4hee @end-hyphen @nyanggk @maggstar @bucketofhiros @shinkenprincess-oh @mydarlingjay @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy @strawberrification12 @xiaoderrrr

permanent taglist is open! send an ask or DM if you want to be tagged.

As your House’s Prefect and one of the smartest students at school, you thought it would be impossible to dislike a class. Getting good grades in almost every subject seemed to prove that you liked learning everything, but by God, you hated Potions. Other than the fact that the lessons took place in a literal dungeon, which made it colder than any of the classrooms above, you always had to deal with the unpleasant smell of whatever was brewing in the room. Add the inconvenient detail that half of the class consisted of Slytherin students, which was more than you could tolerate.

You did not know when it started, maybe since the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor or when you witnessed one of your classmates getting teased by a Slytherin, but you had a strong aversion to anything related to that house. It became so bad to the point that whenever you got paired with a Slytherin for an assignment, all you wanted to do was to get the job done quickly for the both of you so you could leave the class as soon as possible.

“Miss L/N,” called Professor Snape. Your head snapped up and you locked eyes with him, somehow convincing him that you had been listening to all his instructions despite staring into the empty vials on your table. “Today you’ll be working with Park Jongseong.”

You nodded softly and once Snape turned his head towards another student, you made an audible groan and leaned back on your chair.

“You don’t sound so happy to be paired with me.”

Jay took the now unoccupied seat beside you and sat with a force that made his robe flutter. The flash of green caught your eye, and you hesitantly pulled your books to your side, making room for his on the table.

“I’ll handle the mixing,” you replied, completely unrelated to his remark.

Jay frowned before letting out a soft chuckle. “Wow, I guess you really aren’t in the mood today.”

You turned your head only slightly enough to shoot daggers at him with your eyes, and his response was just a huff to his face, messing up the silver bangs on his forehead. The sound of Professor Snape’s voice caught your attention, so you straightened up and listened intently, but also noticed how Jay was mimicking you. Once you were all instructed to begin, Jay grabbed his quill and started making notes for the recipe.

For the first couple of minutes, the process went well. You were mixing and adding stuff according to Jay’s dictation. However, after he misread the measurements for a certain ingredient, causing your brew to bubble uncontrollably, you began scolding him and blaming him for everything.

“What’s distracting you? How could you have misread that?” You half-shouted, a handkerchief in your hand as you attempted to clean up your surroundings.

“Maybe if you weren’t shaking so much when you’re holding the vials then I could have paid more attention,” Jay retorted, snatching a vial from your other hand to prevent more spills. “We should switch. You tell me what to do and I’ll redo everything.”

“That will take us even longer, and everyone else is already halfway done,” you complained as you looked around the class. You saw Professor Snape eyeing your table.

“Do you have another solution?” Jay asked, staring back at you.

You reluctantly agreed to switch tasks, but it turned out that Jay was worse than you. He kept spilling liquid, pouring more than needed, and overall causing more chaos than when he was just giving you instructions. Your grunts and groans were starting to gain the attention of the whole classroom, and by the time you were almost done, the bell rang.

The sound of your quill hitting your book was silenced by the footsteps of the other students exiting the classroom. They had finished their potions, and your table was literally the only one in the room that was still messy, with a mixture that looked too suspicious to be called a potion.

“I have been patient enough to let you two bicker the whole time, but for you to not finish making your potions,” Professor Snape said as he walked back to his desk, his cape almost floating behind him.

“Great, he’s gonna put us in detention,” you muttered to yourself.

“That is correct, Miss L/N,” Professor Snape continued. “Once you’re both done cleaning up your table, meet me in my office.”

The frown you wore on your face was so bad that anybody who saw you could easily tell that you were pissed, but between gathering the books and papers and wiping off spills with a cloth, you could have sworn you saw Jay smirking to himself.

---

As you placed a bucket of water in the middle of the Prefects’ bathroom, you sighed at the exhaustion that you felt despite not having even started your detention. You and Jay were both assigned to clean up the bathroom, which, despite only being restricted to use by the school Prefects, Head Boys, Head Girls, and Quidditch captains, was in an alarmingly grimy state.

You purposefully steered away from the side of the room with the toilet stalls and stood by the large, swimming pool-like tub sunken into the ground with bath taps surrounding it. The tub was drained, and you much preferred scrubbing it to cleaning all the toilets.

Jay was standing by the bath supplies on one side of the pool, staring at the different kinds of soap, bath oils, bath salts, shampoo, and conditioner. It took a while for him to realize you were glaring at him, basically waiting for him to start working already.

“Damn, it would be worth becoming a Prefect just to be able to use this bathroom,” Jay muttered, placing a small bottle of bath oil back in its place. “You must take baths all the time.”

You snorted, audible enough to make it echo throughout the whole room. “I don’t have time for baths.”

“Really? What a shame,” Jay sighed, rolling up his sleeves. “How long do you think it would take for us to finish?”

“If you keep using your mouth instead of your hands, probably a lot longer than I expect,” you replied without a pause, sounding annoyed.

Your snarky remarks did not bother Jay at all. In fact, it amused him, and the way he was laughing softly was not helping at all. He walked over to the stalls and finally began to work only minutes after you started.

“Today is really not your day, huh?” Jay’s voice echoed behind the stalls.

“Thanks to you, it’s not,” you answered, polishing one of the hundred golden bath taps that surrounded the tub.

“You know,” Jay started, only to pause to flush the toilet so he wouldn’t have to compete with the sound. “I have a feeling that you don’t like me.”

You rolled your eyes and moved your bucket to polish the other bath taps. Jay cleared his throat as he waited for your reply.

“Is it because I’m a Slytherin?” He asked. “I mean, it’s kinda unfair that just because I’m in this House, you automatically hate me—”

“I don’t hate you,” you finally responded. “Hate is a strong word.”

“Alright then,” Jay walked out of one stall and looked in your direction before entering the next stall. “So, what’s the story?”

You let out a heavy sigh and wrung out the cloth you were holding. It was a long story, you thought to yourself. You came from a family of Slytherins—both your parents and your older brother were—but since you were old enough to understand and remember things, you had always been the odd one out in your family. They would excel academically and go on to achieve things you never even dreamed of. Your interests were always different, and what got you far at school was thanks to your personality and smart work.

It was still a vivid memory to you, the moment you sat down and let the Sorting Hat analyze you. You thought you would hear a confident ‘Slytherin!’ from the Hat, but after a couple of seconds of deciding, it placed you in Gryffindor. Switching houses was never a thing, so you did what you could and made good friends, studied hard enough to make the professors notice you, and eventually, you earned the title of Prefect as you entered the fifth year.

Despite that, throughout the years in Hogwarts, you kept hearing and witnessing stories about Slytherins, how they always happen to achieve so much but at the same time are notoriously problematic. The house you once dreamed of being a part of quickly became one that you were relieved to be excluded from, but somehow, the longing remains.

Around your third year in Hogwarts, you began hearing chatter about Park Jongseong. He became popular, it seemed, after he was assigned to be the Keeper of Slytherin’s Quidditch team, and also after he had an insane glow-up. You then noticed that he was the quiet nerd who used to bury his nose in whatever book he was reading in a dark corner in the library, but since then, he had ditched his glasses and styled his luscious silver locks in a way that—

“Y/N, are you okay?”

Jay’s voice woke you up from your extensive daydreaming, and it made you realize you were polishing one bath tap for way too long.

“How long were you polishing that tap?” Jay asked, tilting his chin towards your hand.

His question spooked you, and you were beginning to think he might have heard your thoughts. You cleared your throat before moving to the next tap. “Not long, why?”

“Because I’m done with all the toilet stalls, and I noticed you haven’t moved an inch.”

Well, that’s embarrassing, you thought. How long exactly did you zone out for?

“Should I start cleaning the pool’s floor then?” He asked, fixing his folded sleeves before squatting down and then jumping into the empty pool.

“Sure,” you said, immediately picking up your pace and trying your best not to steal any more glances in his direction.

“Listen,” Jay began, both his hands firmly holding a mop. “You got really silent after I asked a question, so I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. We can continue to work in silence if that’s what you prefer.”

You smiled as you moved on to the next tap. “It’s fine. I was just tired.”

You refocused on your own task, determined to leave the bathroom spotless, but after a moment, you noticed Jay moving oddly around the pool floor, dragging his mop in a way that was not normal. When you lifted your head to look at him, you saw that he was singing, no, lip-syncing a song and using the mop as a mic stand, completely immersed in his imagination but being considerate not to bother you with noise.

At this sight, you burst out laughing. Jay stood up straight and turned his heel to face you, looking surprised.

“Please,” you said after you contained yourself, “do continue.”

“Miss Prefect,” Jay sighed, “this bathroom is way too huge for only two of us to clean. Do you think we can sneak out and get our wands from Snape’s office?”

You shook your head. “The door is locked with a password.”

“But you’re Miss Prefect,” Jay said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t you know the password?”

“He literally changed it after leaving us here with these cleaning supplies, Jay. I don’t know the new password.”

Jay paused and for a moment you thought he was figuring out a way to escape, when in reality, his stomach just did a backflip from the way his name rolled off your tongue.

“So, what you’re saying is there is literally no way to get out of this bathroom unless we finish cleaning it?” Jay asked.

“That is the point of detention, yes,” you replied, shrugging.

Jay groaned and turned around, pushing his mop and reluctantly continuing to clean the pool floor. You were almost halfway done with polishing all the bath taps, and you sighed as you looked at all the mirrors waiting to be scrubbed clean too.

After a while, Jay finished scrubbing the floors, and you began to wonder if you should have taken his work instead since the bath taps seemed like a never-ending task to complete. He loosened the tie around his neck and undid the first few buttons on his shirt, making you quickly look away.

“Should I help you with the bath taps or start doing the mirrors?” Jay walked over to your side before pushing himself up the edge and then standing up, towering over you.

“Mirrors, please,” you answered, this time tilting your chin to point at the direction of the sinks.

“Really? Because you seem like you’re taking your sweet time polishing all those taps,” Jay said, tilting his head to one side.

You looked up at him and he had this teasing, lop-sided smirk. Meanwhile, the unintentional doe eyes you were giving him made him almost choke on his own saliva.

“Just do the mirrors, Jay.”

You saw him smile the second you finished your sentence, and when he turned his back to you, it somehow looked like his shoulders were happy. He stood in front of the sink and did a quick count on the number of mirrors he had to clean. You saw him start from the far left, where one of the mirrors was cracked on the edge.

“Be careful with that one. Ravenclaw’s Head Girl almost—”

“Fuck!”

You heard Jay groan as he stumbled a few steps back, wincing in pain and shaking his left hand.

“Jay,” you sighed, standing up and throwing the cloth you were holding to the floor. “I didn’t even finish my sentence.”

You walked up to him and stood before him with your hand out. He looked at you questionably before lifting his left hand for you to take a look.

“Is it bad?” He asked, slightly looking away. “I don’t like the sight of blood.”

“That explains a lot,” you muttered, placing your hand carefully over his. “Oh, my God.”

“What? What is it?” Jay asked, his right hand shaking in panic.

“Your fingers are so thick and stubby, like cocktail sausages.”

Jay snorted before pulling his hand away and you giggled.

“It’s just a scratch,” you said in an attempt to calm him down. “You can carry on.”

“Well, do you have something I can use to treat it?” Jay asked.

You were already sitting by the edge of the pool to continue with your polishing. “Do I look like a walking first aid kit to you? Just spit on it and move on.”

Jay looked at you, unsure of your advice. He then turned around and decided to wash his hands with soap. The suds obviously stung, so he was flinching and wincing quietly, but he could see you giggling silently from your reflection in the mirror in front of him.

“Do you really mean it?” Jay spoke, looking at you through the mirror.

“Mean what?”

“That I have stubby fingers,” Jay clarified.

You were unsure what to make of his tone. He sounded curious but also hurt, or maybe…

“So what if you do?” You asked back, not paying attention to him.

The strands of your hair were becoming loose and covering your eyes, and you were dying to fix the scrunchie on your ponytail, but both your hands were wet and occupied with polishing. You kept huffing and puffing and even attempting to move your hair using the movements of your shoulders until Jay sneaked up behind you and tapped you on your arm.

“Here, allow me,” Jay said calmly, tugging on your scrunchie.

You sat up straight and let him pull your scrunchie off, letting your hair cascade to your back. He began brushing your hair with his fingers before gently bunching it into a ponytail. He skillfully tied your hair up into a bun that was less messy than before. You were about to thank him, but he moved from behind you and jumped back into the empty pool, standing in front of you and tucking the loose strands of hair behind both your ears.

His fingers brushed against your ear, and for a moment, you were lost in his eyes. The next thing you felt was his hand behind your neck, pulling you closer as he stood in between your legs, his lips crashing against yours. You sighed as you let yourself be enveloped in his warmth—his tongue tugging yours, his lips devouring yours, his palms pushing against your back, and his breath mixing up with yours.

