#implied adultery?? does that need a tw

[itsdefinitely]

caught.

[lynbaccha]

It's almost 6 AM here, and I'm writing this instead of getting ready to leave the house, bc I have to be somewhere at 9. Because I want to talk about this even without an artpiece go to with that.

TW: misgendering someone before person knows their identity, implied child mistreatment, and mentioned bullying.

Arvak is a multighoul/hybrid, water-earth to be exact. How this came to be? We all know the simple answer - adultery from his mom.

But who was his bio-dad?

As stated before, Arvak's father was an earth ghoul called Naava. He belonged into a lower cast family, which worked under Arvak's mom's, Coral's, family. Like his son, Naava was a quite sight to hold - raw power, large, calm like a resting cow, but when angered, like a raging bull. Long hair and strong horns to go with the image and reputation he had as a protector.

Needless to say, he was very wanted bachelor, at least to some. But Naava's eyes were only on one particular apple.

Coral. Beautiful, and mischievous daughter of the family he worked under. And Coral's eyes followed his, and she always smiled with lust at his way.

But, this isn't a love story. This is a tragedy.

Where Naava, in his rare instance of naivety, saw forbidden love, Coral saw just another male to mess around with. She was promiscous, her then fiancé just didn't know then.

Naava eventually got her pregnant, soon after her marriage to her fiancé. It could have been either way of the two males, when thought with logic... But Naava knew. Earth is linked with fertility, man-like happenings in Hell. Just like child-bearing.

The kit inside Coral was his. He would be a father.

Naava was thinking every way he could to make sure he would have access to his kit, and all of them turned into him keeping his mouth shut. As much as it pained him, he didn't want to make Coral's life harder.

The kit was born. A girl, they say. He had a daughter. Whose birth he didn't see, nor who he didn't got to name. A child who wouldn't know who he is.

But he kept his mouth shut.

The little ghoulette was odd. Hating firly dresses and always playing with males of her age. She would fancy suits made for males and be more at home withing male customs. Naava lost count on how many times the nanny scolded the girl for ruining the expensive clothes. She didn't care, just stared indifferently.

The kit, being half-earth, was different. Bullying from water side of the kit's family didn't really humble them, as the preperators would have wanted, and even in front Coral's wrath, she stared back in rageful defiance.

At least, that's what kit eventually told Naava.

One day, Naava found his kit from the woods near the mansion the water family lived. With a busted lip, in dress, and with a messy, feminine bun to hide her growing horns.

First thing the kit asks does Naava have any clothes for her, that she HATES these rags they call dresses. Naava could only comply, confused. He, as per customs of his tribe, had clothes made from his first successfull big hunt. He was around his kit's age. The kit would be good hunter if given chance, Naava thought, as she dressed herself behind bushes next to his camp.

After that, they sat around the campfire in silence, until his kit spoke and gave a reason for the odd request. And in away, Naava knew before his kit laid it out. That she doesn't feel like a female.

So, Naava knew now. He doesn't have a daughter, but a son, and he is both happy and worried about the fact his son came out to him.

Because, why? He might be the father, but in actuality, he's but a stranger to this young boy... This must not be something for a stranger to know.

Kindness goes far, and Naava knows that. But he didn't know what kind of life his son has behind closed doors, and how much his son needs someone to trust to.

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

only angel - a close reading

hey guys, gals and nonbinary pals, here is a close reading i did of ‘only angel’ by our babe, harry styles. i want to make it VERY CLEAR that this is just my opinion and my reading, talking from my own experiences and how i’ve learned to interpret art. i’m an eng lit major so i actually am not talking out of my ass on this subject, for once. i am also not cis or straight, if that makes a difference in your reading of this post. yes, this post is about harry being genderqueer. if you are absolutely not open to this possibility, then you can just ignore this post and scroll by. (unhelpful anons will be ignored, but i’m happy to go into dialogue if some things aren’t fully clear. this masterpost can help with a lot of questions too) 

i’ll be using he/him pronouns to refer to Harry. He’s been called both he/him and she/her by close friends and family members, and seems to accept both. for the sake of keeping things clear in this post, he/him is what i’ll go with. 

thanks to my gc friends for the brainstorm session and helpful insights, you’re all so intelligent ily (and sorry ari for bringing harry’s love for bukowski’s poetry to your attention)

if anyone is interested, i also did a (less heavy) analysis of meet me in the hallway!

