#my body is 84 years old and I feel it

[drugsforaddicts]

Congrats on surviving the day! :D BUT! Have you seen this (it's very important):

https://www.tumblr.com/seokoilua/749572400984817664/formulalakana-got-k%C3%A4%C3%A4rij%C3%A4s-setlist-and-guess?source=share

Thank you and yeeessss!! A bunch of us sad bojere bitches heard the siren call and tables were flipped, screams were scrumpt, a plenty of ?????? BUT OFC, IT’S THEIR ANNIVERSARY- were happening. And we got Sinkkumies?? I know we probably heard like 99% of his old stuff (and new too) but I was deluluing so fucking hard it’s actually embarrassing 💀💀

But yeah… I just haven’t bothered with backtracking yet so will probably go through everything sometime later! Now I’m busy giving the fake KÄbnb 2.0 experience to @btw-it-also-travels-in-time and @sir-bloober-von-fuckstain again 😎

[whatbigotspost]

Every time I hear someone much older than me talking about how their shame about their bodies and weight have robbed them of all kinds of fun experiences and simple joys and delights in life, it breaks my fucking heart. Older women, in particular, have been shamed into and forced into (and perpetuated themselves) so many stupid narratives about what one "can't do" if you look a certain way. Sometimes they don't even notice it...they'll just casually be saying something like, "I would have loved to play volleyball back in school but this big ass wasn't going to look right in those shorts tee hee" and I'm like that's??? actually??? tragic???????? Especially when it's something they COULD still pursue or try but they've got a fixed mindset about it.

My 84 year old aunt really spent all of her 30s-60s believing that she COULDN'T just put on a swimsuit and enjoy the water in the summer. I have so many memories of this mindset affecting her all summer. Just casually existing by a pool in a swimsuit was something that women who looked like her Could Not Do. This is someone who broke so many gender barriers in her field, who was a pioneer and a bad ass, but who held herself back from something she truly enjoyed for DECADES because she's fat. A couple of years ago she told me how stupid she feels having thought like that now that her age has changed her mobility and safety in going to a pool and it's no longer literally possible for her to do so.

She bought the bullshit and deprived herself of happiness when it was possible, so she lost her chance at hundreds of moments of simple enjoyment she now looks back on sadly.

Really sadly.

I think this is a topic where we can literally see a huge generational change among society right now. The bitchy boomer who says something like, "oh she should NOT be wearing that" when a happy, chunky Gen Zer bops by in a crop top sounds like the death rattles of an ancient relic to most of us in younger generations. After we get over the overt hate that surges when we hear things like that, most of us can see right through that prickly exterior into the deeply damaged, sad, and vulnerable person inside who is the one that's the real problem in the equation.

And yet, while it can be easy to think, "Thank god I'm not like THAT" none of us are truly immune to the messages that are blasted in our faces all the time that still shame fatness and make us feel like we owe society a certain kind of "beauty."

Just keep an eye out for any limiting beliefs you have that are depriving you from joy and delight you want and need. As anyone like my aunt could tell you, you won't someday look back and think, "I sure am glad I didn't do what made me happy all those years!"

[steddielations]

Eddie’s missing. Steve can’t form a coherent thought beyond: Eddie’s missing, find him. The last few hours, it’s been his every thought, his every action.

There’s never a smooth visit to Hawkins. Eddie’s reputation has only gotten worse in the years since they moved to Chicago. Every time they come back, something goes wrong. But Eddie wanted to spend Wayne’s birthday with him, which also happens to be his mom’s birthday. That’s why he put on Wayne’s Muddy Waters record after a few drinks too many, mumbling, “Doesn’t sound the same.”

One second, Eddie was drunkenly rocking to the music, then he went outside for a smoke and didn’t come back. 

Wayne shouldn’t be out in the cold weather, but nothing could stop him from getting in his pickup to look for Eddie.

Steve’s mind jumps to nightmare conclusions. Eddie still has enemies, maybe they’re finally taking their revenge. Or what if they hadn’t destroyed the gate afterall and something worse took Eddie? Steve’s mind skipped every small explanation, but that detail about Eddie’s mom comes back.

He’s searching backroads and the thought leads him down Philadelphia street. No one goes there anymore, convinced there’s more ‘Munson victims’ buried where Eddie’s childhood home once stood.

Steve sags with relief when he shines the headlights and sees Eddie among the piles of old burned wood.

“Eddie!” Steve’s already jumping out the car, hurrying to him, “Oh God, there you are. What are you doing out here, baby? You okay?”

Eddie doesn’t seem to realize Steve’s there, frantically digging through the rubble. Looking for something.

“Eddie?” Steve reaches him, crouching down next to him, “Hey, what’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Without looking up, Eddie mumbles something like, “Can’t find ‘em.” 

“Can’t find what?” Steve asks, keeping his tone soft despite how worried and confused he is. Eddie doesn’t answer. There’s random cuts and splinters on his hands, covered in dirt and soot but he doesn’t slow down. Steve winces at the sight and reaches for his shoulder, rubbing gently to get his attention. 

“Eddie, look at me, hey. What is it? You can’t find what?”

Finally, Eddie turns to look at him. Though, his stare is a thousand miles away, eyes wide and bloodshot. The headlights show tear tracks through the soot dirtying his face. It’s like he’s in a trance, still mumbling things Steve can’t quite make out. He can smell the beer on Eddie, but he knows this isn’t just from drinking. Eddie gets stuck in his head sometimes, like in the boathouse all those years ago. Reliving nightmares from '86, and things that happened to him long before that too. 

“Her records,” Eddie stresses, “My mom’s records. I left them right here.” 

Steve looks down where he points to nothing but charred, rotting wood. There hasn’t been a house here in years. Steve remembers the fire, everyone said Eddie did it just because he was a ‘no good Munson’. Steve didn’t learn the real story until later. Eddie told him about the records, how they burned in 84 when all his dad’s scheming backfired.

“Eddie…” 

“They were right here!” Eddie interrupts, almost like part of him knows what Steve’s going to say and he doesn’t want to hear it. “I left them right here and now I can’t find them.” 

With a half-choked sob, he turns back to scouring through the rubble.

“Hey, It’s okay.” 

“No it’s not. I gotta find them, Steve, they’re all I have of her,” Eddie strangles out, flinching when Steve’s hand slides behind his shoulders.

Steve swallows down the emotion swelling in his chest. Feeling powerless to really do anything, he says, “Okay, we’ll— we’ll find them. It’s okay.”

That’s the only thing that seems to ease Eddie. Though, the way he slumps seems like he knows it’s not true, but lets himself believe it anyway. Just for the comfort. 

He’s breathing raggedly, shivering in the cold and every sob rattles his body under Steve’s hand. Finally, he lets himself sink fully into Steve, his cold wet nose pressed to Steve’s collarbone.

“S’all I got. Momma’s music,” he keeps repeating as Steve rubs his back, so drunk and so sad, “Gotta get ‘em back. S’all I got left of her.” 

“I know, baby, we’ll find them.” Steve presses kisses into Eddie’s forehead, holding him and rubbing his back. It’s not the truth, Eddie knows that, but he doesn’t need the truth right now. So Steve says it again and again, as long as Eddie needs to hear it. “We’ll find them.”

[jo-harrington]

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 1)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love--some crushes at least, Babysitter Steve, No Upside Down means slightly still King Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, no smut in Part 1 but liable to be in other chapters

Note: After a very hot and fast suggestion by @shiftingtherain, this mini-series was born. And instead of working on Store Manager Verse like I wanted to, here we are. This part is a little shorter...it's the intro, sue me. Next few parts will be a tad longer.

Credit for the header partially goes to me for the design and the logistics but I was tired, so I may have borrowed gifs from @emziess and Netflix itself as a jumping off point (with permission from Emzies and Netflix is a corporation so they can rot). I can only do so much guys, I also had to write this thing too.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If Eddie never saw Steve Harrington again in his life, it would still be too soon.

He didn't always indulge in rentals from Family Video—if it was too cold and wet to have band practice in Gareth's garage, or if he was having an especially bad week at school, or if he needed something a little more realistic than the illustrations of Heavy Metal magazine to help him satisfy his needs—but today just had that special feel to it.

He'd gotten a B on his math test, Rick had been feeling a little under the weather and let Eddie make the rounds to his usuals for a sweet little cut, and he had found a dusty old book about alchemy and occultism at the library that was going to help him put the finishing touches on tomorrow night's Hellfire session.

For all of that, Eddie thought a little reward was in order.

A little Dark Crystal, a little pizza from Lou's, a little weed...he'd be having the best Thursday night.

Except...

For the past twenty minutes, he'd pretended to hem and haw over the selection of movies just so he could glare across the store at the counter, where Steve stood, flirting and making grandiose promises, with you.

He burned with jealousy, and God, it took almost everything in him not to gag as Steve reached across the counter to slyly hold your hand. And everything else for his heart not to break as you just let it happen.

Eddie didn't know how or when or why this started—when Harrington had gotten his claws into you and how he had managed to charm his way into your heart—when it should have been Eddie instead.

Eddie'd had a crush on you for years but had always been too nervous to do anything about it.

You were a year younger than him, and friends with his pal Mickey's younger sister, so he'd seen you around quite a bit. Smart and funny and pretty; maybe not as unpopular as Eddie was, but certainly not in the running for homecoming court or whatever other social hierarchies were in place at Hawkins High either. He figured...you know, maybe once he got to senior year he'd get the courage. Maybe take you to prom or something; who wouldn't want to go out with a senior?

But he'd gotten the notice from Higgins that he wouldn't be graduating with the rest of the Class of '84 and it really put a damper on his plans.

He had been hopeful again the following year, actually had a few classes with you and sat with you for partner work when no one else wanted to work with him, when they laughed at him. You weren't even afraid to go up to him in the cafeteria to ask a question, or walk with him in the hall if you had to go in the same direction for your next class. You'd talk about assignments mostly, but he savored every little fact he could learn about you. What books you'd been reading, the fact that you watched Svengoolie on Saturday nights—just like he did—or that you'd had some squabble with Mickey's sister over a scrunchie of all things and were no longer speaking.

But Eddie knew how bad his grades were—somehow even worse than the year before—and aside from the work you did with him, he knew it wasn't gonna be enough for him to graduate. So he wasn't gonna put himself in the position for you to laugh in his face—not that you would but...just in case you did—by asking you out.

He thought you would disappear from his life after you graduated. Get the hell out of Hawkins the way everyone else wanted to. But no. You took a few classes at the community college and worked the dinner shift at Benny's a few nights a week. You'd been there every Tuesday night, when he and the guys grabbed food after their gig at the Hideout. The usual booth reserved, drinks already poured by the time they sat down, and their usual orders already written in your little order pad.

You usually gave him extra whipped cream on his slice of cherry pie too.

The guys always urged him to ask for your number...but he never did. How could he? Even if you were stuck in this town the same way he was...he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

And now...here you were, listening to Harrington talk about some great surprise he had planned for your third date the next day.

Eddie wondered why you hadn't screamed in outrage when Steve mentioned how much Nancy Wheeler had liked it when he took her to this mystery place. He would have definitely expected you to at least flinch at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's name.

"It sounds really great," you said instead, smiling and nodding. "I get out of class at 3 on Fridays...should I be here around 4?"

"4 is perfect, honey," Steve grinned.

Eddie couldn't stand to hear whatever sickeningly sweet goodbye you both would come up with so he just grabbed whatever tape was in front of him and approached the counter. You and Steve both flinched when Eddie slammed his selections down on the counter to be checked out.

“Uh…I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye Steve,” you muttered, eyeing Eddie with a half-smile that felt a bit sad. “Bye Eddie.”

"Bye honey."

“Bye honey,” Eddie mocked once you were out the door, then turned back to Steve. “You gonna try and make goo goo eyes at me next Harrington? I don’t have all day.”

“Jesus Munson. What’s up your ass?” Steve scoffed, grabbing the tapes.

“I’m just trying to get my videos and go.” Eddie rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Not really interested in the kind of customer service you're trying to provide."

Steve wondered what the likelihood of getting fired would be, if he just punched that smug look right off of Munson's face.

Keith hated the guy too, he always left the Adult section looking like a mess. Maybe Steve would get a promotion instead.

For years Eddie roamed around Hawkins being a general menace with his gaggle of friends. Causing trouble, shouting at people, making faces at old ladies. He’d gotten “taken in” to the police station one too many times but always seemed to make it out without actually being arrested. Which baffled Steve; Eddie was a drug dealer for crying out loud.

And yeah, Steve had even asked him to come and deal at a party or two but…people like that were bad. Simple as that.

Even after all of that, after you got past the “bad boy” persona….he was a fucking nerd. He wasn’t even cool like the bad boys in movies were. Steve felt like someone was tricking him the first time he had walked past the Hellfire Club’s table in the cafeteria. For all the leather and chains and band tees—all the talk of satanic rituals and blood sacrifices—there was sure a lot of talk about elves and…and bards and Star Wars.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Steve that the kids would flock to Eddie by the time they made it to Hawkins High.

But it had been. A huge shock.

His unexpected little gaggle of morons…weren’t really his anymore.

Steve had dropped Dustin off on the first day of school and said “don’t get into any trouble.” Even made Robin promise to keep an eye out for him. He expected the kid to…join the mathletes or something. Get roped in with the science nerds.

But by the end of the week, the kids were all clamoring about how they would need to reschedule movie nights with Steve so they could go to Hellfire club with Eddie.

Steve couldn’t understand it. Eddie was a freak, a punk, some good for nothing…and now the kids were suddenly following him like he was some sort of prophet. Spreading the word of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

See? Steve could do the nerd talk too when he wanted...thanks to Dustin.

Who, much to Steve's annoyance, was apparently Eddie's biggest fan. The guy could do no wrong in Dustin's eyes, and it really irked Steve.

Will and Lucas were spending Saturdays at the library—not for homework, but for research because apparently Eddie really liked incorporating mythology into his campaigns. (Whatever that meant.) Mike was growing his hair out because "Eddie's hair was cool.” What about Steve, whose literal nickname was The Hair? Shit, he'd even seen Eddie give Max a ride to school on a few occasions when he was late dropping Robin off. And he knew Max and her mom had been having a hard time since her step-dad skipped town and Billy...

Steve knew some of the town gossip about Eddie was just a bunch of bullshit...but if Max Mayfield was cool with him?

Yeah, he just couldn't help but be suspicious of the guy.

Regardless, the sooner Steve could get him out of the store, the better his night was gonna get.

...actually...

"That's gonna be $10." Steve announced dryly.

"Woah, $10?!" Eddie scoffed. "I have a membership."

"Since when?" Steve asked, hands immediately landing on his hips.

"I use one every time I'm in here."

"Yeah you use Reefer Rick's."

"So?"

"New policy," Steve lied, hoping it would get Eddie out of his hair for a good while. "No sharing memberships outside of your family. Last I checked, your last name isn't Lipton. So you either cough up the $25 for a new membership Munson, or the $10 for your rental. What's it gonna be?"

Eddie grumbled and dug his wallet out of his pocket, slamming the money on the counter.

"Any candy?" Steve asked mockingly before grabbing the cash.

Eddie grabbed the tape and grumbled under his breath as he exited the store.

Yeah, Steve wasn't gonna be dealing with him any time soon.

For a second though, as he went to start processing returns, he wondered...

If Eddie was in some ritualistic cult...what kind of curse could he possibly put on me?

But that was a dumb thought to have.

Eddie's night just went down hill from the minute he left Family Video.

He didn't notice that they'd given him the wrong pizza at Lou's so now he was stuck with some specialty veggie pie with broccoli on it, the tape he had grabbed indiscriminately had been some artsy foreign romance crap, and just now he'd just spilled Dr. Pepper all over his Hellfire notebook.

"Fuck," he shouted as it spilled over the side of the coffee table and onto his sock-clad feet. He couldn't give a shit about the carpet, he could even ignore his wet socks, but his notebook. Weeks of work, planning and toiling over the most sadistic campaign.

He liked to keep all of the notes of Hellfire's completed campaigns, a sort of...record for future kids to look back on and reference. And now this specific masterpiece would be lost to memory.

He cleaned everything up as best he could before making a quick trip back to his room for an extra notebook or something he could use to salvage his plans for tomorrow's session. He had always been really bad at...keeping spare notebooks on hand. Even the ones he'd used for class always ended up covered in his drawings or notes, little bits and ideas of dialogue he could use for speeches or NPCs.

The best he could find was his math notebook from last year which, surprisingly, sat relatively untouched.

Eddie knew why: that was a class he shared with you. And as he opened to some random mostly-empty page, he saw his little scribbles in the margins surrounding half-faded, penciled-in algebraic equations. Daggers and hearts and his and your initials intertwined together.

It was the one class where he would never encounter partner work with you, so he felt compelled to fill the pages with his daydreams instead of fantasies and lore. You would never see it.

"Well," he huffed as he dropped back down onto the floor and slapped the notebook onto the coffee table. He grabbed his pen and scribbled over the drawings on the page. "Now that she's with Harrington, no use living in this fantasy. Fuck, I was stupid, so stupid to ever think she would want anything to do with me."