You felt his hand travel lower down your back, settling on your ass before he pushed you closer to him, earning a soft yelp from between your lips. His mouth detached from yours only to give you a sly smirk before he dove back into you. Your hands rested comfortably on his shoulders as you gave into his every move, and when you felt one of his hands grazing the exposed skin of your thigh from the gap between your skirt and your knee-high socks, you gasped.

“Wanna see what these fingers can do?” Jay asked, speaking right against your lips.

Your eyes searched for his before you nodded a little too eagerly. He chuckled before sliding his hand between your legs and under your skirt. His fingers easily found their place on your clothed cunt, and despite his gentle moves, you could not hold in your moans.

“Jay,” you whimpered, hands bunching up his shirt.

“Oh, I like it when you say my name like that,” he teased, leaving a wet peck on your chin. “Can you say it again?”

He pressed his thumb on your clit before sliding it down your folds, and he could already tell that you were soaked. You were biting your lip, and he chuckled, bringing the same hand that was caressing you up and towards your chin.

“Come on, now,” Jay cooed. “Prefects are usually good students. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

His thumb slid upon your bottom lip, and you could almost sniff the scent of your own arousal. You were trembling at this point, desperate to feel more of him, so all you could give as a response was a nod.

“Say my name.”

“Jay—”

Your voice was muffled as he slid in a finger when you opened your mouth. You instinctively sucked on it before he entered another one, and then he hurriedly placed his hand back between your legs, pushing your panties to the side before easily sliding those two fingers inside of you.

“Jay!” You moaned loudly, spreading your legs wider so he could do whatever he wanted to do to you comfortably. Your fingers reached for the back of his head, pulling on his silver locks before you pushed his head to your neck. He began licking the soft skin under your chin before placing wet kisses down your neck. With one hand, you unbuttoned your top and pulled your collar open, giving him more access to your skin. He sucked on your collarbone softly and, at the same time, curled his fingers inside of you.

You repeatedly moaned into his ear, and at some point, you thought you sounded way too pathetic, but the way Jay was thrusting his fingers in and out of you and the way the squelching sound was echoing throughout the whole bathroom made you believe that the sounds you were making were actually quite tame.

“Jay,” you sighed. “Oh, my God.”

Jay lifted his head from your neck and flashed you a proud smirk before leaning in to kiss you again. You whined at the contact, and as your hands found his face, you began to caress him, pull him, and do whatever was necessary to send the message that you wanted him bad.

You felt the increasing pace of his fingers between your legs, and you began to feel the ache in your ass for sitting on the edge of the pool for too long. Jay pressed his thumb on your clit, and you threw your head back in pleasure, grabbing onto his biceps for support. When your moans started to sound higher and more in sync with the movements of his fingers, Jay leaned in and pressed his cheek onto yours before speaking right into your ear.

“Cum for me, will you?”

The deep tone and gentle vibration of his voice sent shivers down your spine, and with that, you finally reached your high. Your legs were shaking, and to soothe you, Jay began kissing your cheek softly. He kept kissing you and moving towards your lips, giving you a long peck before moving down to your chin and neck. He kissed the parts of your skin that were beginning to turn purple, and once he heard your leveled breathing, he pulled away to take a good look at you.

“Good girl,” he said right to your face.

You playfully, and very gently, slapped his face. He let out a wholehearted chuckle before pulling his hand from between your legs. Just seconds later, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching the bathroom door. Your eyes widened, and Jay quickly registered the situation. He fixed your collar for you to button up before he sprinted back to the mirror he was supposed to be polishing while you frantically searched for the abandoned cloth that you had been using the whole time.

“Why am I not surprised that you haven’t finished cleaning the bathroom?” Professor Snape stated after scanning the area. “It’s almost curfew, so wrap up and continue cleaning tomorrow. I’ll consider your detention done once this place is spotless.”

You stood up and observed as Professor Snape reached into the pocket in his robe and took out your wands. After he handed them over to you and Jay, he turned around without further question and left the bathroom. Jay looked at you, and you sighed in relief, almost collapsing to the floor because of your weak knees, if not for Jay holding you up by your elbows.

“That was too damn close,” you commented, standing uncomfortably since your panties were not fixed the right way.

“I’d say it was exciting,” Jay said, leaning into you and sniffing your neck.

“Jay, stop it,” you said, placing your palm firmly on his chest.

“That’s not what you wanted me to do when I had these stubby fingers inside you,” he teased, raising his hand and wriggling his fingers in front of your face.

You smacked his hand away, and he cackled, almost making the room shake from the echo.

“We still need to come back tomorrow and whose fault is that?” You asked, your back turned to him as you were tidying up the supplies.

“Fault?” Jay tilted his head. “No, favor. You’re missing the point. We get to come back here tomorrow.”

You stood up straight before turning to face Jay. He boldly took a couple of steps towards you, closing the distance and pulling you by your waist to press your body against his.

“Are you honestly telling me you’re not looking forward to it?”

With Jay’s arm firmly around your waist, the heat of his body against yours, his eyes boring into yours, and his silver hair messy from the way you were pulling on it earlier, there was no way you could lie to his face.

“Okay, I am looking forward to it,” you said after gaining enough courage. “Maybe instead of your stubby fingers, you can show me something else.”

Jay’s eyes twinkled at your daring tone, and you both chuckled before letting each other go, nagging at him as he collected your supplies while shamelessly ogling your body.

-END-

© forjongseong 2023, all rights reserved dividers by @cafekitsune

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[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Seven.

Happy Monday to you all, besties! Huge thanks as ever for your support and lovely comments. Welcome new readers to the story, too! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,905

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Spring in New York. After months of cold and snow, it was a welcome change for all. It did, however, carry with it a certain shadow. The shadow in question? Filomena Changretta, who would be bringing Luca’s kids over for the first time to Brooklyn rather than him going to them since he and Emily had become an item. He thought it was time his children met the new woman in his life, and by extension, that meant their mother meeting her as well when she dropped them off.  

“She’s going to hate me, isn’t she?” Emily asked, lying in bed with her man a few hours prior to their arrival, Luca only having returned to her four hours ago from attending wiseguy related endeavours.  

He drew his lips in tightly, eyebrows raised as he hummed. “Yeah, pretty much. Not that I care, but yeah. She will.” Her eyebrows pulled together a little more, eyes rounding slightly. “That don’t mean you gotta worry about it either though, doll. Just expect she ain’t gonna take to ya.” 

“You look like you want to say more.”  

He glanced up to the ceiling, sighing. “She’ll likely meddle, tellin’ you of my many misdeeds towards her. It ain’t enough for the broad to have divorced me, taken my house and a massive chunk of my cash. She don’t wanna see me happy with nobody else either.”  

Shaking her head in puzzlement, she continued idly stroking the centre of his chest. “I don’t understand why, though. You two have been broken up for, what is it, a year this month?” 

“It is,” he confirmed, again staring at the ceiling.  

Reaching for his jaw, she turned his head, forcing him to look at her. “So why?” 

His forehead creased, shutting his eyes for a moment. “I shouldda told you this months ago, the exact reason why I wasn’t the best husband to Filomena.” Taking a breath, he had to hope she’d still look at him as adoringly after she knew of his indiscretions during his marriage. “I cheated on her. More than once.” 

“How many times?” she asked. 

“A few,” he uncomfortably revealed. 

Her heart sank to hear his admission, her face falling a little bit, swallowing hard. “I appreciate you being honest and telling me that, but I need to know, have you...”  

“Shhh, don’t even speak it,” he cut in with, turning to hold her face in his hands, kissing her lips. “No, I haven’t. You and you alone is all I want, cara mia.” 

“Am I, though?” she asked, shaking her head with the uncertainty she suddenly felt. If he’d strayed from the woman he’d been betrothed to, the one who had given him his children, too, no less, then what chance did she stand? “How do you know that you won’t?” 

He sighed again, thumbs circling her cheeks in loving caress. “I know. Trust me, EJ. I know ‘cuz you’re everythin’ I didn’t know I wanted, and everythin’ I’ve come to realise I needed. I ain’t ever strayed from you, and I don’t plan on doing so either.” He rested his forehead to hers, continuing. “You ain’t nobody’s girl any longer. You’re mine, but more so, I’m fuckin’ all yours, baby.”  

Truly, he’d given her no reason at all to not believe him, and she had to give him credit, too. He knew that his confession could maybe alter her opinion of him, and he’d revealed it anyway. Filomena could easily have used the information as a spite tactic, and he could have lied his way out of it. Who would call him into question if he did? Most people were terrified of him.  

Nobody would have negated the truth Luca wanted to portray, but what he’d given her was honesty, no matter how ugly. She couldn’t discount him for that. Covering his hands with hers, she leaned to his mouth, kissing him softly. “That was a big gamble, telling me the truth. I see that. It’s just... my history of trusting the wrong people.” 

He nodded, kissing her again. “And I ain’t sayin’ I’m perfect, far fuckin’ from it. You’re gonna have a lot to deal with, being with a guy like me, but me straying is the least of your worries. Trust me on that.”  

They lay in a happy tangle of limbs a while longer before getting up, Luca heading to soak in the bath, Emily finding herself almost pulled in with him after she brought him a mug of coffee, fending him off.  

“No, stop!” she giggled, batting his hands away. “I have eggs cooking out there!” 

“Then don’t be comin’ in here with those damned legs and getting my pulse all jacked up, then!” he spoke, grasping her thigh, Emily pulling his hand away to give him a stern look. 

“Well, the very concept of me being able to walk in means the legs have to come with me,” she teased, leaning to kiss him. “I can’t just disassemble myself like a mannequin and shuffle in here.” 

He snorted, taking a sip of a coffee. “You’d leave one helluva snail trail behind if ya did.” 

She closed her eyes, resting her hand to her forehead, hearing his chuckle rumbling. “You’re filthy.” 

“But you love me.” he called as she exited, still grinning. After he’d dried off and dressed, they sat and ate before continuing packing, the very point of the children getting dropped off with him being so that he could take them up to his house in the Catskills, a nanny, housekeeper and chef also on his payroll (but who stayed in residence with Filomena) going along, too. Angelo and his wife Greta, as well as their two boys would also be up there as well, Emily wondering how big the house was, exactly, to sleep that many people.  

“Hold on, gotta picture of it somewhere,” Luca said after she’d voiced that thought, going into the phone table drawer and shuffling around. “Here.” 

Her eyes almost fell from her skull. “Honey, that isn’t a house. It’s a mansion!” 

He looked completely nonplussed. “Yeah, and?”  

“it’s just the way you spoke about it. You made it sound like a quaint little place upstate, not a sprawling estate!” 

He shrugged, taking the photo back. “A place can be both spacious and quaint.” He then beamed a huge grin, chewing on his toothpick. “And just you wait ‘til you see the size of the bed I’m gonna bounce that pretty lil’ ass all over.”  

A beautiful mansion, and great company to enjoy it with. She had become friends with Greta, Angelo’s wife over the last few months, the women looking forward to having some relaxing time together away from the madness of their daily lives while their men were off hunting. Mostly, though, it was spending time with Luca outside of the city that she was most looking forward to.  

It was a shame that just over two hours later, she’d learn of a spanner being thrown into the works. 

Waiting down in the near empty (save Maggie and the maintenance guy) speakeasy, she watched the black town car containing his children pull up, the kids alighting with their mother. His eldest boy was through the door first, Luca grabbing his head and kissing his mop of black hair.  

“How’s my son?”  

“Not too shabby, pop,” Guiseppe replied, turning to look at Emily. “Woah, check out those stems. What a Sheba, huh dad?”  

Immediately, he found himself clipped sharply around the head by his father. “Less of your lip, boy. And put your eyes back in your goddamned head.” He might have acted in reprimand, but Emily noticed how hard Luca was trying not to look entertained. He’d been much the same at twelve. 

The boy rubbed his head, his brows knitting. “Sorry, I was just saying.” 

“Say less,” Luca warned, opening his arms as his daughter hurried through the door to him.  

“Daddy!” Milania cried, grasping him tightly.  

“Mio piccolo amore,” he spoke fondly, kissing her head. “You miss me?” 

“Always,” she replied, basking in the adoration of her beloved father, her face not so warm as she turned to Emily. “Who’s she?”  

“Hey, enough with the sass. This is Emily, my girlfriend.”  

The word fell from his lips just as the adversary walked in, placing Alessio down, the little boy running to be lifted into his father’s arms. “This is your girlfriend?” Immediately, the girlfriend herself felt her insides prickle with discomfort.  

“Hello to you too, Filomena,” he muttered with sarcasm. 

Her mouth fell open, looking Emily up and down several times. “For the love of the virgin Mary, Luca! How old is she, like eighteen or somethin’?” 

“Twenty-three,” he corrected, his jaw beginning to tighten, handing Alessio to Emily when the child began to struggle in her direction. 

“Hey, little guy!” she cooed, trying to inject a little lightness, the tension rapidly thickening between her man and his ex. Also, for the sake of her nerves. She truly wanted no part of any conflict between Luca and his ex. “Oh, goodness, aren’t you cute! You look just like your daddy, don’t you?” 

“I do!” he announced through a gummy grin, beginning to fiddle with her necklace. “You smell like flowers.”  

