#i think it is overdue i at least say SOMETHING myself

[weirdsketcher]

Free Palestine.

[promise-you-doie]

Second Time | P. Jisung

warnings: none

not proofread, a few grammatical errors

the first time Jisung met you, you had left an imprint on his brain. You weren’t really too different from everyone else he’d met, at least that’s what he kept telling himself.

But really, it wasn’t making sense.

He just couldn’t understand why he kept thinking about you so much, the sweet vanilla perfume you were wearing, and the cherry red lipgloss that stained your pretty puffy lips. Your soft voice and gentle doe eyes.

“Do you need help?” He asks when he sees you reaching for the butterfly encyclopedia on the top shelf. It was then that he noticed the variety of butterflies that you have stamped on you. The silver butterfly claw clip tying half your hair up, the blue butterfly print decorating the front of your shirt, the butterfly necklace hanging around your neck, and the butterfly ring wrapped around your right ring finger.

“No, I got it.” You reply, continuing to reach for the book over the top of your head. yet jisung doesn’t take your “no” for an answer and easily lifts his arm above you to slide the book back out and lower it down to where you can reach it.

You were thankful but shy, so you murmured a “thanks, but I could’ve gotten it myself.”

and Jisung responds with “You’re welcome.” Smiling at your awkward pout. Usually, he was nervous around strangers but something about you compelled him, he wanted to know more. He needed to know more.

Unfortunately, you ran away before he could say anything else or introduce himself.

It took two months for him to see you again.

for the entire two months you occupied his thoughts, every time he saw a butterfly or moth your face came to his mind. Anytime he smelled a vanilla scent he thought of you, when he saw the color red he was reminded of the red lipgloss that covered your lips.

He found himself mindlessly doodling butterflies in his notes and even sitting by the encyclopedias in the student library hoping to see you again. But it’d end up the same every day. He’ll be left slightly kicking his feet against the library carpet and moping about the time he wasted waiting for you when he could’ve been working on his list of overdue assignments.

However it didn’t stop him from doing it again the next day, the day after that, and the day after that.

After so much time had gone past he figured he’d just give up. So he told himself this was the last time, after this he’d continue his life and pass you off as a mere dream.

an hour had passed and then two hours had passed and then three. Jisung looked around in his seat, scanning the entire library from his view. And when he didn’t see you he let out a deep sigh and stood up the chair. Collecting his bag and laptop, he headed towards the exit.

Maybe you were just a dream, a really good dream.

Maybe he’ll be lucky enough to meet you again in a dream, maybe he’ll get your name next time, maybe he’ll get to know more about you.

As he opens the door to the library someone comes rushing in, accidentally running face first into Jisung’s chest and dropping their book on the floor right below his feet.

“I’m sorry.” The soft and familiar voice is the first thing Jisung notices, the butterfly encyclopedia laying on the floor is the second. And the warm sweet vanilla scent was the third. He reaches for the book before you do, securing it tightly in his hands so that you can’t just grab it and run like you did once before.

“thank you” you mutter, hoping that would make him loosen his grip on the book.

It doesn’t.

He refuses to let go until he sees your face. Until he’s sure that it’s you and that you’re real. not some enchanted being that he’d made up in a dream.

When you raise your chin, and lock eyes with his. He knows more than ever that you’re real.

The first time he met you he couldn’t get you off his mind, the second time he met you he knew he was already in love.

“My name is Jisung.” He speaks without any hesitation.

[the-sprog]

Thinking about Hakuba just reaching his limit. He realizes that everyone involved in trying to catch KID has been a bad detective, because everyone (him included. ESPECIALLY him) seems to be obsessed with figuring out the "who?" that they've never stopped to question "why?"

When he confronts Inspector Nakamori he gets told that of course they've investigated his reasonings! That good for nothing thief is just greedy/an adrenaline junkie/does it for the thrill/to humiliate the police/etc.

But Hakuba knows this is not the same Kaito KID as when Inspector Nakamori was first assigned to the case.

He's missing something. And he doesn't know what.

It drives him up the wall. He tries figuring it out at the next few heists, but he comes up with nothing. There's no more clues/information to add to those he already had.

So he does the only logical thing.

Trap everyone involved in catching KID in a room that's ventilated as little as possible and release various pallets of truth serum in gas form. Y'know. Like a reasonable person.

Inspector Nakamori, Conan, Hakuba, and Ran (chaperoning) get caught alongside KID and get a lungful dose of truth serum.

Now, before anyone says anything, I know truth serum isn't an actual thing. The way that it's logicked to work is that it lowers inhibitions, loosens your lips basically, and makes you more susceptible to speaking before you can think about it. But of course, it doesn't actually mean people are forced to answer questions or to tell the truth.

But Hakuba is at the end of his wits.

Gonna write a snippet hold on (future Sprog speaking: this ended up being a full-on one shot. So here's the AO3 link if you want to read there)

"Taking a page out of my book, detective-san?" KID asks, the same cocksure smile ever present on his face. It annoys Hakuba. It always has. It's the same expression for every occasion, no matter what KID is saying or doing.

As long as he's not being someone else.

"It's not knockout gas," Hakuba says. He doesn't yet feel like the words are being ripped out of his mouth, but that's to be expected. He's been preparing for this confrontation. "It's truth serum."

From the corner of his vision he sees Edogawa-kun flinch. He would've given it more attention if he had any to spare.

Kaito KID tilts his head and hums. Hakuba can't see it due to the shadow from KID's hat, but he's sure KID is looking him straight in the eyes.

"Saguru-kun?" Inspector Nakamori is the first to break the silence. "If this is about-"

"Why?" It's as much of a response for the inspector as it is a question directed towards the thief himself. "I've never asked myself that question, when it comes to you. A gross oversight, a mistake unbecoming of someone calling himself a detective."

KID's smile doesn't falter, not that Hakuba expected it to. But the fact he hasn't up and left tells him he at least got the thief curious.

"I've been so caught up in trying to unmask you, that I didn't stop to think about why you do it."

"Saguru-kun-"

"I know what you said, Inspector. But your observations are at least 9 years too old. They don't hold up to the current Kaito KID."

Some silence. To his side, Hakuba can faintly hear Edogawa-kun hyperventilating while Mouri-san tries to calm him down to no success. Edogawa-kun wasn't listening to her, too intent on following the conversation.

And then Inspector Nakamori speaks. "You think this is a copycat? That all this time we've been following a fake?"

"I believe we've been following a legacy," Hakuba answers. "Either that, or something happened during his hiatus that made him change his Modus Operandi."

"My, my, detective-san. I'm flattered to know I spend so much time living in your head," KID gets up. "Well, it's been fun to hear your theories, but I think we should cut this visit short, don't you? I believe the curtain call has been way overdue," he says.

"If you leave you have no way of knowing how long the serum will stay in your system," Hakuba stops him. He can't lose Kaito KID's attention now. "And the rest of the gas that's been stagnating in this room will be released to the audience outside these doors."

That seems to do the trick. "Detective-san! I didn't expect you to be the first one to crack!"

"I want to know why you do it. No one else seems to want to focus on that question."

"I did," comes a voice from his right. Edogawa-kun slaps his hands over his mouth as soon as he registers that the words have left his brain faster than he could control.

"Conan-kun?" Mouri-san asks. She's crouched to be eye level with the kid, but Edogawa-kun's eyes are squeezed shut.

"My littlest critic has once again bested everyone else in this room, hasn't he?" KID chuckles. "Bravo, oh great detective!" He claps his hands. "Bravo!"

Hakuba gets his eyes to focus back on the thief. "So Edogawa-kun noticed something we didn't."

"And neglected to share with the class, it seems." KID shakes his head mockingly. "For shame, great detective. For shame. I thought you were all for truth and justice."

Edogawa-kun opens his eyes enough to glare at Kaito KID, which only succeedes in making the thief's smile sharper.

The mocking tone in KID's voice makes Mouri-san snap her attention on him, glare equally as present on her face. "He's just a child, you perverted thief." Her eyes widen in shock as she realizes what she said.

Kaito KID raises his hands in front of him. "I had to make sure you knew the truth!"

"There were a million other ways you could've done that!"

"Oh, but none would've bothered detective-kun as much as messing with you, now would they?" His smile doesn't falter even as Mouri-san's (and Edogawa-kun's) glare gets more intense.

"He's misdirecting us!" Edogawa-kun points out.

"But you know why he does it."

"The information you need is all there. What kind of two cents detective are you that you can't figure it out on your own?"

"Conan-kun!"

"Ah! Sorry, sorry, Hakuba-niisan! I didn't mean it- that's a lie. I did mean it." He groans when he finishes. "Stupid truth gas!"

"That's very rude, Conan-kun."

"If the child figured it out so easily, then he has a point in calling us out," Inspector Nakamori says.

"He's the highlight of my heists, that's for sure." KID looks caught off guard by his own admission.

He's lowering his guard. Or he's getting nervous.

"Answer the question, KID," Hakuba tries once more.

"You could ask the great detective. He seems to have a deduction ready."

"I want to hear it from you."

"I have a general idea of what could be going on based on observations of the heists I've attended." If anyone is surprised by Edogawa-kun's eloquence, no one says. "I lack a lot of background information, mainly on everything regarding before Kaito KID's hiatus -which my dad refuses to collaborate with me on because he says I have to figure it out myself. Fair, but rude. It's not like I have access to police records of the time." Everyone is staring at him, but Edogawa-kun seems to not have noticed. Or the drug is taking more effect than expected and he truly can't control himself. "And what I have isn't enough to account for all incognitas, and it would be unbecoming of a detective to offer up an incomplete explanation." He finally takes some time to breathe.

Which probably didn't help, considering their air was probably still extremely contaminated.

"And that's why Conan-kun is my favorite critic."

Inspector Nakamori shakes himself out of his stupor and addresses the room. "What's it matter?! He's a thief! A criminal! He should be behind bars, and that's all we need to know!"

Edogawa-kun frowns and answers the rhetorical question before Hakuba himself can. "Establishing a motive is an important step in investigating any criminal offence. It can help discern how and who. In homicide cases, it can make the difference between a premeditated murder and manslaughter."

Mouri-san's eyes haven't left Edogawa-kun's face since the little detective entered the conversation. Hakuba can't discern what she's thinking, but he can tell she's wearing the same face Edogawa-kun has when he's gathering and putting together the clues to a particularly complex trick.

"This is different, kid," inspector Nakamori says condescendingly (his tone isn't lost on Edogawa-kun, judging by how his face contorts). "This is just thievery."

"To neglect any piece during the investigation of a case, would mean to be willing to come to an incorrect or incomplete conclusion," Edogawa-kun answers. "It would mean not caring about the truth behind it."

At this point, Hakuba is just a witnessing, partially slack jawed, how Edogawa-kun goes toe to toe with the Inspector. Kaito KID looks to be enjoying the display, revelling in the chaos caused by it.

"Share it with us, then," he tells Edogawa-kun. "Let's combine our information."

Edogawa-kun takes a sharp breath and shakes his head, jaw and fists clenched tightly.

They were all so focused on Edogawa-kun that none of them notice Kaito KID making his way towards them.

"That's enough terrorizing my littlest critic." KID picks up Edogawa-kun and returns to his spot. Edogawa-kun glares at him alongside Mouri-san, but his looks to be more of an annoyed expression than anger.

"This is humiliating," he says. "I'll have my revenge."

"You still owe me a favor, detective-kun."

"I let you go that one time with the Junior Detectives."

"Pppff, you let me go all the time." KID waves the hand that's not holding Edogawa-kun to his side dismissively. "That doesn't count."

"YOU LET HIM GO?" Inspector Nakamori yells, reminding the two others of their audience. Edogawa-kun startles.

"He saved the Junior Detectives' lives," Edogawa-kun says.

"I don't need him to let me go. I'm perfectly capable of doing my own escapes, thank you very much. He's a child. It's not like he can do much to stop me."

"You don't seem to think so when I have you cornered with a soccer ball."

"Those things are weapons of mass destruction and you shouldn't be allowed to use them!" KID hisses.

Hakuba decides to end their little debate. "We've gotten off topic. My question has yet to be answered."

"It wouldn't be very fun if I just gave you the answer, wouldn't it?" KID says, with his smile still in place. "After all, Conan-kun has spent all this time working to figure it out. It wouldn't be very polite to let his efforts go to waste."

"So you admit it," Hakuba says. "Your motives are different from the previous Kaito KID."

"Or maybe," KID says. "Maybe you've been wrong all along."