He grabbed the dusty old alchemical book from the library and found his place, staring at old sigils and runes and text indiscriminately until he came upon one that looked too perfect for the campaign. Concentric circles, arcane lettering, angular lines...

While Eddie would usually use a clean page for something like this—something he would hand off to his players—he drew a copy of the sigil onto the page and planned to rip the edges off, maybe singe them with his lighter to make it look more authentic.

He kept staring at the still-noticeable doodles beneath the pen scribbles and his heart ached a little in his chest.

Yeah, he would definitely want to burn those too.

By the time he was done copying the sigil, a wave of exhaustion overtook him and he glanced down at his watch.

It wasn't much later than he usually went to bed on a weeknight...

He stared at the half-ruined notes for tomorrow's session that he still needed to rewrite and sighed.

"Fuck it, I'll just redo them in the morning." He got up and stretched his arms over his head. "I can just sleep in tomorrow. Skip class. Show up for Hellfire. Who cares anymore.”

He put the rest of the pizza in the fridge for Wayne and then headed to bed, only to be plagued with dreams of scribbled out love hearts, movie theater candy, guitar solos, and big red gum.

When Eddie woke up the next morning, he felt...honestly felt like he was floating on a cloud. Every muscle in his body felt looser, yet somehow tighter at the same time. His skin felt tighter, like it wasn't right, like it didn't fit somehow, it was suffocating him.

He must have died but he wasn't quite sure if this was heaven or hell.

His eyes burned and blurred slightly as he opened them and what he saw was...unexpected.

Gone were the off-white walls, his posters, the piles of his crap, and that concerning patch of probably-mold in the corner of the ceiling. Instead there was a sturdy ceiling, plaid-papered walls, and matching curtains?

Eddie groaned and rolled over.

What the fuck was this place?

There was a slam of a door somewhere that practically shook the walls surrounding Eddie and as he sat up, he found himself only wearing...briefs? He didn't wear briefs.

This wasn’t his bed, wasn’t his room…wasn’t his… body?

He looked down at his chest, his arms, his hands…his fingers weren’t right, he didn’t have this many freckles and moles, he didn’t have…abs, if that’s what you could call the slight definition on his torso. Still it was more than his body had ever had. His skin…was itchy and mostly hairless.

Eddie reached up and touches his hair—shorter than he was used to, not curly…at all—then his face, as if that was any indicator to what he—

“A mirror!” He exclaimed. His voice…sounded familiar, but different. Fuck what kind of dream was this?

Because it had to be a dream right? It had to be. How else did he wake up in someone else’s body?

He pushed himself out of the bed, walking slightly off-cadence, which…yeah probably came with the territory of your brain needing to get used to a new body. Fuck…was his brain even his brain or did his mind just get transported what was happening?

Ugh it was too early to think about that.

Eddie slowly cracked the bedroom door open and peaked into the rest of the house. He spotted a bathroom just across the way, otherwise…shit, this place actually looked a little familiar. Where the fuck was he? Who the fuck was he?

He quickly crossed the landing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He heaved a breath and leaned back against the door for a moment to calm himself; his hands were shaking and felt cold. Could he even feel his fingers? Nice to know the occasional nervousness that snuck up on him at his lowest moments hadn’t been left behind in his old body, that they’d followed him to this one.

His body…would it still be in his bed? What if he really had died and…had jumped into his new body? Was this reincarnation?

Fuck, if he was dead…Wayne would find him. Could he even…see his uncle again? How could he ever explain who he was?

Eddie felt the tears prick his eyes and his throat tighten and he slapped his face a few times.

“Come on man, come on,” he muttered. “It’s not that bad. It’s only…mildly awful. Fuck, ok. Just go, just look, just…rip it off like a bandaid.”

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded, then crossed the short distance to stand in front of the sink. He stared at his new feet, wiggled his new toes. You never…appreciated the toes you had until you have new ones.

That was awful and you’re an idiot. Just look.

Eddie closed his eyes again and turned his face up towards the mirror. He could do it. He would do it.

He opened his eyes.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

Steve woke up feeling like absolute shit. Everything ached—like he had pulled a muscle or something by sleeping crookedly—he had awful cottonmouth, and he had inhaled…some yarn or something because he woke up coughing and gagging until he got the intrusive strands out of his mouth.

“Gahh, shit, shit,” he said and scratched at his throat. He sounded hoarse. Ugh was he getting sick? He’d have to ask his mom to bring home some soup or something.

Could he call out of work? Shit he had to take Robin to school. She could walk today, he felt awful.

Steve blinked his eyes open and took in the unfamiliar popcorn ceiling with growing concern.

He looked around at the…piles of garbage and the cracks in the plaster walls partially covered by band posters...and felt the rise of panic grow within him. He tried to recall the night before.

He’d wrapped up his shift at Family Video, gone home and had a rare dinner with both of his parents, then…felt extremely tired and went to bed.

So how did he end up here…wherever here was?

This was a kidnapping; it had to be. He was…drugged—explained the cottonmouth—and kidnapped. And now someone was holding him for ransom or something to…blackmail his father? Thomas Harrington was kind of a dick sometimes, sure, but still…he was a pretty decent guy. Who would want to blackmail him?

“H-hello?” Steve called out. “Anyone there? C-can anyone hear me?”

There was some shuffling outside of the door of the room.

Thankfully Steve wasn’t tied up or anything. God, what kind of kidnappers were these? He quickly glanced around the room for a weapon of some sort and he immediately spotted...

A guitar? A few guitars actually. Man these kidnappers really liked music huh?

One was a weird shape--he'd seen some hair metal bands use guitars like that in magazines, but he'd never seen one in person--and was a mottled red color. One was just what you'd expect when someone said "electric guitar." And one was acoustic and looked like it could pack a real wallop.

Bingo.

Steve pushed himself out of the bed and immediately jumped because whatever had been in his mouth was on his shoulders now. He reached up to grab it: hair. Long, wavy, messy...knotty and frizzy. Like it hadn't been brushed for days, maybe weeks?

And his arm, sticking out from whatever t-shirt he'd been put in...was lithe and weak and there were tattoos. On both arms. A creepy claw hand and a bunch of bats.

What was this? How long had they held him hostage for? No wonder they didn't feel the need to tie him up! He'd been knocked out cold.

He needed to get out of here. Now. He needed to get home.

Steve crossed the room to grab the guitar when he noticed it. At first he thought it was another person. But no, it was just a mirror...and in the mirror...his reflection.

Only it wasn't...his reflection.

It had startled him and he had jumped. Then he moved his arms a little and watched the figure in the mirror mimic him. Over and over.

A wave, a turn, a funny face.

He couldn’t believe it. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.

Because it was him, his reflection. But it was not his—Steve Harrington’s—reflection.

It was Eddie Munson's.

[minigirl87]

Damaged goods & no returns Chp.1

Steven Grant x Female reader

Summary:-

You're invited to an exclusive party that will change your life by your best friend. It turns out to be an auction for high society women to by sex slaves. While having a walk around, you find a shy and nervous man in the library. The man turns out to be Steven Grant. There are no mentions of Marc or Jake, but that they will appear in the future. I had this idea after reading a book about women's sexual fantasies as I just saw Steven in my mind.

I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

Warnings:- ⚠️🔞

Do not interact if under 18. Mentions of sex. Talk of sex slavery. I wanted to explore something darker as I've got over 100 followers. No sex in this chapter.

Word Count:- 1460

Everyone knows money runs the world, and money brings privileges. But old money is a different world entirely. it's a strange world of antiquum, eccentricity, and rules. Like a private members club where nothing is spoken about outside the members' walls.

Mrs Bradley is the epiphany of being an eccentric of New York society, an 84 year old woman who dresses and behaves like a 1960s southern belle with her favourite word if she liked you being “Darlin”. Very few times, it is an old and new mix, but between you and your friend Rebecca Mrs Bradleys, the great niece it has. Your Father had been a very successful with a transport company that had travelled all over the world now.

 You and Rebecca had a solid friendship of a few years, having met at a dinner party that your dad had held to celebrate a deal with Rebecca’s dad. You both clicked, and friendship blossomed from a dinner party conversation to crying on the phone at 2 am. About both your exes and everyone in between building love and trust leading to this moment.

Everyone knew about Mrs Bradleys eccentric parties that only women attended. Rumours were abound about what happened at these ladies parties, did she run a male brothel, or was it just a bunch of women getting drunk and loose without their partners. Women from ages  20 to 100 would be seen entering the Bradley mansion. So tonight you would see for yourself.

 Standing waiting, look out your lounge window for the car to collect you. Smoothing out your plum velvet cocktail dress, the scent of black opium filling the air as you do so. Your phone beeps with a message from Rebecca saying that they’d be their in 5 minutes. Putting your phone in your matching plum clutch you grab your silver grey faux fur coat and checking you have everything and head outside locking your front door and head to the car as the driver stands at the open door waiting for you to enter.

The car door clicks shut as your body melts into the buff leather of cars interior as the vehicle moves along the road. Rebecca sits smiling lips, matching her fuchsia silk evening dress

“Nervous about this evening” her voice brings you back to reality as you notice that you're fiddling with your fingers.

“A little bit, I’ve heard a lot about your Aunts parties. I don’t want to make a fool of myself” you reply softly. Rebecca giggles, taking your hand, giving it a little squeeze of assurance. “My aunt loves you, she thinks you’re the sweetest little thing and insisted you come tonight” you blush in response, you had only met Mrs Bradley a few times and you were surprised by the comments. Sitting back quietly, contemplating the evening ahead, it was as if Rebecca could read your mind.

“I must tell you about the party. It's a....well, it's a sex slave auction” she stares at you awaiting your reaction. You face drains, and your mouth hangs open a few seconds before recovering your composure “A what?” the anger and disgust evident in your voice. Rebecca stares, thinking on how to respond without this blowing up.

“Yes as I said, my aunt deals with male sex slave for women who can afford their own private little pet. She’s done it for years and is successful at it. The men are trained to do other things so no one gets suspicious” The nonchalant way Rebecca responds is horrid as though she’s talking about a piece of dirt, not a human.

 The car pulls to a halt in front of the mansion. The large oak and iron doors are illuminated by flaming torches and two men dressed in moss green and gold livery great the guests as they arrive. You and Rebecca leave the car and grace the steps to go inside. Your heart is thumping in your chest, and bile rises in your throat. A man in the same livery carries a sliver tray of champagne, lifting a sparkling crystal flute of the golden bubbles in a white gloved hand passing one to both you and Rebecca nodding as you said thank you.

 The entrance hall was extremely extravagant, and you now know you’ve entered a different world. As you look around, you see various men aged 20-40 dressed smartly and conversing with various female guests. You imagine they're doing this to get the best bids and get to the wealthiest woman there. Rebecca looks at you sipping her champagne

“Please understand this is how our world works. They are well looked after men” You only nod in response to her. Mrs Bradley comes over and embraces her great niece and you. Telling you to enjoy yourselves and hoping that someone catches your eye.

You smile in response before asking if you may go look around at the art. In a flamboyant manner, she agrees and walks, taking Rebecca to talk in private about something. You wander off along a oak panelled hall into the library your about to walk over to study the painting above the fireplace when you notice a nervous looking man slightly hunched over in the chair his chocolates curls bouncing as he fidgets with his fingers.

 “Hello” You speak softly so as not to scare him. He looks up at you with massive chocolate eyes his reply is barely audible as he sits curled into himself. “Is everything OK?” You slowly walk over to him. A fat tear runs down his cheek as he shakes his head as his curls swaying about.

Kneeling in front of him “Are you one of Mrs Bradleys slaves? All the man does is whimper in response. You want to cuddle him and protect him. He’s nothing like the other men who appear happy in this arrangement. You’re about to ask him his name when Mrs Bradley heels clacking along the floor into the room and angrily looking at the man.

“STEVEN” she says through gritted teeth “why are you in hear you should be out mingling try to find a forever home again” You raise your eyebrows at the word again as the man known as Steven grabs your arm. You finally hear him speak he has a London accent and sounds so soft.

“Yes mistress, I won’t be returned again”

“three times Steven you’ve been returned to me. I can’t keep you if you’re returned again” The venom in Mrs. Bradleys word makes Steven shake against you. You make a decision right there and then, and you’ll deal with everything later.

“Mrs Bradley. How much for Steven?”

Mrs Bradley looks taken aback “You want him out all the other handsome and more socially astute men you want him?” Steven shakes behind you his grip on your arm tightening. “yes. How much?” You felt disgusted talking like this, but you wanted to help Steven.

“Well he’s damaged goods, and I need rid of him. No returns, and he’s $20.000” Closing your eyes and shaking your head at Mrs Bradleys words. “Bank transfer, okay?” You reach into your clutch for your phone. Realising that you’re seriou, Mrs Bradley switches her southern charm back on.

“course Darlin” she walks over to the roll top desk in the library, sitting down her bangles jingling as she sorts paperwork and a tablet. You sign and transfer the money over to her, and she gives you a receipt. You look at the receipt and see it describes the painting that’s above the fireplace. You look shocked as she nods at Steven, and Steven shakily gets up and walks to the fireplace, lifting the painting off the wall and walking up to you.

You realise what Mrs Bradleys doing covering herself so that she can’t get into trouble. You look at her and force a smile.

“I think it’s best I leave now, Mrs Bradley. Have a good evening” You walk away with Steven behind you, clutching the painting or clutching his pain you can’t decide. Mrs Bradley nods with a smile, bidding good evening as she walks along the hall in front of both you and Steven as a car pulls up at the entrance to take you home. She says something about Stevens' belongings being brought to yours tomorrow. You only nod in response as you get in the car behind Steven.

 The chauffeur closes the door with a click before getting in and driving away from Bradley Manor. You look at Steven who’s sitting looking out the car window at the passing street lights. You feel nothing but pure love for Steven, and  you vow to help and protect him. Steven senses you, looking at him he turns to look at you with a gentle smile.

To be continued........

@melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @my-secret-shame @missdictatorme @jake-g-lockley @steven-grants-world @romanarose @campingwiththecharmings @writingforcurrentobsessions2 @welcometostayingawake @guruan-is-not-here @ivystoryweaver @whirlybirbs @whatthefishh @missscarlettangel @missdictatorme @lonelyisamyw-0love @madlittlecriminal @midgardian-witch @saturn-rings-writes @madlittlecriminal @gigachadcowboy @draggolblackthorn @he-burnt-my-shake @musicsavedme98 @mess-of-fandom @hon3yboy @ominoose @jayke0 @theaussiedragon @reallyrallyauthor @romanarose @romana-after-dark

Banners and deviders by @cafekitsune

[blackswaneuroparedux]

I never admitted to anybody during my entire military service that I had been an actor. I was terrified that I would be put in charge of Ensa [Entertainments' National Service Association]. Not even my closest friends knew I was an actor. I told them I was reading English at St Andrews University.

- Richard Todd

In his heyday in the 1950s and 1960s, Richard Todd was Britain’s leading matinee idol. If you love old movies, you’ll have seen Todd in one of his starring roles in “The Virgin Queen” opposite Bette Davis, “Stage Struck” with Marlene Dietrich, or “The Dam Busters” for which he won a Golden Globe Award. He was the tough little Scotsman in the wartime weepie “The Hasty Heart” and had audiences madly hunting for hankies.

Those were the days when Todd streaked across North American film screens as virtually every romantic hero from Rob Roy to Robin Hood. Ian Fleming chose him to play James Bond in “Dr. No” in 1962, but a schedule clash meant Sean Connery stepped into the role.

Little less known is the fact that he was also among the first British soldiers and the first Irishman to land in Normandy on D Day. More specifically, he participated in Operation Tonga during the D-Day landings in Normandy on 6 June 1944.

So it must have been surreal for Richard Todd the hearthrob actor to find himself playing Major John Howard in the epic movie ‘The Longest Day’ (1962) based on Cornelius Ryan’s book. Not least because he served with Howard and took part in the fighting at Pegasus Bridge that Major John Howard was tasked to secure on D Day.

Richard Todd was born in Dublin, Ireland, in 1919. His father was a medic in the British Army and, as his posting required, the early years of his life were spent in India. The family settled in Devon upon their return to England, and Richard was educated at Shrewsbury Public School, in Shropshire. The theatre was his first love, and he furthered his dramatic skills at the Italia Conti school, thereafter moving to Scotland where he helped to form the Dundee Repertory Theatre. When War was declared, Todd went to St. Andrew's University on the following day to volunteer. He was not a member of the University, but he not only convinced the selection unit that he was, but also added that he had been reading English there for six months, and that he had obtained a Cert A in his school cadet corps; a key point to being accepted as an officer. Despite success in passing off this invented career, Todd was to be disappointed by a lack of interest in him thereafter.

Becoming increasingly desperate to get into the War before it ended, he sent numerous letters to the War Office to press his case, which, in June 1940, was finally noticed.