TW/ alcohol, sex, self-harm

NOW LET’S GET INTO IT 

(intro, spoken, excerpt from Barfly) I saw this angel, I really saw an angel

Barfly, film with screenplay by Charles Bukowski, introduces the atmosphere of the song. The film deals with alcoholism, adultery, violence. The story is partly autobiographical, with Bukowski representing himself as his alter ego. One of the main characters, an adulteress, at one point proclaims she can see angels.

Angels are usually a positive force in a story, despite being imaginary or appearing in dreams. In Bukowski’s work, ‘angel’ is often used as a derogatory term: 

dogs and angels are not 

very far apart

Bukowski is known as a misogynistic ass - pardon my french - since he loved to depict women as inferior beings he could ‘conquer’ during sex, etc. He was a self-proclaimed “dirty old man”, owning up to his terrible characteristics (that often got the better of him) and this ownership of that part of him that he hates is something to keep in mind. (Bukowski struggled with depression and alcoholism after an abusive childhood but this does not excuse any abuse on his part.) 

My own interpretation of his work, since I do appreciate his poetry because I like free verse, down-to-earth use of words and themes, and I have a terrible soft spot for tortured artists (we all need our flaws, right?), is that he was intelligent but incredibly self-destructive, so with every smart and earnest word that he uttered he felt like muttering two that took all of it back and slapped you in the face while he was at it. “Can't they see through my skin, can't they see that I am nothing?” Self-hate, self-destruction. (sign me up bc i’m a sucker and a fool)

Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see

Who is this “you”? 

the general public (gp)/media. Open your fucking eyes and stop spewing what you think you know, because if you actually look, the answers are all there. 

“I” talking to himself, who I will identify as Harry from now on

That I'm still the only one who's been in love with me

“I”, H, is the only one who knows who he is. Also an allusion to narcissism: “in love” is usually said to/about someone else, not oneself. “With me” instead of “with myself”; natural phrasing would usually be different. Invested in himself, in his self. (Would he maybe say “I love myself” if he were more familiar with what that self entails?)

“Who’s been in love with me”: continuous tense implies the continuity of these emotions: any other lovers/forms of attention have been fleeting, temporary (or so he thinks)

I'm just happy getting you stuck in between my teeth and there's nothing I can do about it

gp’s opinion of Harry Styles™️: compulsive womaniser, Aggressive Man in patriarchal heteronormative society

him biting into his life, his self, everything that makes him him. He can’t help it, he can’t shut (parts of) himself down.

Broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door, I got splinters in my knuckles crawling ‘cross the floor

again, CisHet Harry, Aggressive Man

basically going mad trying to knock his own walls down. It fucking hurts to try to figure out what’s going on inside of him; trying to fight it 

Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short, but I think that's what I like about it

couldn’t take any of his many ‘conquests’ home bc it’s too superficial, ‘dirty’

this self is not something he shows at home, because it’s about sex and physicality, so not something he’d share with his mom, but it is something he wants to own and embrace (～Bukowski)

She's an angel, Only angel, She’s an angel, My only angel

Het Harry and his latest fling, possessive (～Bukowski)

Harry and the ‘angel’, the ‘she’ who lives inside of him

(verse 2)

I must admit I thought I'd like to make you mine

Very ambiguous, insecure phrasing. Where is the macho, Aggressive Man (1)? 

→ H and his internal struggles (2)

As I went about my business through the warning signs

Het Harry, Aggressive Man pushing through. Relationship/fling with red flags, but lust takes over

making his ‘angel’, his ‘she’, a part of him, embodying her. The struggles that come with that: possible loss of sight of self. At what cost does ‘she’ come out (self-destructive lifestyle)? How deep is ‘she’ buried? (How many drinks does he need?)