Inspector Nakamori takes a step forward. "Saguru-kun was right, then? You're a different Kaito KID than the one from 8 years ago?"

It's the first time Hakuba has ever seen KID's smile falter, and for as fast as he fixed it back on his face, he doesn't think he would've noticed if he hadn't been paying close attention to it in the first place.

Inspector Nakamori curses under his breathe, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

"I don't want KID dead." Edogawa-kun's voice is marely a whisper. The phrase surprises everyone, Edogawa-kun included, who pales when all the attention turns to him.

"All efforts to apprehand Phantom thief 1412 have been non-lethal." Inspector Nakamori attempts to reassure Edogawa-kun. Hakuba frowns in thought. "You knows this, kid."

Hakuba checks his watch. He doesn't have much time to get the truth out of KID with this,and he doubts this method would work again.

"The police is using non-lethal action." Mouri-san's voice is barely audible. She's looking at KID and Edogawa-kun with an unreadable expression on her face. "But... Sonoko said there have been rumors of people hearing gunshots during some of Kaito KID's heists," she says, careful. Her eyes don't leave his face.

Hakuba turns sharply towards he thief. On his face, the same cocksure smile. The same can't be said for Edogawa-kun, who looks seconda away from passing out, his fingers clenching KID's vest tightly. "Someone else wants to get to you," he says. "But... why. I'm still missing something."

"There's plenty of people unhappy with me for stealing their precious gems, you know?" KID boasts, making a rose appear in his hand, making a show of examining it. "It's not so surreal to think people would want to take revenge." The rose turns into the Alexandrite that was that day's target. He holds it up to the sliver of moonlight coming from one of the room's windows.

Inspector Nakamori's eye twitches at the sight, but he holds himself and says, "There isn't any mention of gunshots in any of the official reports of any of Kaito KID's heists."

KID flicks the gemstone up in the air, letting it fall back into Edogawa-kun's hands.

When he sees Edogawa-kun with the gem in his hands, face unsurprised by the gesture, Hakuba feels like a lightbulb lit up. "You give everything back," he mutters. "You give everything back," he says, louder this time. "That's what I've been missing. The privious Kaito KID kept all that he stole, but you give everything back."

"I think that's common knowledge at this point, detective-san."

Hakuba shakes his head. He checks his watch. "Why go all the trouble of stealing the gems if you have no intention of keeping them?"

"The thrill?" Mouri-san and Inspector Nakamori say at the same time.

"That's what they said of the first KID, too. His criminal profile looked at the flashy white suit, the magic tricks, and the general showmenship and called it narcisistic behaviour. Attention seeking," he says. "And that can still apply to you."

"Hey-" the protest goes ignored.

"But that doesn't explain why you decided to give the gems back. Afterall, it's considerably more effort to return them without being seen that it would be to jsut keep them." He takes a step towards the thief. "You're looking for something." Another step. "And the people shooting at you are doing the same. And you don't want them to have it."

"That's an interesting theory, detective-san." KID tries to keep his voice stable, but the prolonged exposure to the serum, combined with the nervousness caused by Hakuba getting closer to the truth, is going its job, and KID's voice wavers.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Late Returns | Dom!Lisa x Sub!Male!Reader

A/N: I sat down today, set a 45 minute timer and told myself: Alright, content, a smutty short. Don't think, write. Well, 45 minutes turned into an entire day and roughly 6 pages of text. Is this graphomania? T/C: Femdom, clothed female nude male/CFNM, facesitting, cunnilingus, electrostimulation, amazon position, use of a condom.

While the Academy of Mondstadt was far from the level of strictness expected in Sumeru, it certainly wasn't easy. Notes, deadlines, classes, practice, essays and books. Books upon books upon books, stacked in every corner of your house. The knowledge they contained was crucial for passing the many exams you had yet to face, making each book priceless - literally, as copies sold to students have price tags that still haunt your sleep. 

The only option was the Favonious Library. 

You couldn't say you were the most diligent of people. That in of itself was bad, but combined with the diligence of the head Librarian, Miss Lisa, it was a nightmare. You did your best to keep track of the due dates - among the mess your studies constantly created - and you succeeded… at first. Later, as the year got more and more hectic, you would forget about tomes and turn them in after the appointed date. It was only due to Lisa's kindness that you were spared from the occasional thousand or two Mora fine. 

Still, you couldn't help but feel she was losing her patience with you. She grew more and more smug, probably knowing that your entire livelihood relied on her not asking for her due payments. She even started calling you a cutie, something you found fairly flustering. You could only hope to stay on the good side…

… but obviously it had to go down sometime. 

This month has been so busy you were forgetting your very own name. By the time you got a grip and took all of the late returns to the library, you knew you had a bomb on your hands. No amount of smiles or tea parties could get you out of this kind of debt. 

“Ah… Sorry, cutie.” Lisa said, browsing through her record book. “These are very overdue I'm afraid. If anybody would see me going easy on you, they would certainly feel unjustly treated…”

You rubbed the back of your head, looking hopefully at her. “Miss Lisa… I don't have much money at the moment… Could I maybe pay in installments?”

She smacked her lips, slowly raising out of her chair. “I'm afraid that won't do. But, if Mora isn't the way, I'll think of other disciplinary means.” You could tell you saw a small flicker in her emerald eyes as she took your hand. “Follow me.”

There was no time to refuse. You sighed in defeat, going along with her as she led you to the back room. Taking your seat at the small table, you watched as she drew a key and locked the door behind you. You swallowed, nervous at what the sorceress had in store for you. 

Lisa drew a piece of paper and tallied up your due, revealing a shocking, six digit sum. How in the world were you to pay that up…

“As I said, we can change it into something less monetary.” Lisa joined her hands on her chest, looking at you from under her wide, purple hat. “You could do library duty, public works, cleaning or, say, help me specifically.” 

You nodded at the last one - it seemed the least strenuous and, if truth were to be told, you loved spending time with her. Even if it wasn't to earn favors. 

“Excellent choice, cutie. Let's start now.”

Lisa approached you, an eager smirk on her lips. With a gentle tug she stood you up from the chair. You could feel her warm breath on your skin, causing it to heat up with a blush, eliciting a chuckle from her. So responsive, she said, as her hands traveled over your arms and down your back, coming to rest on your hips. 

You felt her fingers creep behind the waistband of your pants but lost focus as soon as her lips touched your cheek. Hidden under the wide rim of her hat, Lisa kissed each inch of your cheek, slowly going up to your ear. The tip of her tongue tickled your earlobe, riddling your skin with goosebumps as her other hand continued its quest. Her fingertips rubbed your thighs through the fabric of your boxers, following a trail from the outer to the inner part of your leg. 

While her tongue continued its work, Lisa's other hand found its place behind your pants and with a slight tug, she pulled them down. You meekly took off the article of clothing, letting her hands grope whatever part of you that struck her fancy. She gently raked her nails across the soft fabric covering your buldge, a nervous hum slipping out of your lips. You allow your hands to wrap around her waist, granting her permission to go further. Her index finger starts trailing up and down your clothes cock, swelling up under her gentle tease. Lisa's lips withdraw from your ear and move closer to yours. Your eyelids lower; your head tilts in expectation. You draw closer, so close, you can barely taste her lipstick, almost…

“Ah!”

Your body jumps back on reflex as a spark of electricity goes through your sack. Lisa smirks, seeing you close your legs and grip your package protectively, all with that adorable look of - fittingly - shock on your face. She turns around, humming. 

“Don't forget this is a punishment, cutie~” She flashes you a smug look and turns towards the couch. “Over there, Y/N. Lay back, will you?”

You obey her command, feeling excitement bubble in your veins. Lisa nods in approval. Her hat is removed with gentle touch and placed securely on the large table, the centerpiece of the room. While unbuckles the chain connecting her top, she lets her Vision drop and fall between her bountiful mounds. With a quiet moan, she slowly drags it out by the small chain still attached to it, letting the cold metal drag across her burning hot skin. The clothes are discarded on the table; Lisa steps out of her heels and waltzes up to you. 

“Mm~” She touches the tip of your cock, struggling to break free of its confines. “I have a feeling you're aching to get out of these, aren't you?”

The purple glow in her eyes causes your pulse to jump. Fearing another shock, you clumsily pull down your boxers, getting rid of the shirt for good measure. The witch's gloved hand grips the tip of your shaft, pushing her thumb into the flat of it. You feel your veins bulging under the pressure, causing your dick to throb in her hand. She laughs. 

“Look at this little cutie, so eager for my touch…” She drags her palm across your erection, moving it to rest on your stomach. “But I'm afraid he'll have to wait. Your punishment begins now. Are you ready?”

You nod. 

“Good boy.”

Lisa steps up onto the couch. She stands still for a moment, letting you gawk up at her like a helpless puppy. She turns around, the cloth flaps of her corset doing a painfully good job of hiding her assets. She holds the back one in her hand, revealing a set of black, laced lingerie under. It hugs her fatty thighs tightly, almost threatening to come apart with a crouch. The silk holds firm, though, as her ass lowers and settles right on your face. 

Your nose is pushed into the crevice of her ass, your mouth feeling the pressure of her fatty lips, separate from you only by a thin layer of fabric. You take a breath, and your nose fills with a strong, tangy scent of her arousal, soaking the silk of her panties. 

She shifts her hips, smothering you as she looks for a comfy position. Her attention turns back towards your manhood. Lisa takes pity on your cock and wraps her hand around it, using your chest as a support as she gives it a few test strokes. 

“Who would have thought that a cutie such as yourself carries something so…” She leans down and takes a whiff of your cock, taking in the musky mix of precum and pure lust. “Mm~... Intoxicating in your pants. The thick shaft, the bulging veins, and the delicious, thick head… Ah, I would love to feel it pushing my lips apart as it forces its way into my pussy~ Wouldn't you, too darling?”

You make a noise in response, the words drowning in the fat of her hips. 

“I'm sure you'd love to empty your naughty balls inside me… I've noticed the way you've been looking at me ever since we met, Y/N. Know that I would love to take advantage of that too~”

Lisa brings your cock closer and presses her painted lips tightly to your head. When she pulls back, the lipstick leaves a nice mark of her kiss. 

“But first thing first… Your punishment. For being such a handsome, shy and absolutely tasty little cutie - and for the books of course - you'll eat me out. If you'll be a good, diligent boy, I'm sure I'll have an appetite for a second helping. I'm sure you'll handle it.”

You mumble yes, miss into her ass, your mouth salivating at the prospect. She giggles, wiggling her hips to bury you deeper in. You move your hands to her waist and, as soon as you touch her, you yelp in pain at the zap delivered to your cock. You whine, and immediately off-hand her. 

“Bad boy. Use your teeth.”

Lisa rubs the skin right above your cock, grazing the base with her immaculate nails, promising more if you behave. You open your mouth, bite down on the fabric and, with utmost care, pull it away. The fabric digs into Lisa's skin, exposing her just enough for you to get in. Feeling your way around her slit, it isn't long before you find the wet, expecting lips. With the tip of your tongue as your guide, you slide between her inner lips, feeling the salty taste of her excitement. A few humms of approval escape her lips. You use all of your mouth to fully expose her pussy. 

She doesn't guide you this time, and instead wraps her hand around your cock to signal her satisfaction. You feel her hand squeezing your dick as Lisa pumps it up and down with frustrating deliberation. Knowing that the pleasure or torture of your cock is at stake, you dig in. 

“Ah~!” She moans as your tongue dives between her eager folds. 

You dine, switching between gentle flicks and strong, full licks. As you tunnel between her lips, Lisa cranes her neck back, her blonde hair cascading back as pleasure builds within her. It's not long before her needy cunt demands more and Lisa begins rocking her hips, matching the length and direction of your tongue. Her body heats up, her beautiful, deep moans filling the room. More, she says, now resting on your entire body as your fingers dig into the fat of her ass, stabilizing her hips for better access. Your tongue dances around her bud, sliding between her folds before locking onto the clit, lips wrapping around it and sucking. Lisa whimpers and her grip on your dick becomes tighter. You squirm, pain pulsing through you yet never slowing down your service. Her heart rages in her chest and her breath quickens as she grabs your balls with the other hand. 

“Keep… Mhn~ Keep going now… Don't get… distracted~” Your skin crawls as you sense Electro buzzing between your legs. Your grip becomes tighter, legs trembling as you feel the energy pulse down your cock and spread to each of your nuts. You shift your hips helplessly, desperate to keep your mouth working as your shaft hardens even further, balls churning even more cum at the painful stimulation. 