Accepted by the King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, Todd went to Sandhurst to receive his officer training. He had a very lucky escape here when he was in a corridor on the second floor of a building when it was hit by a bomb, and he was blown into the garden outside by the blast. He got to his feet in the darkness and did not feel particularly affected by it, but an examination by torchlight revealed that his whole body was covered in blood from numerous small wounds.

A spell his hospital delayed his passing out from Sandhurst until early 1941. Celebrating in London, he narrowly avoided death again when he found his usual haunt, the Cafe de Paris, was too crowded to admit him and so he went elsewhere; it was hit by a bomb that same night and 84 people were killed.

His Battalion, the 2nd/4th Battalion The King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, was posted to XII Corps in defence of Kent, where a German invasion if it came would almost certainly land. Todd was given command of the infantry in the Dymchurch Redoubt, a fort of the Napoleonic era mounting two six-inch guns.

In the event of an invasion, this would certainly have been a primary target for the enemy, and those manning it were told that, with the main defensive line far to their rear, they would be left to fight to the end. General Montgomery commanded XII Corps at this time, and his characteristic emphasis on training and preparedness led to the formation of the first Battle Schools. Richard Todd attended one of these, and the experience allowed him to run his own School when, in December 1941, he was sent to Iceland with the 1st/4th King's Own Light Infantry to be trained in arctic and mountain warfare. Returning to England in September 1942, he eventually ended up in the 7th (Light Infantry) Parachute Battalion of the 6th Airborne Division. He was among troops of the 7th (Light Infantry) Parachute Battalion who, at 00:40 hours on 6 June 1944, landed behind the Normandy beaches in a cornfield, perilously close to tracer fire.

Todd scrambled into a wood and with 150 other paratroopers reached Pegasus and Ranville bridges, vital crossings to allow Allied forces to break out from the beachheads into Normandy. They had been seized by a glider force from the Ox and Bucks Light Infantry under the command of Major John Howard, who needed reinforcements to fend off ferocious German attacks.

In his memoirs, Caught in the Act, Todd would write of the carnage, “There was no cessation in the Germans' probing with patrols and counter-attacks, some led by tanks, and the regimental aid post was overrun in the early hours. The wounded being tended there were all killed where they lay. There was sporadic enemy mortar and artillery fire we could do nothing about. One shell landed in a hedge near me, killing a couple of our men.”

Todd would go on and see action at the Battle of the Bulge and push into the Rhine into Germany. After VE day, his division returned to the UK for a few weeks, then was sent on counter-insurgency operations in Palestine. During this posting he was seriously injured when his Jeep overturned, breaking both shoulders and receiving a concussion. He returned to the UK to be demobilised in 1946. 

In 1962, Todd was given the part of Major John Howard in the film adaptation of Cornelius Ryan's book about the D-Day landings, ‘The Longest Day’ (1962). Due to the nature of cinema, it was impossible for the film to give a thorough reflection of the role of the 6th Airborne Division during the Invasion, and as such their activities were solely represented by a reconstruction of the capture of Bénouville Bridge by Howard's coup-de-main force. Although briefly mentioned, the role of the 7th Battalion in the defence of the western bridgehead was largely ignored, and so it appeared as if the defence of the bridge rested only on Howard's men.

Naturally, the omission of their fierce defence of Bénouville caused some resentment amongst veterans, not least because one of their own was championing this re-working of history. Todd, however, regarded ‘The Longest Day’ (1962) as a film rather than a documentary, and his part in it was simply that of an actor doing as he was told.

Richard Todd would never have guessed, that in 17 years since he was on Pegasus Bridge as a paratrooper that he would standing there again as an actor portraying Major John Howard who was given the order: 'Hold,… until relieved'. It had to be Richard Todd’s 'twilight-zone' moment.

The ‘relieve’ for Howard had to come from Lord Lovat and his troops, who had landed on SWORD Beach, and were legging it towards Pegasus Bridge.

Before the shooting of the scenes were started at Pegasus Bridge, the film producer of The Longest Day, Darryl F. Zanuck, had the real life Lord Lovat and Major John Howard brought over to meet the men who were going to portray them (Peter Lawford portrayed Lord Lovat). The men had not seen each other since 6 June 1944.

Photo (above). From L-R: Peter Lawford, Lord Lovat, Richard Todd, Major John Howard.

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

WIP Wednesday! (insert meme: it's been 84 years...)

Hello! I think I've neglected these beautiful WIP tag games as of late, so I took the chance, after being tagged by the lovelies @bostoniangirl21 and @miraakulous-cloud-district (thank you both so much!🧡), to share a bit of CH20 of The Priest and the Dragoness (I'm seriously thinking of changing the title of my fic, so if someone wants to give me their opinion about this Cursed Thought™, I'll gladly take it!). Also, the beloved @miraakulous-cloud-district had the idea of making this WIP combo with a picrew of ocs! I'm so excited to share! 😍

Tonight, in that dream, she does not see the precious faces of her dear mother and father she always recognized even if she never knew them or touched them or kissed them in the waking world, nor does she hear the rough but heartwarming voice of her wise old wolf, Kodlak Whitemane.  She does not dream of Vilkas and Farkas’ affectionate fraternal teasing, the tender motherly sternness of Aela, nor does she blend her youthful voice with Whiterun’s liveliness during the New Life Festival, in its songs, dances, feasts, in Magnus’ slow return to Nirn. She sees neither the darkness, the shackles, the rot of Northwatch Keep, nor even senses Caranthir’s breath chilling the back of her neck.  Sometimes, Jia dreams of herself as a dragon. She falls to her weak, human knees, weeps and screams without voice, only to feel her spine crack lengthwise and then split in half like the shell of an egg, as the acrid stench of seething, ripped-out flesh engulfs her like a firestorm, dominates her from head to toe. And then, she sees her two blood-leaking wings spreading through her shadow, and she takes flight, and she brings debris and death.  But tonight, in that dream, she is not a fire-breathing, blood-raining wyrm. In that dream, she is a bird, a swallow, and behind her soft, feathery wings, she knows a delicate shaft of the warmest, most pristine sunlight dovetails with her close behind, creating technicolor colorings upon her lustrous plumage; and from beneath her small-boned body, she sows springs and summers, meadows and groves, all with a single wingstroke.  In that dream, she flies towards a colossal tree. Though suddenly her flight grows swift, erratic, hopeless, so much as one would wonder how a swallow’s flickering little heart can withstand this kind of fear and despair. For this tree that she hunts with time’s passing, is not for nesting and is barren of verdure or fruit in spite of the spring-bearer’s sight; this is an unearthly shade of dark, black wood, of twisting, writhing branches as if they are coming to life, haunted, rotten to the roots and even beyond those, like—  Like a hanged man’s tree. “Sleep,” Miraak tells her, when she startles awake, in a whisper drawn out of the loveliest lullaby, as though he is, too, tethered between reality and a dream, his caressing fingers blindly running up and down her back. “It was just a dream.” They are never just dreams, the words her brain pushes to speak aloud, but her eyes close again, and she’s plunging into a vision that she may not remember come morning.

Now for the lovely picrew!

OH but of course I would make not only Jia but her Miraak too, what do you mean... 😇

I'm tagging some people with the hope I'm not bothering them, so absolutely no pressure for this! Still, it'd be wonderful to see your creations, whichever they are! 🥰 @blossom-adventures, @sothas, @prettytamagnii, @illumiera, @kiir-do-faal-rahhe, @thequeenofthewinter, @ruskycreations

[joannaliceevans-fanficblog]

The Notebook: Prologue

A/N: This has been almost a year in the making. And I wanted to have it out sooner, but I just couldn't get it right and kept changing it. So now, it's ready! I hope ya'll enjoy this as this one !

Also, this my take on my favorite book of all time. I know many didn't like the movie, but I loved it.

Summary:

Summers in Cape Cod are a pain in the ass for Frank. He never liked them, but at the same time it brought money to the business.

Rose Belanfort from the The Belanfort Whiskey Company and and the.biggest Publishing company of the same name. Growing up, she had everything. Went to the most prestige Catholic Prepatory school.

**

Summers were spent at Cape Cod. Where she spent her times at the beach, parties and her cousins.

One night she went to a Fair and there she met a boy that would change her life.

Spring 2050

Spring morning came with the sun peeking through the curtains, awakening Frank Adler. Rubbing his eyes, he saw the door to his room open and saw his nurse, Robin, come in. He smiled warmly as she helped him up from the bed. Robin opened the curtains while Frank stretched his old body.

Frank looked outside and smiled. Even at the age of 84 years, he still feels young at times.

“It’s a beautiful day today, Robin,” Frank said as he headed to grab his robe.

“It is, isn’t it? Spring is finally here. Was there anything else you needed?” Robin asked. 

Frank gave a curt nod, and the nurse excused herself to finish her rounds at the home.

**

Frank got himself ready for the day and grabbed his book from the nightstand next to him. Before heading out, he looked at the framed photo and smiled.

 Heading down to the dining hall, he went to take his usual seat in the sunroom. He placed his plate down, consisting of scrambled eggs, seasonal fruit, turkey bacon, and toast. Placing his book down, he took a sip of his black coffee. While he ate, a familiar voice floated to his ears and Frank smiled. He looked up and there she was.

There stood the most beautiful lady he’d ever laid his eyes on.

“Good morning, Nurse Betty,” Frank said. The kind nurse smiled as she helped the woman take a seat. She placed the plate down and scooted her chair in. The woman looked at Frank in confusion.

“Betty? Who is this?” The woman asked. Even if it hurt, Frank smiled.

“Rose, this is your friend Franklin.” The nurse replied.

“Franklin? I don’t know anyone with that name.” Rose said. 

Frank smiled again and leaned back into his seat.

“He reads to you, Rose. You like books and stories.” Betty said.

Rose raised the fork to her mouth, “What is this story about?”

Frank smiled, “It’s a love story. Would you like to hear it?”

The old woman nodded silently, and Frank opened the book and began to read aloud, “Once upon a time…”

[hannahmanderr]

DannyMay Day 24 - NASA

Words: 5,655

Summary: Danny and Vlad's dynamic is tense at best. Doesn't mean Vlad isn't going to stop trying to win Danny's trust (Vlad and Danny bonding, truce AU)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ancients, Vlad, when I agreed to come on this trip, I did not agree to it being somewhere so hot, it might as well be Satan’s armpit.”

Vlad shot me a dirty look. “It’s Florida, Daniel, and I would greatly appreciate it if you can manage to avoid comparing it to the devil or any of his body parts.”

“Florida, huh?” I put my finger on my chin as I pretended to think about it, then shrugged. “Then we really are in Satan’s armpit.”

“Honestly, Daniel, we’ve been here for all of ten minutes. Can you not exercise any more restraint?”

Just because I knew it would get on his nerves, I gave him my best innocent-16-year-old smile. “For you, Vladdie? I’ll try.”

He rolled his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. I don’t know if he forgot I could hear him perfectly well (thanks ghost powers!) or if he simply forgot (thanks old man memory!). Either way, I was satisfied. Sweaty, feeling crabby after a five hour flight (that I hadn’t been allowed to make myself because it’s not how “civilized” people travel, apparently), but satisfied. I’d successfully won this battle.

“How much longer, anyway?” I asked. Vlad hadn’t wanted to wait for our bags; he said he’d have someone bring them straight to the hotel. Something about having business to handle first, which, in half-ghost teenager terms, translated to boring. “You told me I wouldn’t regret coming with you.”

“And I fully intend to make good on that promise. You will simply have to be patient,” he said. He kept his look focused straight in front of him, where his driver would supposedly be pulling up, but after a moment, he gave me a side glance. “I would’ve thought you would have an idea of what I promised you. Were you not paying attention to our destination?”

I shrugged again. “Between trying to sneak a thermos past security, using your credit card to buy myself snacks, and staring at the wonderful exclusive offers offered by SkyMall for two hours? Not really.”

Now he fully turned toward me, eyes wide. “My cre- when did you steal my credit card?” he sputtered.

I lost it. Look, it’s not often I can render Vlad “Must Always Have a Perfect Public Image” Masters into a hot mess, I gotta take advantage of the hits when I can get them in! Plus, just the idea that I, a ratty looking, snarky teenager could cause a world-class billionaire to lose his composure was hilarious.

“Ease up, V-man,” I said in between giggles. “I didn’t steal it. It hasn’t left your wallet this whole time.” I waited for him to relax before casually adding, “I added it to my Apple Pay months ago!”

The glare he shot me was downright vicious and tinged with red sparks. “I don’t have to do this, you know,” he said all low and dangerous. His poor attempt to scare me into behaving nearly sent me into a fit of laughter again, but I, being the good little boy I am, decided to work on exercising that restraint he kept egging me about. “There’s nothing stopping me from simply throwing you in one of my ecto-suppressant boxes for the weekend.”

“Lock up your own nephew?” I gasped with fake horror. “How could you do such a thing?”

“I could and I would, and you know that perfectly well.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was still grinning. Our truce may be somewhat strained by our seemingly natural ability to grate on each other’s nerves, but I knew he wouldn’t break it that easily. The threat was hollow, just like my sass. Most of my sass, anyway.

What can I say? It helps me cope.

“We’ll blame my immaturity on the heat. Seriously though, how the heck are you not melting in that thing?” I said, nodding towards his expensive suit. “I get that you like, bathe in molten lava or whatever, but this is ridiculous.”

“I think you’re exaggerating, Daniel. The pilot said it’s 84 right now with a breeze. Not nearly ‘melting’ temperatures.” He frowned and scanned me over. “Are you feeling alright?”

“‘Course I am,” I scoffed. I would never let on that the heat was actually making me feel really sick to my stomach. 

You know how in the middle of summer when it’s like 95 or 100 degrees out and you just kind of feel sweaty and sick and lethargic and too hot to do anything? Well, ever since my ice core finished maturing, back when Undergrowth first attacked, I’ve started to hit that point at 75 degrees or so. I’ve had to learn how to manage myself around it (frequent trips to the Far Frozen during the summer help!), but I guess I didn’t process the fact that Florida would definitely be warmer than Amity Park. My core was feeling overworked trying to keep itself and my body cool.

I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t buying it. “You know,” he began as a limousine glided to a stop in front of us, “there is no shame in needing certain types of care for an elemental core.” He opened the back door and gestured for me to climb in.

The inside of the limo was about as posh as I expected. Plush seats, minifridge, the whole deal. I sprawled across one of the bench seats and redirected one of the vents blowing sweet sweet AC right towards my face.

“Don’t you have a whole thing against appearing weak?” I asked. The good mood I’d had from successfully pulling a fast one on him had begun to evaporate. I might be good at back-talking him into defeat, but he was just as good, if not better at picking me apart and reading me like a book. I hated when he was able to analyze me like he just had, especially when I was trying to do my best to keep it from him.

Vlad hummed and casually took a sparkling water from the fridge. After taking a sip, he said, “You would be right. Weakness is one thing, however. Natural needs are something else entirely.”

I almost started to retort, but I thought better about it at the last minute, only because I noticed the partition between us and the driver was partially open. I knew Vlad kept some ghosts on his payroll, but I didn’t know if they usually worked in his house or drove for him, especially so far away from home. And from what little I’d been able to glance at this driver, he looked awfully human to me. I wasn’t too keen on spilling my secret to a total stranger.

He caught me staring at the partition. “There’s no need to censor yourself in here, Daniel,” he told me. “Charles is a ghost of the utmost secrecy. Whatever you wish to say to me, it is safe to say it in front of him.” I must’ve hesitated too long, because he continued after a couple moments to say, “If it helps you feel better, though…” He reached over and hit a switch, and the partition rolled up.

I felt a tension in my shoulders release. I knew he (probably) wasn’t lying about the driver being a ghost and being good at secrets or whatever, but my secret identity was way too important to me to risk. It was one thing if all the ghosts knew, but I wasn’t about to risk accidentally sharing something with a random human.

I sighed heavily and closed my eyes. “I was just gonna say there’s not exactly anything ‘natural’ about what we are,” I muttered. Couldn’t he turn up the AC any more?

“You know what I mean,” he said. As if reading my mind, he turned a dial, and the air speed increased. My core drank in the cold air greedily.

“The needs of an elemental core are no different than basic human needs to maintain a certain level of body warmth. Or adequate levels of hydration. It is a body part like any other, and it must be cared for properly,” he told me. “It isn’t a weakness. It’s a fact of life. Or afterlife, as it were.”

My brow furrowed. I took a moment to breathe in more of the cold air before asking, “So… how do you do it?”

“What, wear a suit in the heat? You’d be surprised how many businessmen can weather such a task, little badger.”

“Okay, first off,” I said, sitting up, “you are not allowed to pun. That’s my thing, and sorry-not-sorry, but you can’t pull it off. Second, you have a hot core, right?”

“Electric, technically speaking.” He shrugged. “It is a subset of hot cores, though. A core like mine is more specialized.”

“Electric, alright. But anyway, if your core is hot, how do you keep it warm and stuff in the winter, or when it’s cold?”