End up meeting in the hallway every single time

‘Meet Me In the Hallway’: relationship struggles, loss of self, “I gotta get better”

The hallway is neutral ground: not the bedroom, not the kitchen (themes in H’s other lyrics). No one is dominant here: no Aggressive Man, no ‘angel’. Just Harry, trying to figure it all out. He keeps ending up in the hallway because neither the Man nor the ‘angel’ embody him completely, so he has to start afresh with his self-discovery.

And there's nothing we can do about it

SWITCH. First time “we” is used. 

For H, there is no ‘I’, it’s always ‘we’. He can’t ‘choose a side’ or ‘figure out’ which of his pronouns he is. He is all of the above.

Told it to her brother and she told it to me

(What the hell does this mean? Literally no clue. What are these pronouns doing? The ‘angel’, “she”, isn’t “you”, which would’ve made interpretation (1) make sense. Now, any woman H would be mentioning in verse 1 (when saying “you”) is not “she” in this verse, otherwise “you” would still be used. Either it’s sloppy writing, or it means something else. You tell me, for real. What’s this “brother” doing here? (I think ‘brother’ could easily be replaced by ‘lover’ and then it would at least make sense for the womaniser interpretation.)

That she's gonna be an angel, 

She’s going to be nothing but imaginary. Another interpretation is that “she” is threatening to go so far and actually self-destruct. Implications of s******.

just you wait and see

General “you”, the listener/etc. Taunting message: ‘she’ needs to prove something.

When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets

And there's nothing she can do about it

Antithesis of ‘angel’ and ‘devil’. Both beings not present in the real world.

→ Even “she” can’t run away from dualities.

Sex, acceptance of his self as a sexual being.

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight (3x)

Implied ‘I’, but left out

→ metre reasons

→ omission of pronouns as a conscious choice

Heavy sentiment. 

self-destructive - “just you wait and see” - hints at lifestyle that could ruin you, mentally and physically (～Bukowski)

self-harm

SOUND: musically, it sounds similar to ‘Kiwi’, ‘Woman’ and ‘She’; the themes also overlap: the woman as seductive, sexy, devious, imaginary

SYNTHESIS

Harry as a writer finding himself in Bukowski’s writing: womaniser image that has always been projected onto him from a very young age. Harry does not identify with this persona, but plays with it in his mind after years of having to play pretend, and with the knowledge that the gp sees him that way. He deliberately uses imagery that could lead to his songs being easily interpreted in multiple ways. You can hear this song and think it’s about Harry the CisHet Womaniser, who has casual sex all the time, is dominant and aggressive. (After, back tf off)

Or you can think it’s about Harry showing his internal struggle, his fight with himself, his gender, trying to figure out who he really is. Why can’t he identify with this image of Man that’s been projected onto him all these years, an image so accepted in the patriarchal heteronormative society he was raised in? And why is this “she” so unreachable? Why is she only an imaginary being, like an angel or a devil? Why are the doors closed? 

Self-destruction as a theme in this song, with implications of self-harm (breaking his finger, splinters in his knuckles, wanting to die), underlines the heaviness of the lyrics, the difficulty of his struggle. References to Bukowski then hint at alcohol use, which brings out these personas that reside in Harry’s imagination, in how he sees himself and how he knows others see him. 

The references to Bukowski, in my opinion, reveal Harry’s struggle with his self-image. Part of him wants to be famous, to be a rockstar, to indulge in parts of that lifestyle. Does that make him a bad person? Has he sometimes lost sight of who he is because of that? (Harry finding recognition in Bukowski hurts my heart, bc to me it implies H’s self-hate, an inclination/attraction to self-destructive tendencies and his dismissiveness of his artistic abilities. not to be dramatic. brb crying)

The ‘she’ in Harry’s ‘we’, in Harry’s self, is seductive and reckless, and since the release of Fine Line we have been able to see an evolution in his experience of her. Character development, if you will. In ‘Only Angel’, she’s part of a fight, someone who only comes out at desperate times, as a reaction to his forced CisHet persona, or after some sort of substance abuse. In ‘She’ or ‘Fine Line’, her presence is less lethal. 