You feel her thighs growing tighter around your head so, with the last gasps of air you push your tongue into her core. Lisa lets out a gasp as her pussy tightens, her legs trembling around you as you eat her to completion. 

Lisa releases her hands, cutting off the electricity. Your cock throbs and bounces, both relieved and missing the stimulation. Lisa groans as she lifts her ass up, freeing you; you gasp for fresh air, coughing. With half lidded eyes and a dazed smile, Lisa looks back at you. 

“Good job, cutie.” She turns around, taking a seat on your thighs. “You know how to please a lady, don't you?”

You nod weakly, letting your hands drop to your sides. You feel Lisa prop up your aching dick with her slender hand. 

“All that licking, sucking and eating was delightful… yet my body wants more. It looks like I went a little hard on your cock, didn't I, darling?”

She strokes the head of your cock comfortingly. You wince at the sensation, instinctively tightening your thigh muscles as you watch her. 

“Aw, don't be scared. I won't punish you anymore. You did what I asked, didn't you?” She leans down, placing a light kiss on your frenulum. “You're a good boy.”

Relaxing, you lay back and focus on the feeling of her hands going up and down your legs. The calm doesn't last long, however. 

“Legs up, big boy~” 

You raise your head, shooting her a look of confusion. She smiles in response, sliding her hands under your ass and gently pushing up. You go along with her signal and raise your legs. Lisa shifts closer, gently caressing your inner thighs as she fumbles with her corset. Before she drops it, she reaches between her breasts and pulls out a small, brightly colored pack. 

“Miss Lisa…” You say, eyes never leaving her hand as she tears the foil open and pulls out a condom. “Why did you keep it there?”

“For special opportunities like this, of course. A woman has to be prepared for a sweet catch like yourself, doesn't she? It doesn't happen often, but when it does, well… Better be prepared, hm?” she coos as she slides the rubber over your raging hard-on. 

Lisa rises up, pushing her hips against yours. She steps over your legs and squats down, pushing them to hang in the air. Lisa sends you a teasing wink as she reaches under the flaps of fabric hiding her sex and grabs your dick. Your imagination runs wild before it stops completely, mind blanking out as you feel your dick finally sinking into her sloppy cunt. Your vision goes blurry for a brief moment before it's brought back down as Lisa raises up and falls back down. You see stars as your cock slams against her cervix, making you moan in unison. 

Without delay Lisa begins moving her hips up and down, her walls eagerly sucking you in as she fucks you. Her hands hold onto your ankles as her ass plops down on you again and again, the clapping growing sloppiers as each thrust coaxes her insides to drool all over your cock. Holding onto the couch for dear life you moan as she rides you, bent over and completely helpless. You could only moan and whimper in response. Lisa keeps her pace steady, looking down at your flushed face with satisfaction. 

“Such a good boy, letting me fuck you like this~” She says, reaching out to tilt your head up. Your eyes meet. “Now cum, cutie~ Empty your balls inside me~”

Tenderized by her earlier torment, your balls fail to endure her pace and tighten in preparation to bust. Your mouth cannot form a coherent word other than cum. Lisa presses her body flat against yours, holding your cheeks as she pounds you into the couch. 

“Good boy… That's it… Cum for mommy~” she whines out as you safely unload inside her, her slick walls pulsing in rhythm to coax every drop of cum from your body. When you can shoot no more, your tired form goes limp against her. 

She chuckles, placing a kiss on your forehead. She slowly stands up with a satisfied, drawn out whine. You look up only to see the condom gone from your softening cock. Lisa smirks as you look at her for an answer. She lifts her front flap to reveal the end of the condom stuck inside her pussy. 

You follow her as she graciously steps down from the couch and heads towards the table. Lisa picks up her hat, making her way over to the armchair put up against the opposite side of the room. She sits down, resting her legs on the footrest. Her hat is lowered back on its rightful place.

“Consider the fees settled, cutie. But if you’d like to discuss… extended terms, feel free to come in for a cup of hot tea~”

Thanks for reading!

[lightlycareless]

I was on Twitter/X and saw someone mention why Naoya is popular among Japanese fans and a big reason apparently is that he speaks in a cutesy dialect that’s only used by girls. And that it’s the kind of way of speaking where girls can insult you and it’s hard to be offended. And now I can only imagine Y/N reacting to this grown man insulting her in this cute dialect 🤭

Heya anon!!!

Yessssss! I quite recently saw a Tiktok talking about that and thought it was really unexpected, but cute at the same time? Ironic for sure too… guess it explains how he got so popular since even the author has called him a total jerk 😂

Unfortunately, I don’t know much about Kansai dialect, nor think there’s an equivalent to it in English, so I’m guiding myself with how it was translated in the manga, and perhaps my delusions too 😏 in order to write the following.

warnings: none.

The first time you notice his peculiar way of speaking would be when you met him many, many years ago, in jujutsu high. Everything about him was highly enthralling, from his appearance to his background, but when he opened his mouth…

Your curiosity ramped up to even higher levels, longing to know everything about him, as well as see the extent of his “cutesy” talk.

And boy, does it not disappoint.

It would happen unexpectedly one day. Let’s say that after a bunch boring classes you eventually grew very hungry and tired. So, after deciding you were long overdue for a break (and because you hadn’t prepared anything beforehand) you head over to the cafeteria to get something to eat and rest.

… a big mistake, because soon after you finish eating, you begin to feel sick, stomach twisting and churning, to the point you don’t think yourself capable of continuing with the rest of your classes.

Naoya is amongst the few that (vividly) notices your extended absence, and while he will never admit it out loud, he was worried that something bad happened to you, thus, he roamed across the school grounds in hopes of finding you.

When he does, you’re sitting by one of the benches, tightly holding onto your stomach as you debate whether to die there or die on the way to the infirmary.

“What’s wrong with you?” Naoya bluntly asks.

“I…. I think I ate something spoiled.” You whimper, barely able to look him in the eye.

“Does your tummy hurt or something?”

“Yes, it’s awful, it’s like I’m being—my what?” you blink—did you hear that right?

“Your tummy.” He repeats, oblivious to your reaction, far more preoccupied with your health. “Does it hurt?”

“My… tummy…?” A smile begins to part your lips, and suddenly, your pain is all but forgotten. “Did you say tummy??”

“I… I did….?” Naoya says, flustered and unsure whether this is something good or not to admit.

He soon finds the answer.

“How adorable!!” you gush, and by now, Naoya is red as a tomato—because he clearly doesn’t want to be seen as adorable by his crush!

“I said stomach!! I meant to say stomach!!” He rushes to defend himself, but it’s too late now, he’s already admitted to the crime.

“Noooo, you said tummy!!” you continue to jest. “My thummy wurts vewy, vewy, bad Naoya-kun…”

“Ugh, you can die out here for all I care…”

“No, wait Naoya!” you gasp, quickly standing up and reaching for me. “Can you at least accompany me to the infirmary? I’ll forget about this, I swear!”

Of course, you don’t let this go so easily, in fact, when the two start dating you continue teasing him about it—but you just couldn’t help it!! It just comes to him so naturally, you had to bring it up anytime you could, you know?

“Why are you upset? Did daddy get mad at you again?” you ask.

“Yes! That old man can’t keep himself out of my—wait, no—don’t call him daddy!” Naoya stammers, you giggle. He’s not ignorant to the times he’s condescendingly referred to Naobito with a that “nickname”, yet it didn’t mean he’d like to hear you calling him that as well!

“Why? Do you prefer I’d call you daddy?”

His breath hitches, something igniting inside him.

“…Not here.”

“Ok” you smile. “I won’t call you daddy, then, daddy. Wouldn’t want you to get angry at me.”

“… keep instigating me, princess, and I won’t reward you later tonight.”

I think the more you delve into this aspect of his, the more you find it adorable, to the point where you find his words a bit less serious; however, you’d eventually grow accustomed to it, and maybe even adopted some mannerisms of your own 🤭

I know you were referring to Naoya insulting Y/N but honestly I have no idea how it would be... I'm as dry as dry can get when it comes to it :'( but I still hope you were able to enjoy this small scenario! Gotta say, watching him say daddy in the manga was unexpected, but got me thinking what other things he'd say in that way, you know?

ironically, I think he might be the best when talking to children because of that—when he's not being his tsundere/rude self.

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I can't wait to hear how his voice sounds when it's finally animated, I hope they're able to keep his dialect and see what the fuss is all about 🤭😂

Take care, and hope to see you soon!! ❤️❤️

[elderberries-and-honey]

𝙈𝙮 𝘾𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨 & 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜

A while back I received this question asking if I'd mind explaining what my creative process is like and some wanted further explanation about what goes into planning multiple generations & arcs. I do apologize that this is so overdue, and it's literally taken me months to get to. My process is always changing, and I'm constantly adding in pieces that help make the process easier. Because of this, the way I answered the question back then is also quite outdated, at least in terms of how I plan each shoot/post, and I'll hopefully provide further clarification below the cut.

However, first and foremost, I want to say I am by no means an expert and different processes work for different people. Your creative process might look totally different than mine, and that's okay! Whatever keeps you coming back and sharing your work is always going to be the best & most efficient way of doing things.

But I do think it's helpful to get insight into what works for others when you have no clue how to plan things like this, or where to even begin. So, without further ado, here is my process.

Mainly, I use a website called Milanote. It's super helpful for organization purposes, and it's mostly free. They have free templates you can use, or you can make your own. The only downside to it is you're limited on the number of "cards" that are available to you. They do have a promo that you can use where if you get someone else to sign up, you get more cards, which is what I did.

My main folder basically looks like this:

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙀𝘼𝙍𝘾𝙃

The research folder is an unorganized, organized mess and basically just looks like this:

This is where I keep all my resources, and all of the things I've researched for my story. As you can see, this includes various sources like YouTube videos, various articles, quotes, photos and even some music as well. I like having this all in one place so it's easily accessible for me, but you could just easily keep all of this in a Google or Word doc if you're low on 'cards'.

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘼𝙍𝘾𝙎

Next we have these two sections. Obviously, I had to cover them up to avoid spoilers but I did label them to hopefully provide insight. Essentially, for this decade in particular, there are going to be various arcs happening at once, especially since the children will be growing into adults and laying their foundation is going to become crucial to the story. However, I'm trying to limit myself from having too much going on at once, which is why I try to limit myself to only four arcs playing out at once.

I will also say that Plot's A through C are interconnected, or at least they will be eventually, while Plot D concerns one of the children and will impact things later down the line. This is super important for really tying different ideas together, and making sure random plots don't seem to just pop up out of the blue.

The table for myself helps a lot with this, so that I can easily see what arcs have been started, and how many 'scenes' each one has. I find this to be useful because then I know that none of the arcs are stretching too long, which ones might need more fine tuning and which ones have yet to flourish or even begin.

Each arc basically has something like this going from beginning to end, essentially following the classic three act structure. Not all of them have five components, some more or less, but generally it ends up being five. Now, this doesn't mean every plot is only five posts or anything like that. Most of the time, the timeline of events needs to be broken off into bite sized pieces and that's okay.

The resolution doesn't always mean a happy ending, and can also serve as a way for me to introduce any new arcs for a specific character, which would then start the process over. You can kind of think about this when watching a lot of television shows. We watch all this build up starting on episode one, and things get more and more intense until we finally reach the season finale. And then woah, with two minutes left of the episode, we see that the character they just thought was dead is actually alive?! Which then leads us into season two.

I do think planning this way could feel really tedious for some, but I like to map things out before I start introducing any arcs so I at least know it isn't a quick "one shot" plot, something without actual purpose or an arc that doesn't really seem to have any sort of end goal that makes logical sense. It also just helps me remember what everyone's up to, especially when there are so many characters to keep track of.

𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙀

Before I go into the game, I basically write out a "rough draft" of sorts. This includes dialogue, any background noises (things like a clock ticking or the tapping of a pencil), a brief description of each shot/photo (including any post-editing things like adding blur effect), and a summary of what's happening in each panel.

Because I only use one document for this, and clear it out once I complete a scene, I do not have any examples to show from The Baudelaire Legacy, so I created a mock-up scenario in which Ozzy flunks a difficult test at school, as seen below.

Once I have that written, I plug it into my 'scene planning' board. However, I only include the shot/photos, and the short summary. On Milanote, I also plug in the location, time of day, attire and any pose accessories I might need (so that I remember to create an extra outfit for it). This ends up looking like the example below.

I typically will only have this open on my second monitor while I'm shooting the scene, and I just tick the boxes as I go along. This is really nice if you have to stop mid-shoot, and helps me pick up where I left off without getting confused.