Vlad took another sip of his water as he considered the question. “There are quite a few ways an elemental core can adapt to its surroundings, if it finds itself in a hostile environment. Many I’ve had to learn myself, but I’ve also watched other hot core owners and learned from them.” He tilted his head as he studied me. “Haven’t you been visiting those… mongrels? The ice clan?”

It took me a minute to realize who he was talking about. “You mean the yetis? In the Far Frozen?” I laughed a little. “Don’t let them hear you call them that. If I remember right, the first and last time you met them, they froze you in a block of ice so thick it took you four days to completely thaw.”

Vlad scowled. “Yes, well, if you’re uncomfortable in this heat, imagine how uncomfortable I was trying to get warm again.”

“Hmm.” I nodded my head back and forth. “Point taken. But to answer your question, of course I’ve been visiting them. Frostbite’s been training me since I first got my ice powers, and they usually help give me check ups when I visit.”

“And in your training, has this Frostbite taught you how to balance your core temperature to the environment?”

“Umm, I don’t know?” I said. It’s not that I don’t pay attention to Frostbite’s lessons, it’s that I just kind of do things. I don’t really think about what they’re called or anything. “I don’t think so?”

He flashed me a grin. “Well, it’s good to know you’re involving yourself with such thorough, competent instructors.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Hey!” I said, leaning forward in my seat. “Frostbite is a great teacher! If it wasn’t for him, I’d have frozen to death and Amity Park would still be an overgrown garden. He’s taught me a lot! Like even half-ghost stuff!”

“I suppose it makes sense,” Vlad continued, as if I hadn’t said anything. “Those yetis are a reclusive clan. They rarely venture outside their home. It wouldn’t occur to them to teach you how to adapt to a different environment if they aren’t used to doing it themselves.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know I needed to ask them to teach me?”

“You wouldn’t,” he replied calmly. “How would you?”

I let my head fall back into the seat with a groan. He was definitely waiting for me to say something, and I knew exactly what he was waiting to hear. “Let me guess. You expect me to ask you to teach me.” 

That snooty jerk tried (and failed) to hide his smirk by sipping at his water. “You did tell me once that you learn best through practical applications - ‘doing things on the fly’ is how you phrased it, I believe.” He raised an eyebrow. “This would be the perfect opportunity for some hands-on learning.”

Ugh. Just because we’d agreed to maybe try not to be at each other’s throats all the time didn’t mean I wanted the guy teaching me. That would open up a whole can of worms. The make-Danny-my-half-ghost-son-slash-apprentice kind of can that I specifically said was not allowed to be open if we were gonna try this truce.

Still though, as much as I hated to admit it, he probably had a point. I probably needed to learn these sorts of things sooner or later, and he would be the ideal person to teach me. Don’t get me wrong, I love Frostbite and he knows a lot, but there are just some things he can’t understand about me, and my human half makes trying to understand ghost stuff hard sometimes. Vlad’s the only other guy like me. He’s the only one who can really understand.

“Alright, alright,” I finally said. “You can play Professor Plasmius for the weekend, if that’s what you really want.” I pointed sharply at him and added, “But! We’re not making this a regular thing, capiche?”

Of course, he just kept his stupid, smug smirk. “If you say so.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and began tapping the keyboard. “In the meantime, I’ll order an ice bath for you to be ready when we arrive at the hotel. We’ll be outside a fair bit more today; you’ll need it to recover.” 

He leaned down and grabbed a water bottle out of the mini-fridge and tossed it to me. “And stay hydrated. Your core may be a cold core, but more specifically, it’s an ice core. That puts you at a doubled risk for dehydration, you know.”

It took me a long swig from the water bottle to process what he’d said. “Wait, what do you mean risk for dehydration?”

“You and I still have human bodies, little badger. As I mentioned before, those bodies have needs that must be met.”

“But I thought the ghost side basically took care of those sorts of things,” I interrupted. “Like I’m pretty sure I didn’t imagine totally creaming Tuck in a breath holding contest.”

Vlad folded his fingers together. Thankfully, he didn’t look too irritated by my interruption. “Some needs can be met by the natural effects of our ghost halves. Not all. Hydration is one that your ghost body cannot contribute to supporting.”

I hummed. “Makes sense, I guess. But wouldn’t that mean I’m just at a normal risk of dehydration then?”

“Not so. Your core generates cold and ice naturally to sustain itself, but it cannot create ice out of thin air. It draws on ambient water around it to create that ice. For your little yeti friends, that water has to come from the environment around them, since a ghost does not retain water well. Why do you think they tend to stay close to their realm? Or why ice cores themselves are a rarity?”

“I dunno, I just figured they didn’t really have a reason to leave.” I tapped the side of my water bottle absently. “So if they get their water from the snow and stuff, what about me? I mean I know Amity Park is basically on the lake, but it’s not that close.”

The smile on his face reeked of that classic Vlad smugness. “Think about it, my boy. A ghost half that needs water, plus a human half that can retain water…”

“So my core basically eats my human half’s water?”

“Well, I might not put it in those exact words, but yes, essentially,” he said. “Because both your human body and your core are draining on your water, it means you require far more fluids than any average person.”

I threw my head back again. “Greeeaaat,” I drawled. “Hooray for more freaky hybrid metabolism crap. I’m already sucking down ectoplasm all the time, please don’t tell me I’m gonna have to start carrying around those gallon jugs of water like the football players.”

Vlad studied me for a long moment. I could practically see the gears turning in his head. “I might be able to help work out a supplement to add to a regular water bottle to increase its hydrating abilities. Though perhaps I could find a way to incorporate it into the ectoplasm supplements you’re already taking…”

“Awesome, between the glowing green sludge and the Gatorade on crack, I’ll be the king of supplements,” I said with the driest glare I could muster. “That’ll definitely keep losers like Weston off my back about all the weird stuff I already do.”

“Oh, relax, Daniel.” He sniffed and turned to look out the window. “It’s about keeping you functioning and healthy, not your social status. Quite frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t suffered from dehydration before.”

I shrugged. “Probably the same reason Mom and Dad haven’t caught me going ghost yet. I’ve got the power of crazy dumb luck on my side.”

“More like an oblivious buffoon for a father,” Vlad muttered under his breath. 

I rolled my eyes but didn’t press the comment. Instead, I chose to look out the window myself, not that it told me much. We were making our way through the city (whatever city it was. It wasn’t Orlando or Miami was all I knew), but everything pretty much looked the same as it did back home. Though as someone born and raised in Amity Park, Michigan, seeing real palm trees was pretty cool.

After we’d sat there in silence for a few minutes, a thought occurred to me. “How do you know all this stuff anyway?” I asked as we began to roll through another intersection.

Vlad had turned his attention back to his phone after we’d stopped talking, but he looked up when he heard me. “Know all what?”

“All this… biology stuff, or whatever,” I said, gesturing wildly with my hand as I searched for the right word. “All this stuff about cores, and - and how they interact with our bodies and stuff.”

“Ha! You think a scientist such as myself would be content remaining ignorant about everything there is to know about who we are - what we are?”

Sometimes I forgot he was a science guru like my parents. Heck, he’d helped build their proto-portal. And he’d done all that stuff when he went through the cloning phase (I love Danielle, but that’s still the most messed-up thing he’s done).

“Fair enough,” I admitted, “but I don’t understand why know all the stuff about ice cores, especially since it’s the opposite of your core. Unless it was part of the whole creepy obsessed with me thing…”

To my surprise, he actually blushed a little. “I, ah, wanted to make sure I understood the workings of a core like yours for… such a time as this.”

I fixed him with a look. “Dude. You might as well just admit it was to figure out how to clone me.”

“That was only part of the reason!” he insisted. Admittedly, it was kind of hilarious seeing him so flustered yet again. “And at least one of us knows something about it! Those frozen furballs have no idea what it’s like to be one of us! They can’t teach you everything!”

“Oh, so that’s what we’re going back to, huh?” I said with a hint of disbelief. I should’ve seen it coming; of course a fruitloop like him wouldn’t be content letting that conversation just sit. No, he always had to bring it back around to why I should just become his little mini-Plasmius!

This is why we don’t go places together.

Sparks of red flickered on the edges of his eyes. Crap, he was actually mad. “For goodness’ sake, Daniel, for once, can you keep your stubborn pride from blinding you?” he shouted. “Believe it or not, I’m doing this for your sake!”

“Yeah, so I can be the version of me you want me to be, for you!” I shot back. I could feel my own eyes beginning to burn green, but I was getting too riled up to care. I should’ve cared, especially if we were really hoping to make this truce work, but he and I were just too good at getting under each other’s skin. “If this was really for me, there wouldn’t be all these strings attached.”

“And what strings are those exactly? If I recall, you’re the one who attached a condition to me teaching you just now!”

“I so did no-” I stopped short as I remembered that he wasn’t exactly wrong. He hadn’t explicitly given any conditions to his offer to teach me stuff. “No, that doesn’t count! That was because I know you have all sorts of plans up in your head! Can you really blame me for being like that when you’ve manipulated every little thing for as long as I’ve known you?”

He scowled, but his eyes didn’t get any redder. “What do you want me to do? Swear my honesty before a judge? I try to make an honest effort to reach out to you, and you immediately reject it! So tell me what you want me to do, because this may surprise you, but reading minds is not one of my powers!”

“I -” My mind went blank. As angry as I was, as much as I didn’t want to cede anything to him, it was a legitimate question. What could he do to earn my trust? That was the real question he was asking. 

The problem was I didn’t know. Like I’d just finished telling him, he had been lying, cheating, and manipulating his way around me since the day we met - I didn’t know a Vlad who didn’t do that stuff. Experience had taught me to never trust anything coming from that man. 

So what could he do to change that?

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, deflating back into my seat. One little question had killed the anger inside of me, and now I was stuck trying to figure out what to tell him. “I… I don’t know.”

I could see his own anger evaporate slowly as he watched me carefully. “Then I suppose we’re at an impasse,” he said quietly. He folded his arms and fixed his gaze firmly out the window.

We sat there like that, in a tense silence for what felt uncomfortably long. I had no idea what he was thinking about, but I was also too preoccupied with my own thoughts. 

Could he be telling the truth? About wanting to earn my trust? Wanting to do things for me without some ulterior motive? The idea was just too foreign to me. And the question still stood, if I decided to believe him: what could he do to get me to trust him and do things for me?

I hated to admit it to anyone, even myself, but as impossible as it seemed for him to be anything other than a lying rat, deep down, I so badly wanted to believe in a good Vlad. Memories of being locked in an ecto-suppressing box as my dad’s ex-best friend revealed himself as the only other being like me hit me like a brick wall. It had been a horrible sequence of realizations as it dawned on me that this man, who’d just given me a glimmer of hope at figuring out this crazy half-ghost stuff, was the same man who’d come dangerously close to killing me just the night before. And it just grew worse as he talked and told me his plans to kill Dad…

But even back then, in those moments, I remember just wishing with everything I could muster that it was just a bad dream. I didn’t want to believe the only other guy like me was some sort of psychopath. That to him, I was just some means to an end, to give him the perfect life he wanted. 

I let my head thunk against the window. Ugh, there was a good reason I didn’t dwell on these things long. Or tried not to, anyway. Vlad stuff was always complex, hairy, and emotionally and mentally exhausting. It was so much easier when I could just punch my way out of a situation with him.

There was no punching my way out here, though. So what did I want?

“I want to matter,” I whispered absentmindedly.

Except I forgot that Vlad also had excellent ghost hearing. He frowned at me and said, “If you’re going to speak to me, you’d better speak up.”

I jolted when I realized he’d heard me talk. “I’m - it’s, uh…” I stuttered. I automatically raced to come up with a plausible lie about what I’d said, but I stopped suddenly.

He said he was trying to be honest with me. Maybe I needed to do the same.

“I just… want to actually matter, to - to you, that is,” I admitted with some effort as I twisted my fingers into my T-shirt. “Not as like a son or anything, but - I don’t know, maybe just a person. I’m… tired, of being just another little pawn in your schemes and everything, especially when you’re spouting off all this stuff about how it’s for my own good or whatever.

“Like do you see what I’m saying? You talk about wanting to teach me or train me and how good it’ll be for me, but it’s never been just for me, it’s always had some sort of real benefit for you, and at my expense, or my family’s.” I knew I was starting to ramble, but once I choked the first few words out, the rest followed like a flood. “For once, I just - I want it to be where you actually see me as my own person, and if you’re gonna care for me, I want you to actually care for me, not just figure out what I want you to do or say to get me to like you.”

I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn’t meet them. I never liked doing the whole feelings-vomit thing. That was Jazz’s thing. Not to mention how doing it in front of my freaking arch-nemesis of all people increased the awkward factor by a thousand. So yeah, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of eye contact.

He stared at me for a long while. The whole time, I kept my eyes fixed on the outside blurring by. I’d said my piece, I kept trying to tell myself. The ball was in his court now. I couldn’t do anything about that.

Could I?

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he turned his attention back to his phone, tapping away at the screen as if the entire argument had never happened. Whatever. I was too tired to try and deal with it. If he was so set on keeping up with his stupid, cruel manipulation, he could do that. I wouldn’t go along with it.

I just closed my eyes and tried to soak in the AC. Hopefully he at least made good on his promise to get me that ice bath. That sounded absolutely wonderful.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vlad glanced up from the text thread he was furiously typing away in. Daniel sat across from him, fast asleep against the window. A little bit of drool even dripped onto his leg.

The billionaire sighed and rolled his eyes at the display. He couldn’t be too annoyed, he supposed. They’d had to wake up early to catch their flight, and he suspected that being cooped up in the plane and now in this limo was not doing the boy any favors, especially coupled with the overtime his core had to be clocking in.

He had admittedly forgotten that Florida’s heat would probably overwhelm Daniel. He himself was so used to his own hot, electric core (and adapting it to a colder Midwestern climate) that it had been a detail he’d neglected. It wasn’t something he was used to. Normally, he was so careful to account for everything.

It only made Daniel’s words echo in his head. I want you to actually care for me, not just figure out what I want you to do or say to get me to like you, he’d said.

Those words had completely caught him off guard, and he couldn’t deny their impact. They’d sent his mind catapulting into a completely different direction, hence the furious texting. The sparks of an idea were kindling, something to help Daniel see that his intentions were honest this time around.

He hoped, at least. The voice in the back of his head telling him he was doing it just to make himself feel better, not the boy, was growing increasingly louder. 

No. He shook his head. No sense dwelling on that. Especially when his phone chimed and he saw the text he’d been waiting for.

With a grin, he rapped a knuckle on the partition. Immediately, it began to roll down, and Charles asked, “What can I do for you, Mr. Masters?”

“There’s been a change of plans. We have a new destination now.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Daniel…”

I groaned and tried my best to ignore whatever was shaking my shoulder. If my ghost sense wasn’t going off and no one was screaming my name, it wasn’t important enough to interrupt my nap.

“Daniel, wake up.”

I twisted in my seat, trying to get away from the hand. “Lee’ me ‘lone,” I muttered into my arm. “‘M tired.”

“I think this is something worth waking up for.”

Ugh. Vlad. For a moment there, I’d forgotten where I was and who I was with. It’d been a nice moment.

Slowly, I peeled one eye open. “I swear, if you woke me up just for some dumb business thing, I’ll throw you into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep with Pariah Dark.”

The jerk had the audacity to chuckle. Do real people even chuckle? “I think you’ll find yourself pleasantly surprised. I do have some business to attend to here, but that is not the main reason for this visit.”

At this point, it wasn’t worth it to try to go to sleep. Might as well entertain him. I stretched and made sure to yawn as widely as I could, just to tick him off a little. Like I said, I gotta get my hits in when I can with him.

“Alright, Vladdie,” I said. “Where are we that’s so important?”

In response, he just nodded towards the window. The urge to roll my eyes was overwhelming, but I resisted anyway, instead choosing to look out to where he was gesturing.

At first, nothing seemed much different than before - fewer buildings, but not much different otherwise - but then I caught sight of a sign, and my jaw dropped.

“Umm, Vlad?” I asked weakly. I was so shocked, I didn’t even bother to hide the waver in my voice. “Did that just say what I think it said?”

Of course, he just smiled his smug smile and nodded, but I was too blown away to care. “I told you I would make good on my promise to make this trip worth your while.”

Wait. No, no way. I shook my head and nearly phased my head out the window trying to catch a glimpse of another sign. As we passed another and it echoed the same thing, my heart began to race and my core began to vibrate.

“B-but how?” I asked, barely above a whisper. “This is…”

Vlad shrugged nonchalantly. “You’d be surprised what a name drop here, an extra ‘convenience fee’ there can do. It helps that I truly do have business to take care of here.”

“Vlad, this is Cape Canaveral.”

“Yes, that it is,” he said, nodding.

“As in home to the Kennedy Space Center. To freaking NASA.”

“Yes, I am aware that this is, as you put it, ‘freaking NASA’.”

I couldn’t believe it. Sure, I’d been here last summer to get that gem for the Reality Gauntlet, but I’d been so caught up with that whole disaster that I hadn’t really had the chance to appreciate it. Now, though…

“Was this…?” I asked, hoping the question still came through in the unspoken words. I didn’t trust myself to speak much more.