My interpretation of the pronouns used in this song is exactly that: Harry is every single one of them, either a persona or actually him. Harry is genderqueer in some way or other.

read my other lyric analyses here

[thephangarbagedisposal-blog]

Chapter One- A Team

You are not alone <3

TW/// SAD, Angst, drug use, underage prostitution, implied sex, rape, anGsT, i’m sorry, be careful guys

Dan’s POV

The first thing I heard when I got to school the next day, was a large crowd of people yelling at me, “You slut! Fucking kill yourself!”, among other creative phrases. I felt this thing in my chest, weighing down and yet traveling to my throat at the same time and cutting off any chance I had at talking, because how did they know? The only person that found out was- Oh. Phil Lester.

I didn’t confront him. Maybe past me would’ve, but now I just wanted to retreat into the shadows. So I tried my hardest to get through the barricade of students, my head facing down like it had when I thanked… Him for not intervening. But look where it got me. I thought for once that someone would give me something to work with, maybe a mutual agreement to keep something that would change my life if it got out in secret. But no.

I avoided those azure eyes that I’d looked up at thankfully just yesterday as I walked by. I could tell he was struggling, his hands were clenching and unclenching but his words weren’t coming. So I kept walking.

Before I knew it, I had been slammed against a locker as some kid wearing way too many crosses pulled out a black marker and drew an ‘A’ on my forehead, people looking and laughing. Finally, though, my shame ended, because the bell rang. They scurried off to their homerooms ignoring me. As usual. When I thought the hall was empty, I slid down the lockers and sat down, throwing my head back to look at the ceiling. I felt the familiar burn in my eyes, trying desperately to hold my tears back.

I sniffled a few times before I felt someone sit down next to me, then another person, and one person in front of me. “I’m sorry.”, one said. I couldn’t help the tears then, and they slid out freely. In shame I hid my head in my knees, “It’s not your fault.”, I replied. I slowly rose my head to see blue eyes staring back at me, two other people sitting beside me like I thought.

I recognized them immediately, but instead of bringing it up I quickly turned to see who the others were. I knew them all. PJ Liguori, Chris Kendall, and Phil Lester. Me, Chris, and PJ had been friends all those years ago, up until it happened. Phil, I assumed, join this year and blended in with their group. “You guys should go to class. I’m fine.”

Phil started to rapidly move his hands, making gestures and more. He shook his head rapidly. “Sign language… He’s basically saying ‘No.’ And he’s right because we’re not leaving you here. People are dicks.”, Chris spoke.

PJ and Phil nodded determinedly. “It’s fine though. They’re right.”, I said with a humorless chuckle, and suddenly it felt like the bruises on my neck became even more prominent. I knew they knew, so I truly didn’t understand why they still insisted on sitting there. “They’re not. They have no right to do what they’re doing.”, PJ assured me. Instead of replying, I rubbed at the ‘A’ on my forehead. “Scarlet letter. Pretty fucking creative, really.”

Phil began to move his hands around again, in what I assumed was sign language. Chris translated, “Scarlet letter? What’s that?”, before he bit his lip nervously. “It’s basically a letter of shame. It was used in a book called the Scarlet Letter, where the cheating wife was marked with an A for adultery.”, I explained quietly.

I sighed, before getting up slowly. “You guys should get to class. I’m gonna… I don’t know. Either way, thanks and I’ll see ‘ya later.”, I said with a small smile. Phil grabbed my arm before I could start to walk away though, looking at me with helpless eyes and signing again. PJ translated this time, “Are you sure? We can stay-”

“Really, I’m fine.”, I said, adding what I hoped was a convincing upbeat tone to my voice. Instead, they just looked a bit discouraged. But before they could stop me, I started walking away, grabbing my stuff and hiding in the bathroom until next period began.

Once I got in there, I looked in the mirror at the large black letter on my forehead, standing out on my pale skin. I grabbed a paper towel and wet it, hoping to get some of the marker off. But as I dragged and dabbed the mark furiously, it wouldn’t come off. So I determined the attempt futile.  “The fucking Scarlet Letter.”, I muttered, chuckling a bit. That’s when somebody else walked in, and I realized my hell was far from over. I felt myself be pushed into a stall, kicked and punched as the boy spoke, “You’re a fucking whore, Howell. And only 16. No wonder your parents left you. Your whole house is probably constantly filled with sex. Your brothers probably fuck for money too, poor retards. Probably have so many STDs, you slut.”