I do also edit each panel in-between shooting to make sure I'm getting the shots I want, however, I don't encourage everyone to have Photoshop and Sims 4 open at the same time.

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙎

Then we have the character sheets for each of our characters. Right now, I'm only focusing on Lawrence & Winifred (though, the children's arcs are in a 'idea dump' document).

For me, this is the most important piece of the story. One of the reasons shows like The Sopranos and Breaking Bad are considered some of the best writing in television history, is mostly due to the fact that, in my opinion, they prioritize this as well. It's always good to have a strong character in mind before you begin, and this is because you don't want them to step outside themselves.

Of course, your character can change and bend within their environment or plots happening around them, and they certainly should, but you also need to ask yourself if it's being done logically. Asking yourself, 'Why did they end up this way?', 'How did we get here?' and 'How would this character specifically react to an intense situation, stress or hardship?' is crucial when writing a character that feels alive.

Having something like this helps me build their "character arc" and map it out so no one ends up being left in the dust and makes sure that everyone is important in some way. Each of the children will have a sheet created for them once they reach the teen life state as well.

I also use this page as a way to record any quirks, or habits they have. These don't have to be major or super important either. So for example, on Lawrence's character sheet, I have it written down that he wears glasses to read; a very small thing casual readers probably wouldn't even pay attention to, so it feels like an important detail to me.

𝙈𝙔 𝙎𝙋𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙎𝙃𝙀𝙀𝙏𝙎

In addition to Milanote, I also Google Sheets/Docs. This is where I keep my spreadsheet and write / keep a hard copy of my story.

My spreadsheet is basically broken up into four different tabs - one for the main sims information (the Baudelaire's), side household information, my story posts and my ageing table.

My information tables look something like this:

For story posts, I use @aheathen-conceivably's method of tracking, which you can read about here. The only thing I have added in addition to what she has is a "notes" section, and this where I include any sort of post that doesn't specifically fit into any arc but is still important - things like birthdays, marriages, holidays, etc.

𝙈𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙇𝙇𝘼𝙉𝙀𝙊𝙐𝙎 𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉

In addition to all of these things, I also use Pinterest to create moodboards for each decade, as well as each character. I like to include all sorts of things like any inspiration I'm drawing from (so, things like Greta Gerwig's Little Women or HBO's Gilded Age), photos, quotes, etc.

Annnnd that's basically it! I'm hoping this provides some good insight, and is helpful in some way. I know it seems like a lot, but the more you do it, and the more you plan, the more natural it will start to feel. Again, I am not an expert in any way, and it's always difficult to explain your process in this way (and probably why I put off trying to do so for such a long time). So, please feel free to ask for clarification in regards to any part of the above.

Happy Simming ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃

[pan-imagines-ig]

Don’t Mess With Pan’s Lost Girl p10

Warning: mention of murder? 😂

Word count: 1242

AN: genuinely didn’t think I’d ever be back

——-

Felix tightens his arms around me, squeezing.

I’m screaming, can barely catch my breath, the sobs are covered by the celebratory shouts and singing of Pan’s return. The lost boys don’t care about the childish drama. They don’t care about the very real feelings I’m feeling, neither does Pan, if anything this is all very entertaining for them. They’re just happy to have their precious leader back.

I stopped crying five minutes ago, after about an hour of nonstop tears. My throat is raw and my eyes are stinging. I feel Felix’s lips against the top of my head, leaving gentle kisses, just a sweet gesture and nothing more. Comforting. He’s rocking us slowly, still on the floor, and I feel absolutely drained.

“Water.” My voice not even a whisper.

“Let me get you to bed first” he stands slowly and pulls me up while supporting my arms.

I shuffle to the bed, his arms on either side of me as if waiting for me to collapse again. I gently wave him off as I curl on top of the covers. He folds the other side over me and leave one final, sweet, kiss on my nose before leaving the tent. When he opens the flaps the bright fire light shows shadows of dancing boys. And for a moment, just a fraction of a second, I see Pan in the middle with Wendy. His hands were reaching up to cup her face. The flaps closed before I saw them make contact.

I don’t have enough energy to cry anymore. So I just lay there, numb, waiting for Felix to return.

“I brought you some food too” he returns with a small plate with just a couple things to pick at; some bread, cheese, blueberries, and a cup of water.

I sit up and take the cup so he lays the plate on my lap. I don’t look at it and take slow thoughtless sips of the water.

“Better?” I look up at him and his face softens. He can see that I’ve drained myself of all emotion. “I can kill him for you, we can do it together, if you want” he snickers.

I don’t respond. Just quietly turn my head back towards the boy I once loved. I can see him, the tent is closed, but I can still see him in my mind. It’s racing with the image of his hands on her face, pulling her in, kissing her. I didn’t see it happen but I know it did and the thought is very vivid, projected on the door of the tent.

“Lay with me” my voice is somewhat better now. I put the cup and plate on the floor and get properly under the covers as Felix joins me.

We lay quietly for a while and I can feel my sadness turning to painful anger. My thoughts are racing and my heart pounding.

“Let’s kill her”

——

When I wake up I almost knock over the water and, instead, step on the plate of smelly cheese and smooshy berries. Felix walks in at that moment and lets out a small laugh. I look at him, irritated, as I wipe my foot on my pant leg. I reach for my satchel and my fingers grasp around nothing. I look down at the chair and notice none of my things are where they should be.

“Where-?” I begin looking towards Felix.

“You have to make me a promise before I give your stuff back” Felix says slow and calmly with his hands up.

“Promise what? You can’t just steal my things, who do you think you are?!” My voice is getting louder and I’m getting anger with him.

“Hey, Mariana, I’m your best friends, that’s who. And as your best friend I want to make sure you don’t do something stupid. You said something pretty stupid last night and I just want to make sure you’re in a clear state of mind today”

“Oh come on I wasn’t serious, I’m not gonna kill her!” Is he being for real? He really thinks I’d kill her, Pan would kill me. ‘At least I’d get his attention’

I roll my eyes at myself but Felix takes it personally. “I’m just trying to look out for you, I know you’re not stupid, but I also know you’re not one to hold back your emotions. I don’t want your emotions getting the best of you, this is serious.” He puts one hand on my arm the other brushes through my hair.

I look up at him and let out a calming breath, “ok, I promise. I’m not going to kill her. But I can’t promise I won’t bully her” I say with attitude.

“That’s fine.” He laughs and his smile makes me smile, “Bullying is expected, and I’ll be here to protect you when you inevitably piss Pan off.” Another kiss to the top of my head.

“Alright you gotta stop with those little kisses” I giggle.

“Why? Falling in love with me?” He grins down at me and quickly raises one eye brow.

I can’t help but smile back up at him, shaking my head I response, “I haven’t fallen in love these past couple months, I don’t think it’s gonna happen.”

“Then why do I have to stop?” He says leaning in to give me 1, 2, 3 more soft kisses down to my forehead.

“Cause Pan will kill you.” I say he just smiles and kisses my right cheek. I think it over for a second, ‘maybe making Pan jealous in return won’t hurt’ , “ok fine, it’s cute and makes me happy. Plus, if Pan’s gonna rub Wendy in my face he can’t get mad about a couple sweet nothing kisses.”

“Ok so we’ll bully Wendy and make Pan extremely jealous. We both know there’s nothing between us so it’ll be his fault if he gets overly offended. But are you trying to get him back or just get him mad?” He’s really pondering over this but when he hits me with this question I have to sit down to think.

“I don’t know, I know I want to piss him off, but getting him back isn’t something I’ve thought about in a couple weeks.” Do I want to get back together with him? I hate him right now so it’s hard to imagine how or if I would get him back, but my heart still yearns for him.

“Let’s just head out to practice, mind our own business, go about the day as normal. We probably won’t even see him today. If we do, you can decide in the moment and I’ll be with it.” Felix says reaching out to escort me to the shooting range.

I take his hand and stand from the bed so he can walk me to the hiding spot of my belongings. I quickly slip on my shoes and holster my sword.

We hold hands and swing our arms as we walk to the range, chit-chatting and laughing. I feel the pit of anxiety in my stomach but I’m doing my best to act like everything is ok, Felix makes that easy.

When we get to the range most of the boys are already working through their arrows or up in the obstacle course. We head towards the issue station and I stop still, stomach out my ass, when I see Wendy handing out bows and quivers.

[rosie-b]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤️

Hi @kasienda! Thanks for the ask! 🩷

True Blue - It's not even that close. This is my baby, the AU I've put the most effort into and gotten the best response to. I got to crank up Gabriel's villainy and then had to put myself in his shoes in order to get Marinette to join his side (even just for a while). It was a challenge (still is, since it's not finished yet) that I really enjoyed, and I've loved the comments I've gotten on it! I really adore it when I can know that I'm not the only one who loves my fics, and this is one of the fics that allows me that security.

it's them (again) - Recency bias, partially! The idea for this fic was just so fun to work with, and it required more thought than your average AU since it doesn't really intersect with canon at all. I had to create a whole new world, and limit what I showed for simplicity. I think it worked pretty well! It still doesn't have many hits on AO3 compared to my other works, but I think it's just the side effect of locking my fics (what can I say, I don't enjoy AI stealing my work). When few people respond to my works (like with this one) it makes it harder for me to enjoy them, because I feel like I did something wrong. But this one was born in specific circumstances that allow me to at least temporarily overlook its response, and I think it has a unique charm that I'll keep liking. Plus, for a low number of hits, there's a high corresponding rate of kudos and bookmarks on this fic, which I do find encouraging

Centuries Overdue - Another fun AU to work with! I enjoy writing things that make me think and plan and scheme, I guess. Plus I got to work with two artists on it!! This fic (historical and modern, unique magic elements, plot twist-reliant) was unlike any others I'd written, so it forced me to try new things and grow as a writer. I think it turned out pretty well!

The Bedbug Problem - The last Ladrien fic I had a real blast writing! This was for the ml secret santa exchange, and while I haven't heard whether the fic's recipient liked it, I did, at least. I had fun trying to include certain elements I hoped the recipient would like as well as the ones that would drive the story forward. It always helps when you have similar tastes to the person you're writing for, because it feels like it's partially your gift, too!

Stealing Freedom - This was the first fic I wrote that got a lot of attention (by my standards) and it's one that was a lot of fun to write! It's another fic that was a new style for me at the time and that required me to kind of scheme as I worked my way to the perfect ending. I think I struck a pretty good balance of angst and hurt/comfort where Adrien and Marinette's love for each other basically saves the day, which is one of my favorite things to read. I was really glad that other people liked it, too!

[feotakahari]

The Truth

It's surprising how little I miss having eyes.

“The cane helps a lot,” I tell Bobby. “And if I can't chop carrots for dinner, well, I remember having a husband somewhere around here. I'm sure he could make dinner himself.”

“Isn't there anything you want to see, though?” he asks me. “I'd hate not being able to see your face anymore.”

“I can still touch you,” I say. “I can feel those strong cheekbones, and kiss that mustache you keep forgetting to trim. It's overdue, by the way.”

Bobby doesn't argue further, but I know full well what he would have asked. Out of all the things I could see in the world, was it worth giving it up for one glimpse of the Messenger?

My husband hasn't seen the Truth. That's why he doesn't understand.

–

I was one of the first to see Him, when He came down from the sky. It was a clear blue day when something orange streaked across the sky and landed in the woods behind our house. I went to look at it, while Bobby stayed behind.

I couldn't see Him in motion. No one could. So He'll always be a frozen picture in my memories, with eyes like galaxies, and wondrous, hypnotic tentacles. I fell to my knees, and the world went away.

I ran and stumbled, tripping over tree roots, making my way back to the house. Warm blood dripped down my face, and the Truth sang in my veins.

I crawled on hands and knees up the back steps, too lost in thought to hear Bobby’s movements on the wooden floor of the living room. But he must have turned and looked at me, because he screamed and screamed for so long.

He called 911 and begged for help, saying his wife had lost both her eyes. I couldn't make him understand that I was fine. Better than fine. I'd seen the Truth.

–

“So what's the Truth, then?” Bobby asks me. “Why do you keep talking around it?”

“Because I can't explain it,” I tell him. “It wouldn't make sense to you unless you've seen Him.”

“That's not what truth is, though. Nobody sees the truth. All we can do is think about what we see and try to logic out what the truth is.”

“All you can do,” I say, “because you haven't seen the Truth.”

I hear him sigh. “At least tell me what it's a truth about,” he says. “God? The world? Humanity?”