He shrugged again. “This was admittedly more of a spontaneous choice, but a fruitful one, nonetheless. Why not make sure your time is enjoyable as well?”

I finally peeled my face away from the window long enough to squint at him. “But why? Like… why take me here of all places? Especially so last minute?”

Vlad faltered a bit; he lowered his arms, and his shoulders tensed. “It… I was just trying to - argh, I thought I would try and do what you asked me, that is. Or, ah, show you I do care…”

I blinked slowly as I processed his words. “How… did you know, though? To take me to NASA?”

“Well… I didn’t,” he admitted. “I suppose I simply hoped that my suspicions were right. After seeing how often you wear that ratty sweatshirt of yours and all the model rockets in your room, the conclusion for your love of space was easy enough to draw.”

My turn to blush. “I can’t help it,” I muttered. “It’s just so cool! And now I’m actually here, in Cape Canaveral!”

Then, the true meaning of his words hit me. The reason he’d known to take me to NASA was because he’d paid attention to me - not spied on me, or had a ghost stake me out, or anything like that. To my absolute bewilderment, I realized this was his way of telling me he was sorry, that he truly did see me and care for me. 

The realization was so shocking that I barely noticed when the limo rolled to a stop. Clearing his throat, Vlad opened the door and climbed out, then extended a hand to me. “Well, shall we?”

I practically threw myself out of the car phasing through its side to get out faster.

[wildlyglittering]

Six Sentence Sunday - Silver In Her Eyes

Hello!

In the words of 'old Rose' "it's been 84 years" since I've been on Tumblr.

The real world has been pretty hectic but I've lurked and have written and re-written the beginning of my final Nessian fanfic 'Silver In Her Eyes.' I say final because I think ACOSF sucked the joy of Nessian from me. That's a bummer.

But because every cloud has a silver lining (boom boom, here all week) ACOSF also opened up my brain to how I would actually like things to go down in that series. Which includes a smidge of Neris.

I'm not going to get that from SJM so I decided to do it myself - for myself and for the three people who will hopefully read this and enjoy it 😂

The first 20,000 words of the story are written. The rest isn't yet but I do have an outline and a plan which is something I hope. I'll be posting the first 20,000 words in instalments beginning from next week.

If you're wanting a Neris/ Nessian fic which is not particularly Rhysand friendly and is less Nesta being beaten down by the Inner Circle and more discovering her own power and self worth - this is for you.

If you're hardcore Rhys/ Inner Circle then this probably isn't for you. I don't know - you might want to hate read or something but please bear that in mind before you start. Rhys is one of the villains. Possibly the villain.

I dunno, the joy of fanfiction is righting what I feel are some wrongs.

Here's a lot more than six sentences for you.

***

“This one’s most spectacular,” he said, palming the flat side of a sword. Both the blade and Nesta squirmed, Nesta feeling the unwanted touch as though Rhys had traced his fingers down her spine. “This would suit Cassian, don’t you think?”

The sword was the tallest and widest Nesta had forged so far, the hilt of it reaching the underside of her breast. The handle twisted into wings spread as though in flight and the blade shimmered with barely visible words, all in a language she instinctively understood to be Old Illyrian.

This was a rare occasion she agreed with Rhys. In truth, as she hit the hammer down onto the metal, she only had Cassian in mind. Images of him in battle played before her, torrents of rain slamming into his frame as he wove through soldiers, his body twisting and turning as if in dance.

Whether she was remembering the time she watched him fight or whether she was seeing flashes of him from his past, Nesta didn’t know. Maybe these were events yet to come, the ground wet with blood.

There had been a moment, when she struck the final blow to complete the sword, when she envisioned him running someone through with a blade, so similar to the one in Nesta’s hands it couldn’t have been any other.

Elain had the curse of prophecy not her so Nesta didn’t know if what she saw was true. Who Cassian was slaying Nesta couldn’t see, but the sword screamed its victory. Death to the High Lord.

[yukidragon]

Can you do a theory of how S.D.J got stuck in a tape? (Ik there isn’t much clues but I just wanted to ask) :)) Btw LOVE YOUR THEORYS!!! :D

Awww, thanks! I’m really happy to hear that you like my theories. 💖

Unfortunately, there is very little evidence at this time to create a solid theory about why Jack was trapped in the tape to begin with. I can, however, talk about what we do know about the tape so far and what my headcanons are.

I will be using some screencaps of the demo as well as images that were posted publicly on Sauce/Jambeebot’s public twitter before it was closed down, as well as links to the official Sunny Day Jack twitter. Gentle reminder to everyone - please don’t repost any of the private images posted on the Snaccpop Studios Patreon. The crew relies on those kind donations in order to make the game at all. Consider joining it instead, donating to the Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack kickstarter, or just spreading word about this engaging game.

With that said, let’s start off with the tape itself.

An ordinary but old and cracked VHS tape with a sticker on it bearing the words “84′ Incident” written in smudged red marker. It’s pretty well universally theorized that the video tape captured Jack’s death, which appeared to take place during filming of the SunnyTime Crew Show. We get a shot of the incident itself here on the twitter page. (Pun not intended.) There was also apparently children on set as well who witnessed the incident, according to the actor who played Cloudy-Belle Sue.

We get a glimpse of this incident as well in the style of a children’s drawing on the title screen of the demo, along with a closeup of the tape.

After that, Jack was trapped in the tape for (presumably) almost 40 years. To him it was a place where he couldn’t dream, where he felt cold, and where he buried his old self as Joseph to fully embrace the role of Jack.

Then MC gets a hold of the tape, pops it in a VCR, and is introduced to a rather confused but relieved Jack... only they don’t remember that. They just woke up the next day and Jack was just... there. Now the tape won’t play again, so there’s no telling exactly what is on it.

Seems pretty standard with ghosts possessing something involved with their murder and haunting whoever interacts with it right, right? What I find interesting is Jack is always called a ghost(?) The fact that this is in question at all suggests to me that there’s something more going on with him than the typical ghost can’t move on from their horrific murder story.

I think the fact that this is in question plays a part in how Jack was trapped in and is still connected to the tape. There’s too few clues to be sure of how that happened, so it’s just left to pure speculation on our parts. All we can be relatively sure of is that it’s related to Jack’s death and the incident itself.

You know, let’s take a moment to examine Jack and what he can do now. Maybe it’ll give more ideas about how he got into his situation.

Jack is quite an interesting sort of ghost(?). While it’s tempting to look at another game involving ghosts made by SnaccPop Studios, the Groom of Gallagher Mansion, as a point of reference for how other ghosts are depicted, I’m going to stick with strictly SDJ-related sources.

Jack is solid to MC (unless they don’t want him there), and can be perceived by all their senses, but no one else. He doesn’t show up in mirrors or recordings. According to a line from the Patreon-exclusive virtual body pillow, Sleepy Time Jack, he has a heartbeat. He has bodily fluids such as spit, sweat, and semen, as shown in the demo. He feels warm to the touch, not dead at all.

Well, maybe not all the time.

Jack has the power to influence other peoples’ thoughts and feelings. It’s most obvious with MC, where we have seen instances where he seems able to outright read their thoughts/narration, but he was able to influence Nick’s mind to the point of nightmares, insanity, and self-harm. For the most part he can’t interact with others, but it seems there’s a way he can force it?

Or maybe Jack could be perceived by others... but he has a reason to choose not to exert that much influence on reality.

Maybe it’s because he’s not strong enough yet at the start of the game?

MC’s love seems to make Jack stronger. There’s a “piece” of him in a place others could never reach, and that piece of him grows bigger and stronger. The stronger it gets, the closer he gets to being “one” with MC forever.

I think that “piece” of him is inside of MC and is vital to keep him solid and real. I suspect that Jack might have a “piece” of MC inside him as well... one he can make even bigger by taking more from them and giving more of himself in return, as suggested by a quote from the “no” route.

I want him to re-write me in this moment. I want him to do what he wants to help me forget anything that isn’t him.

He’s taking some part of me...

Infecting me with some kind of fever... Some need...

And I don’t want to admit it...

But I want to surrender and let him fill it.

Although MC is under supernatural influence that makes them addicted to the feelings Jack gives them, it seems as though their wants and desires towards Jack play a key part in everything.

In the game, if MC keeps their distance from Jack emotionally, he gets “colder” to them, and it could get to the point that they can’t touch him anymore. I imagine, if they turned their back on him completely, they could make him disappear altogether.

The influence Jack has on MC is subtle most of the time, just really good feelings mostly. I theorize this is a supernaturally-enhanced sort of empathy due to MC having a piece of him inside of them (and likely vice-versa). I believe that’s how Jack can detect MC’s emotions in return and catch some of their thoughts. It seems this works both ways, as suggested by the “yes” route, where MC can sense things about Jack but is too caught up in the pleasure they’re sharing to really think about it much.

He was close.

He didn’t even need to tell me.

I suspect if MC knew how to use this power, they might be able to have more of an influence on Jack.

After all, it seems as though if MC is going through something like, say, the pain of a period or being drunk, Jack experiences these things too. At least according to a couple posts from the Jambeebot twitter.

(Again, keep in mind posts and art from Sauce’s twitter need to be taken with a pinch of salt when it comes to canon, as things can (and have) changed before the final product of the game.)

Jack himself says that MC makes him feel love, and he’s so happy to be with them. What if that’s why whenever MC spends time with him alone, they feel so happy? What if MC is literally feeling Jack’s love and happiness, which is why being around him feels so addicting? After all, isn’t it addicting to feel loved by someone so unconditionally?

It can be resisted as well, though even when they do in the “no” route, it’s a very weak resistance. MC is addicted to the warm and fuzzy feelings Jack gives to them, which Jack can intensify and doesn’t want to give that up.

I was suffocating in his embrace.

Something about the air was thick and sticky.

Like I was breathing cotton candy…

Like I was under a spell.

Jack even keeps asking in the “no” route if they can feel how much he cares about them, how good he can make them feel.

MC themselves admits earlier that they feel for Jack. He likely can sense that, which could be why he said they make him feel love.

There’s a strong emphasis here on consent and feelings, as well as pieces of both MC and Jack.

Also, before we move on, I want to quickly add that Jack might have the ability to manifest items as well. We know how confused MC was about blueberries appearing out of nowhere, but Jack could’ve snatched them from a grocery store or even snuck them into MC’s cart/basket when they weren’t paying attention so they eat healthier. However, what is harder to explain away is a full change in wardrobe that is distinctly themed around Sunny Day Jack and fits him perfectly. Somehow I don’t think MC bought that for him at the store.

As I’ve mentioned before in past theories when it comes to my own personal telling of the story, Sunshine in Hell, I think Jack has a piece of MC’s soul and MC has a piece of his soul in exchange. I think that whatever happened when MC watched the tape, it created a sort of contract between them and Jack, one that requires consent on both their parts. It requires that continual consent and for their bond to be strengthened in order to give Jack more strength.

It sounds almost like a ritual was performed, wasn’t it? Maybe Jack’s costume as a demonic incubus isn’t too far off the mark from what he is now.

Who knows... it might even be why MC is so tired lately.

(Though they could just be exhausted from being overworked by an uncaring boss.)

Which leads me back to the 84′ Incident. What if Jack didn’t simply randomly possess the recording of what happened because he couldn’t move on? What if his soul was trapped in that tape all this time? After all, he seemed so confused at the start of the game about what’s going on and what happened to him, which suggests he didn’t willingly go to, as he put it, hell.

The entertainment industry is a truly frightening place. Money, power, connections... they can bury so many secrets, even people and memories. There are rumors of unsavory things like crime rings and cults. The studio behind the SunnyTime Crew Show seems to have a dark side as well considering it buried the memory of the show and the murder of Jack under the threat of NDAs.

So now, let’s talk about LambsWork Productions. As I previously touched upon before when analyzing the teaser picture of an undead Jack looking in a mirror, the name of the studio is very interesting. A lamb’s “work” is to be sheered for its fleece, or butchered for its meat... sometimes both.

I think that LambsWork Productions was connected to a cult, maybe even built by a cult outright. I believe what happened to Jack to trap him in the tape may have been part of a ritual.

Jack was a teenage runaway who changed his name from Joseph, hiding his real identity. We don’t know how he was discovered by the studio, but he would be someone with no connections, and no family, maybe even no friends.

Who would look for him if he went missing?

This seems counter-intuitive doesn’t it? Jack was a famous actor with many eyes on him. So many people, kids and adults, loved him.

What the people loved was a character he played. Even when being interviewed, Jack had to stay in character. He couldn’t be “Mr. Haberdae” even when talking with a reporter who wanted to learn more about him.

The studio made a creation that was loved... and what if that was part of the ritual? What if Jack’s murder was planned all along? It would explain how they could so quickly and thoroughly bury all evidence that the show ever even happened if they were prepared to do it ahead of time.

Being loved and being willing plays a part in Jack’s powers. What if that ties into the murder? What if Jack, this fictional entity the studio made up, needed to have the love of countless people, and the distress and pain they felt from seeing him die, along with his death?

For what purpose? It’s hard to say, but Jack’s powers are nothing to sneeze at. For all we know, whatever MC underwent to be bonded to Jack by watching the video wasn’t actually meant for them... it was just the first time it actually worked.

After all... consent plays a part. If Jack didn’t consent to, say, his murderer getting a piece of his soul and control over him...?

Now we’re really going deep into headcanon territory here, and it ties into the tragedy of [Redacted] and the lover who used him. I will stress that my headcanons will likely change as more evidence comes out or as I work on it more before writing it into Sunshine in Hell, but I figure it might be entertaining to tell it anyway.

It goes like this: someone with a lot of pull and connection to LambsWork Productions, maybe even the owner in charge of it all, wanted supernatural powers. They were connected to the occult and learned of a ritual that would require the absolute obedience and enslavement of a soul, as well as love and innocence of children to create a servant that would do whatever they wanted.

What it required was a person who is utterly devoted and willing to submit to the caster. The easiest way to do that? Why, love and desperation of course. Find a person who has nothing and offer them a life they always dreamed of... they just need to be obedient, sacrifice more and more.

This person is pushed slowly to do more, give more of himself. He is pushed to act a certain way all the time, painted up as this new persona to further signify that he is no longer [Redacted] but the always helpful Jack. He needed to want to be this character they created... who they were going to make real with the ritual using his willing soul.

When the target is primed to be obedient and utterly addicted to needing the caster and everything they have to offer in every way imaginable, and is loved by many innocent children... that innocence is destroyed as part of the ritual by having them witness his death.

The ritual results in this creation that will do anything for their master... provided it is consenting on both ends. The victim doesn’t even need to know it was all a setup. In fact, it’s better he doesn’t know in order to ensure he’ll remain desperate in his new inhuman state.

The recording is the medium to create the connection to the new supernatural entity. There was just one teeny, tiny hiccup.

Consent.

The person who performed the ritual and wanted those powers wanted to make that connection, but Jack? Ho... they might have twisted [Redacted]’s heart to be desperate for their love and everything they provided, but Jack is far from stupid. Whether he started to suspect before his death and hid it, or he realized what was going on when murdered, who’s to say? Either way, he did not consent to his former lover taking a piece of his soul when the tape was played, and thus the ritual failed, no matter how many times they replayed his tragic death.

The tape was kept as a reminder, a snuff film for entertainment purposes until it gets lost or discarded in some other way. The culprit would have to figure out what went wrong, how to perform the ritual correctly next time... Or another member of the cult who learned of the ritual decides to try again, believing they know what went wrong.

Maybe the problem was relying on romantic love. What if the “lamb” to be sacrificed was someone who would have a stronger bond to the caster, maybe even more desperate for love and approval than a lover. Say, perhaps... a blood relative?

Actors sometimes join cults. If, say, Jean joined and found out about the ritual and wanted it to work out for himself, well... he does have a child from one of his sugar babies who wants to be an actor, doesn’t he?

What stronger love is there than a parent and child, especially a child who might have spent a lifetime wishing for his absent father’s love?

Well, Jack might argue his love for his sunshine is stronger. After all, unlike those monsters who damned him to the hell of the VHS tape for selfish purposes, they didn’t need him like Alice(/MC) does. They didn’t long for love as desperately as he did... and he was certainly so very desperate for even a speck of warmth after 40 long sleepless years trapped in a cold empty hell...

Soooooo... yeah. That’s the headcanon I currently have for what Jack is and why he was trapped in the tape. With how few clues there are, I’m not banking on this headcanon on being anywhere close to accurate to what’s going to happen in the game. Chances are very good that this headcanon will change and evolve as I get more ideas and more hints are dropped. Still, I find the idea to be fairly entertaining, and I hope you did too.

What does this mean for Jack, Alice, and their connection of souls via the ritual? I’m going to have to think about that a bit more, but whatever it was, it was something worth a hell of a lot of trouble for the studio to go through...

After all, Jack has a pretty impressive array of powers already, and they’re only going to get more powerful, maybe even manifest other unexpected ways we haven’t seen yet, as his love for Alice and hers for him grows ever stronger...