“Oh god, she’s a child, still!” Filomena exclaimed, her voice filling the space shrilly. Emily couldn’t even look at her, so kept her eyes on the little boy in her arms as he chattered to her, feeling supported by her man touching a supportive hand to her back for a second. 

Luca rolled his eyes at Filomena’s observation, beginning to gesture with his hands. He always did when he was becoming agitated. “Don’t start this right in front of ‘em,” he warned. “She ain’t a kid, I know exactly what you’re doin’, Fil. She couldda been thirty-three and you’d still take issue.”  

“Hey kids! The soda place up the block will be open now, how about Emily and me take you guys up there, huh? Come on, let’s go!” A rapidly moving Maggie spoke as she approached, Emily breathing a sigh of relief to be saved like that. Also, she was of the same opinion, that the children really didn’t need to witness their parents about to verbally tear one another to shreds.  

“I’ll see you in a little while,” she spoke, Luca nodding as he leaned to kiss her quickly.  

“Thank you, mi amore.” he spoke, nodding with gratitude at Maggie as well as she herded the two biggest of the brood out, little Alessio very content to be carried.  

Filomena at least waited a beat until they were all out the door before her head swivelled around again, fixing Luca with a snarl as she scoffed. “Mi amore? You can’t be serious about that kid.” 

“Wouldn’t be havin’ her meet my children if I wasn’t. You need to fuckin’ knock it off, too, callin’ her a kid when she ain’t.” 

She scoffed again, shaking her head. “She’s twenty years younger than you!” 

And therein was the problem. “Yeah, and don’t that just chap your ass, huh, Fil? Jealousy ain’t ever looked good on ya.”  

He had her there, his ex-wife chewing her cheek in fury at the slowly delivered, condescending drawl, incensed over the fact that the first woman he’d gotten serious about after her turned out to be fifteen years her junior. And a knockout. Still, she had an ace up her sleeve left to play. “Well, I suppose I’ll get to know all about her over the weekend. You don’t gotta nanny, Sylvie is sick with a cough so it’s gotta be me lookin’ after ‘em.” 

What?  

“No way,” he warned, pointing at her sternly, “ain’t no place for you up there with your meddling. Forget it.” 

“Can’t,” she spoke, her mouth twisting into a sinister grin, “Alessio has an ear infection, needs his drops puttin’ in every four hours. Are you really tellin’ me you’re gonna be available for that, every four hours, for the next three days?” 

“I’m his fuckin’ father. Of course, I will,” he hissed, looking at her with fury. 

She laughed, and it set his fists to clenched, flexing his hands as he began to pace before her. “You ain’t gonna be around! You’ll be off hunting in the day with Angelo, and riding your new filly all damned night! No, I’m not chancing that it spreads to his throat and eyes, too. I’m comin’, and that’s the last of it. You know how he don’t like being away from his mommy when he’s sick.”  

His gaze cast up to the ceiling, taking a long, deep breath. He hated that she had a point. She wanted his temper to blaze, though, for him to yell, to lose control of his emotions. It was what she thrived upon. So simply, he didn’t let her have the win. “Fine, come along if you must, just stay outta my way. Choose a bedroom as far away from mine as you can get, though, ‘cuz yeah, you’re right. I will be, and I’d hate for us to keep you up.”  

His laughed rolled like thunder at the look on her face, leaning in close. “Yeah, bet there’s still one part of me that you miss, huh?” Sauntering out with his usual cocksure swagger, he left her standing there stewing in contempt, telling the security guys to load up their belongings into the car. Heading down the street, he didn’t much relish having to tell Emily that their long weekend would be plus an unwanted guest, entering the soda shop and beckoning her with a backward jerk of his head.  

“You don’t look happy, handsome,” she spoke carefully upon exiting the shop, wondering just how intense the fight he and Filomena had likely gotten into had become. 

His mouth twitched in grimace, pulling his toothpick out. “Yeah, I ain’t got the best news to deliver. She’s comin’ with us.”  

Her face dropped in an instant. “She’s what?” 

“Alessio is sick, got somethin’ up with his ears, gotta have drops put in every four hours, yadda, yadda. She don’t trust me to fuckin’ look after the kid, the nanny is sick as well, so she’s insisting on inflicting herself.” He paused, resting his hands to her shoulders. “She ain’t gonna ruin anything though, doll. Promise. She knows to keep outta my way, yours too by extension.” 

Her lips thinned, Emily really not happy about having to share her weekend with a woman who hadn’t even bothered speaking directly to her, not even introducing herself before going right on in after her guy regarding their age gap. “Alright. Really, it isn’t, but alright.”  

Leaning to her level, he kissed her forehead. “I know, baby. I know. You just gotta pretend she ain’t there. If she comes out with any of her poison, walk away, alright?” 

She set her face straight with a nod, widening her smile. “I will. Come on, let’s hurry the kids and then get up there.” 

Truly, she’d thought that the toughest thing about that weekend would be how to begin bonding with a fourteen-year-old girl, and two boys of twelve and six. Now there was an ex-wife thrown into the mix, too. A spiteful one. 

A near three-and-a-half-hour drive later and they’d arrived, Angelo and Greta already there, the latter looking perplexed as she alighted the front steps of the mansion, holding her arms wide towards Emily.  

“What the good god is the viper doing here, dolly?” she asked with concern, kissing her cheek while watching Filomena and the children exit the second car.  

“I’ll tell you in a sec, please tell me there’s alcohol here?” 

“Only gin and whiskey, as well as the wine in the cellar.” 

Grabbing her hand, she nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that’ll do.”  

“All of it?” Greta snorted, the women climbing the steps while the guys handled the baggage. 

“Twice over.”  

She winced with a little hiss, taking her through the house back to the rear porch, where she’d been enjoying cigarettes and gin rickey’s in the sun. Walking through the house, Emily’s jaw was on the floor, her head turning left and right to take in as much as possible. To say it was decadent would have been an understatement. Luca had definitely downplayed it thus far. Speaking of Luca... 

“Doll, I’m gonna go spend some time with the kids, take ‘em down to the lake, alright? You okay with Greta?” 

“Of course, she’s fine with me. Go, you get outta here and be with your brood,” the woman herself grinned as Luca greeted her with a cheek kiss.  

“Show her around and all that. See you later.” He winked, departing, his shoulders drawn up. He hadn’t seemed so tense on the way up, but now the reality was setting in, having to be under the same roof as the woman he loathed, she saw clearly it had begun to gnaw at him.  

Emily turned to her, her face pensive. “He wasn’t so bad, driving up. Now? I can see his irritation rising.” 

Greta sighed, ushering her through the final large room to the back door, a huge glass construction between two frames of filigree wrought iron. “Yeah, he had the twitching jaw thing happening, I noticed. Yeesh.” Sitting her down at the table, she poured out a drink, adding an extra slug of neat gin from her little hip flask for good measure. “So, what’s the story?” 

Taking her cigarette case out, Emily offered one across the table, the woman lighting up before Greta was filled in on what had gone down back in Brooklyn. The elder of the women balked, snorting once her young friend had finished. “So, what are we, chopped liver? We couldn’t have handled looking after the kid?” 

“Exactly! Mind you, I doubt Luca would have even suggested it out of respect for me. He even said as much before Filomena dropped herself on us, said the kids would be with the nanny when they weren’t with him, and he didn’t expect me to lift a finger.” 

Greta’s eyebrows rose. “That’s progressive of him.” 

“Eh,” she sniffed, “I think he was probably more worried I wouldn’t blow him if he’d offered my services as substitute mother without at least asking me first.”  

Her words roused laughter, the immaculate brunette lifting her glass to her pristine red lips. “Oh, my good god, I love the fact you’re coming outta your shell more, being in our world. You’re still a polite little sweetheart who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, but still, you’d have never come out with such a statement back when we first met. Shows confidence.” 

“I have to be,” she exclaimed, taking a drag on her cigarette. “Being Luca’s girl, I can’t sit there blushing and shrinking from everything or I’d never survive! That includes being able to say out loud with every confidence, and like the lady I am, that my man knows not to jeopardise the luxury of being able to put his dick in my mouth.”  

Greta was in soft fits, clapping her friend’s little display of wry comedy. “You make me laugh, dolly. Oh, you do!” 

“If I don’t laugh right now, having the ex-wife shadow looming, I’ll cry. Believe me.”  

Raising her glass, she beamed. “Then to laughter!” Sipping her drink, she watched as Emily made a thoughtful face, biting the corner of her lip as she looked out over the sprawling grounds towards the lake.  

“I wonder if Filomena likes to play blackjack?”  

“Oh, you’re too much!” Of course, Greta knew well Emily’s talent with card counting.  

Winking, her eyes went back to the lake, just about able to pick out Luca and the kids walking the shoreline, except for Alessio, who was perched atop his father’s shoulders. “I like to think I’m just enough. So, you called her a viper when we arrived. Was that out of loyalty to Luca, or did she ever do something to irritate you?” 

“Honestly? The gal has every right to be hostile toward her ex, given the circumstances... which I probably shouldn’t say too much more on,” she began, Emily waving her hand casually. 

“You’re alright, I know about the other women.”  

Greta swiftly lifted her sunglasses, gaping a little. “He told you?” 

“Yes, he did,” she replied, reaching to the fruit bowl and tearing a small handful of grapes away.  

Her friend was mildly stunned, and made no effort to hide that. “Wow. Didn’t see that coming. Anyhoo, like I said, can’t blame her. Well, in the here and now I can because she needs to be making nice for the children, but instead she’s toying with him, as usual.  

“But I digress. I actually used to get on pretty well with her, but after they broke up she called me up and gave me hell, assuming I knew all about his infidelity. I didn’t know shit! Ain’t like he was gonna advertise it to me. I mean, some guys in their world, they have the wife and then they have the gooma, the side piece, but as far as I can gauge, Luca just fucked around at random. No regular side chick to speak of.”  

“He preferred whores, professionals at sex, women who knew what they were doin’ with a dick and whose silence he could easily buy.” 

Turning, they both watched Filomena approach, her chin lifted as she walked slowly over to the table, a smug smile tilting her lips. “That don’t mean those are the only dames he went for, though. If he saw a gal at the speakeasy who he liked the look of, he’d just make his move. I heard that from the women themselves. Even if they were with his own guys, if he wanted to fuck ‘em, he did.” 

Emily felt a cold wave wash over her, to know the man she loved so much had been that sexually reckless, especially with women so close to the guys who worked for him. She tried to remember what that very man had told her just hours before, though, about Filomena and her meddling. “Hmm,” she hummed, clearly entertained by Emily’s pinking cheeks. “Didn’t know that much, did ya?”  

She could feel her throat tightening, swallowing hard as she looked up at the scorned woman, who’s commentary continued. “I asked him once, you know, how many women he’d bedded behind my back. He said he lost count when he hit triple digits. He was a fuckin’ prolific man whore, my ex-husband. And you look at him like the sun shines outta his ass, you poor gal. He’ll get bored of ya, eventually. Don't think the same won’t happen to you once you’ve knocked out a couple of his kids. Probably before then, if he ain’t already.” 

“Fil, come on, hon. Enough now, yeesh. You don’t gotta drag Emily into this.” Greta advised, rubbing her head with her hand, her eyes finding her friend in support, and what Emily couldn’t bear to see. Sympathy. Because she couldn’t hide the fact that the former Mrs. Changretta wasn’t lying. 

Luca had told her that his ex would do this, but what he hadn’t mentioned was that her poison would be nothing but the truth, Emily getting up and swiftly exiting the situation with tears pooling her eyes.  

Exactly what Filomena had wanted. After all; hurt people, hurt people.  

[halsteadlover]

Just a little rant here about my personal life so feel free to skip lol

I know nobody is gonna read this and I’ll probably delete this when I’ll come to my senses but right now I feel so depressed I just need to get this out of my chest. I always felt tumblr like a safe space so here I am.

I don’t know if you remember the times where I took some time off because of anxiety and my mental health.

Lately it feels like it’s getting worse and I really don’t know what to do, I don’t know if many of you will relate (I really hope not) but it’s just like I don’t know how to be happy and I really hate it here man. I’m so tired of feeling like this, always worrying and having anxiety about something I don’t even know about. I feel so crazy sometimes you know? Like there’s nothing wrong with me, I’m honestly so grateful for the things god gave me. I’m healthy, I have a loving family (even if sometimes they’re overbearing to the point of crazy), I get to study for my dream job, I have a bf that puts up with my ass, friends even if few of them, there’s nothing wrong there are so many worse things people go through and I don’t even have to right to rant about any of this. So why do I feel like I don’t deserve any of this?

I have such deep trust issues it’s ruining my life and relationships, I don’t know why. I hate myself and I sometimes think I don’t deserve to be loved, I’m not that speciale and I’m so damn insecure that every good thing that happens in my life I can’t help but think it’s gonna fade in a minute, that something bad might happen, that I’m so easily replaceable.

Sometimes I truly think that if I disappeared no one would notice or miss me, I thought about doing it but I’m so damn scared. I don’t know where this is coming from, maybe the bullying had something with it I don’t honestly know but I’m so tired of feeling like this.