“Everything,” I tell him. “Everything that's ever existed, and everything that will ever exist.”

“So what's the truth like? Is it beautiful?”

“Beyond anything you can imagine.”

“Then it's not the truth,” he says. “Truth is never pretty. It's always messy and complicated.”

“You're true,” I tell him, “and you're beautiful.”

“Your eyes were beautiful,” he says. “Blue like a lake covered in ice.”

“A sacrifice,” I say. “Something lost, for something gained. The Truth is so much better than my eyes could ever be.”

–

“He's afraid,” I tell the Messenger. “He thinks there's something wrong with me. Something wrong! I feel so complete, but he completes me too. He always has. If I lose him over this . . .”

The Messenger coos at me in a language I don't understand. A tentacle softly pats my head, dripping thick liquid into my hair. I lose myself in the Truth, and all is right with the world again.

–

“I think he hacks your brain,” Bobby tells me. “There's something in your brain that goes 'I've seen the Truth!' It doesn't matter whether what you saw is really true or not.”

“But it is true!” I say. “How do you not get that?”

“Because lying is easy,” he says. “It's hard to solve problems in government, but it's easy for some fresh-faced politician to convince people he'll solve problems. It's hard to run a business, but you can convince venture capitalists you'll be the next big thing and waste their money. I don't think anyone can know the truth about everything, but lying about the truth? Anyone can do that.”

“I can't believe that,” I tell him. “The Truth is more real to me than anything else in the world. I could believe anything is wrong, as long as it's not the Truth.”

“That's what scares me,” he says softly.

–

He doesn't leave a note when he goes to see the Messenger. Thinking back later, I can only guess why he went. Maybe he wanted to do some kind of a test, or maybe he just wanted to understand what was in my head.

I don't realize anything is wrong until I hear the siren.

Brain bleeding, they tell me. Dead before they even got there. The raw, unfiltered Truth met my husband's disbelieving mind, and it killed him.

–

There are some things you just can't do when you're blind. But there's a neighbor who worries about her son. She doesn't understand why he keeps going to see the Messenger. So she puts together the components for me, and she keeps him home that day.

I don't bother hiding it, holding it in my left hand and my cane in my right hand. Everyone who would see it is blind anyway, except the Messenger Himself. And I don't think He’ll recognize what it does.

I don't know how mortal He is. Maybe I won't even hurt Him. But I need to try, and at close range, you don't need that many pounds of explosive to kill someone.

I still believe, and I can't hate Him for enlightening me. But I don't think the Truth is meant for this world. Today, I'll leave the world alongside it.

[stick-ball]

I WAS LOOKING FOR A JEREMY BPD/ANGER ISSUES POST I THOUGJT I HAD SEEN THIS MORNING PLEASE WRITE YOUR HEADCANNONS AGAIN I BEG OF YOU GIVE JEREMY KNOX THE LOVE HE DESERVES

Okay so this is long overdue, but might as well. I guess this is an observation of fandom Jeremy as much as the canon one, so don't come at me.

I dunno read Jeremy as having BPD bcs... bcs honestly have you ever met anyone who has Sunshine shining from their ass? Me neither. Though I have met ppl with severe personality issues who had a coping mechanism like that, of course they weren't young and talented sportsmen looked up to by many ppl and rooted for by many, so they had enough free space and privacy to go absolutely fucked up at other ppl when they were having bad brain hours.

Yes im including myself here.

The name of the game is If I Give Them No Reason to Leave Me They Won't.

Or If I Give Them No Things To Hate Me For They Won't Hurt me.

But spice it up with black and white thinking, paranoia and unhelathy behaviours jumping off the standard spectrum of bottling things out into like, going on a 4 hour run to cool off bcs you are undeserving bcs you are a bad captain bcs you're annoyed at the freshmen bcs they dont care about your shared goals enough and is thay really a them issue? Or is it actually a You issue? Are you blaming others for your own failures again? Look at yourself, you're fucking pathetic, and egoistic at that, you demand things from others but how do you show you care for what others need huh? You think you're a good captain? Keep telling yourself that, before you know it they will all turn against you. Because you're a failure, bcs you cant even make them care? Maybe you're just not a good enough player , or maybe they can see straight through you, see what you are udnerneath the happy exterior. Yo have just not good enough, not trying hard enough, and you want them to look up to.. to That???

Or maybe it is a them issue bcs fuck that, fuck the smiling, fuck the caring, you don't actually care, if they don't care, why would you? 🤔 you don't owe anyone anything you are so done with everyone and everything cant they LEAVE YOU THE FUCK ALONE, HAVENT YOU DONE ENOUGH TO HAVE AT LEAST ONE SMALL THING GO RIGHT ONCE? YOU ARE SO FUCKKNG ANGRY so you have to do something you feel like smashing something, you could, your body is literally a machine, you could show them what you actually think about their Opinions, how pathetic and annoying they are and actually fuck that you have to leave you cant stand being in the same room as them for one second longer.

But the sunshine Jeremy 🌞 exterior slips on so even though you want to crash the doors closed you smile and wave and say something stupid and cheery you even have a fucking spring in your step.

Bcs you're a fucking liar a fucking impostor you can't help it at this point you are a clay figurine that's hollowed out inside.

You are so tired it's like there's a lump of cloth absolutely soaked weighting on your lungs

You actually feel like crying while you wave at alvarez from the stretch of the corridor, making goddamn plans to meet up for group studying maths later in the evening while your lungs constrict holding down a sob.

You hate them all for the next 3 hours.

And then on hour four while you're circling the campus heading back from your walk/jog/run/staring into the distance/jog again you tap into the very comfortable very familiar hating of yourself.

This is a light version of course but I bet Jeremy is that person that dissapears sometimes like at parties ect bcs they are doing some absolutely stupid shit like having sex with a complete stranger or getting drunk but they know enough about the emptiness and self hatred they will feel ten minutes after they succumb to thay behaviour that they learned to do it when the judgment of the ppl who know them won't touch this piece of him. Bcs it feels like a separate piece.

Like he is parcelled into different breeds of fucked up inside and they are all set on a loop in a music playing machine from a highway diner. One song ends another starts you can choose which one if you throw in a dime.

And also we gotta add in the sensory issues, he sees things, he hears them, sometimes he does a dodge while there's nothing coming bcs he thought it was. Some weeks it feels almost he lives from one training to the next bcs he doesn't remember a minute from what's in between. Good thing he taught himself this sunny persona bcs its an autopilot mode that gets him having to answer the least amount of questions when he doesn't fucking remember what happened from 8 am till late afternoon that day.

[visarcana]

In celebration of the miserable realization that I haven't updated in more than a year

I was thinking of how this happened and if I REALLY have done so little on the fic. A lot is going on but that shouldn't be my excuse; I had difficult years before. So what was I doing for the past year?

I published the Folken oneshot here and here (phew, there's at least something).

I do have SOME version of ch 17 ready that I have continually worked on, it's just that it doesn't feel up to my standards. What is worse, I cannot figure out what comes after. I have the CONCEPT and major scenes but the plotholes could sink the whole thing if I'm not careful. I hoped to have this figured out before publishing the next chapter, I usually had, in similar situations before. I wonder if I should just risk it and just go ahead.

I have some scenes that do not exactly fit into the fic at this point BUT I WANT to have them. What do? Force them in there somehow (I did that in the past already)? Create a separate "fic" for them? I feel like such an inexperienced writer when things like this and the previous one slow me down while others can produce chapter after chapter much more regularly.

I did A LOT of translation last year, and it was the hard kind, the novel translation. You kinda have to employ your skills there as a writer, too, besides dedicating buttload of time and patience. Maybe I tired myself out and hit the limits of my creative energy? It certainly feels like it at times. This is something that took me by surprise, in the past, the translation fueled rather than impeded my writing.

I did have some very engaging fic talks with a few of the readers and friends, I'm really thankful for that. They were obviously about the stuff I had already posted but I guess it doesn't hurt to think on the past things again, quite often, an inspiration hits from that. Not to mention motivation, it's incredibly motivational to have someone care about your story, I don't think I even need to say that. I even was lucky to lay my eyes on some fanart for the fic and although I can't say I contributed there such a treat ALWAYS deserves gratitude and mention <3

The questions also helped me understand where my writing is unclear or where it may get confusing. Besides the answers, I had to even look up some photo references and even did some pencil sketches. Although they are not great, it's the only thing that I've drawn in long months.

So, in case someone else wondered about the same things, and since I have some of these answers typed out already (with some of them quite elaborate as usual), I will post the "questions" below.

If there is any interest in any of the answers, I will publish them here. I wouldn't want to spam you otherwise, I mean, I get that it's the new chapter people would want to read, if anything. I can't make any other promises but I'll keep working on that as well. Anyway, an update of this blog was long overdue, so I did at least that.

-- CHAPTER 16

What are “sliders”, “lum”, “Telandir” etc.? Basically, worldbuilding Q/A.

What does Van mean exactly when he says “There are four of you, and you will come down with me peacefully. Or there will be less… if you think you can outrun me.”

Is it “Cyro” or “Cyrien”? How old is he? How does he feel when Hitomi intercepts on him on the way to the command tent and what does his apologetic shrug at the end mean?

What is Hitomi wearing and why does no one pay much attention to her until she speaks up at the war council? Why do the soldiers call her “Private Sweetling”?

How does Van feel about the whole situation with the captives? Are Hitomi’s concerns substantial?

What really happened and what are the physical actions (and reactions) of the characters during the argument taking place in Van’s tent?

What is the meaning of Van and Folken’s conversation about Hitomi, when Folken says his brother “disappoints” him?

What is the meaning of Folken’s “what if I told you I’m done being useful”? What does Van’s reaction to that mean?

Why does Allen see younger himself in Van and what are his regrets?

What does Hitomi mean when she says “everything is shattered”? -- PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

Why does Hitomi so easily accept that Gaea was real after all, when she had been thinking it was a dream for several years?

Why is Hitomi so formal with Millerna at the start? Why is she starting from zero with some of the relationships like Millerna and Van?

Why do people call Hitomi “seeress” in VA?

Are Hitomi’s abilities gone? Why can Van dowse and can anyone do it?

Why does Dornkirk want to separate Van and Hitomi? What is the connection between Lenz’s tasks and the ch15 forest scenes?

Why was there not a scene revealing the reactions of the characters back on Earth to Hitomi’s disappearance?

[phantomram-b00]

To Hell with you

So, I was listening to songs. And then an epiphany hit me hit me harder than this fixation of the show; what if…the roles were reversed? Like what if Azirapahle first said no to the promotion yet Crowley said yes instead? I think I saw a fanfic that did this (I don’t remember) but I wanted to take a crack at this, and I feel like I want to cry myself so imma do a fanfic of it, hope you enjoy. And if you still haven’t seen good omens season too, this will contain that so uh spoiler warning ahead. Have fun!

Aziraphale was just done talking with Nina and Maggie just a while ago whilst Crowley walk away; while profusely apologizing for the whole ordeal both for last night and overall, they did give him advice on his love life. Something he never thought he could describe it given their status from their opposing side, but he’ve been in love with Crowley since 1941, so the label wasn’t exactly far off. But nothing official, and thanks to their advice, he though maybe they can? Why not? To hell with both parties that been trying to separate them for millennia now they’re on their own side.

“Right! Let me at least tidy this up before he comes” he spoke to himself while he put some books in their respective spots as well covered the symbol on the floor and make sure nothing was out of the ordinary. Oh ironic given their day to day life on earth. As he does so, he start preparing for the talk as he turn the sign on the front to “very closed”

“Okay, so Crowley!” He chuckled as he talks to himself yet again. “There something I must tell you about, I think it been long overdue for the past 6000 years at this point. And I know I’ve told you you go to fast but-“

He shook his head throwing away that thought like a piece of crumbled paper. That won’t do at all.

“Crowley! Wily serpent! I believe there are thing to be discussed about if that all the same to you…” he said as he put the Jane Austen book in order since Gabriel- err Jim decided to put them away separate by the first sentence they start it. Oh how problematic that organization was it nearly discorperated him the second time. “So we’ve known each other for quite a long time, at this point in time we can even guess each other sentences or predict other moves like Agnes Nutter.” He laughs. “W-well, what I’ve been meaning to say is, w-well, remember when I told you you go to fast? Well, I think I want to retract that statement since I think we can go fast, faster than a rollercoaster as Buddy Holly said-“

He again shook his head, and threw that idea away. But he blushes just thinking about Crowley, how he does want them to make it happen finally, been waiting since 1941 or maybe even longer; his mind begin to wonder around, become a habit for him at this point. He began to think about their life, all the time they’ve been together. Always a risk to be together but deep down, Aziraphale would take that risk all day to see Crowley, the one person that didn’t treat him like an annoyance or dare judge him but instead treated him like an equal, the one person that he would rather dine at the ritz and go on many restaurants with, the one person that he would maybe one day want to live with for all eternity. That feel more like heaven in his eyes than the actual place. In retrospect, he wished if it wasn’t for their side that maybe they could been more braver. Or at least he could’ve been. But he had a smile, maybe they can be now? And they can make up for lost time? And maybe one day, they can move into a cottage? Oh he can never be bored of living with him for all eternity. It make him more giddy just thinking about that possibility.