Of course, with an MC resistant to that love? Well... that might explain the glitches we see here.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic

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The Heir

Part 3

01/13/2023

Pairing: (Modern Day!)Charles Brandon x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 7,736

Warnings: language, bickering and teasing (so much teasing), alcohol, grief and regret, a smidge of angst, Charles being a giver 👅, unprotected sex, fluff

Summary: One day after the eventful evening at the pub, it's time for a visit at Brandon Manor.

A/N: His Snobbiness and the little tree hugger are back for the third and final part. I know, it's been 84 years, sorry. Hope you still enjoy!

Pictures found here, here and here.

Divider by @fireflygraphics

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

The Old House

The first stars had settled all across the early night sky when she stepped through the archway and onto the grounds of Brandon Manor. A pity it was so late in the day already, she mused, with darkness beginning to shield the beautiful garden from view which she had come to love so much. They had walked here a good many times, the late duke and her, plotting against Charles and his preposterous plans. They seemed almost blasphemous tonight, she thought, as she took in the magnificent estate that stood like a grey giant against the starry firmament. 

The seagulls seemed to have decided it was time to retreat in the face of the things to come, the only sounds coming from the gravel that scrunched underneath her determined feet and the low rumble of the waves that broke against the cliffs. She wanted to get this over with, whatever it was he wanted to talk about, before he could lure her even further under his spell.

Yesterday had been a close call, she knew that now. It was still hard to admit, but to know that he had been there right behind her for the whole walk home had been a rather nice feeling. So warm and comforting, daring her to try it on and see where it would lead her. God, she had been almost tempted to wave him goodbye when she had arrived at her doorstep. He had still been there, patiently waiting by the gate until she had unlocked her door and stepped inside. 

“What the fuck am I doing here?” she whispered underneath her breath while her hand found the cold head of the stone lion that guarded the main entrance to Brandon Manor in a habitual pat for good luck. “Stay focused, let him say his part and then get your stupid arse out of here before—“ No, she wouldn’t allow herself to say that out loud. Even thinking about it was wrong on so many levels. And she was glad that her body for once seemed to agree with her will as her hand yanked down the cord of the ancient doorbell decisively.

Fully prepared to wait a good while before he would make it to the door from God-knew-where in the extensive house, she flinched when only seconds later the ancient wood gave way to the outline of his broad shoulders. A faint glow surrounded him, probably coming from the library, and the absence of any other light almost hid his shit-eating grin when he recognised his guest.

“Good evening, Miss Y/L/N. Finished hugging trees already?”

A pair of attentive eyes roamed her body freely and she hated how warm it made her feel with so little effort. 

“Evening, Your Snobbiness.” And without waiting for his invitation, she pressed past him.

“Please, call me Charles. I feel that’s appropriate after I witnessed you making scrambled eggs out of a useless pair of testicles yesterday.”

She didn’t need to look at him, the slight teasing in his tone was enough to make her envision the dazzling smirk that was most likely accompanying his words.

“Fine,” she mumbled almost inaudibly, forgetting why she had said it in the first place. There was a faint memory of the words she had actually wanted to throw at him, but when she had turned, his dukey handsomeness had simply taken her breath away. Of course she knew that he was a pretty fucker, but seeing him here, in his natural habitat, his sharp, stubbly jawline and his twinkling eyes hit completely different.

And as if that wasn’t already enough for her senses to deal with, he had chosen yet another outfit that one would expect to find in a posh country fashion catalogue. His camel turtleneck jumper fit his skin tone perfectly while the dark brown suede jacket he wore above it resembled the colour of his hair. And amongst all those earthy shades, his stormy blue eyes stood out like two exquisite jewels.

He must have said something judging from the hand he was holding out towards her expectantly. For a second she stared at it in total confusion, not sure whether he wanted her to take it, before she decided against her instinct and shot him a quizzical look.

“Your jacket,” he repeated the last bit of his question, a knowing smirk pulling the corners of his mouth upwards. 

Bloody gorgeous man. And so she reluctantly peeled herself out of her jacket, after she had set her camera carefully onto the bench next to the coat rack. With a silent gesture he bade her to follow him as soon as she was ready.

“I assume you failed yet again on your quest to take a picture of the white stag?”

Her answer was a murderous glare. “And what if I didn’t fail this time?”

His lips twitched a little while he held her infuriated gaze. “Oh, you did. Otherwise you wouldn’t have wasted a single second to rub your success in.”

“Idiot.”

Her annoyance pulled a deep chuckle from his chest that echoed from the high walls of the empty hall as he led her up the stairs. She knew all too well where he would take her and the memory made her heart grow heavy. Right at the head of the stairs lay one of the former reception rooms which had served his father as a spacious living room with its large fireplace. Two high glass doors led onto a huge balcony. It was common knowledge that there was no view of the sea in the whole of Fakeston that was more beautiful than the view from up here.

It was here that she had last seen the old man, only a day before his heart had gotten tired of beating and as Charles opened the door for her now, she didn’t know whether to feel relieved or heartbroken about the fact that nothing had changed here since her last visit. If anything, the lack of change made it even more apparent how different the room felt now that he was gone. It seemed a little too big, a touch too dark and the crackling fire couldn’t fully warm the stately old place tonight. 

She felt the sudden urge to get out of here. It had been a bad idea to meet with Charles anyway, but before she could think of a good excuse to leave, she felt Charles’ presence behind her back. In an instant she turned, neither trusting him nor herself when he was this close, but to her surprise she found him holding a small wooden box that had definitely seen better days. It was covered in battered crimson velvet which, together with the metal clasp at its front, made it look positively ancient. 

“What’s that?”

“That’s the reason I needed to speak to you.”

Carefully his strong hands opened the lid to reveal a stunning gold and silver pendant, beaded with pearls and dark red gemstones. It was attached to a silver necklace that was held together by a small hook, matching the pendant perfectly.

She didn’t understand what this breathtaking piece of jewellery could possibly have to do with her and she understood even less why he shoved the box into her hands.

“It’s yours.” For a moment there was silence. She didn’t know what to say, hell, she didn’t even know if she had heard him correctly and so she was more than pleased when he chose to speak again. “My father instructed me very clearly in his last will that you should have it.”

Patiently, he waited for her response and when she still didn’t move after a while, he reached inside the box, fingers closing around the precious object to take it out. Mere seconds later she could feel the weight of the necklace around her neck, the touch of the cool metal finally making her snap out of her petrified state.

“It has been passed down in my family from generation to generation, mother to daughter or daughter-in-law. I guess leaving it to you means my father gave up all hope I’d ever find a wife to pass it on to.”

“I can’t possibly accept this.” The fingers of her free hand were already reaching for the hook, fumbling blindly at the nape of her neck, when a pair of determined hands wrapped around her own and gently stopped her antics. 

“You can and you will.” His tone made it unmistakably clear that he wouldn’t argue with her on this matter, even if his eyes couldn’t fully hide the irritation about his father’s decision, and so her fingers went limp and abandoned their task. “If only because it suits you so exceptionally well.”

Had he just— “Was…Was that a compliment?”

“A compliment?” he spat, a wild smile gracing his lips as he took a step back. “Why on earth would I compliment you? Have you forgotten that we are sworn enemies?”

“How could I ever forget when your infuriating face is right in front of me as a constant reminder of our feud?”

She mirrored his dazzling smirk, her eyes refusing to do the decent thing and look away.

“I take it you’re not interested in staying for a glass of wine then?”

“Indeed I am not.” For a second his smile faltered while hers stayed perfectly in place. “Yet, it is the least I can do after robbing you of your family jewels, don’t you think?”

And there it was again, the million dollar smile that suited him so well and made her knees go weak a little every time. But now, she almost regretted her answer when it made him turn away from her to fill their glasses. 

Suddenly, she felt awfully naive. Why had she agreed to stay? Did she really hope anything would happen between him and her tonight? He would never see her as anything more than a tree hugger, a nuisance to his perfect plan. Not that she wanted him to see her as anything else in the first place. What a ridiculous thought. She and Charles Brandon. Ridiculous!

It must have been the pretty room with its romantic fireplace that had gotten to her head. Maybe a bit of fresh air would make her see clearly again. And so she strutted over to the large glass doors and stepped onto the balcony. She walked straight over to the balustrade, letting the fresh breeze that came from the sea ease the turmoil he managed to awaken deep inside of her whenever she was with him. 

It was a beautiful night, the crescent moon sat brightly in the clear sky, a few of its beams kissing the waves to crown them with pure silver. Despite the light, she could only guess where the land ended and the cliffs dropped down into the rolling waves although she had seen the thin line of the cliff’s edge a thousand times from this very spot. The wind wasn’t as harsh as it usually was up here, or maybe there was another reason why she didn’t feel its chilly blow as strongly tonight.

Unconsciously, her fingers lifted to find the Brandons’ family heirloom. The pendant felt a little strange as it rested against her warm skin, the white drop of a pearl that was attached to it dangling dangerously close above the valley of her breasts. 

She had been so deep in thought that she almost jumped when the glass of wine appeared seemingly out of nowhere in front of her face. Still a little startled, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“The necklace is quite heavy.”

“My father always said it was a symbol of the hardships our title brings along with it.”

“Hardships?” She huffed. “I’m sorry, but I fail to see the hardships you are suffering because of your title.”

His face stayed completely unreadable as he looked out across the bay and for a moment she thought he might not have heard her pointed remark at all when he turned to her again with that playful smirk on his lips. 

“Well, for one, there would be the hardship of your company.”

“Hm. Isn’t it the other way around really? I mean, I suffer from your company just as much, plus, it’s me who has to carry the burden of this historical necklace from now on.”

He lifted his glass, using it to point towards her own.

“It’s a good thing you have some wine then to help you through the seemingly never ending hours of my company.”

He leaned in, still holding out his glass towards her with that darned smile on his face.

“To our shared suffering.”

“Cheers.”

Even in the darkness his eyes cast their bewitching spell on her as he held her gaze while he lifted his glass. And he didn’t let go, not even to blink. This man was insufferable, leaving her no choice but to be the reasonable one in this duo and pretend to let her eyes wander to enjoy the majestic view across the moonlit bay.

“How’s Henry? I haven’t seen him around since you used him to thwart my plans the other morning.”

“He’s fine. He fell asleep in the library a while ago. It’s his favourite place in the house. Probably something about the sweet smell of old books, don’t you think?”

She looked over at him and she couldn’t help but wonder if he actually shared his dog’s fondness for old books. There was something utterly enticing about the thought of him in that library, sitting on the window seat or in one of the old wing chairs, completely lost to the world around him. She bet he had the most wonderful reading voice, low and warm as he painted colourful pictures word by word.

“Are you okay?”

Shit, she must have zoned out for a moment. 

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

In a small fit of panic her hand locked around the heavy pendant again and his eyes followed her movement, providing her with the perfect opportunity to seize revenge for making her fantasise about him. Slowly her fingers loosened and glided along the curve of her breast in slow motion until she let her arm fall to her side nonchalantly. 

“You’re shivering. Should we go back inside?”

“No, I’m not,” he denied, his eyes shooting up from her chest to form an expression of outrage.

Oh, he had definitely been shivering. “Yes, you are, Your Grace.”

“I am most certainly not.” He raised his chin in defiance. “But we can go back inside if you wish.”

With a triumphant smile, she nodded and wasted no more time to turn towards the building.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you called me by my title,” he started to tease again as they headed inside, obviously regaining his old self-confidence.

“Oh, I wouldn’t read too much into that if I were you. Just a little something to warm your heart as you were so obviously freezing.”

“Was not!”

“Yes, you were.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes like an annoyed teenager, but he couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at his lips. His enticing, perfectly shaped lips, so tempting, so kissable, making it so easy to forget that he was still the villain in this whole story. 

The sudden change of air as they stepped back inside made her shudder and she drew away before he could notice. She could feel his quizzical gaze on her back as she walked over to the dark mahogany table that held an old gramophone, its metal horn shining in the dancing flames of the fire. It didn’t surprise her in the least when she found the same record sitting on the turntable that had played during her last visit and even after she had wound the crank and carefully placed the needle, her lips held a wistful smile when she looked up to find Charles again.

He was standing by the fireplace now, watching her carefully. She could be mistaken in the dim light, but was there a hint of concern in his eyes? Or was it something else entirely? Something she felt inside as well and was trying so hard to push aside.

“What are you doing?” he asked. The question seemed a bit silly, especially since the first crackling notes of the song already filled the silence, but she chose to satisfy his curiosity anyway.

“Making some music.”

She didn’t know what vexed him more, that she seemed to find it necessary to state the obvious for him or the smug smile she chose to accompany her statement with, but the rolling of his eyes in fake annoyance had been well worth it.

“Thanks for enlightening me, but I can see that.”

“Then why bother asking?” He was just about to come up with a flippant retort, when she cut him off short. “Did you know that this was your father’s favourite?”

“I…I didn’t.” In the blink of an eye all the playfulness that had made his eyes shine so beautifully was gone. “Just like all the other things I didn’t know about him.”

He tore his eyes away to stare into the flames instead, making her stomach clench and her heart ache for him. In the past, she had often imagined to hurt his Snobbiness in the most creative ways for what he wanted to do to the very building they were standing in right now, but never would she have aimed this low. Yet, without intent, she had and before she even knew what she was doing, she found herself by his side, her hand gently squeezing his arm.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have…” Slowly he lifted his gaze to find her eyes  again, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe upon the sheer amount of pain and regret  that mirrored in the stormy blue. “Can we please not talk about this tonight?”

“Of course.”

Anything. Anything to make that sparkle return to his eyes again.

“How about a dance instead?”

“Huh?” 

Anything but that, obviously. He couldn’t be serious, could he? She must have misheard.

“Dance with me. Please.” 

He was joking. He must be. As if she would— 

A movement broke her train of thought, and when she followed it, she found his hand already waiting for her to take it. So she had heard him correctly. Interesting. Interesting and rather fortunate. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for all evening, her chance to fight for her cause once again. Maybe the last she would ever get. There was no way she couldn’t take it, still she felt bad about what she was about to do.

“I will, if you agree to come to the village council meeting and talk about your plans for Brandon Manor.”

She had expected him to decline or at least think it over for a moment, but he didn’t even hesitate. 

“Agreed.” 

Eager to cash in his benefit of the deal immediately, he didn’t even wait for her to process his answer before he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms. The smuggest of grins began to spread over his face as a startled gasp escaped her, and instead of allowing her some space to breathe, he even tightened his hold and brought her closer still.

A dance. It was just a dance. No need to freeze in his arms, every muscle taut to a point that bordered on painful. But forcing herself to relax was easier said than done, with him pressed up against her body, moving so close to her, only the slightest bit, but enough to make her feel all of him. She didn’t dare look up into his eyes, afraid of what she would find there and, even worse, what it would do to her. Unfortunately, looking down turned out to be no less aggravating as the image of his defined pecs forced itself upon her, clenching and stretching the fine wool of his jumper so deliciously. 

Heat. Heat was all she felt. The heat from the fire, the heat of his touch, seeping through her clothes and underneath her skin where his large hand rested against her back, rushing through her, multiplying, until it filled every last inch of her being. 

Even the divine softness of the suede leather underneath her fingertips couldn’t soothe her agony. She could still feel him, despite the extra layer of clothing it provided, and no matter how hard she tried to fight it, the thought how he would feel against her without the protection of their clothes kept pushing itself back into her mind relentlessly. It was torture, and enchanting none the less. It made her careless, made her want to relax in his arms, to give in and let him lead the way.

But the spell was broken suddenly when she could feel his leg slide in between hers, his massive thigh clenching and pressing against the one spot where all the heat that burned her body from the inside seemed to collect. With another gasp, her head flew up. A bad idea, she realised, as the sudden movement stirred the air and, the very second her eyes locked onto his, brought a heady whiff of his scent. And she was lost, defenceless against the invasion of her every sense by the same man she had vowed to oppose—to hate—forever. 

And now she found herself in his arms, dizzy with want for him, clinging to him tighter with every passing second. She needed to stop this before it would lead to something more, something they would both regret in the morning. 

“Remind me again,” she whispered, resting her cheek against his to hide her face, “how did we end up here?”

“I guess it all started with you touching my hand that night at the pub.” He fell silent for a moment, but she could sense that there was something else coming. “I have been wanting to ask you all evening. Why did you do it?”

Her first instinct was to evade his question or to tease him again, but there was something about the tone of his voice, about the way his body seemed to stiffen the slightest bit, that made it impossible not to answer him truthfully.

“I remembered something your father had told me about you. By the time I thought it was just wishful thinking or his guilty conscience speaking. I thought he wanted to make excuses for your abominable behaviour so badly that he’d rather blame himself than letting his son be the villain in this scenario. But that night at the pub, I…I realised he may have been right about you all along.”

“And what did he tell you?” 

His lips were so close to her ear, his warm breath wafting over her neck with a shiver.

“He…he believed that the death of your mother broke you and he regretted he wasn’t able to give you the love you would have needed and deserved so much. Your father only realised when it was too late that he had been so caught up in his own grief he had failed at being a good father to you.”