I wasn’t strong enough to fight him, as I recognized the boy to be captain of the football team, so I tried to block out all of his hurtful words, failing in the end. I didn’t and still don’t know why they felt the need to hate on me for the fact that I have to resort to something like this for money when their rich parents just give them money whenever they want. `I was jealous in the end, So incredibly jealous.

When the boy left and the bell rang, I picked up myself and my belongings, and walked to my second-period class, noticing that there were more glares than usual. I could already tell that everyone had heard about the freshest piece of gossip one way or another. And it didn’t surprise me that when I went to every class, people were staring at me and glaring heavily.

But what did surprise me was when the same people walked by my side to lunch, chatting and smiling and understanding Phil’s hands with fluency. I walked, listening when PJ or Chris translated but not talking or responding. When they sat at their table and Phil pat the empty spot next for me to sit, I finally spoke, “I don’t think I should. Stuff’ll go around… Rumors and things.”, I couldn’t bear the thought of people speaking about any of them negatively, they were too nice for that.

But Phil just shook his head and let me sit, smiling broadly. That’s when the conversation began. I don’t remember smiling that much for forever. They were just so interesting, so comforting. They didn’t leave me out, they made me feel like we’d been best friends forever. They liked what I did too, so I was never left wondering what they were talking about. It was truly perfect.

But like all good days, they come to an end.

I couldn’t just avoid working because of I’d had a good day, I couldn’t do that considering that my earnings were basically the only thing that provided us with income. So I did, but it wasn't like usual. Once he saw me on the street corner, leaning against the wall, he gave me money and told me what he wanted, he pushed me roughly into the building, and dragged me to an empty room, shoving me into the wall and biting at my neck while yanking down the shorts I was forced to wear. At this point I was remembering what I’d heard when I joined this job, “You may get a few… Rough clients. Unfortunately, that’s just a part of the job. You will, however, get paid a bit extra from the money I make.”, my boss spoke. There was such a gentle aura about him, despite what his job entailed.

But the man was ruthless, only listening to me when I forced him to put on the condom. All I remember from it was my screaming and the pain. It hurt more than my first time did, and that was very rough. He ignored my basic needs and kept getting rougher and rougher, and it seemed he was into heavy sadism. I was beyond scared and unwilling, but I kept on reminding myself that we needed the money.I couldn’t risk the punishment that would come when I denied a customer service. It seemed endless though, it went on for longer than I was supposed to be at work for.

I’d finally gotten home maybe two hours late. I’d had to fix myself up, spending extra time on covering the marks and working extra hard on getting myself up and walking. When I got out, I knew I looked shitty when my boss handed me money with a pitiful and sorry look on his face as he hugged me. A few of my friends frowned as they were dragged off with men gripping tightly onto a variety of body parts. When I arrived, my siblings launched at me with questions and worried faces. Callum, my younger brother, shoved dinner into my hands. Oliver, my older brother, pulled me tight to his chest while lecturing me on never worrying him like that again.

When they’d calmed down and I’d come up with some excuse for why I was late, we all sat on the couch and talked, Callum cradling my head and Oliver letting me rest my legs on him. And they wouldn’t let me go until I finished the whole bowl of food, along with another one.

The next morning when I got to school, my newly acquired friends looked worriedly at me. I already knew it was because of the deep bags under my more-dull-than-normal-and-practically-dead eyes. Also because of the slight limp in my walk, which had received a few more taunts and whistles throughout the day. Phil started to write rapidly on a piece of notebook paper, Chris and PJ glaring at the wolf-whistlers. The paper read neatly, ‘What happened? Are you still doing that? It’s dangerous! Do you need help? A hospital? The nurse? Are you alright? Also, you need to learn sign language.’

I just sent him a small smile, trying to ignore the way his bright, oh-so-bright, blue eyes looked deeply and angrily into mine. I almost felt boring to him. I had plain brown eyes and brown hair, with tan skin. But, Phil, he was another story. His shining and light blue eyes combined with his pitch-black-probably-dyed hair stood so perfectly in contract to his almost translucent pale skin. I’d only noticed I was staring when PJ snapped his fingers in front of my face and Chris said, with a fake gasp, “Does Dan fancy Phil?”