“Crowley!” He started again. “We need to talk, but I think maybe, this would be best suited if we go to St. James park? You’ve always love that place with the ducks. We can get frozen peas. And we can talk as we sit? Or if you prefer, we can dine at the ritz? I can feel an reservation was just open for two” he giggles while hugging the first edition Jane Erye by Charlotte Brontë. “Or maybe, we can talk here, and have drinks? I’ve got an expensive—“

Ding

Aziraphale look at the door and see Crowley back, couldn’t content his smile even if he tries.

“Crowley!” He said putting the book down and walking over to him.

“Angel” said giving him a smile back in return. He take off his glasses to reveal his Sunny eyes. “Listen angel, there something I need to talk to you about.”

“So do I!” He chuckled lovingly whilst look at his sun. “funny how two minds think alike, but I think first I would like to ask you if-“

“Hold that thought for just a moment angel,” Crowley said as aziraphale stopped his laughter. “Listen, Shax and I talked.”

“I’m quite aware, seen you guys had much to talk about despite what the stunt she pulled.” Aziraphale spoke. “Nearly started a war.”

“Right yeah, uh, so, during the talk, she granted me something. And, well, okay cutting to the chase here angel, she want me to be Duke of hell.”

“Oh.” He said taken aback. “Surely you said no didn’t you? I mean you always complained about how they’re the worst and not to mention that they even have a sign on not licking walls? Frankly you saying…”

He stop to look at Crowley face, reading it carefully like it was one of his books. Only this time he does not appreciate this sudden twist.

“Crowley please tell me…” he choked out. “Please..”

“Angel, maybe I can make this right. If I’m Duke of hell-“

“Oh Crowley” he look away running his finger through his white hair. He then lightly laugh. “Please tell me this is one of your devilish jokes you wily serpent!”

“Shax said…she said I can even bring you down to hell with me. We can make hell nicer, no, we can make hell a better. We can even maybe prevent whatever is happening—“

“Ohhhhhh! Crowley I thought you were better than this.” Aziraphale said choking back the tears. “You should be better than that Crowley!”

“Angel—“

“If I didn’t need heaven then it fairly certain that I don’t need hell neither!” He paced around trying to calm himself but avoiding his eyes. “You know Heaven told me to come back to them with a promotion to be supreme angel before this whole Gabriel and I said “no I will certainly not go back to you” and you shouldn’t neither.”

“Well of course you said no angel, heaven are a bunch of self-righteous arseholes and certainly no better than hell I’ll tell you that much.” Aziraphale face continues to be horrified. “But hell, I know hell isn’t the best neither but angel, if you’re by my side, we can make it better.”

“Crowley are you realizing that if hell ends life here on earth it be just as dead as if heaven ended it.” Azirapahle said this time he open the flood gates and tears are streaming down with his voice cracking. “Crowley… tell me you said no.”

Crowley tries his best to choke back his tears too. Seeing his angel distraught was the last thing to see. The last thing he ever wanted to do. He look away from aziraphale feeling his heart growing heavier the more this conversation prolongs.

“Crowley…?” Aziraphale said not even trying to wipe his golden tears away.

“Angel. Maybe I can make an actual difference. I can try to stop it.”

Aziraphale shook his head, he was too shocked yet to upset to form any form of a sentence. His glossy eyes was enough for Crowley to start his water works, he look away once more. Aziraphale turn around and let out a sigh.

“Right guess you got everything out then, it my turn to say my piece—“ despite this, Crowley waited patiently. “We’ve known one another for quite a long time. We’ve been on this planet more than the human that roam on earth. We can always rely on one another and we can or at least I had hoped we trusted each other. We’re on our own side as you said even four years ago at the ritz. To hear those words was more heavenly than what heaven could’ve ever offered to me.” He feel his heart growing heavier. “And I would love it if we—“ he stop again as he feel his tear roll down his cheeks once more. “Crowley, how is it that Beelzebub and Gabriel can go off to Alpha Centauri, the place you yourself have been dying to run off, then we could too right? Just the two of us.” Crowley wanted to smile, but he was too distraught himself to bring himself to do so. “You’ve always said, that we don’t need heaven or hell, they’re toxic Crowley! We can still run like you always said, we can even go to Alpha Centauri with them” Crowley shook his head repeatedly. “We can— what why are you saying what is it?” He said showing curiosity and concern.

“Angel then come with me. I can run it and you can be right by my side. We can make a different please.” Crowley said pleading now. He want to cup his hand on his face wiping away those golden tears, but even when he toke a step, aziraphale toke a step back shaking his head.

“You can’t leave—“ me. “You can’t leave this bookshop.”

Crowley would never want to leave him alone. He would do anything to stop time just to stay in this bookshop for all eternity with him, basking in their love they been so desperately trying to achieve. To listen to angel’s ramble of a book he know he read for the millionth time. To have quality time with him whether it just them drinking wine or even just them holding each other in their embrace while they listen to classical music to bebop as azirapahle would call his taste. But that not what he said did he?

“Oh Aziraphale..” Crowley said giving a sadden smile. “Nothing last forever.” He wanted to kick himself just for saying those fatal words. The words that finally push azirapahle over the edge as now he can’t hold back. He hold his hand in his face as he let it out, just for a moment. Even in that moment, Crowley want to hug him. But he stopped after a moment, as to try to revert back to his calm demeanor.

“No.” He said grabbing his glasses and giving it back to Crowley. “I suppose you’re right about that one.” Crowley look as he see the glasses. Trying to process what he was even doing. “I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors.”

He proceed to walk out of his own bookshop.

“Best of luck..” then it hits him. “Angel!” He doesn’t stop walking away. “Aziraphale come back!” Aziraphale turn around, he was completely drained. His angelic happiness is no where to be found in his hazel blue eyes. “Work with me.” He still pleads, even aziraphale let out a sigh as he continues. “To hell..we can be on our side even down there. Doing our own things down there.” Aziraphale wince from that sentence as he look away to avoid his eyes. “I-I need you aziraphale!” He finally said which prompted him to finally look at him. Both their watery eyes met. It felt like time stopped again. Maybe Crowley finally convinced him. Maybe they can be in their side even in hell. Maybe they could make things better. Him and Aziraphale against them—“you have to understand what I’m trying to offer here Angel..”

“Oh I think I know quiet well. Maybe even more than you can Crowley.” He said. But he realize it wasn’t his usual tone. He sounded apathetic. Is this really it? This shouldn’t be. Why does it feel…

“Well. If that the case, is there really anything else to say at this point?” Crowley said as he put on his glasses as his tears starts to appear yet again.

“Listen.” Aziraphale said pointing up. “Can you hear anything?”

“No. Angel what are you trying to…”

“That’s exactly my point. No nightingale.” He said, that was it for him. He feel he can’t hold it back any longer. “You stupid snake. We could have been us.” Aziraphale said emphasizing on the term us. Crowley looked away to let tears run, even closing his eyes to hope it be all over. But then he felt his lapel of his blazer being pull and the feeling of soft lips pressed again his own. His eyes shock open as he see aziraphale. Principality. Angel of the eastern gate. Kiss him. This wasn’t what he expected their first to be, not one where tears are mixing with each others. He wanted it to be more romantic, more on a happier note. One that both can enjoy. Not this. Not when his angel is obviously hurt. Oh Satan, what have he done. He lift his hands couple times but he was able to place his hand behind Aziraphale’s back and kiss back. He felt his head spin around like all the planets he created, can feel like he seeing stars he help create. And here he is, kissing the biggest star he’ve every laid his eyes on.

Soon they pull away from each other, Crowley having to catch his breath, not hiding his cries anymore. Aziraphale just stand there in hope, can this finally convince him? Crowley look at Azirapahle, many emotion can be battling each other, anger, lament, happiness, shocked? Maybe all above.

“I…I…” love you. Do it again. “TO HELL WITH YOU” he wanted to cover his mouth. Why did he let them escape. Where the soap when you need it. Aziraphale let out a silent gasp as golden tears escape him once more.

“I forgive you.” Aziraphale said walking out of the bookshop.

“Wait angel!”

He walks out of the bookshop, he almost push people down, forget for a moment that London can get busy. He look around to try to find him. “Aziraphale! Please, come back!”

No avail. He can’t find him anywhere, no white haired tartan wearing angel. He feel down to his knees.

“What have I done?” He said to himself. His scales emerged feeling intense emotions, he wanted to scream as he feel smoke coming out of him.

“Crowley?” He look up and see Shax. “Right, I take it he didn’t take it well.”

“What do you think?” Shax was gonna talk again before he stop her. He stands up “Right don’t answer that. Let just go.” He said drained. Feeling empty. Betrayed.

“Jolly good. Now I will say, I’ve heard word from upstairs.” Shax said as they walk, Crowley look at her but not in interest but he had to know.

“And what do the holier than thou angel say?”

“Well. Something about ahhh. The second coming as they like to call it. We got a role in this too, so best get a move on” Shax chuckled as she walked as she talked more about this role. Crowley stopped. He turn around just for a moment and see Aziraphale, he was far away about to turn the corner. But he can easily see that he left enough room for him to come with him to walk, the finale plead. He can’t make out what his expression was but it didn’t matter, he look at him one last time. Before he start walking backward and turning back to Shax. Completely disappearing from the crowd. “You know. Pity your boyfriend didn’t come. Me and Furfur were betting on it, guess no matter. We got work to do.” He stopped listen as she went on. He wanted more than anything to just run back to him. He wished he didn’t take this. But part of him felt that maybe he can still try. If not fro earth, for aziraphale. To keep him safe as he try to stop this plan. To stop armageddon from happening once more. Even if that meant he can’t see Aziraphale ever again.

Meanwhile Aziraphale just nodded. Understand this was it. It truly was over. He saw Maggie and Nina walk away holding hands as if God was rubbing salt in his wound. He then see Muriel waving at him in glee. He would’ve wave back in mutual respect but not now. Not today. He just walked away leaving them feeling concern. Aziraphale walked, unsure where exactly he walking to but his feet keep moving so he might as well walk wherever his shattered heart take him. He then heard a radio from one of the stores singing the song. That song meant for them.

Snap

Just like that the song stopped. He continues to walk. Walk as far as he can. As golden tears fall once more.

(Reference for the golden tears and Sunny eyes)

[angelasscribbles]

One Night in Cordonia Chapter 1: Anton Severus

Series: One Night in Cordonia, a @choicesprompts Round Robin Event.

Fandom: TRR so far, but others could be added in

Pairings: Remains to be seen

Word Count: 1,027

Rating: MA

Warnings: language, plots of violence

NEXT WRITER: @aussiegurl1234

The night was still on the hilltop overlooking the rolling vineyards of the Beaumont estate in the heart of Ramsford near the eastern border of the small Mediterranean county of Cordonia.

Anton Severus stood in the warm night air directing troop movements. The soldiers under his command were a mix of those loyal to Sons of the Earth and those that sold their guns, and their loyalty, to the highest bidder. Mercenaries. Not the most savory thing, but a necessary evil. The ends would justify the means. And he had those ends in sight.

“You have the gas?” He asked his second in command.

Claudius Pinkernickle, his right-hand man, nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“Good, good. Deploy it through the air vents. Everyone who’s anyone in Cordonian society is in there tonight. It’s imperative we take out not only the members of the royal family but any Rys loyalists as well.”

It was the night of the annual Beaumont Bash and Anton was ready to take his place as the rightful ruler of Cordonia….by any means necessary.

“What does the gas do, exactly?” Claudius inquired.

“Well, it’s never been tested before,” Anton explained, “Which is why we got such a good deal on it! But it’s a nerve agent, it should shut down the central nervous system…or did he say the limbic system? At any rate, people should die, or at least become incapacitated and then we can swoop in and do clean up.”

“All our troops have been supplied with gas masks,” Claudius told him, “So we’ll deploy the gas, wait about twenty to thirty minutes then breach.”