It was the truth, and still it pained her to tell it. Not as much as it must have pained him, judging from the deafening silence that pushed itself between the two of them for a while.

“So it was pity I have to thank for this?”

The icy spite in his voice froze her in place at once. On instinct his accusation made her push him off a little, to be away from him just as much as to be able to look into his eyes. Still her words were as soft as the touch of a feather when she spoke again.

“No. I think your grief gave me something I could relate to, something we had in common. And even though I wanted to hate you more than anything, I couldn’t. Not anymore.” Her eyes fell to her hands that still rested against his chest from pushing him off. “I guess you can’t really hate a person you share an experience as intense as the early loss of a parent with.”

She had feared he might have questions that would force her to dig up the memory of her father again, a memory she had so carefully stowed away deep inside her heart. Only sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, she allowed it to resurface, but it always came at the cost of pain and tears and nightmares. But to her great surprise he didn’t ask any questions. Instead she could feel the gentle touch of his fingers, grasping her chin and lifting her head. 

“I’m glad my father had you in his life when I couldn’t be there for him.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. He knew why you couldn’t and he forgave you for it.”

“I know.” The hand on her chin fell to his side as he tore his eyes away from hers. “What I don’t know is if I can ever forgive myself.”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that either, but I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to have this weigh on your conscience for the rest of your life.”

With her words, the song died away, leaving a silence that was almost unbearable. It made her uncomfortable, more than their first encounter or his unexpected appearance at the pub ever could have, and it made her foolish. And so she reached for his hand.

She had never expected her gesture to bring much comfort, but then he squeezed it gently, and she couldn’t believe her eyes when he even brought it up to his lips to place a tender kiss to her knuckles. This must be a dream. His Snobbiness would never…

It was only when he pulled her in again, holding her tight and swaying her slowly that she realised the next song had started to play. Eyes fixed on her, he monitored her closely. She didn’t know if he was waiting for something or if he was just teasing again, whatever it was, she didn’t want this to stop.

“So, um, Miss Treehugger, we’re still sworn enemies, right?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely, Your Snobbiness.”

“Good. Good. I’d thought you might say that.” He still held her gaze, his face the epitome of seriousness as his forehead began to wrinkle. “Tell me this though. Why are you smiling then?”

“Smiling?” She wasn’t, was she? Oh dear, it seemed she was. Deny. Deny. “I’m not smiling.”

“No, you definitely are smiling.” Urgh, she was. And that measly try of playing it down wouldn’t even have convinced herself. 

“I told you, I am most certainly not! Probably just about to have a stroke caused by the enraging company.”

As excuses go, that had certainly been a better one. Still, it didn’t need more than a cock of his eyebrow to make her cave.

“Fine. So what if I was actually smiling?”

His pokerface was without a doubt masterful in comparison to hers.

“Nothing,” he stated nonchalantly. “I would just be wondering what you are smiling about.” “My point exactly. What would I have to smile about right now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe…could it be because of me?” The scornful huff that came from deep within didn’t seem to impress him much. “Do you by any chance enjoy dancing with me?” He even had the audacity to lean in. “Being close to me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Your Grace.”

A deep chuckle followed her comment, and the mischievous sparkle in his eyes told her that he was far from finished teasing her.

“You know, just a thought, but if the two of us were characters in a story, I think we both know that right now was the moment we would ever so slightly drift closer until—”

His voice was so deliciously low, luring her into the little narrative he had spun.

“Until?” she breathed, her eyes betraying her last restraint, already knowing the answer as they dropped down to his mouth.

“Until our lips would touch in a tender kiss.”

With all her might she willed down the moan that was forming in her throat, but still her body chose to betray her, pressing itself up against his, one hand drifting around his neck.

“You mean like this?”

“Exactly like this.”

Determined fingers cupped her cheek without resistance and she knew she was lost as his eyes betrayed him just as much, glued to the movement of her lips as she went on.

“What a ridiculous thought. You hate me, just as much as I hate you. And this enemies-to-lovers nonsense only ever works in corny romance stories.”

“You’re right. It’s ludicrous. I would never.” 

Determined fingers pulled her face to his, his hot breath caressing her lips. And with the final shred of sanity leaving her body, she whispered her last protest. 

“Never.”

And then his lips were there, so soft, yet so enticingly demanding. There was no more room for teasing as he pulled her closer, his body moving so delectably against her own while his mouth devoured her, coaxed her to open up to him so he could claim her wholly. And by all that was holy to her, she wanted him. Wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin, his mouth roam her breasts while he moved inside her. She wanted to be his, and make him hers in return. But—

With a gasp she broke away. “I should leave now.”

“Why?” 

She had hurt him, again. But he would thank her for it in the morning.

“To spare us both the regret.” Obviously, he wasn’t of the same opinion at all, clasping her even tighter. “Please, if you don’t let me leave now, I fear I won’t be able to stop.”

“Is that what you want? To stop?”

Oh, how much she wanted to lie, to tell him that she didn’t want him at all, that this was wrong. But she couldn’t. And when her answer finally came, it was feeble but decided. 

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

The words sounded so simple from his mouth, so logical, but they were nothing compared to the feeling of giving in to her desire. It was all-consuming, pulling her in until she wanted to drown in his kisses just to be resurrected by his possessive touch, spiralling her right into a frenzy. There were hands and mouths everywhere. And in a heartbeat she was afire, burning in his arms, and yet she had never felt more alive.

It was only the touch of his bare skin against hers that made her come to her senses again. 

“Charles,” she sighed and as if she had lifted the spell that had unleashed their carnal desire, he broke away. But she had been wrong once again, it seemed, as she opened her eyes to find the most alluring sight in front of her, making her knees go weak in an instant. But despite the most prominent thing, she couldn’t even tell what aroused her more, his furry chest, heaving as he used the short intermission to catch his breath, or his eyes, dark, and gleaming with want for her as they roamed her naked form freely. She could have stared at him forever, sadly the pleasure his sight brought was short lived. Soon his gaze settled on her neck, making her wonder what was so interesting about it until his hand reached out to trace the silver necklace all the way down to the gorgeous pendant. 

“As I said,” he grinned cheekily, “exceptional.”

His lips mimicked his fingers, following their path along the precious piece of jewellery, and further down. He was kissing, licking, sucking every last inch of her chest, basking in the sweet melody of lewd sounds he coaxed from her lips. She found herself on the brink of madness already when all of a sudden, he decided to stop. Her eyes snapped open in an instant, finding him on his knees, the exact position she wanted him in, his lips mere inches away from her stomach, but all he did was stare up at her with a wicked grin on his lips.

“You are insufferable, Brandon.”

As expected, his grin only grew wider. “Am I now?” And with that his lips found her skin again. Leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses, he ventured south, seemingly giving her what she wanted, just to hold once again, right above where she needed his attention most.

“Will you stop teasing me already?”

“As you wish.”

She had never expected him to yield this easily and so she watched in disbelief as his tongue found her hot sex, slipping right in between her folds without hesitation. 

“Ah, fuck!” 

His eyes shot up to hers upon the expletive his actions had caused, and although his mouth was too engaged in pleasuring her to display the devilish smirk on his face, the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. What a sight, to see his gorgeous face between her legs, his sharp tongue finally put to good use after the aggravating comments it usually produced. A skill he had mastered just as much as the art of making her knees buckle and her head swim with the exquisite rolls and flicks of his tongue.

As if he had read her mind, his eyebrows rose up in a challenge and she had to bite her tongue not to moan his name out loud again. She wouldn’t grant him that satisfaction, not before he had granted hers. But he seemed very eager to please tonight, so his tongue was soon joined by two of his fingers. Carefully they pressed into her, a task made easy by the juices that had already collected thanks to his supreme ministrations, while his other hand clutched her bottom tightly to keep her upright. 

She had thought it was a rather presumptuous gesture, but as soon as he started to move within her, she found that it wasn’t enough at all. In the dire need to steady herself, she grabbed a fistful of his hair. Just the one should be sufficient, she assumed, but she was proven wrong once more. Her tight grip on him forced a groan so powerful the vibration made her see stars as it rolled across her sensitive pearl. And so her other hand dove into his lush locks as well. 

She was so close already, her hands now guiding his movements in tune with the rhythmic thrusts of his fingers. God, this was—

“Don’t stop,” she panted, “don’t you dare stop.”

He didn’t. Instead she heard him mumble something against her that sounded suspiciously like, “Never,” before he tightened his firm grip on her behind to pull her further into him and all of her senses clouded over at once. Her eyes fell closed as the rapture of her high surged through her. She didn’t feel her fingers tighten in his hair, didn’t hear his muffled curses against her sex, half pleasure half pain, that mixed with her own praise of his name so beautifully.

“Charles,” she whispered once again as he slowly retreated, leaving her blissed out yet unbearably empty and already hungry for more. Her whole body was still trembling as he guided her onto his lap and into a strong pair of arms that eagerly awaited her. For a while he just held her like that, his hands drifting up and down her back soothingly while her fingers subconsciously played with the silky fur that covered his chest, until she had calmed down.

Then, as if it was nothing to him, he moved her around, softly laying her onto the plush, warm carpet next to the fireplace. 

“Are you all right?” he asked, hovering above her, his thumb lightly gliding along the apple of her cheek. 

“I’m perfect.”

“Perfect? Really? Are you sure?”

The playfulness in his voice made her chuckle, and the slight movement it caused evoked his hardened arousal to twitch promisingly against her.

“Well,” she rasped, fingernails grazing down his side, “maybe not completely perfect.”

He smirked through the shiver her nails had caused, “That’s what I thought.”

But to her great dismay, he seemed to be in no hurry to reach that state of perfection he had so thoroughly hinted at, as he leaned down ever so slowly to catch her lips with his. It didn’t take long though before his craving seemed to grow stronger. Soon he deepened the kiss, his tongue fulfilling what the teasing roll of his hips so far had only promised. But then she could feel it, his hand finally reaching in between their bodies. Yet, it was no time to rejoice because, being the annoying tease he was, he chose to torture her just a little longer, dragging his tip lazily through her folds, pressing it into her entrance only the slightest bit every now and then. 

“Are you really going to make me beg, Your Grace?”

He might have planned on it, she couldn’t tell for sure, but the second his title rolled so pointedly over he tongue, he was done for. With a groan so sinful it caused another blazing wave of heat to shoot through her core, he gave in, sinking into her slowly but all at once. 

The sensation of feeling him, all of him, threatening to overwhelm her, she clung to him tightly, legs closing around his hips just in case he was considering to tease her again. But he didn’t, not anymore. His mind was set on one thing only now, and he was about to drive her insane in the process with his slow, deep strokes. 

All she could feel was him, moving inside her, stirring the fire he had already unleashed once anew, his lips that had found her neck, sucking her soft flesh as his heady grunts and groans invaded her ears. It was everything, almost too much, yet still not enough. 

But the relief came soon, with a single bite to her neck. The sweet sting made her back arch, slightly shifting the angle of his already maddening thrusts and she keened in delight as he hit the perfect spot. Over and over he found it, slowly making her loose all sense of time and space. She needed to touch him, to look into his eyes once more before she would be gone to the world a second time. Her hands reached for him on instinct, cupping his cheeks to lift his head from the crook of her neck and she was rewarded with the most dazzling smile she had ever seen on his face. 

“Are you gonna come for me again?”

Yes, god, yes, she would. Just one more moment, one more languid thrust, one more look at his sickeningly handsome face, those lips, so perfectly shaped, she mused as her thumb traced the pink flesh. With the grin of a famished wolf who was only seconds away from sating his ravenous hunger on his prey, his lips opened and her finger slipped inside. Greedily he sucked it deeper, elation flooding his blue orbs the second he watched her eyes roll back into her head as she satisfied his desire and surrendered herself to euphoria once again.

Through the haze of her high she heard him moan her name, faintly noticed his hand reaching for her own, fingers intertwining before he tightened his grip and allowed himself to join her in her rapture.

His kisses grew soft as their frenzied passion slowly subsided, and with one final brush of her lips and a placid smile he rolled off of her. It was cold in the absence of his body over hers and she shivered. 

“Come here,” he mumbled, offering her the comfortable resting spot on his wide chest and she accepted. Immediately his warmth embraced her. It was peaceful here by the fire, nestled into his side, one arm holding her tight, legs entangled while his lips pressed to her hair. She could have stayed like this forever.

In the silence, the drum of his heart was loud and clear against her ear, strong and steady beats underneath her fingertips, seemingly unfazed by what had just passed between them. And it was in this very moment the realisation hit her harder than it should have, leaving a touch of nausea in her stomach.

But what had she expected? That he would be deliriously happy? That he would fall in love with her just because they had shared this insignificant moment of passion? She was such a fool.

She must have stirred in his arms, drawing his attention to her agitated state unintentionally.

“What’s wrong? Are you cold?”

Her first impulse was to go with it or simply act as if there wasn’t a single thing burdening her mind, but even now that whatever they had was officially over, she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him.

“No. I’m just so…disappointed.”

“Ouch. That’s a first,” he huffed, the wound in his words unmistakeable even though he tried to hide it behind a crooked smile.

“Not in you.” Idiot, she would have liked to add. But that would be unfair since the only idiot in the room was she. “In myself.” And with that she sat up.

He followed her example immediately, pushing himself up onto his elbow.

“What? Why?”

“Because I did the one thing I vowed never to do.” She couldn’t stand the confusion on his face any longer, honest or fake, she needed to turn away and burry her face in her hands. “Oh god, I really did sleep with the enemy in the end.”

The low chuckle that followed felt like a slap. A well earned one, that much was clear. She should have known he would attempt to lure her under his spell and fuck her brains out so she would give up her silly war and let him have his way with Brandon Manor, and she had made it so easy for him. She hadn't even tried to resist him.

“Did you though?”

His answer startled her and she needed a moment to process his words.

“Well, obviously,” she snapped over her shoulder, “or are you telling me you are not the Duke of Suffolk?”

“I’m sorry to say I am.” He sighed, and his scorching breath rolled over her shoulder like a warning. Still she flinched when a second later his lips pressed to the very same spot in a soft kiss. “But maybe I’m not your enemy.”

“You still want to build this bloody hotel, don’t you?”

Her voice was icy and she hoped with all her might that he would finally take the hint and leave her be before her hand would slip. God knew he could use a little clip round the ear.

“It pains me a little to admit after all the fun I had bickering with you, but I don’t.” What? He couldn’t be serious. In the blink of an eye she turned around, searching his eyes to see if he was just mocking her, but all she found was the tiniest hint of an apologetic smile on his lips. “And I never did. I made the whole thing up to get back at my old man.”

So he had been lying to her this whole time? The little… She wanted to slap him now more than ever, but then she realised what this actually meant. Brandon Manor was safe. No teardown, no hotel. And as soon as the rage had bubbled up inside of her, it calmed again.

“But you’re still leaving by the end of the month?”

“That was the plan, yes. Other than this old house, nothing is keeping me here.” She felt the sudden urge to avert her gaze, but somehow there was something about the way he looked at her that forced down her first instinct. “But I have a feeling that might be about to change.”

There he sat, right in front of her with that darned triumphant smile on his face, His Snobbiness Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, her sworn enemy, about to worm his way into her heart and there was nothing she could do but sit and watch.

“You know,” he rasped while his fingers trailed along the line of her jaw and made her shiver, “I heard tree hugging is supposed to be very beneficial for the heart. So I think I might give that a try.” His fingertips had come dangerously close to her lips and she was about to open up and let him do whatever he wanted to when they fell away and the suddenly very ceremonious tone of his voice irritated her. “I also still have the duties of a duke to fulfil, a county to rule—”

“Idiot,” she chuckled in amusement, her palm pressing against his chest playfully to push him further off of her. But he was quick to grab her wrist, his other hand cupping her cheek as he hauled her against his chest again. 

“And a few peasants to vex.”

His kiss wasn’t like any other kiss they had exchanged tonight. It felt easy, free of all the tension and silent doubt that had been hovering above them this whole time. This, right here, right now, was heaven.

She was still smiling when he stopped to look at her again.

“What? Did you think you would get rid of me so easily?”

“Oh, I’d never count myself that lucky, Your Grace.”

The boyish grin on his lips died away suddenly, making room for a hunger in his eyes she didn’t find there for the first time tonight.

“You know,” he growled dangerously lowly, “you really should go easy on the Your-Grace-thing, at least if you ever want us to get to that village council meeting you lured me into in exchange for that dance.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” slowly she leaned in, her cheek brushing along his until her lips found his ear in a whisper, “Your Grace.”

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[chaotictarlos]

fic stats meme

rules: give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.

thank you for the tag @lemonlyman-dotcom

** I did this based on my Lone Star fics only, not all my fics as a whole.

fic with the most hits:

the one i want

hits: 10,614 | rating: explicit

snippet: No, tonight he wanted to take his time taking TK apart. He wanted to spend hours mapping out his body and reminding the other man that he belonged to Carlos. He wanted to show him, to remind him that nobody could ever come between what the two of them share. To remind TK that there wasn’t anyone who could make him feel the way Carlos made him feel.

second most kudos:

"I'm yours"

kudos: 371 | rating: general

snippet: TK lets out a shuddering breath, his heart still beating hard from the fear that was still coursing through his veins. There's a tremor running through his body, intense and almost all-consuming but when Carlos touches him and his hand wraps around TK's neck, it seems to stop for just that moment.