That made both me and Phil brush amazingly, and I almost reached out to brush the red that stood against his pale skin. Perfection. He was amazing, Phil.

“Whatever, if I’m correct… You and PJ seem quite close.”, I said with a teasing tone and a raised eyebrow. PJ looked back at me with a smirk before pecking Chris on the lips, making the brunette blush furiously. Phil rolled his eyes, smiling at me. He wrote, ‘Anyways… Are you okay? I’m serious!’, and put on this adorable angry face. “I’m fine.”, with a smile.

The bell rang, and I wandered off to my next class. The teacher looked at me with a question in his eyes, before brushing it off and letting me sit down without question. I did gratefully, but not before I heard a scoff coming from the girl who sat near me. “Hey, homewrecker. I heard you fucked with some guy’s husband.”, as she rose a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. I was confused, before I realized that her father had come a few weeks before, and also heard from some of my friends at work that the wife had found out and left. “I-I didn’t know-”

“I hope you know that my mother left. And my dad’s job was never enough to make us the necessary amount of money. So thanks.”

I tried to stay silent, clenching and unclenching my fists, before I snapped, “I hope you know that I’m doing all I can to keep me and my brothers afloat. Y’know, since my parents left? And I hope you know that I’m still struggling to make money and that no, despite what you’ve heard, they are not involved, nor do they know. But whatever. I’m sorry.”

She looked shocked, despite not responding. I saw her boyfriend look at me angrily through the corner of his eye. I ignored and slumped into my seat, trying not to let myself pay attention to the small whispers coming from a few girls and boys, about how they’d ‘teach me a lesson’ after school. Sitting and struggling through the lesson, along with everyone, I finally got to lunch. Phil looked at me pitifully, before PJ said, “We heard about what happened first period…”

“It’s not important. Let’s just talk about something else.”, I whispered. Chris smiled a bit, starting up a conversation about some video game.

The moment school ended, I was dragged outside and against the stone wall by 4 girls and 3 guys. They started to kick and punch at me, saying the familiar phrases. I felt bad to be honest because I did ruin the girl’s family. But still. I needed the money.

It stopped maybe 20 minutes later, and a boy came up to me. He held out this bag of white powder and brought me to a corner.

That’s when my whole life changed.

Phil’s P.O.V

In my opinion, Dan was odd. He was someone you wanted so badly in your life, and you could tell when he wanted you too. And yet, he let almost nobody in.

And that was particularly bad for me. Because I’d begun to fall in love with those brown eyes and curly brown hair. He was thin, too thin. I wanted to cradle him and feed him in a totally non-kink way. He was so sweet and when he got into a conversation, he held so much energy and passion. It seemed to burn like fire in those beautiful eyes.

I did question, however, if it was smart of me to let myself fall so in love with him in the few days we’d formally known each other. So I’d decided to get to know him better. I approached him the day after the encounter with those jerks. He looked at me brightly, smiling. I wrote on a piece of paper, ‘I was wondering if maybe later today we could hang out? At your place or mine? It’s up to you.’. I saw him read over it, and his eyes widened a bit. “That’d be nice… But, like, you know. I have work after school.”, he looked down and looked a bit ashamed. I shook my head and wrote, ‘After? It doesn’t have to be at my place. Could be at yours?’

He nodded, “Yeah! Okay. Wanna come to mine at maybe… 7? It’s Friday so you know…”

I nodded back and he told me his address, which I scrawled down. I did notice that his eyes were a bit red and that his fingers were twitching and moving around a bit. He also seemed to have more of an excited air to him as he spoke, “I only live with my brothers at home, and we don’t quite have the best home. There’s not much to do, so we’ll probably end up talking to them and stuff. They’re fun though. My older brother’s Oliver. He’s 19. And my younger brother, Callum is 14. They’re sweet. And fun, did I mention that yet? I’m sorry if you get bored, you can leave if you do really. I’d get it. I’d understand. I get bored too, but whatever. An-”

That’s when I cut him off with a shake of my head, I wrote, ‘It’s fine. So 7 and 243 Mercury Lane?”