“Sounds good. Tonight will go down in the history books, Claude and you were here to see it, to participate in it! Something to tell your children and grandchildren about!” Anton puffed his chest out, pride coloring his words.

“Yeah, sure, boss,” Claudius hoped his reply was convincing. He was never planning to have children, but more importantly, he had his own personal agenda for being here tonight that had nothing to do with politics. He could give a rat’s ass less who was king. He had a personal matter to attend to that was long overdue and he intended to rectify that tonight.

“Just remember,” Anton reminded him, “The only member of the nobility that makes it out alive is Duchess Olivia Nevrakis. She must not be harmed in any way! She’s the key to this whole thing. Everything hinges on her. Bring her directly to me.”

Anton wondered if Olivia remembered him. It had been many years since their last encounter. It would certainly make things easier if she cooperated.

“I’ll lead the advanced team myself,” Claudius assured him, “We’ll go in ten minutes after deployment and bring the duchess out.” Hopefully by subterfuge, but he wasn’t above physical coercion.

Anton checked his watch. “T-minus fifteen minutes to deployment.”

Claudius checked in with his team via earpiece, “All troops are in position.”

“Excellent!” Anton rubbed his hands together, exactly like a villain in a melodrama, “Almost there. Nothing can stop me now!”

Meanwhile, down the hill and inside the sprawling Beaumont estate, the party was in full swing.

“I’m just saying,” mumbled a drunk Penelope, “how do we know we’re not lesbians if we don’t try?”

“You make a valid point,” her companion replied, “let me take that bottle of champagne, I think you’ve had enough.”

The crown prince of Cordonia stood near the chocolate fountain nervously adjusting his tie. The object of his affection was within his sight yet he was still hesitant to make his move. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, other than a crippling fear of rejection. Which seemed preposterous given his position in the social order. But then, he had gone and fallen for someone who didn’t care about any of that.

A horse trotted through the grand ballroom and peacocks ran freely up and down the grand staircase.

Bertrand Beaumont smiled broadly at the sight. It was going to be a night to remember. All of Cordonia would be talking about for months to come, he was sure of it. The reputation of House Beaumont was safe, despite the disastrous news story Ana De Luca had published last month. He shook his head sourly at the memory. None of it had been true.

He blamed Maxwell.

Upstairs, Olivia laughed as she lifted a crystal champagne flute to her lips.

“Liv!” A familiar voice interrupted her conversation, “What are you doing up here? And with him?”

She opened her mouth to respond then closed it as several soft thumps sounded above their heads. As if several people had just landed on the roof. Which was utterly absurd. Wasn’t it?

She turned back to her companion, “Please tell me security hasn’t been skimped on for this event.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean? Did you not hear that noise? And what….what’s that smell?”

They all three looked up as a low hissing sound drew their attention to the air vents, tendrils of smoke curling out of them and spreading through the room.

“What the hell?”

The hissing sound grew louder, along with a metallic groaning before all the air vents in the estate blew outward and the smoke rolled heavily through the rooms and hallways.

People ran screaming and gasping for air, looking for exits but the smoke obscured their visibility and the inebriated state of many of the guests served to further turn them around and send them wandering in the wrong direction.

Olivia was halfway down the grand staircase, breathing into her skirt to filter the air when the smoke parted and three men with gas masks approached her.

“It’s her!”

“We need you to come with us.”

“We’re here to help.”

Olivia’s eyes grew big as she saw a gloved hand reaching out toward her at the same time she heard footsteps pounding down the stairs behind her.

Her head swiveled back and forth taking in the scene in front of her and the one behind her.

A slow smile spread across her face as a course of action presented itself to her.

[lavendarlily]

@phicphight fill #2!

for @balshumetsbaragouin

one foot after the other

prompt: PR041 - Vlad finally gets therapy.

words: 1,578

click here to read on ao3

after the events of phantom's release, vlad feels something different. he chooses to follow it.

Vlad looks in the mirror. 

Not much has changed, not really. At least, not like this.

He lifts his shirt and stares at the long scar across his chest. A faint blue glow outlines the edges of it, pulsing in time with the vibrating of his core. It is a permanent reminder of the first step - a painful, overdue one. 

Now what? What is the second step? The third? How does a man change?    

With a grimace, Vlad pulls his shirt back down and throws on his coat. Perhaps… it was time to make a visit. 

Your future is now entirely in your hands.

A second chance. Something every human could only dream of. For Vlad, it is real. He could leave his home without worrying about a global manhunt. He could make amends with Jack and Maddie, rekindle the friendship they once had. He could fix his relationship with Danielle, invite her to live with him and have a sense of stability. Perhaps there was even room to gain Daniel’s trust and offer his resources as the elder halfa.  

On his way out, he passes his bedroom, and Vlad stiffens his gait. While Phantom was in fact as much of Vlad as he is Daniel, a chasm spans between the two, and Vlad starts to give up on ever having any kind of relationship with the boy. 

The only other thing they share is the long glowing scar.

Driving to the Fenton’s takes long enough for Vlad to question this idea four times and consider turning around two of those times. Maybe if he had another few miles to talk himself out of it a fifth time, he would’ve called it. But there he is, standing in front of the obnoxious orange sign indicating he’d indeed arrived at the residence of his college acquaintances. He rasises his fist to knock on the door, then pauses.

I should’ve called. I shouldn’t be here. Why am I here? 

He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and raps his knuckles on the door. 

In just the few seconds it takes for the knob to turn, Vlad goes back and forth on the possibility of just turning invisible and flying off, saving himself the embarrassment of what he’d come for. 

“Vlad.”

Through one word it’s clearly communicated he is not welcome, but the young woman standing in front of him is the only reason he dares to chance this visit. 

“Jasmine, I-”

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing here. Just because my parents don’t remember the awful stunt you pulled doesn’t mean you can just come back here and mess with them more. Danny’s not here either, so whatever you came here for you can forget it.”

Vlad waits, hesitant to move forward with his plan, but by God, he needs this. 

“I came to talk to you, actually,” he states calmly. “I,” he wrings his hands together nervously, “have some questions about psychology.”

She stares back at him dubiously. “So what, you’ve moved on to mind control? Psychological warfare? Just because-”

“Jasmine, please. It’s for… for myself. To be better.” He clears his throat. “I want to be better.”

He watches the gears turn in her head, her mouth forming a little ‘o’. For better or worse, she opens the door wider and steps aside for Vlad to enter. 

“No one’s home,” she says, closing the door behind them. “But you should make it quick.” Jazz walks into the living room and sits on the couch expectantly. Vlad swallows the lump in his throat and wisely takes a seat in the chair across the room. 

“Well, I may as well jump right into it then,” he starts. “Ever since the events of,” he waves his hand around, trying to find the words, “Phantom, I suppose we’ll call it, I’ve made some realizations.”

“I do not want to be burdened by my past. I’ve been given the miracle of a second chance, and I understand that I cannot repeat the same mistakes lest I arrive at the same miserable conclusion. Yet I feel I cannot pursue the traditional means of therapy, for the circumstances of my life do not bode well with the openness necessary to achieve the results I need, if you catch my meaning.”

Vlad sighs. “Jasmine - I was hoping you could point me in the right direction so I may begin my journey to heal not only myself, but those I’ve hurt in the process.” 

“I have to say, it’s incredible that someone as dense as yourself could accept the fact they need to pursue psychological resources,” Jasmine says. “So I guess I shouldn’t waste this opportunity of a medical miracle.” 

It takes everything in him to ignore the jab.

“My mom knows someone dabbling in a newer approach to treating mental illnesses. It’s not widely accepted yet, but I think it’s your best chance. I’ll see if she’d consider referring you.” The young woman stands, signaling the end of the conversation. 

“My dear child, I would appreciate nothing more.”

—-------

A few days later a call comes in from Maddie’s friend. Jasmine had come through in the end, though Vlad isn’t prepared for what the physician suggests. Yet after a thorough conversation over the phone, he hangs up having scheduled an evaluation. 

Three weeks later, he’s in his bed, a small pill in his hand. It sits heavy in his palm. So much riding on this one little drug. So many questions to be answered, so many revelations to be had. So much hope for the closure he sought after.

If it worked. 

Vlad pushes the doubt away - this would work. He’s prepared for it, put in the effort, has approached this with an open mind. Otherwise, the alternative would be to stay in his current reality, doomed to a life that he can’t stand.  

He takes the pill, lies down, and closes his eyes, sliding on his eye mask.

The effects start slowly - Vlad gradually eases into a relaxed state, much more relaxed than he’d felt since the time glitches and release of Phantom. It reminds him a bit of the old days, when he and Jack would work together in the college lab, too engrossed in their work to chat, but still enjoying each other’s company. 

The sense of relaxation grows until Vlad feels like he’s actually floating; he grasps at his sheets to make sure he hasn’t accidentally levitated himself off the bed. He lets his mind wander back to the times of working with Jack. How they’d shared breakthroughs, offered advice, celebrated big wins by going out to their favorite diner for a drink and a slice of pie. There was so much happiness in those memories, memories that Vlad had buried deep after his accident. Why had he done that? Revisiting those moments now is a breath of fresh air, a reminder of hope, of what life could be like. 

Then there were the days where Maddie was in the labs with them. Her inquisitive nature and undying curiosity captivated Vlad. She brought a new life to the sterile four walls they shared. There was so much Vlad learned from her - both in regards to ectosciences and life. There was a point in time he couldn’t imagine living life without his two friends beside him. Never did he think he’d lose them both. 

How did he deserve their friendship? What did they see in him? Who was that person, and where did he go? 

Why did Vlad let him go?

He can almost physically see the two paths in front of him. One, the very road he’d taken, filled with bitterness, vengeance, hurt. Turned-down wedding invitations, offers to visit and meet his niece and nephew, thrown out birthday cards and well-meaning gifts. 

The other path - uncharted and untouched. Filled with light, love, warmth. He wants to reach for it, take the first step forward and burst into a sprint towards whatever waits for him at the end, but the gates are locked and he doesn’t have the key. Yet he can’t find it in himself to be frustrated. He only finds hope that the path exists. There was a key out there somewhere. He just had to find it. Vlad focused on the idea of possibility and opportunity rather than outrage at the bump in the road. And he realized there’s a weight lifted off of him. 

It’s incredibly gratifying. 

Vlad is a smart man. He can put two and two together. In this instance, he finds the first clues towards the key: patience and acceptance. Everything needs time. Trying to get what he wants when he wants has only brought pain and suffering throughout his life. While he’d thought he’d been resourceful and ambitious throughout his life, Vlad now sees it for what it is: selfishness. 

Another weight is lifted.

It’s marvelous. 

All too soon, Vlad feels the pull of gravity bring him back to reality. He slowly rises, placing the eye mask on his nightstand. He heads to the kitchen, fills a kettle and puts it on the stove top, then starts a fire in the fireplace of his study. Once the kettle begins screaming, Vlad returns to the kitchen to make his tea and settles himself in front of the fire. The flames are vibrant and hypnotic, and he wonders if he’s actually come out of his state of altered consciousness.

He sits. 

He thinks. 

He hopes.

[thistransient]

obligatory retrospection 2023

I was holding off on it for a while, but now perhaps it's time for the annual retrospection. (It did occur to me that there is some overlap with the birthday introspection, although that one doesn't usually come with goals or anything). Apparently my main aspiration was to finish reading 天官賜福, with some general wistfulness in the direction of having more physical contact, getting a job, and the cessation of some unproductive infatuation I was suffering. Well, 3 out of 4 ain't bad, although the job was kind of the most important one...well, can't win 'em all. (Very amusing in hindsight that I thought the human touch part would involve "massage class or something" and not "exploring the rope bondage scene").

This year was not quite as eventful as the last one. I did travel a bit more on account of the visa runs and people I showed around. Going to Korea again for the first time in ten years definitely had some sort of closure effect on me, and I felt surprisingly changed (for the better) by the experience. I finished Chinese class (mainly on the basis that there was none left to take at my language school and I was too tired to transfer to another one), finally ended things with my tutor (long overdue), experienced the rise and fall of a friendship (which I'm still processing), survived a visit from my father and enjoyed a visit from an old friend. I think I can say I've biked all the Taipei and New Taipei City riverside bike paths (Google maps is not the most reliable for these things, however.) I started going to counseling in a proactive way, not a rock-bottom way, which has been interesting. I had a brief go at the dating app thing, which mainly served to put me off the dating app thing (gonna go back to leaving it up to 緣分). I bought a silly shirt at the night market, and also went to KTV in Taiwan for the first time. I slowly trained myself to go to unfamiliar events and the bdsm bar alone (inspiring confusion in extroverts and envy in fellow anxious people). I got my instant noodle habit down to twice a week at max. I propagated too many plant clippings from the park. It didn't feel like like I was doing much from day to day, but looking back, I think I was getting myself back in order (my persistent headaches and migraines I had for so much of the previous year went away!).