Why can’t I just love me? Why can’t I enjoy a single good thing that happens to me? Why do I keep sabotage myself by thinking I don’t deserve any happiness and it’ll soon fade away?

For example, these last two days I took three different exams and even though I’m relieved I can’t help but think I’m such a failure, that my parents are so disappointed in me for taking so long to finish a degree I was supposed to finish years ago.

I had an anxiety attack yesterday morning while I was with my bf and I sobbed for hours while he held me but if you ask me what triggered it I wouldn’t know how to answer you.

Why am I like this? Why am I not normal?

It’s just a bit of everything and I honestly don’t know what to do.

But please don’t judge me. I’m aware these “problems” are nowhere serious like some others and I’m so sorry for being so dramatic it’s just… I don’t know guys, I just want to be happy, to feel loved without actually thinking about the worst.

Am I soo pretentious? Do I sound so ungrateful? Complaining about these things when I have everything some people unfortunately dream of? I don’t want to sound like that and I feel so guilty about having these thoughts.

I know you’ll think I’m an attention seeker, fishing for compliments or things like that, I’ve been told that before here and I’m so sorry if it seems that way but trust me it’s the opposite of that. I’m telling this here because I guess it’s easier behind the screen, when no one knows you and can really judge you, but I also thing you’ll judge me anyway but at least it was good for me to let this out.

If someone reads this I hope you won’t think of me any less, and if you’re feeling something like this too I’m so sorry and if you want to talk my inbox and DMs are ALWAYS open for you guys, I’m here even if it takes me some time to answer.

Sorry if something doesn’t make any sense, I didn’t even read this back I’m just cried my eyes out while writing this post and now I have a headache. At least I hope the sleeping will be good lmao.

But tomorrow will be better, I’m sure of this.

[alterhumansafespace]

A fenrir kin! Nice to meet you. How did you discover that?

Asking because you are primarily a dragon (?) and it's quite hard for me to understand individuals who have more than 1 kintype unless they're related somewhat. To be honest it used to be I didn't understand at all but now I discovered I was a kelpie so...

It's directly related to being an incarnation of Loki for me. If it's not related I definitely have a hard time understanding so if you want to share I'd love to hear.

It’s a pleasure to meet you as well! Glad to talk to someone who’s an incarnation of Loki.

Being Fenrirkin is specifically a Copingkin I never really asked to have. Yes, I do love Norse mythology, but being a copingkin of Fenrir can be… well- a bit self destructive for me.

I had been reading a lot into the binding of Fenrir and other information on him. Parts of the story correlate uncannily. When I experience Fenrir shifts, the room felt too small and the intense desire to bite at my right hand was always prominent. I get a constant feeling of being suspicious of authority, sometimes this includes questioning and thinking I know better. But the hardest thing is the intense feeling of betrayal that comes during Fenrir shifts, especially of the ones who were treating you right.

The betrayal part comes from traumas I dealt with. The multitude of gods equating to my family always saying that each other are liars, and others who constantly betrayed my trust. Tyr can be substituted for three different people. My mother, my father or my ex. I tend to associate Tyr more with my ex due to closer similarities.

I wasn’t the best after the breakup and I did lash out viciously. The sword that is stated to hold Fenrir’s jaws open correlate to my need to scream or a need to explain to my ex how his betrayal hurt me, for how sorry I am for hurting him. The bindings are a creation of anger/rage and extreme guilt.

I have always felt a very close tie and extremely empathize with Fenrir’s story. It’s almost like a deeply rooted spiritual connection that isn’t easy to describe. My mental/perception shifts do not feel like that of a normal human. No, they’re intensified by a different sort of emotion that felt very nonhuman in nature.

As for explaining being a polykin with pretty different kintypes, it’s a bit confusing, but not impossible. My dragonself is much less destructive and almost guide like in how I behave. The pride I get when talking about strength are different levels. For my dragonself strength is something I take pride in, but I don’t feel like it’ll crumble at any moment. For my Fenrir self, if I have it questioned, I want to prove myself. This does end up that if someone I consider close to tells me that I am weak, I will break and will either shut down or lash out. Thankfully the lashing out is only internally, but it is destructive by nature.

There are specific behaviors that happen that do not correlate between my dragonself and Fenrir self. As my Fenrir self is much less shifty and is an involuntary identity that allows me to cope with betrayals.

Being a dragon comes with its own difficulties, but I tend to mentally know the difference between my Fenrir tendencies and my dragon tendencies. It all depends on how high, and how self destructive, my emotions get.

I do apologize if it’s a little incoherent. I tried my best to explain the best I could how I separated shifts and behaviors of my two animalistic kintypes. As well as explaining how I came to the conclusion.

I don’t consider myself as Fenrir Otherkin. Involuntarily identifying as and with Fenrir is purely a way of coping that I never asked for as stated above.

Hopefully this explains it enough for a general understanding

>Saiph 🐉

Edit: if you’d like further explanation or clarification, feel free to DM me or send another ask. I’m a very open person and I get good vibes from you

[gretakatharinaa]

life in your 20s - about drinks and decisions

Now that my exams are coming closer and I spend every day of the week either working or studying and my only outlet is to work out or writing (which is not going well), I thought I should write about something that is all too familiar.

Life in the twenties. 

I’ve wrote this article before - three drafts and 2 cups of coffee later I was fed up and closed my laptop. I decided to come back to it.

I think the fact that it needed this fourth draft shows how life in your twenties is. 

When I asked around on how the 20s are, I mostly got answers like: confusing, depressing, challenging or just straight up filled with anxiety.

I also got answers like: exciting, vibrant, adventurous.

Obviously, every chapter in your life is filled with all sorts of emotions but I want to emphasize this "second puberty" you enter without even realizing it. 

When we were younger, we didn’t know what we were going to be but we dreamt about this grown up life, your own money and apartment.

-

We used to buy center shocks, now we’re out for dinner and drinks.

We used to dream about furnishing our first apartment, now we’re hit with the reality of furniture prices (why are carpets and mirrors SO expensive?!).

We used to beg our mom to buy cereal, now we sigh at the prices in the store.

We used to jump up and down when we got letters in the mail with our name on it, now we’re scared to open them because it’s either spam or another bill.

We used to have crushes but instead of being fifteen and goofy, we’re really in love but break up or don’t even try because you work too much, you study too much, you don’t want to settle etc.

From hand holding-relationships and first times to trust issues and situationships.

Or we commit to relationships, being scared that we should have spent more time being single and constantly questioning what could have been.

Somehow, you still have pimples and crushes but now it’s that - on top of responsibility and possibility and bills and existential crises.

Of course, life in your twenties is also liberating. I’ve realized that the choices are mine to make, I have to defend myself and my opinions less and I have opportunities - to work, to study, to travel, to eat chips for dinner.

I can buy silly little things with my money and spend my time however I intend to.

The problem is, in your twenties, you constantly need to make decisions. What job/major to pick, what hobby, what future, what to eat (THREE times a day, EVERY day - pisses me off) and some decisions are harder than others. 

You can’t always do what your heart desires, sometimes you cannot take that trip or get that job. Sometimes you can’t have that person, or rather, you shouldn’t. So you make a decision. And you live with it. 

It’s weird, I’m fine with the decisions I make but only because I made the sensible choice - not because I did what I want.

What makes everything so confusing, is that everybody tells you you can be anything. And you start to spiral, wanting to be everything and anything, changing opinions and paths and being driven by the fear of missing out. 

Everything is aesthetic or groundbreaking or inspiring or different or special and somewhere in between those adjectives are you - chasing or being chased?

I get it. 

The 20s are a grey area. It’s okay to be confused and have no idea about who you are. It’s also okay to have babies and marry (in whatever order you prefer). It’s okay to have a normal 9-5 job and not be a drop shipper or OF model making bag. - I've been getting a lot of feet related DMs lately.

It’s okay to have a weird love life or no love life at all. It’s okay to wait for the one. 

Not everyone understands you, not everyone will benefit your life. 

The point is - i think - to soak it all in. To surround yourself with people who understand you.

So whatever feeling the 20s give you - fear, excitement, pressure - it's meant to be felt and experienced.

And then, one day you'll be thirty and just when the existential crisis of your 20s has stopped, the 30 will do you dirty.

Kidding... I think.

My god, this is the FOURTH draft and I still hate it. I have a million things on my mind - Laundry, exams, dinner plans, when i have to be at the office tomorrow and most importantly: Why can't I finish this fucking article? 

I can’t just post this unfinished, sucky piece of ass and call it a day.

-Actually, I can. I’m a grown-up and this is my blog.

Happy 20s24. Get it? 20s. 

[what-the-fuck-adam]

Hello I, a sabo enthusiast, wants to ask you about your dragon sabo au 👁️👁️

AAA ok ok so:

essentially it’s an au I have where Sabo eats a Dragon zoan devil fruit as a child. It’s also part of a greater au called the Find Ace au but that’s not important rn.

the first chapter of the fic i was working on (I’m in a bit of writers block rn ): ) sort of expands a bit on the backstory of how he got it and his and Ace’s meeting. (I actually made a post about this a while back I’ll paste a screenshot under the cut)

This au is what I like to call ‘canon but a step to the left’.

Sabo meets Ace bit later than he does in canon and that causes him to work for a couple of gangs/thugs in the grey terminal in exchange for food. In a job for one of these thugs he’s supposed to steal a chest full of treasure but decides to double cross the pirates and steal it for himself instead. BUT instead of treasure in the chest he finds a devil fruit!

So the first part of the fic happens while he’s on the run from these pirates and runs into Ace. I go into a bit more of their meeting in the other post so I won’t ramble about it here lol.

Anyway, after all that is settled everything goes more or less according to canon. Sabo still fake dies (except it’s saving Ace during the terminal fire which is a Whole Deal) and ends up in the revolutionary army with amnesia.

There, the revolutionaries find out about his devil fruit abilities and start assigning him jobs that have to do with speed and travel (he’s really fast and can fly through the calm belts with his df) which ends up unofficially assigning him the role of Dragon’s personal messenger/errand boy.

Another thing is since in this au he was in the fire, his clothes got burned off him so he doesn’t actually know what his name is. He goes by variations of the name Ryū/Ryūnosuke or his government assigned epithet ‘Hermes’ (get it,, cause he’s the messenger lmao)

Uhh other fun facts are: he actually knows the whitebeards pretty well because them and the revs are allies and he’s the one sent to deal with all of that. He likes to piss Haruta off and they like to pretend to dislike him because of his overall attitude but they’re actually besties.

(In a variation of the au he shows up to Marineford to help the Whitebeards because he’s genuinely attached to them rather than because of anything to do with Ace lol)

Anyway that’s basically it? There’s some other stuff but I don’t want to go on too long. I’ll if I can find some art I’ve made and rb this post with it later or post it separately or something.

Thank you so much for sending this ask It made my day 💕💕💕feel free to pop into my dms any time to discuss this au or anything Sabo related whenever :D

This is the other post I was talking about ^^^

[e77y]

relating to that vent, i getchu so bad. i feel like in general, the internet might worsen compulsions & obsession within ocd + etc. i have a similar feeling (wouldnt say identical cause i know u from tumblr n yaknow yaknow) that tells me everything i do needs to be 100% morally correct or [insert awful things] will happen to me or someone i love. and this is easier to deal with when you're offline, because there's a limit on the people that can get mad at you. half of the world won't get mad at you because only 0.00001% (or whatever) of the world knows you, yaknow. on the net, it feels like everyone who has an account knows you. your brain telly you anyone who has an account on here might see what you posted & they might be mad at you & they might make a callout post or whatever. even though they don't know you. which is a terrifying thought for many. i dont think youre alone in this, genuinely. and i feel it can be improved. some stuff that's helped me: - making separate accounts w private stuff (doesnt rly work on tumblr but like a private account on insta & etc etc) - rationalising thoughts (an example of this would be thinking: is it really likely many people will agree with someone being mad at me? or: how many people actually do see my posts? is that proportional to the amount of followers i have) - and talking ab it w friends. genuinely, the communication + processing of these thoughts & feelings is soo helpful. sending u soo much love <3 if u wanna chat a bit ab it you can dm me :) (ask can be published or responded 2 privately, whatever u prefer!)

Thank you so much for this message omg :’) ❤️❤️❤️❤️ So thoughtful. This made me tear up a little haha. I’m posting it here so I can look back at it later; hopefully that’s okay.