He nodded. And just like that, he was gone. I felt the urge to protect him. He seemed like an angel when you really got to know him. But it was like his wings weren’t working. Like the weight of the world were rested on them and some higher power was glaring teasingly as they stepped on his shoulder. So I followed him. He walked into a building, and against my better judgment, I walked in after him. He was walking into a room, and then the door clothes. I saw a few people in compromising positions around me. A man walked up to me saying, “Oh, hello there. Usually, people go to corners but… Hi. I presume you know who you want?”

I just nodded dumbly, starting to sign with my hands before he looked at me confused. He held up a finger, grabbing a pen and a notepad. Smiling gratefully, I wrote down, ‘Does Dan still work here?’. He nodded and pointed me to the room Dan had just walked into. “You’ll have to pay first. How much do you plan on doing? For an hour it’s 30. And then for another, it’s 60. Goes on like that. If you want him for his whole shift then it’s 150.” I pulled out my wallet and handed over 150, biting my lip. “Alright. He’s all yours. But… please be a bit gentle. Just had some- Nevermind.”

He handed me a few condoms and I started to walk in the direction of Dan’s room. I knocked, and he opened it up in the same clothes as the day I’d seen him in the alleyway. The look on his face was unreadable, but mostly confusion. The man I’d spoken to before walked to us, telling him, “All your shift.”, with a small frown. Dan nodded dumbly, pulling me into the room and closing the door. It was silent before he asked, “What are you doing here?”. He still had this aura to him, of energy.

I chewed on my lip, grabbing a pen and paper from a table on the side of the room. ‘I followed you.’, I wrote. I guiltily looked at him. He blankly looked at me. “Did you pay for the whole shift?”. I nodded. “Well, then you’re getting what you paid for. Nothing else…”

He crawled into my lap, straddling me. “Do you want what you paid for?”, he asked in a seductive voice. I gulped as I felt my pants tighten. I wrote, ‘Dan, wait. We don’t have to. We can just talk.’. “Phil…”, he said in the same tone, but gentler, “Do you want what you paid for. I can’t if you don’t consent to this.”. I nodded because I really did. I just didn’t know if he fully did. He nodded back, rocking his hips down into mine, gently at first. I let myself let out a small gasp. He guided my hands to his petite hips, his small hands resting on my shoulders. Before I could stop myself, my lips were on his neck.

Before I could stop myself, I used what I paid for.

Him.

[ao3feed-ichiruki]

White Soul, Blackmail

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2nIUX8L

by debbiechan

This peculiar angsty love story is a follow-up to my previous RenIshi “Red Wound, White Goodbye” (http://ift.tt/2mZDR9l). My last story in Bleach fandom, written December 2016, planned to be posted April Fool’s Day 2017. Blessings. What does it mean when you have given and received love all your life, but then you destroy your dearest creation because love, as you understand it, isn’t enough or you’re afraid of being left alone? Maybe I wrote this story for Kubo?

Warnings for yaoi/homosexuality, post 686 adultery, a less than likable portrayal of Orihime (she goes full yandere here), angst. TW: implied character death. Extreme TW: Ishida is sad. Door prizes: Ryuuken being a little more Ryuuken than ever. Gay sex fetishized but lovingly so.

This fic is a way to reconcile myself with the tragedy of Kubo destroying his manga. It speaks of what I could not speak about.

Sometimes people don’t need to know the worst about someone they loved. They won’t believe it anyway. 嘘から出た誠

Words: 14557, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Bleach

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Renji, Uryuu, Ryuuken, Urahara, shunsui

Relationships: Abarai Renji/Ishida Uryuu, Ishida/Orihime, Ichigo/Rukia

Additional Tags: My last Bleach fic ever I swear, Although I may upload old ones here, over a decade I wrote fic for this fandom oy gevalt, Yandere Orihime, Kubo wanted us to love her so much didn't he?, I'm disturbed you're disturbed, sayonara, rest in peace, Wink Wink You Won't See ME in Mayuri Cosplay, I will keep my RenIshi Doujin perhaps

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2nIUX8L