This year my main goal is to finish reading the Chinese translation of 黃金神威 / Golden Kamuy. I'm at 9 of 30 volumes right now, which I get from the library because 1) I have to put them on order (the thrill of anticipation) 2) I have to take a walk to the library to retrieve them (getting out of the house) and 3) there's a due date to force me to finish them in a timely manner (unlike all the other books I own which sit unread in various drawers and corners).

I came to the conclusion that my best chance at employment in Taiwan that doesn't involve teaching children requires getting a graduate degree (which would also serve to get me residency, and perhaps convince my family I'm not going to be a ne'er-do-well forever). I have actually applied for a program- the only one I was interested in that was also manageable to apply for this admission cycle, since I came to said conclusion about a month out from the deadline. Given that it's at one of the most prestigious unis in Taiwan and I think my research proposal is only tenuously related to the department, I'm having very realistic expectations here and steeling myself to take the TOCFL and apply again this summer to programs taught in Mandarin. But at least I have a direction to go in.

I had taken an intro rope class some time during the summer, but honestly I don't see myself pursuing a career as a rigger any time soon. In the name of short-term continuing education, I have entertained the thought of looking for uni classes to audit to make sure I can actually understand them, and I also want to check out taking Japanese classes taught in Chinese. By coincidence I became acquainted with a Frenchman at the bar last night who spoke impressively fluent Japanese as a result of his job in the adult video business (initially I misunderstood this to mean he was an actor, he quickly clarified that he was in the import/export side of things), which felt like a sign (or the final sign of many). I have resisted learning it for many many years, but my trip to Tokyo this fall was just too embarrassing when it came to basic communication (or a lack thereof), and if I ever want to go explore kinbaku at the site of origin I should start working on this sooner or later.

Unrelated to all of these, I also want to consume more protein, have a look for B vitamins the surgeon's office recommended, and learn how to do multi-colour lino printing.

Thus one could say I'm cautiously optimistic about this year, fingers crossed for minimal missile warnings and no more 曖昧的關係s. 加油everybody, 加油.

[waywardsummoner46]

The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Summary: Your love had died on Muspelheim, you’d cried into his chest and held his hand in his final moments so of course, he’d died... or had he? A recent visit to Asgard with Thor proved to induce pain and aguish you’d buried since Loki’s death. But there’s something else wrong, however, and the one person who you can’t stand to be around is the only one who can help you.

Word Count: 1924

Warnings: angst, betrayal, mild threat, unresolved grief and anger, reader is not having a good time.

A/N: When I tell you this is long overdue, believe me. Loki should’ve been the one to start my writing hobby but Supernatural took that place on the pedestal. Loki was the one who planted the idea in my head, however, so I’m so happy to finally be writing for him. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

“What the Hel is that?” Thor whispered.

   You could offer no answer as you looked upon it with a gaping mouth and bulging eyes. There was a… statue. Of Loki. Standing over everyone. One hundred feet tall. 

  Eventually, you let out a laugh of disbelief. “I doubt anyone in the Nine Realms would have an answer to that question.” There did seem to be a large crowd behind the humongous Loki and you looked to Thor to draw his attention to it.

  “Perhaps we could gather some answers there,” he sighed.

  Shaking your head, you began walking towards where all of the commotion seemed to be. Considering the crowds that had gathered, you and Thor both seemingly came to the same conclusion that Odin was part of said crowd. 

  Nearing the crowds, you realised that the area the people had gathered in was the royal theatre. An apt reason for such masses. What caught your attention as you both pushed through the people, however, was what was being played out on stage… or more accurately: who.

  Having visited Asgard numerous times, you were quite familiar with the ongoings of many things, including their entertainment. There was no such recollection of anything at all including Loki (Odin’s subtle disdain for Loki never escaping your eyes). Fair to say, beholding a dying “Loki” in “Thor’s” arms with a tear-inducing atmosphere was… surprising, to say the least.

   “I couldn’t help myself,” the actor for Loki said, strained.

  “Yes, you’re just so mischievous,” Thor’s actor replied with tears lining his eyes. 

  (Credits to the actors, they were quite good if a little over-exaggerative.)

  You looked at Thor, trying to garner his reaction. It didn’t take long for you to realise this was a dramatisation of what happened in Muspelheim; presumably, the death of Malekith had already been displayed. 

  Loki died that day. You and Thor witnessed everything. That day you both lost a significant part of yourselves, one that could never be replaced. In all honesty, this entire thing was making a mockery of the day that crushed your heart… you restrained your anger for Thor’s sake.

  A woman grasping Thor’s arm drew your attention away from the stage. Making eye contact with the son of Odin, you noticed your exasperation mirrored within his own eyes.

  “Loki, my love, you will always be in my heart.” 

   Oh, Hel no. 

   Your narrowed eyes darted to the stage, widening in shock and then narrowing with lividity all over again. 

   There was a… you on the stage. She was cradling “Loki” in her lap, brushing away stray hairs from his face - it was a perverse depiction of your final goodbyes with your God.

“Loki, my love, please don’t leave me.”

  Tears were streaming down your face and your grip on his hand was tightening with every sharp breath you took. After everything you’d been through together, he couldn’t leave you now, he just couldn’t. You’d never be able to live happily again. There’d be no purpose for you, the only person, the only being that offered any semblance of happiness was to be ripped from you… again!

  He squeezed your hand once more, drawing your attention back to reality. 

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry, my (Y/N), I always thought - ah! - that we’d have longer.”

  Squeezing your eyes tightly, you pleaded, “Don’t, don’t say that! How can you give up so easily? You were born to be a King, you are a God! Death is yours to command, not the other way around; you must hold on. W-we can save this. We can save you-”

  A hand on your shoulder made you sob. Thor had accepted the inevitable, you could not. 

  Loki raised his other hand and stretched it to cup your cheek. “Don’t forget me, will you, pet?”

  “Loki, my love, you will always be in my heart.” His smile turned wobbly and his eyes swam with unshed tears. Green wisps of magic began to swirl around his fingers - you drew back slightly in protest. “What are you doing? Save your energy, Loki. There’s still hope! Don’t tire yourself even further, my love, please.”

  You didn’t notice it at first, too caught up in your anguish, but your words began to slur and string together unintelligibly and you subconsciously leaned back into his hand as your head grew heavier and heavier and heavier until eventually you collapsed onto his chest. His slowing heartbeat would haunt you forever but his magic had rendered you too lethargic to do anything but suffer his slow death with him.

  “Take care of her, brother.”

  “I will, brother. Have peace knowing that I will die with this promise. Rest now, Loki.”

  The last thing you heard Loki’s strangled voice, whispering into your ear for the last time. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Watching the end of the play felt like a punishment from the Norns.

  Not only did some buffoon completely undermine your genuine selves and create something that should never have come to be, they transformed his sacrifice into a laughable show for what? Entertainment? 

 Not only did they make light of your agony and torturous pain, they “adapted” one of the most difficult times of your life into a perverse delusion for the sake of people who would never have to suffer as you did.

  And not only had this idea been introduced as a mere possibility but the King, the King, had given his express approval of such a foolish and degrading concept to be brought to life as this piece of absolute sh-

  “Father,” Thor greeted Odin, completely oblivious to your internal fury. 

  The Allfather seemed temporarily frazzled before composing himself, “My son, Thor, has returned!” He gestured to him, “Greetings, my boy.”

  Thor walks closer to where Odin stands, observing his surroundings. In an effort to stay composed, you dug your nails into your palms before trailing respectfully behind the Odinson. Here, in the presence of the loathsome King, you recognised that you had as little power as any other commoner and should be mindful of your treatment to Thor especially.

  “My king,” you curtsied politely. Upon standing, you saw that the King had an expression that was foreign to you on his face. “Is everything alright, your grace? Perhaps you’d like to sit down?” 

  As your hand grasped his own to guide him to his chair, you were surprised at how cold his skin was. “Thor, I do not think the King is well. His hands are freezing-”

  Odin ripped his hand from yours, “No, I am quite alright, thank you. Although I do think I might retire to the palace, it has been a very long day after all and that play certainly had its intended effect.”

  You hesitantly retreated away from the King, looking to Thor to see if you should listen.

  “Yes, how upsetting. Interesting play. What is it called?” Thor asked, swinging Mjölnir casually. There was something troubling him, judging by his expression but you couldn’t pinpoint what. Damn these Asgardians.

  A barely concealed look of pride crossed the King’s features. “The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard. The people wanted to commemorate him.”

  (You noticed him briefly looking at you, trying to discern your reaction.)

  “And indeed, they should. He looks a lot better than he did when he was alive; a little less weasley, less greasy, maybe.” Odin’s reaction to Thor’s words gave you pause. 

  His eyes darted to the floor and he adjusted his posture to make himself appear more confident. There was no way that Thor was thinking what you think he was thinking… was he? “My prince-”

  “Do you know,” he raised Surtur’s crown. “What this is?”

  The Allfather’s reaction seemed perfectly innocent as he clarified his knowledge of it. Despite his natural response, suspicion was brewing within you and growing every second. “Perhaps I should take it, my Prince, lest it turn into a gigantic monster and kill us all,” you commented and Thor gave it to you, entertained by your jest.

  “Of course, my lady.”

  Odin stood and handed his glass to a servant girl - your eye twitched dangerously (if what you theorised was true, your rage would destroy the Nine Realms, starting with him). Him leaning against a pillar, trying in vain not to appear anxious, was all you needed to confirm your suspicions. A mutual glance at Thor told you he’d come to the same conclusion as you: Loki, God of Mischief, had been alive all along.

  His betrayal, his second betrayal, shouldn’t have hurt so much and yet you felt your heart crack into pieces and wither away into nothing. You felt your magic brewing at your fingertips and you desperately shoved it down. Cautiously, you handed the crown to an Einherjar and retreated into yourself.

  In your mind, there lay a cage. 

  This cage was your creation and solution to containing your power, not dissimilar to Loki’s. The only difference: you could not control it. 

  Loki had centuries to master every aspect of his seiðr but you’d never been given the opportunity to learn… until you met him. He was your saviour, your salvation, your reason to hope to do good with your power.

  But then he “died”, betrayed you for his own selfish deeds. Twice. 

  He left you vulnerable and scared, in more ways than one, intentionally, despite knowing how much you hated yourself. Did he even care anymore? Did he ever? Of course, he did. The cage was his idea in the first place and, since his loss, was the only thing that made you feel safe.

  The lock to the cage was still sealed and strengthened with Loki’s own magic so you felt immediate relief at that but there was still the crack at its side. Not big but enough for your seiðr to trickle out of your being.

  Reassured, you ripped yourself from your own head and dazedly beheld the sight in front of you. Thor had Mjölnir pressed up against Loki’s chest, forcing him into the lavish furniture and was interrogating for something you hadn’t caught up with yet.

  You’d murmured one of their names but you were too quiet. Your eyes refused to focus and you felt like you were going to collapse any second. This was bad, this had never happened before.

  “-I know exactly where he is.”

  Ears perking up, your distant eyes widened. Your addled brain recognised that voice, “L’ki?” 

  Strong arms caught you before you could collapse to the floor, you hadn’t even noticed them shaking and verging on giving out until you’d almost collided with the stone floor. Long, dark hair tickled your face and caused you to sneeze quietly - your saviour chuckling fondly in your ear.

  “Oh, pet. You’ve exhausted yourself,” a low, sultry voice whispered directly in your ear.

  “Loki,” a voice warned.

  “I know, brother. Allow me to heal the lady before I execute my end of our bargain.” The same strong arms and hands that had been caressing your body adjusted their grip and picked you up, your head into someone’s shoulder. “If my memory serves correctly, brother, it was your responsibility to care for her. Now look at her condition.”

  You let out a pained exhale and the hands tightened their hold.

  “Make sure she’s alright but don’t you dare try and escape because if I do not kill you, then she surely will.”

  A suffocating silence reached your ears and you shifted in the arms. “I can assure you I won’t be making that mistake again,” the voice lowered once more to a whisper. “I’ll never leave you again, my love. Iak heit, minn kjæledyr.”