I’m really glad to hear other people feel the same way/have the same worry… like logically I know that it’s something a lot of people worry about, but idk; my brain has a way of convincing me I am the only person in the world who has done anything ‘bad’ ever LMAOO. So this was really nice to hear

Also I’m a very talkative person! Like I’m definitely an introvert, but I do like to talk about myself and my interests and my feelings etc. Especially when I have a forum (cough Tumblr) to post into the void 😭😭 So I guess that’s part of my issue; IRL, there are less people to be upset if I do/say something ‘bad’, and most of them are my close friends and know I don’t have bad intentions. But online, I walk on eggshells bc 1) strangers online DON’T know my intentions and 2) I just think my mutuals are really cool lol. So I don’t want to do/say anything ‘bad’ or even embarrassing in their presence yk? And online, their ‘presence’ comprises literally all the time w everything I post

I should probably make a more private account 😅 This one is kind of that (just bc it has far fewer followers than my other blog), and I have one on Instagram with like two people following it that I haven’t touched in a while, sooo maybe I will go back to that for more personal vents and whatnot 🫡 I try not to post anything TOO personal on Tumblr, anyway. I just also really like creating fan content, which sort of inherently puts me in a public space even if I don’t WANT to have an ‘audience’ (regardless of how small that audience is; ik there are people who look up to my writing, and that puts a lot of extra pressure on me, but I don’t want to stop writing, either…. Agh)

Idk this is probably overly personal and also very disjointed bc I just finished writing a 1,800 word essay and my brain is mush lol. I’m just sort of reiterating everything you said. Sorry for making you read all this lmao 😭🙏 But thank you for the kind words, seriously ❤️ I really really appreciate it :’D !!!!!!!

[alittlefrenchtree]

I understand that Nick is now working on something else and promoting something else and it's absolutely normal that he can't talk during his promo and focus only on a film that he has made, I absolutely did not share the drama of these days however I also don't understand the whole "he doesn't owe us anything, he's busy" for the possibility that he doesn't post it of the vote like others.

Yes, ok I understand everything but it always seems like everyone has this idea of Nick too far gone now and couldn't even take a second to post a single story for the nomination for a movie that HE MADE and I'm not even saying I want to see him do it or that he has to do it at any cost, he probably won't but it's weird to see how with Taylor they are all "oh look he loves the film so much he, like us, can't let it go" but for Nick even if people just "hopes" to see only a story they are like "stop, he doesn't owe us anything he has other things to think now"

>For context, this ask has been sent after Taylor shared stories about the vote for the glaad awards but before the The Awardist Podcast.>

I’m so sorry I’ve been a bit slow to answer to that. By the time I had time to answer, the podcast happened and I wanted to stay in that mood for a bit, then I have been so very tired and now that I’m a bit rested, I’ve been trying to find a way to answer to you.

I’m not exactly sure what you’re saying exactly actually. It’s not a criticism, I just don’t know where to start my answer. 

As for the specific exemple of the vote for the glaad awards (vote!!!), I’m sure everybody has noticed by now that Bottoms is also nominated so it’s difficult for Nick to say anything about either. Even asking to vote for both is counter-productive as it will be only one winner so not to say anything looks like the best solution for me.

Like you, I think the idea of Nick being "too far gone" for RWRB is absolutely ridiculous.

And even if Taylor not letting go of the movie is more positively oriented, he’s doing almost nothing out of the ordinary. Walking the award circuit as a lead of a movie with a chance to get nomination is very normal (whining bc you can’t sign books while being drunk is less common, but that just makes him even more special 💜).

I’m still not sure where I’m going with this answer but I’m going to keep writing until I feel like it’s coherent enough.

It’s tricky to react to what you say without context or knowing the people who are saying these things. The Internet these days is a lot about overreacting and what could have been a meaningless joke or thought at start can become heavy with repetition and numbers. Like reading "he can’t let go of the movie" is cute the first time but maybe feels a bit more like he's being desperate the hundredth time. "He has other things to do" sounds normal the first time but maybe too close to "he doesn’t care" the hundredth. But the reality hasn’t changed in the meantime, they both still have very normal behavior doing what they’re doing as actor. What I’m trying to say is that it’s fandom stuff happening inside the fandom and to fans mostly and it's mostly about perception. (Am I making any sense? (no))

I also feel like a part of that can be related to expectations (and too many of them) inside a fandom and fans wanting to preserve of protect their actor from it. Expectations, whether they’re expressed on a corner on the Internet or directly to famous people in DMs, often creates frustration and disappointment on the long run. For example, I don’t share most of the asks only waiting or asking for news on Taylor’s next project anymore. There’s nothing wrong with them and I get they come from a place of support but I feel like it would start to sound weird at some point. We’ll know when we’ll know and he’ll tell the story if he feels like it.

I had the same feeling with an ask that were mentioning a semi-hope for Taylor to share something on Alex’s birthday. I thought it was unlikely but I didn’t want to piss on someone’s else fun. But I didn’t want to entertain something I didn’t believe in either (firstly, because I hate lies but mostly because) I didn’t want to create or nourish an expectation that would most likely end up in frustration or disappointment for people reading. So I ended up not posting it at all.

All of that to say that sometimes maybe the "he doesn’t owe us anything" comes from a similar place than that, only in a harsher way to say it.

None of this is actually coherent but if I’m not posting now I’m going to end up deleting everything so let’s not do that. If I’ve completely missed the point of your original message, please say so? I don’t know 😅

[therianhelp]

help how do i talk to people online. (context, i found a therian buddy in my area on tiktok and im trying to strike up a friendship. I know there a minor and close to my age, so no worries for groomers/pedos and such, only about three years apart.Ive had friends in this range so its not much a worry for me. We've started chatting through discord and im trying to keep up conversation but ive always had diffulculty keeping conversation in private dms.)

thanks for the Ask! it sounds like you struggle to keep in contact even when you want to - by no means do I have it all figured out, but as an Autistic person I can relate, so maybe I can offer some advice:

1. It might help maintain the relationship through periods of low or no contact if you explain to them ahead of time that you tend to do that due to [whatever reason it may be - Autism, depression, life circumstances, etc] but that you do in fact wanna stay friends even if you can’t talk for a while

2. assuming you’ve established some level of friendship, and especially if you’ve explained the above, it’s okay to message them out of the blue after a few days, a week, or even multiple weeks of silence. for me, it feels less and less possible to restart communication the more time goes on, but if you both wanna be friends they’ll just be glad to hear from you

3. you don’t have to have a good reason to message them - while a life update like “I aced my test last friday” is perfectly valid, you don’t need to wait for something like that to happen to text about. just send them memes/tiktoks/etc, even out of context, or with a “thought you’d like this” or something. you can also ask them how they’re doing, especially if you can remember something specific to ask about (like “how was your trip to the zoo?”), or even just say “hey I’d like to talk but I’ve been having a really hard time getting myself to send this, is there anything you wanna talk about?”

4. you also don’t have to apologise every time you message for not having messaged sooner. I know it feels bad to not be able to keep up frequent communication, but ime it’s less harmful to the relationship if you kinda just pick up where you left off like no time has passed

I do feel obligated to be the boring nagging adult for a second though: please do be careful with trusting people based on assumptions, eg. “they’re my age, so they can’t be a pedo.” of course it’s perfectly possible (arguably even most likely) that they are just a normal therian kid tryna make friends, but especially if you haven’t seen them in live video, they could also be a grown perv just telling you they’re your age to lower your defences. plus, kids your age can be dangerous too, especially if you meet up in person (since you said they’re in your area); they could turn out to be a not-great person or come with an adult who has bad intentions. I’m just saying, keep an eye out for red flags regardless of categories (like, just because someone’s female, for example, doesn’t mean they’re safe to meet alone). practice standard safety things like telling trusted people in your life about this person, and especially if you do meet up irl, tell people where you’re going and when you’ll be back, only meet in very public places, etc

but hopefully (and odds are that) they’re just another kid you can share cool quadrobics videos with. wishing you the best of luck in making and keeping good friends!

[smolldust]

New & Improved Pinned Post!

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heya I’m smolldust but I also go by Dusty Boxington. You can also call me Bug if you want :]. I mostly post art and rambles about my ocs or hyperfixations. The name of my Splatoon Pool is gaygent3 if you wanna join.

Feel free to message me in by inbox or in DMs if you want to chat but just know that I am EXTREMELY socially anxious so if I don’t respond right away do not take it personally you have nothing to worry about. (This is mainly for my moots)

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If you just wanna see my art check it all out in one nice and organized place @smolldustart

I also made a blog for my oc story, @thesecretsofthemarsfamily, so go check that out too!!!!

@dust-covered-reblogs is a blog I made in an attempt to make my main blog less cluttered by trying to put most of my Reblogs there. Just expect reblogged posts there.

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My ask box is open if you wanna ask me anything. Whether it’s about my ocs, or a fandom I’m in, or how I draw, or literally any random thing as long as it’s safe for work.

Also sometimes I’ll do art requests BUT the requests will almost always be for small doodles that is either for a fandom IM in or for my ocs unless stated otherwise. Also the requests will be drawn traditionally, not digitally.

✧∘────────────────────∘✧ If you want to use my art for a banner or profile pic or other things of that nature all I ask is that you don’t do anything evil with it and credit me if you can.

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here’s a link to my YouTube channel and only video lol. Don’t think I’ll ever post there but y’know ✧∘────────────────────∘✧

some fandoms and interests I have include:

Adventure Time

A Hat In Time

Amphibia

Carmen Sandiego

Celeste

Dead End: Paranormal Park

Death Note

Deltarune

ENA

Fionna and Cake

FNAF

Gooseworx

Hilda

Hollow Knight

Hooky

Lackadaisy

Little Nightmares

Little Witch Academia

Mario

Minecraft

Murder Drones

Omori

Pokemon

Ranboo

Sky Children of the Light

Sonic

Spiritfarer

Splatoon

Steven Universe

Studio Ghibli

The Amazing Digital Circus

The Disastrous Life of Saiki K

The Legend of Zelda

The Little Prince

The Owl House

Undertale

Wings of Fire

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list of my tags

smolldust - something I posted. All my stuff that isn’t Reblogs

smolldust rambles, rambling - used for text posts/me just sayin stuff

my art, smolldust art - my art is used on any art I post, smolldust art is used exclusively on my art blog

smolldust archive, smolldust’s archive, Fav, favorite, save - usually used on posts I want to be able to find later

smolldust asks, smolldust answers, asks - used for asks

smolldust polls, polls - used for polls i made

yeah, me - usually used for relatable stuff

The Secrets of the Mars Family - the tag for my oc story

videos - posts with videos

srb - self reblog

tag game, ask game - used for tag & ask games respectively

moot tag - tags for posts with my mutuals

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this is my old meet the artist. The reason it’s still here is because I was too lazy to make new refs for my other sonas lol. I refer to the sona in the meet the artist at the top of my pinned post as my creaturesona, the one with the box head is my boxsona, and the one with the shadowy face is my shadowsona (how creative of me /s). I still use these sonas so that’s why this is here lol

✧∘────────────────────∘✧ If your blog is not customized or edited from the default in any way I will think you’re a bot and I will block you.

DO NOT REPOST MY ART UNLESS YOU ASK ME DIRECTLY THROUGH EITHER DMS OR MY INBOX AND I’M OKAY WITH IT. AND NEVER USE MY ART FOR AI STUFF

homophobes, transphobes, racists, antisemitic people, creeps, proshippers, pedos, and other people like this/people looking for stuff like this please DO NOT INTERACT

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[mymelody-sapphic]

saw your response to the one anon the other day and it really rubbed me the wrong way, so i’m telling you this as a butch lesbian & hoping that you actually care since you always claim to care about butches.

first and foremost, it’s weird as hell that you’re white and you’re trying to say that butch/femme labels are usamerican or whatever because they’re not. butchfemme culture is everywhere, especially in the global south since it’s a source of safety for hyper-marginalized lesbians.

using the term as a non-lesbian literally puts butches in danger because non-lesbians have no idea how to treat butches. and if you think you do, i’m telling you you don’t and i know that based on your response the other day. additionally, i saw a post of yours where you were talking about how you support les4les (another source of safety for lesbians) so i ask you this…how are butches supposed to find other lesbians to date if so many people who aren’t lesbians call themselves femmes now? after the absolute living hell that butches have gone through both historically and currently? you’re actively making it more difficult for us to find community by co-opting our terms. it’s disingenuous to claim otherwise at best and downright lesbophobic at worst.

as i've said before i'm always willing to listen and learn and since you took the time to write your views on these i'd like to reply to everything the best way i can. just to be clear this is just for the sake of dialogue bc what i'm about to say it's not to justify or excuse myself. i also want to be honest and tell you that me being interest in learning and correcting myself when i'm wrong doesn't mean i'll just accept everything anyone that comes to my inbox or dms have to say when it comes to this type of topics where there are a thousand ways to understand and approach the subject. but since you're the second person that has expressed their discomfort with me (a bisexual white woman) referring to myself as femme i think i should actually reflect and perhaps read even more about the issue, that will be when i come to my own conclusions and decisions (which obviously may or may not be correct).

for context this anon is referring to these posts

about using butch/femme terms about les4les relationships

about the first thing you say, i think you should just re-read what I actually wrote because i talk about the terms at all times, in fact at the end i say that other languages/countries have their own words to for femme and butch.

on the other response you talk about, i don't know what exact post made you think that i don't know how to treat butches, so i don't really know what gave you this idea but i don't doubt that at all since a bisexual i can't relate completely with lesbians whether they're butches, femmes, mascs, stud or none of that in the same way that i'm unable to relate to straight women. but honestly i don't get what part of me calling out lesbophobic attitudes that bi women have and understanding and supporting les4les can possibly make that less safe for them since i'm literally out of that and it was something aimed at those bisexual and not to lesbians.

now, answering your question: i don't now. speaking from myself i always (here and irl) make clear i'm not a lesbian and use sapphic instead when i don't use bi. i say I'm femme bc i don't know another way to identify myself and express who i am and how i feel but i don't want to make anyone feel like i'm fooling them or tricking them or make taking away safety from them and I really hope none has ever felt like that because of me. again, being butch/femme/masc/etc is not just for dating scenarios is also about self-identity i understand what you mean and where you're coming from and I guess i might be overstepping bc as a bisexual we're always in middle grounds when it comes to these things and what we can also claim. we're queer but we can also get the straight experience depending on who we are dating and the circles we are in the same way some lgbt people reject their community and adjust to a more normative life style. i'm mostly surrounded by queer people, to be more specific lesbians and is where i feel the safest and since they don't feel safe/comfortable with me saying i'm femme i thought i wasn't doing something that my be wrong but they don't speak for the whole community so I would like to hear other lesbians, other butches and others femmes about this.

lastly , i would like to say that although you may be right in some of the things you've said, i don't think it's fair some of the assumptions you've made based on literally the only 4 posts i've made that aren't about how i want to get railed bc it's not just that you have no idea who i am, my context, my relationship with the queer community or my relationships in general, it's that this is not even an account where i talk about this stuff making statements, i have simply reacted to post that have reminded me my own experiences or to very specific messages that people have sent me. but I also think you have the option to unfollow me or block me bc if you don't agree and everything I say doesn't sit right with you, even though i appreciate you taking your time to explain your views on everything.

[cuppajj]

Askbox Closed

Alright, so truth be told I’m going to be pausing my askbox for a while. I don’t like how I’ve answered more questions than drawn more pictures, I think it should be the latter! I appreciate how curious you guys are and how much you want to know about my ocs, and you can still ask questions in the comments underneath the appropriate posts and the like, but I’ll admit I’ve been overwhelmed one too many times by the sheer number of things in my inbox. I answer questions, but I’m an art blog first and foremost, not an interaction blog; so I’m going to be cutting down on the amount of times my askbox is open, and I’m going to focus more on drawing things unrelated to it, some of which may answer questions you have. I’ve had a lot of separate drawing ideas that have been on the backburner all this time, that I want to get to! Some regard ocs, some aus, and others are just 500 variations of overlord i want to draw. I miss him XD

I’ll open the askbox sometime in the future, but I’ll set up new rules which you’ll see in another post. For now though, if you have OC or AU related questions, feel free to ask them as comments! And for anyone writing a fic related to my material, such as the Sentient LL AU, you can dm me the questions instead, and I’ll answer (oc interaction related questions are ok to dm too, however I’m less likely to respond immediately to an umprompted infodump as I can get overwhelmed by big immediate walls of text QvQ) (also I am still respecting my dm rules, I won’t have a long off-topic conversation if you’re not a mutual/someone I’ve known for a while)! As for the asks already in my inbox, I will be purging the older ones to cut down on how much I need to answer, but I’ll be holding on to the more recent ones.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and stay cool ^^

[vampire-catboy]

oof. the thing you posted abt 'are you sure you're a brat' really struck a chord w me, hope you don't mind a related ramble in your ask box!

I am absolutely a brat, but I am also a switch. and it often feels weird when I’m in a top or a dom headspace, because very often, people don’t take it seriously. i’m short, skinny, and transmasc, so a lot of the time people think it’s cute, or it’s funny, they dismiss it as bratting, or they think that they can physically overpower me so they *must* be the top/dom by default.

for me it goes to the heart of how constructed it all is – the whole point of kink/BDSM is playing roles, and someone not respecting/not listening to what role I want in a scene is kind of shitty, actually!

i feel like i'm butting up against people's assumptions about what a top, or a dom, looks like or should be – and most of those assumptions (being taller, being physically stronger, being able to throw someone around, having a dick) rely on cishet nonsense.

I'm glad I'm not the only one that feels that way, and you're absolutely right, not only is it shitty but honestly I think it betrays your trust and it's also somebody blatantly disrespecting you and actually seeing you as less than outside of play which is absolutely not ok. I'm not a brat myself, but the amount of times that people have assumed that I was is kind of insane. I've had to be very clear with people that if they think I'm being a brat, it's because I'm actually feeling domy. The fastest way to get me turned off is to try and treat me like a brat, because all that's going to happen is I'm gonna put you in your fucking place and then I'm gonna go do something useful like jerk myself off instead.

Also, you can absolutely feel free to ramble in my inbox whenever you like, you can even do it in my DM's if you ever want to 💕

[hekates-corner]

Apothecary Diaries | WN Translation | Arc 9 - Chapter 8

Hello, however you found this: Welcome!

For a number of reasons I ended up here - relaying all that happens in the chapters, playing wine-aunt, as I translate to the best of my abilities.

So, be warned that all the spoilers are below. If you'd like to get spoiled, but less? My dm's/asks are open!

If you're here for the first time, here's Chapter 1 | Masterlist here.

Part 2 of the corn mini arc, as promised. Enjoy!

Cornfield Pt. 2

Narrator-Mao directs us right back to where we left off: What does it mean, she wonders, her head still tilted, as she walks through the village.

In short, this is a peaceful, barren village. There are no stores, it’s almost self-sufficient with the exception of peddlers coming every ten days or so, or that’s what’s being said.

The villagers are friendly people. It doesn’t look like they’re doing anything wrong.

Maybe it’s all just the misunderstanding of a child and their own imagination that is at fault, she thinks.. but there was a man that was even more blunt than her.

“Oni-san, you make a grim/stern face, smile smile.” Chue nags Lahan’s brother.

He narrowed his eyes as he looked around at the fields of the village - in his hand was a cloth type bag, filled with seed potatoes.

Despite having said himself that this is just a reconnaissance mission, he’s actually here to spread the word about new crops. He has them with him because they’re supposed to serve as a bit of a motivator for those interested in growing new crops.

He’s an ordinary man with a paradox/contradiction - he denies being a farmer, yet he is sincere about farming.

Narrator-Mao’s like “If I say normal, I mean normal.” because there’s eldest sons everywhere that don’t want to take over the family business.. but she’s afraid that if she were to bring that up, he’d get mad.

She goes on to note that it would’ve been more efficient for them to act separately with her going about asking questions, but she can’t do that. Even in this prefecture the spirit of men vs women is strong and people don’t like it when female outsiders act all bossy and go about their own lives. Even if she had an escort it would be useless, because she’s Maomao.

In her head she’s like “Chue-san does move on her own, however.”

Chue went elsewhere because she had other work to do and although she has her quirks in her personality, since she’s someone Suiren approves of, Maomao doesn’t think she’ll mess up.

Narrator-Mao then notes that she should be fine guiding Lahans brother and Basen through the interrogations. “Even without her guidance, Lahan-nii will do whatever Maomao wants him to do” xD

Farmer A: “Insect damage, huh?”

Lahan-nii: “Yeah/Oh. Wasn’t it bad last year?”

Farmer A: “Mmh/Well, insects cause damage every year. Of course it happened last year, and there was a lot of damage, but we managed it somehow - it’s also thanks to my lord and master that I can eat like this without starving.”

Narrator-Mao wonders if “Lord” is referring to Gyokuen before relating to us that while there had been a lot of insect damage, damage from locusts wasn’t as severe.

Lahan-nii: “Hmm. Well, I’d like to ask you another question. Who cultivates/grows that field over there?”

Farmer A: “That one? Ah, that’s Nenshin's field. He’s an old man who lives in the house at the edge of the village over there. There’s a shrine next door, so you’ll know right away.”

Lahan-nii “Thank you, I understand.”

Farmer A: “No (awkward no), I told you, but are you really going to meet him?”

Lahan-nii: “That’s my intention.”

Farmer A: “Hmm, that’s fine.. However, I think that old man will be a little confused/embarrassed.. Well, he’s not a bad person, so if you don’t mind, that’s fine.”

Narrator-Mao notes how strange that way of phrasing things was.

Maomao makes her way to where they were told to go.

Lahan-Nii’s like “Excuse me.” because Maomao’s tugging on his clothes, then he asks what’s up. She, in turn, inquires why he’s interested in that field.. and he’s like “Can’t you see it? Only that field over there is beautiful.” - poor Maomao can only say “Is it beautiful?”

It’s probably an adjective that would be more pleasant if used for something other than a field, but his face is completely serious.

He goes on. “Although everything else is sloppy, that field is neatly divided. The wheat is well treaded, and the seedlings look strong.” - Maomao then says “Is that so…” (it’s that questioning japanese tone without it being a flat out question)

It does look like that to Narrator-Mao as well, if you were to ask her, but she’s just not really interested in wheat.

She goes on thinking that snake’s beard probably doesn’t grow around here. The wheat connection reminds her of herbal medicine - which “by the way” has no connection with wheat and instead refers to the roots of the plant called snake’s beard. (it’s also referred to as wheatman which is the wheat connection)

Maomao in her head is also noting that there aren’t many plants growing around here in general.

It seems that she’s facing a chronic shortage of crude drugs.. and since she’d become a court lady and was a apothecary, her reaction to that is.. great (yeh she has withdrawal)

She thinks “medicine, I really want to see medicine” and as she’s thinking about it she’s starting to have some sorta attack and her breathing gets rough.

Lahan-nii gets totally freaked out and worried by that, saying “Oy, oy, are you alright? You’re really pale.” and Maomao stutters out that she’s sorry and that it’s not a big deal-

But Narrator-Mao keeps the sentence going “But I want to see medicine. I want to smell it. At this point it could even be poison.”

If there was any herbal medicine nearby, would it be from the carefree sheep? She wonders in her head if the horns could be used for medicine.

Narrator-Mao thinks rams have horns. However, maybe, the shape isn’t the same as the medical horn she’d seen before because it’s a different one.

With a ghostly hand she reaches for the sheep on the other side of the fence.

Poor Lahan-nii then puts her in a chokehold as he says “Hey, you’re acting really weird.”

Narrator-Mao lets us know that she’s aware she’s acting strange, but she can’t help it. She’s in desperate need of some kind of medicine and stutters out “M-Medicine….”

Lahan-nii’s like “Medicine? Are you sick?” and Narrator-Mao remarks that “Lahan-nii, Maomao really just wants you to bring any kind of medicine”.

“Medicine? Come to think of it, there was something that Suiren-dono entrusted me with.” Basen pulls a cloth baggy from his pocket. Suiren had told him that if Maomao starts acting up, he should show her this - Basen explains. What he pulls out is a strange dried fish in the shape of “S”

“S-Seahorse!”

Narrator-Mao notes that it’s also called dragon’s spawn. It’s a strange underwater creature that can neither be called fish nor insect.. but Basen quickly hides it from her again.

Maomao's like “Hey!” but Basen pulls out a piece of paper that was also in the lil baggy, saying “Ehm, so..” as he does.

• If Maomao doesn't behave well, show her what's inside this bag. Don't give it to her right away - only do so when the job is done. •

While it was Basen who was reading the note, all Maomao could hear was Suirens voice. She thinks “As you'd expect from a skilled old lady.”

Narrator-Mao admits that Suiren is better at handling her than the lady from Verdigris,.. but it's probably because she saw how Jinshi went about baiting her so many times before. The fact that it was Suiren who gave this to Basen and not Jinshi shows that to her Basen is still a kid.

Lahan-nii(?) then asks if she's recovered from her fit and Maomao's like “Yes! I'm fine.”

But, of course, he isn't used to this.. so he goes “No, there's no way you're fine? There's no medicine that can cure you just from looking at it!”

He never forgets to attack. However, Maomao tells him not to worry and instead they should just get their job done quickly.. In her head she adds “For the seahorse”.

Narrator-Mao fills us in that in herbal medicine it’s generally used as a tonic.

But Lahan-nii keeps arguing, saying that he’s not convinced and repeats “Isn’t it strange? Isn’t it strange?” and Maomao remarks that “You’re kind of reminding me of someone who repeats things. Lahan-ani.”

The most glaring thing, Narrator-Mao notes are the glasses - it’s the most glaring thing.

Lahan-nii attempts complaining that he’s not Lahan-nii, but before he can actually go on Maomao interrupts him by asking if they should leave now, they don’t have much time. Meanwhile Narrator-Mao adds that while, as promised, the name introduction was interrupted, she feels like she’s getting kinda tired of it.

So, instead of more such shenanigans, we have her setting the next scene for us.

While the farmer said there would be a temple, it’s not like any Maomao has seen before. It’s made of brick, has no windows and inside cloth hangs freely. Instead of statues, there are wall hangings depicting gods and buddha.

Despite sounding unconvinced, Lahan-nii says “Well then, here I go..” as he knocks on the door of the house next to the shrine.

“........”

No response.

“Is he away?” - “Maybe he’s away? Taking care of the sheeps and field..”

Narrator-Mao says that it seems like a good idea to head back soon for lunch/that it would be a good time to come back for lunch.

“Do you need something?”

A low, hoarse voice could be heard.

As they turned around, they saw a dark-skinned old man standing there - a hoe in his hand and a towel around his neck indicating that he must be a farmer. His clothes are also stained with black dirt and have been patched many times. Narrator-Mao’s sure he’s a farmer-

“!?”

Basen had reached for the hilt of his sword, but stopped himself - even Maomao understood why he took a stance without realizing.

Lahan-nii’s like “Hey hey, what are you doing taking a stance against a farmer” and Narrator-Mao notes that the man's dark skin has a lot of pigment spots, proof of having spent much time exposed to the sun.. but that’s not why Basen reacted.

The old man’s left eye was missing, judging by how hollow the socket appeared. His right hand, which is holding the hoe, has no index finger and the remaining exposed parts of his body show numerous knife and arrow wounds.

Narrator-Mao then thinks back to the man earlier that told them that this farmer would likely end up confused or embarrassed.

It’s Basen who asks, respectfully, if the man has any military experience.. but the man says that it’s not that big of a deal, it’s just locusts that went rampage in the grasslands.

“Locusts…” Maomao thinks.

That’s an interesting thing to say. She also had something else on her mind as well.

“Were you working in the fields?” She blurts out. The man is holding a hoe and caked in mud - the state of his clothing looked familiar.

The old man replies “What else do you think I was doing?”, not really caring much.

Narrator-Mao notes that what she said was certainly too obvious, but she noticed something while looking at the village fields.

She says, aloud, that she thought that if you were working normally in the fields, you wouldn’t get so dirty.

Filling us in as narrator that even if he was taking care of the wheat this time of year, he shouldn’t have gotten this dirty. The soil in the fields is dry and won’t get sticky unless you make it wet.

Maomao ends up asking if a man named Rikuson has come here before.. the man lets out a “...Hmm.”

He then blinked his one eye and opened the door to his house, which could only be called a hut - “Come inside you guys. I’ll give you some goat’s milk.”

The old man propped up his hoe, inviting them inside.

— Notes & Chapter 9

There’s only a couple of things for this chapter.

1: The farmer Lahan-nii talks to before Maomao starts having her withdrawal symptoms isn’t named. He’s later on just called “the farmer from earlier”.

2: The next chapter is the conclusion of this corn mini arc, but there's more chapters tying into it.

3: At the point where Maomao says that Lahan-nii is reminding her of someone, she uses Lahan-ani, not Lahan-nii. It makes it more direct, Lahan aniki, Lahan’s older brother.

4: The older gentleman at the end, there’s a couple different options I got for his name. By chapter 11, I decided to go with the most common one I kept getting: Nenshin.

5: In Japanese the kanji used to explain the shape of the sea horse is: 乙

I hope you enjoyed this one - if you'd like to get notified or tagged when new chapters drop, let me know.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Beyond the Blood Tie - Chapter Thirty Four.

Previous Chapters - One  Two, Part One Part Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen  Twenty  Twenty One  Twenty Two  Twenty Three  Twenty Four  Twenty Five  Twenty Six  Twenty Seven  Twenty Eight  Twenty Nine  Thirty  Thirty One Thirty Two  Thirty Three

Words - 5,367 

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

Ahmed's POV

"Hey big guy, hey," Miley greets me with as she arrives at Edie's house, three days after Angel died. I swing the door open fully and give her a big hug. "How is she?" She reads it in my face before I even reply, taking her boots and jacket off. It's Christmas Eve, and even though the sun is still bright, the colder snap has finally reached Nevada. It's only just stopped raining.

"Still the same, she's just lying there blankly. At least she's sleeping for the moment, though. She didn't get much last night," I reveal, with a long sigh through my nose. I've been looking after her for the last two days, this only being the early morning of the third. EZ just went to sleep in Edie's closet, standing in the corner for his rest like he was the night before, too. He knows Edie is probably safest here since no vampire without permission can enter her home, but he's sticking around all the same. I booked the week off work at short notice, something Tyrell was furious about and at first did not want to allow me.

"Tyrell, she has no one. No parents, no family at all in fact, apart from people like me and Aileen. Now she's got no boyfriend either, and she's in pieces, just so depressed. She needs someone to look after her, and it's gotta be me," I told him in his office.

"I can't be two punishers down, Ahmed. I don't fucking care who died, you can't take the time off," he told me, leaning back in his squeaky chair and folding his arms. I then asked if I could if I found a replacement, a stand in punisher to do my work for me. As it happens, I had a prior offer to cover for me, from an unexpected source when I went back to Charles and Ursula's place to fetch Edie's cell phone from the night before that she'd forgotten to take with her.

"And who are you going to find who has the poise and both physical and mental strength at such short notice?" he scoffed. Half an hour later, she walked through the door.

"Sissy Wiseman, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Cleaves," the vampire herself said to him, even offering her hand.

"Pardon me, Ms Wiseman, but I cannot have any old person walk into my establishment without being properly vetted or interviewed for a position as a punisher. I have rules to follow," he snorted, shaking her hand coolly and then nearly having his eyeballs roll out onto his paperwork at the strength of her grip.

"Oh come on, Tyrell. You've been liaising with the AVA about the possibility of recruiting a vampire punisher or two. You could make this happen," I interrupted with, while kicking myself that I just spoke to my boss like that. He's fired people for less.

"I have credentials too, and I have been vetted. Here, a letter of praise from the acting head of the Human Relations department of the AVA, Charles Cosgrove," she told him, handing over the papers.

"Charles Cosgrove? I thought he was a doctor, if he's the same Charles Cosgrove who wrote a sick note for Edie recently," he spoke with disbelief after reading the letter Sissy handed to him, eyeing her suspiciously.

"He's a brilliant vampire, and almost nine hundred years old. He has been many things throughout his life and death," she told him, with obvious affection and respect in her voice for Charles.

"And your own credentials?"

"I'm six hundred and seventy years old, and I'm a vampire. I also have brilliant control, and the ability not to exert my full power upon a human. Feel free to come into the chamber with me now and oversee it yourself. I do not require payment either. Believe me, you'd be doing me a favour right now. I have a lot of rage to work out on somebody," she spoke with confidence. Of course, she's pissed as hell about Angel's death, she'd known him for a long time. Ten minutes later and she was proving herself to Tyrell, while he stood watching in the control room with me and Aileen. She was excellent, and so it was arranged.

"Are those pancakes I smell?" Miley asks me, back in the here and now.

"Yup, and plenty of crispy bacon, too.” I went to the store last night and stocked up after EZ had awoken.

"Could Edie be tempted?" I shake my head as we walk through to the kitchen and tell her I tried before she went to sleep, and then pass Miley a plate. We go and eat outside, and I take a towel with me to dry off the chairs we then sit at, eating and watching my dog Drexl play with Icarus and Thor on the lawn. EZ brought Thor here yesterday after Charles called him to say he'd finally come home. He'd been missing since Angel died, and EZ thinks he went off trying to find his master. He did come home in a bit of a shabby state, so EZ and I bathed him with the aid of a hosepipe and half a bottle of dog shampoo. He wasn't impressed.

"Do you think we should put up her Christmas decorations for her? Edie loves Christmas, this place looks strange without all the glittery things and lights she'd usually string up around the house," Miley wonders aloud as I watch Thor and Drexl each tugging the end of a big rope, Icarus running around them in a circle yapping excitedly and occasionally grabbing the middle part of it.

I think on it, but ultimately shake my head, crunching through a mouthful of bacon. "I don't think she'd want that, she isn't exactly in a celebratory mood."

She nods, reaching to squeeze my arm. “Yeah, I guess you're right. How's his creator taking the news, by the way? Badly I'd imagine.”

"So badly she went to ground, and she won't come up until tomorrow evening, apparently," I tell her, picking up my coffee to take a big swig.

"What does that mean, going to ground?" I expected that question, since Miley knows very little about vampires, other than what Sasha and Edie tell her, which is mostly sexual.

"It means they bury themselves and switch off completely, they go into a deep state of rest, which is what she needed to do," I reply.

"Oh. I wish Edie could do the same. She must hurt so badly. It must be nice, to feel like somebody took your batteries out." I hadn’t thought of that, but yes, she’s right, in her obscure little way. I guess it’d only delay the inevitable, though. The grief would still be there waiting for her when she woke up again, into a world without Angel in it any longer.  

We finish breakfast just in time before the heavens open once more, the rain pelting down, Miley taking the plates while I call Drexl and the wolves inside. Their play continues running around Edie's kitchen barking and skating across the tiled floor. I'm surprised they don't wake her up, and when it's coming up to 1pm I see she's sleeping through it. I'm glad of that. She likes being on vampire hours anyway, not that she does anything other than stare.  

She won't even talk to anyone. She just nods or shakes her head to communicate. I suppose she just has to take her time with it, I don't know. I'm not even going to try to imagine what this kind of grief feels like for her, but I know it's hurting her very badly. Keeping ourselves busy, Miley and I tidy and do Edie's laundry, before I kill some time cleaning all her windows inside and out, except the inside of the one in Edie's bedroom, of course. At close to 4pm and with every window sparkling, I check on my buddy, finding her lying on her side, staring into space.

"Hey you, how'd you feel after your sleep?" I ask, hoping I get a reply. She just blinks, her face remaining as heartbroken looking as it was before she drifted off. “Okay, dude. I’m here when you want to talk. Love you.” Another blink. I shut the door again, leaving her to it. She'll talk when she wants to, when she's ready. I think the shock fully kicked in when she came to see Aileen at work. She came over last night before her shift and tried to get Edie to talk, but to no avail.  

Coming back out, I see my dog ambling along from the kitchen to the lounge where I follow him to, laughing softly at him since he's completely out of breath. He lies flat out as he pants so much his body shakes, back and front legs stuck out comically as his big, floppy ears twitch. He then turns and crashes out onto his side. Yep, he's dog tired alright. Playing with two big, bouncy wolves all day when you're only a humble Pitt Bull will do that to you. I think I need to get him home.

"Would you mind staying with her tonight? I think I need to get Drex home so he can keel over in the comfort of his own bed," I ask Miley, who's smiling at Drexl over the top of her cup of tea.

"Sure, I can. You get off, I can only stay until nine in the morning though, as I gotta be at my folks place at 11am and it takes just under an hour to get to Mount Charleston, so I’ll need to go home and get ready, fetch the presents and stuff first," she explains.

"That's cool. Since my folks have gone on vacation as you know I was only going to Vic's place with Edie anyway, but I'll stay here. I'll go to the store and get some food for us on my way home tonight and see if I can find any turkeys left," I tell her with a small laugh. I doubt I'll be able to get her to eat any of whatever I do find, though. That's okay, I'll try all the same. I'm not giving up on helping her get through this, losing someone she loved so much.  

I think the thing that's hardest for her is the fact that she claims she can still feel him, which is confusing her endlessly. She spoke to Charles about it and the guy who came with Ursula's creator and apparently, they set her straight though, said that it's a trick of the blood fooling her into thinking he's still alive. I can't imagine anything worse at the moment for her, being able to feel her lover's blood stirring within her yet having to keep on reminding herself that he's dead.  

Drexl and I amble home at a slow pace, and I say hello to a few of the people in the neighbourhood as we do, wishing them a Merry Christmas. I see old Mr Garrett up on his roof rearranging some lights, his display just as bright and twinkly as ever without looking garish. The same cannot be said for Mr and Mrs Evans three doors down, with their huge inflatable Santa, snowmen and elves all littering their front yard. Yuck.

"Hey Ahmed, Merry Christmas to you and Drexl! Here, have a cookie each," the adorable ninety-seven-year-old Mrs Williams says to me as she comes ambling up the path with a tray of gingerbread men, offering the tray to me and taking a cookie to give to Drexl, who sits for it immediately. "He's such a good boy, yes!" she then gushes, stroking his head as he wags his tail happily and crunches through the cookie. I bend to give the tiny little old lady a kiss on the cheek and then continue walking, eating my highly decorated gingerbread man as I do.  

If this was any other year, me, Edie, Miley, her brother and Sasha would all be out enjoying some pre-Christmas drinks, but we cancelled our plans after the devastating news Edie received out of respect. If there was just one thing I could give my heartbroken friend for Christmas, I'd give her boyfriend back to her, because I know he's all she really wants.

Edie's POV

You know that moment where you wake up, and just for a second you think everything is okay until it hits you like a tonne of bricks, why everything isn't okay? I got that fifteen minutes ago when I woke. Ahmed came in to see me, and Miley has just been in, too, both concerned, naturally, since I went on mute. I wanted to talk to both of them, yet I just couldn't find my voice. It's like it's out of my reach. I can't keep giving everyone the silent treatment though, especially when they're trying their best to look after me. It's rude of me to refuse to speak, but then again, I'm not really refusing. It’s like I have no choice, I just... I can’t.

Looking at my bedside clock I see that it's 4.30pm, and in half an hour the large vampire sleeping in my closet will awake and step out. I have to try and find my voice by then. I owe a great deal to EZ in the way he's stepped up to look after me since Angel's death, just as he promised me he'd do. He didn't have to at all. Angel, oh my darling, how I miss you. I've had one thing on my mind since he died, one thing that I was reminded of again when I dreamt about him a few nights ago, and that is the desire to know where exactly he died so I can go and find his ghost. I won't be able to see or hear him of course, but if I took another vampire with me, they could tell me what he's saying.  

Just the thought of that reduces me to tears all over again though, Miley obviously hearing me and coming straight in. She sits down next to me and puts her arms around me immediately, stroking my greasy hair. I stink like a damned skunk at the moment, since I haven't even washed or cleaned my teeth for the last three days.

"I'm sorry, I just, I..." I begin.

"Shhhhh, don't you dare apologise. You cry all you need to sweetie," she soothes me with, hugging me tighter. Eventually, I rest my head down in her lap, feeling her long fingernails stroking my hair and scalp, which is very soothing. It still doesn't soothe the awful, all-consuming grief I feel inside, but I don't imagine that anything will. This is going to take me a long, long time to get over, losing him. I ache for him, and feeling the little bit of his blood left within me stirring up doesn't help matters at all. I wish it would go away. Some might think it's comforting, feeling the last traces of him glittering through my veins, but it isn't at all. It's horrible, and it's almost taunting too. 'You can feel him, but you will never, ever see him again.'

"Is there anything I can do for you, anything you want me to fetch for you that you need?" she asks softly after a few silent moments.

"Could you get me a juice please?" I ask as I sit up, slumping back against my pillows. Ahmed changed my bed for me the other morning when I was lying on the couch, after he put me there. The smell of Angel all over my sheets was making me hysterical, so he changed them for fresh and washed the others and the smell of my dead boyfriend away. It still hits me like someone throwing a brick right at my heart, when the words echo through my mind. My dead boyfriend.

"Sure, I can. Do you feel like having something to eat yet? I can make you a sandwich or something, Ahmed went and stocked your fridge yesterday.” God, they’re both so wonderful. Thank goodness for them.  

"No, thank you. I'm not hungry." She nods, rubbing my knee affectionately before getting off my bed and exiting. That's been my standard reply when anyone has mentioned food. It's true though, I'm not hungry at all. I know I should eat, but I can't force food I do not want down. I hear a knock at my front door just as Miley opens my bedroom door again, and she runs in to pass me my juice before going to answer it. When she returns, she has Aileen with her.

"Hey lovely girl, how you feeling today?" she asks, carrying in a large, wrapped up Christmas present with her.

"I feel the same as I did yesterday," I sigh, watching her look at me with a little bit of surprise.

"Well, not exactly the same since you're talking to us, but I get what you mean. It was a silly question of me to ask, but you know I have to," she says, putting the gift down at the side of my bed and sitting down, reaching out to stroke my cheek. "I thought I'd bring your Christmas present over and see how you're doing. I was in half minds whether to give it to you, considering the circumstances. I don't want you to get even more upset than you already are, but when I asked Mike about it, he thought it might bring a little smile to your face, so here you are. Happy Christmas, sweetie."  

I have to wonder why I might get upset about it until I begin tearing the paper, and then I see. Beneath it is a framed and beautiful oil painting of me and Angel, done from a photograph Aileen took of us in the bar one night. I'm looking at the candle in front of us, and he has his arm around me kissing my cheek. It's candid and beautiful, just like Aileen's photograph was.

"Oh Aileen, it's absolutely gorgeous. Rosie, you've outdone yourself here," I exclaim, referencing her daughter whose painting style I recognise instantly. She's done a couple for me in the past that I have hung around my home. She's a fabulous artist. A few tears fall down my cheeks as I take it in further, remembering how beautiful to me Angel was, and still is.

"I'm so glad you like it. She put a lot of her spare time into making it look perfect. It was meant to be for the both of you, but..." she trails off, her face saying anything else she could have added with actual words.

"I do, I love it. Thank you." Aileen doesn't stay for long, telling us she's taking little Chloe to see Santa at the mall and then racing back to begin preparing the Christmas day meal. When you've nine children and a grand total of twenty people coming to you for Christmas, well you've got to put in a lot of prep, I guess. Vic always starts the night before too. He called by the day before last, I think. I say I think because I'm having trouble remembering what day we're on half the time. Remember when Edward Norton's character in Fight Club said, 'when you have insomnia, you're never really awake and never really asleep', or words to that effect? That's how I feel. I don't feel like I'm ever one hundred percent awake or asleep. Just after Aileen leaves, my closet door opens and out steps EZ.

"You should go for a bath, you stink," he tells me, but not in a harsh way at all.

"I know, I will do too as I can't imagine a smelly human is pleasant to a vampire's nasal passages," I shrug, half smiling.

"It was more for your sake I suggested it, but if you don't feel like it then I'm not about to pick you up and throw you in the tub. All in your own time.” I nod, my half smile twitching a little more. "Have the wolves been out today?" he then asks.

"They're out right now, I think. Icarus would be here next to me if they weren't," I reply, when suddenly to speak of the devil, in he comes, followed by Thor.

"I'll take them for a walk. Remember, no opening the door to anyone you don't know," he instructs me before leaving, whistling for the wolves who then follow him out.

"Shall I put on a movie for us or something?" Miley suggests, a couple of seconds after he's left.

"No, not yet at least anyway. I'm going to take EZ's advice and throw myself headfirst into the bath. I'll be back in a bit," I tell her, getting up out of bed and heading to the bathroom. I plug the tub and turn on the hot water tap, cleaning my teeth as the water runs and then turning back to add a handful of bath salts. I'm in tears again when I see the cinnamon candles at the corner of the tub that Angel bought for me, and decide to put them in the bin. It's too painful, having memories of him and how wonderful he was dotted around my house. That beautiful painting that Aileen gave me for Christmas, I don’t even know when I'll feel ready and able to hang it up somewhere.

I feel so lost without him, so lonely and sad. I never expected this to happen, I truly didn't. Even if I had expected his death, it still wouldn't have made it any easier to deal with. I have no mourning place for him either, no body or remains to bury. He'd just be a pile of blood and organs on the floor though, so there wouldn't be much to commit to the ground as his final resting place. I suppose his last resting place is inside me, in my heart, where I'll keep him forever. I love him so much.  

Feeling pathetic but not wanting Miley to rush and comfort me again, I cry quietly as I watch the water fill the tub, feeling like my heart is literally dying. I should have had so much longer with him than I had. I'm so glad I was his punisher, that I even met him in the first place, and then as a boyfriend I'm so thankful that I at least got that blissful time with him, where I fell in love with him more as each day passed.  

Taking off my smelly clothes, I put them into the empty laundry basket before sliding into the tub. I don't expect the hot water to make me feel better, but strangely enough, it actually does. What doesn't make me feel better is feeling Angel's blood swell within me again, having to remind myself these little instances mean absolutely nothing at all, and he isn't coming back. I can't wait for them to go away and leave me to grieve in peace, these little flashes of his non-existent energy. I stay in the bath until somewhere around 8pm, just filling up the tub again and again after draining away some of the colder water, until I'm all wrinkly like E.T.

"Hey sugar, are you feeling a little fresher now?" Miley asks me once I've emerged, where I find her sitting down at my small and rarely used living room table playing a game of cards with EZ. I really have to take my hat off to him here, actually being social with my friend.

"I am, yes.” I confirm, turning to EZ. “Thanks for reminding me I stunk.” He then surprises me greatly by moving away from the table and patting his lap in an indication for me to sit on it. I do, and he puts an arm around me and kisses my shoulder before he and Miley continue their game. As it happens, he's teaching her how to play poker.

"Remember what I said about the poker face," he reminds her about five minutes later when she looks excited after picking up a card. She then puts on a face that's meant to be blank, but ends up looking constipated. That rouses the first chuckle from me since Angel died, and I needed it. After they're all done with their game I amble back to bed, Miley in tow and EZ telling us he's going to find himself a feed.

"I remember you said you'd never seen this in full before, so let's watch a classic, it's just about to start," she says, switching on my little TV in my bedroom and tuning in to the old movie Breakfast at Tiffany's, which she's right, I've only ever seen the first half an hour of it. As it turns out, I don't see it all again tonight either, drifting off to sleep about an hour into it. I wake up at 2am, clutching my chest with my heart beating rapidly. I can feel Angel's energy rising up strongly in me, so strongly it woke me up.

"This needs to fucking stop," I gasp, my eyes once again welling up. They're so sore from crying that when my salty tears begin to fall, they sting, causing me to cry more. I grab my cigarettes and creep out past the cot Miley is asleep on (which Ahmed brought with him to sleep on when he was here) before I head out to go and smoke outside.

"Interesting?" I ask EZ, pointing at the television screen in my lounge where a documentary is flickering on the screen.

"I've seen it before, but there's nothing much else of interest on. Do you mind if I read a few of your books?" he asks, picking up the remote and switching the TV off.

"Not at all, you help yourself to whatever you want to read." I say, gesturing to the bookshelf before going outside for my smoke. I sit and smoke three in a row before I feel myself beginning to calm down again, heading back in twenty-five minutes later to find the large vampire lying on my couch engrossed in a book about Napoleon that I myself haven't got round to reading yet. It was a present from Angel. It's yet another reminder of him, my lost and much missed love.

Getting back into bed, my heart begins pounding away again and as a result, means I cannot get to sleep at all, lying awake until 5am, when I begin to finally at least doze a little until 6am, getting up just as EZ creeps in to go to sleep in my closet, and I watch the sun rise on Christmas day. I don't feel very Christmassy at all, and that is how anyone will know something is wrong, since I notoriously love Christmas. I'm in no mood for pretty decorations and presents, though.

"Morning honey, have you been awake for long?" Miley asks, entering the lounge and stretching.

"I didn't sleep much. to be honest. Off and on, little naps really. My heart kept hammering in my chest and keeping me awake. I need some coffee; do you want a cup?" I think now is the time I need to kick my ass into a little productivity.

"Yes please.” She takes a seat while I haul myself up, heading for the kitchen. I get the fright of my life just as I'm about to leave the room, at the exact same time my heart begins to pound again, stopped in my tracks by the words Miley suddenly screams.

"Edie, oh my god, it's Angel!" she cries at the top of her lungs, turning to see her pointing out into my back yard where there, crawling through the grass, with his skin burning because of the sunlight, is my boyfriend. With every emotion from joy and relief to complete and utter amazement and disbelief, my feet propel me across the living room floor, running at the door and flinging it open before hitting the patio and then the turf, my eyes so full of overjoyed tears that I can hardly see where I'm going. When I drop at his side, I just don't know what to do and am hysterical all over again, Miley skidding to a halt by my side and demonstrating some quick thinking when she throws a blanket over him, covering his burning body from the sunlight.

I don’t even know what to do, making hysterical noises as my shaky hands reach for him, then pull back, my heart thundering. “Quick, we need to get him inside.” Miley states, taking over, grabbing his wrists while I take his feet and we run as fast as we possibly can with him, rushing through the lounge and getting him into my bedroom and onto the bed in a very impressive speed for two girls who are half the size of the vampire we’re carrying. Instinct completely takes me over as I turn him onto his back, unfolding the blanket and offering my wrist to his mouth, which he opens, but is just too weak to drop fang and latch on. God knows how far or for how long he travelled through the daylight to get to me.

"Get me a knife, quickly.” Miley nods, scrambling off my bed and running out, returning quickly with a big, sharp carving knife I then use to slit open my wrist, letting the blood drip into his slightly open mouth. My adrenaline is pumping so much it didn't even hurt, to slash my wrist open.

"Come on, honey, feed," I urge him, stroking his head as the tears stream from my eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when his lips begin to suck at the gash in my wrist. He's so badly burned that I soon realise it will take more than what I can physically give him for him to be able to heal properly, and tell that fact to Miley.  

She just nods and takes my hand, pulling it away from Angel's mouth and offering her own wrist, which this time he has the strength to bite down upon, while I press my hand around my wound to stop myself from bleeding everywhere. She lets out a little squeak in pain when he bites into her wrist, but then sits calmly and lets Angel feed from her, watching him miraculously beginning to heal until he looks just as I remember him to, closing his eyes for a few moments before he opens them again, and looks right at me.

"Happy Christmas, baby," he speaks, after sealing Miley's wrist and mine too, making me break down in tears all over again as we hug, the relief that washes through me akin to some kind of supernova as he holds me tightly to his chest, and then kisses me over and over. I hear Miley leave us politely, while I lean against him, floating in bliss. I can’t believe that only a few hours ago I was wishing with everything within me that he could come back, and now here he is, holding me tightly as he moves me to lie on top of him, his hands stroking me all over as we kiss.

"Happy Christmas to you too, you're about the best present I could have wished for!" I exclaim, still crying.

"I asked Santa for a ride here in his sleigh, but that tubby bearded bastard wouldn't offer me one, said I'd scare the reindeer," he then jokes, making me laugh.

"I love you, so much," I tell him, now laughing and crying. I can't switch the tears off, I have too many emotions running through me.

"I love you more." In no time at all, it seems my worst Christmas ever has turned into my best, better than I could have ever hoped for. He’s home. He’s okay. I have my beloved Angel back.