Carlos is alive and TK was the one to save him.

third most comments:

I’ve always dreamed of me and you, now here we are

comments: 115 | rating: explicit

summary: It's a tale as old as time, meeting the right person but during the wrong time of life. TK Strand and Carlos Reyes dated in college but parted ways when they graduated, not knowing they would ever see each other again. Six years later, Carlos is working as a social worker in Travis County and TK has just accepted a position as a professor at The University of Texas at Austin. They run into each other when a mutual friend invited TK out for the evening.

fourth most bookmarks:

"I'm yours"

bookmarks: 84 | rating: general

snippet: TK lets out a shuddering breath, his heart still beating hard from the fear that was still coursing through his veins. There's a tremor running through his body, intense and almost all-consuming but when Carlos touches him and his hand wraps around TK's neck, it seems to stop for just that moment.

Carlos is alive and TK was the one to save him.

fifth most words:

Jingle those Balls

words: 20,630 | rating: explicit

snippet: “You also get a blow job and a favor out of the deal,” TK pouts, “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“You’re annoyingly smug about your blow job skills,” Carlos says, crossing his arms. “I’m still not sure that a blow job should even count as part of the payment because you’re clearly desperate to suck me off anyway. You’re practically vibrating out of your skin to get on your knees.”

“You haven’t been on the receiving end of my skills yet and once you have you’ll agree. It’s definitely worth it. Once in a lifetime opportunity, you don’t want to miss out on this,” TK says, and if he adds a touch of begging to his tone, well that’s his business.

“Sure it is, but again, I can just take you to the bedroom right now and you’d get on your knees for me without much of a thought to this fake boyfriend thing you need,” Carlos teases.

TK huffs, rolling his eyes. “I do have some restraint and I can very easily withold my award-winning blow job skills from you.”

fic with the least words:

TK brings home another animal

words: 100 | rating: general

snippet: "It's a kitten! I saved him! He was by the building entrance and he sounded so pitiful 'Los." TK says

"We can't keep him."

"Why not?"

npt: @sanjuwrites @detective-giggles @paperstorm @taralaurel @rosedavid @theghostofashton @thebumblecee @mooshkat @kiloskywalker @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @carlos-in-glasses @meditating-honey-badger @a-j-cowwley @shadesofdeviant @reyestrandd @reyesstrand @irispurpurea @brouill3r @birdclowns and anyone else who would like to join in

[head-empty-just-sigma]

so i’ve been thinking

i know, dangerous

in all honesty, what is our cast of characters supposed to do about Fukuchi..?

i’ve already made my rant analysis (that you can read here if you’re interested) about how Fukuchi is really just an old man with a time traveling stabby stick that makes for a horrible OP villain. up until now, when presented with such a crisis, either soukoku or shin soukoku will partner up and defeat the big bad… or at least they had weaknesses, like Dostoy not anticipating Dazai was going to find him at the end of the cannibalism arc, or how most of his henchmen and underlings were eventually foiled or defeated to come to a satisfying conclusion that set us up for the next story beat. even Ranpo has his weaknesses, and his whole character is centered around knowing everything

well, we know for a fact that that’s not going to happen this time considering our usual duos and their friends are having some technical difficulties at the moment...

so that makes me think…

who is left to fight at this point..?

obviously we have Fukuzawa, who is currently fighting, and Atsushi is... around. but, the character on my mind the most at this point is Mori, since he’s been missing for quite a long time now. this by itself isn’t a big deal considering side characters often go literal years without any story time. however, this becomes a bit more interesting considering what’s happening to the rest of the Mafia and the world right now in bsd

so, i’m going to analyze some pieces that might be added to this 4d chess board of a story line. including more than just Mori. however, i’ll be talking about Mori quite a bit in this post, like almost half of it actually, so if you don’t feel like reading this, that’s fine

🔺minor spoiler warning for chapters 30/31, 50, and 84, and Dead Apple and Stormbringer. also spoilers for basically the entire current arc up to the most recent chapter as of writing this (ch 105) since i talk about most of the main events/situations🔻

I’ll start by taking a moment to talk about the European android everyone knows and loves(?) from Stormbringer…

Adam Frankenstein

Ah yes, the android, the myth, the legend, and the being that made me cringe so hard i got face cramps the first time I read him chewing and swallowing multiple pieces of gum like candy. That Adam.

We never see him or even hear of him in any other part of the story, including the main manga. He’s kind of just in Stormbringer and never brought up again, supposedly living somewhere in Europe doing android detective things. We haven’t even gotten a hint or any foreshadowing that he might show up in the main story, either. The reasons I think he may show up now are kind of simple to be honest.

He’s an android. That’s it. He’s, y’know, not made of flesh… And he doesn’t have blood.

What makes blood important right now? The vampires. Considering we know that Bram can transform a human, alive or otherwise, into one of his minions by ingesting their blood, we can probably assume that this is how it works for the other vampires as well. Therefore, Adam is at a major advantage against such an enemy since 1. his body is made of metal that couldn’t be damaged by Piano Man’s wire guillotine or regular bullets and survived the heat of Chuuya’s first Corruption with minimal damage, and 2. he doesn’t have blood. He does have this blue substance that I assume acts something like oil or fuel for his body, but since he’s most definitely not human, this doesn’t count as blood for him. He can’t be turned into a vampire. I don’t even think Fyodor could hack him or put a virus into his system, like he did to the Moby Dick (which is technically an ability that got turned into a mechanical ship). If anything, the vampires would just break their fangs trying to bite into his neck.

Since he’s in Europe, which is where our two jail kings and their entourage are, it’s more likely that Adam will appear in the jail scene with Dazai and Dostoy. I’d honestly be happy to see this because it would be interesting to see how he and Chuuya would interact now after so many years apart if Chuuya is ever cured of his, y’know, vampirism. Since he most definitely isn’t going to just die. It would also introduce a new character for people who haven’t read Stormbringer, which could reignite interest in this god forsaken arc for those of us who have given up on getting more than a few cliffhangers and a reminder that Fukuchi sucks every new chapter (trust me, I feel you).

Moving on to another semi-short analysis for a character we haven’t seen outside of light novels. And the mildly disappointing adaption of one said novel.

Shirase Buichirou

Another character who is also in Europe, specifically London, is Shirase. At the end of Stormbringer, he and Chuuya parted ways on somewhat good terms when Shirase heard of a group called the Stray Sheep in Europe, which he joined. Nothing has been heard of him since, similar to Adam. The only reasons I bring him up here is that 1. he’s in Europe, same as Adam and the jail kings, and 2. he is also connected to Chuuya (and is familiar with Dazai, to some degree, but this isn’t important).

I’m hesitant to say he’ll appear in the story considering we truly have no idea what the state of the BSD world is right now. Japan is overrun with vampires, and there’s probably nobody left there who hasn’t been bitten unless they’re a major character in the story (that hasn’t already been bitten). We know that the vampires have been moving out by disguising themselves with sunglasses and stuff to hide their eyes and complexion and getting on planes. Where those planes went to, we only know it’s somewhere overseas. There’s also mentions of fictional countries that only exist within the BSD world, similar to Kenji’s home town being a fictional one from a novel written by the irl Kenji. Fukuchi mentions he “needs to control half the nations’ armies” in order to carry out whatever plan he has, and it’s probably safe to say this has already come to fruition since he threatened to set the vampire army in motion if One Order wasn’t unlocked.

The likelihood of a character like Shirase appearing without being a vampire is much, much lower than Adam, and for more reasons than just because he’s a regular human. Shirase has no ability and is not named after an author or any other real-life person (that I know of), therefore it’s very unlikely he’ll be revealed to have one unless he wields an ability weapon like Fukuchi’s sword. Which is also highly unlikely. Given these conditions, he’s probably already been turned into a vampire along with the rest of the organization he joined. Another possibility for his inclusion is just to be killed off (by, perhaps, a vampire Chuuya). Or he might make a joint appearance with Adam, but I still doubt he’ll be a major character unless he’s there to die to further the plot.

Not to mention Asagiri has mentioned many times that Chuuya’s story is a long one that’s full of hardships, so perhaps one of those hardships may just be having to kill an old friend.

Sorry Shirase fans, but that’s just my thoughts on the matter.

From here on, I’ll be discussing Mori and how he’s appeared and disappeared throughout major story arcs and how he’s interacted with the ADA since the cannibalism arc. I know he’s apparently a controversial character to talk about because of his ability and the comments he makes about underage girls and whatever, so if you don’t feel like reading this part, that’s fine.

In case you’re interested in another character appearance, I have added a few honorary mentions at the bottom of this post.

Mori Ougai

Port Mafia Boss. Underground doctor. Ex-military doctor. A third of the Tripartite Framework. And one half of the first version of soukoku before it was known as soukoku.

His titles honestly don’t mean much to me as the only thing he continuously claims to motivate him is his position as the Boss, which is reasonable as his entire livelihood is dependent on the organization and its success. He fills his role well as a clear villain character with extremely black if not straight up non-existent morals, which we get plenty of examples of during the Dark Era, the Guild arc, and even the Cannibalism arc. The currently arc also proves that he’s both willing to provide some aid to the ADA, as well as make manipulative requests of them despite the horrible position they’re in currently for his own potential benefit. He is truly, wholeheartedly, an evil character.

What I want to focus on the most is his hand in moving the pieces on the chess board, so to speak. We know that Dazai and Dostoy are both sitting on the board, presumably in control of every piece, but is that really true? Remember, Dazai is only the way he is because Mori manipulated and taught him to be that way, which we can see from the parallels in how they act when making threats or doing something morally wrong. The comparison between Dazai’s attitude and Mori’s in chapter 30 is telling enough, seeing that Mori’s expression when he murdered the previous Boss 8 years ago (as well as when he talks with Hirotsu in this chapter) is almost identical to the one Dazai makes as he says his thinly veiled threat to do the same to Mori. The anime makes these expressions even more similar than they are in the manga, but I take everything studio bones does with a heavy grain of salt at this point… And not just with BSD

The last time we saw Mori was when he was mentioned in chapter 91 as the liaison who informed Tanizaki and Kenji that it was time to come out of hiding. He appeared normal and not infected by the vampire virus, which isn’t much of a surprise to me. Stormbringer showed that he’s more than capable of avoiding death, and by proxy, avoiding the master assassin Verlaine. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to assume he was able to avoid the hive mind army of vampires that are just regular soldiers, and most of the ability users that have been infected are mafioso who Mori is very familiar with. However, whether or not he’ll intervene in the prison arc is not what I plan to discuss here.

The previous two characters would only make sense to appear in the prison because of their relationship to Chuuya and their location. Mori is Chuuya’s Boss, sure, and sure he probably wants to keep Dazai alive and on his radar, but Mori is still in Japan and knows that Meursault isn’t a place to be taken lightly.

No, I think Mori is about to become a player in the battle against Fukuchi.

My evidence isn’t necessarily anything concrete or even any foreshadowing, such as with chapter 84 when it was pretty obvious that Akutagawa was going to show up to aid Atsushi when he was saying he was all alone, or back in chapter 31 where it was obvious that soukoku was going to reunite for a big fight.

Fukuzawa, so far, has been the only person capable of standing up against Fukuchi alone and not being beaten within seconds (except Tachihara, but, well… yknow). So this alone is interesting to me because Fukuzawa is one of the strongest fighters in the ADA, and arguably one of the strongest fighters in the entire story considering his ability has nothing to do with his raw swordsmanship and martial arts skills. Keeping that small fact in mind, I want to jog your memory of the battle that happened in chapter 50 between Fukuzawa and Mori. Both of them are afflicted with the cannibalism virus, which is probably causing them to feel horrible with symptoms, but they still face off in a 1v1 that looks a little unfair. Mori has his ability, Elise, that does whatever he tells it to do and is basically a highly skilled and deadly combat ability. Fukuzawa, while still an ability user, only has his sword and his physical talents. His ability is a support ability that works on his subordinates, he can’t use it to fight like Mori or Fukuchi. However, he still holds his ground extremely well and even destroys Elise within minutes if not seconds of the fight starting, and Fukuzawa deals the fatal blow to Mori first. Even though Mori also severely wounds Fukuzawa just seconds later, it’s more important that this fight showed us that they are practically equal in combat skill. Not to mention Natsume makes an appearance to tell the two of them to stop fighting since both of their organizations need to survive to uphold the Tripartite Framework, which is something they both agree to disagree on basically.

There’s also the events of Dead Apple where, while under the effects of Shibusawa’s fog, Mori and Fukuzawa are fighting their own abilities and struggling. However, when they meet and switch opponents, they easily take down the other’s ability. They even share a few lines of dialogue that shows they’re familiar with each other’s fighting styles and tricks, similar to their explosive meeting in chapter 30 during the Guild Arc.

Now let’s look at the situation Fukuzawa is in right now. His subordinates are in all danger, and the only one that could potentially be coming to his aid is Atsushi, which is a possibility that I’ll mention at the end of this post. However, doesn’t this setup of our protagonists in a life-or-death situation with no help in sight, seem a little familiar to you?

Dazai was surrounded by soldiers in chapter 31 when Chuuya arrived to (begrudgingly) help him out, on Mori’s orders. Dazai was literally dead in Dead Apple when Chuuya showed up to punch him in the face (deserved) to save him.

Atsushi rarely wins on his own, but with Akutagawa’s help and the singularity created by their combined abilities, they’re able to defeat almost any enemy. And when Atsushi was desperate for help in chapter 84, Akutagawa arrived, even if it was on Dazai’s orders.

Fukuzawa is currently losing the fight against the OP time traveling stabby stick wielding grandpa, putting him in a dire situation of trying to save the ADA while not dying in the process. So, will Mori come out from wherever he’s hiding to provide aid to Fukuzawa? Will zenki soukoku come back and parallel the other soukoku’s reuniting/working together to defeat the big bad? It’s hard to say, honestly, but I do believe it’s entirely possible considering Mori has been strangely missing in the story after agreeing to aid the ADA. Well, the ADA needs aid. Badly. And it’s about time they finally got some.

I think Fukuzawa and Mori have the potential to defeat Fukuchi together considering their both equal in strength, so perhaps putting their finely tuned skills together is what will prove to be our deus ex machina that defeats Fukuchi’s self-induced deus ex machinas that are honestly getting pretty damn tiring at this point.

There’s also the fact that Mori had originally agreed to aid the ADA on the condition that one of their members transfers to the Mafia, so perhaps Mori showing up to aid Fukuzawa will be a manipulation tactic to force them to agree to let him choose who he wants to join, since he only actually wants Yosano out of the deal. However, it’s possible that maybe Tanizaki will be the one to change organizations? He did offer to go in Yosano’s stead in chapter 65 when the deal was originally proposed by Mori, who straight up lied about what Fukuzawa told him over the phone that the one person Mori couldn’t choose was Yosano. Mori is a very, very smart man, so he probably knows that if he forces the ADA into enough of a corner under the guise of helping them, he can get what he wants out of them as well. He could also allow the majority/some of the ADA members to die or come close to force Yosano to heal them and work for him one way or another, since we saw in her backstory in the military that Mori isn’t above shooting someone to make Yosano heal them because now they’re “close to death”. He most likely hasn’t changed much in those ways over the years, so I’m expecting to see some extreme manipulation taking place on his part if he does come back into the story.

Honorable mentions that came to mind as I was working to gather potential suspects:

Atsushi

He’s there, kind of, I guess. So much of the arc recently has been like 2 pages of one perspective before changing to the next that I’m not even sure if he’s still the main protagonist anymore. /j

Since he’s also at the airport where this whole *gestures wildly* thing is happening between the two Fuku’s, it would make sense that he at least shows up during the fight. We also know he’s actively looking for Fukuzawa because he can’t decide on what to do next now that he knows what the DOA is after.

The only way I see Atsushi being implemented in the battle is if he gets super upset or angry over seeing all his friends and coworkers in serious trouble, and either Fukuzawa releases his ability (if that’s even possible) from Atsushi and allows him to use the full power of the White Tiger to fight Fukuchi, which could potentially defeat the time-traveling sword since the Tiger’s claws can cut through abilities. The other option is he goes feral? I don’t really know to be honest. Maybe he just gets his ass beat again by Fukuchi. Who knows. I’ll just be over here preparing the party poppers for Kunikida’s promotion I guess.

Verlaine

Why? For fun.

He’s never appeared in the main story line since he lives in the Port Mafia’s basement basically. But considering the Mafia kinda went up in flames (or vampires, I guess) it’s possible he’s on the move now. Whether he’d appear in the jail, to save Chuuya, or appear at the airport, potentially under Mori’s orders, I honestly don’t know. But, since he’s part of the Mafia and another character we haven’t seen, and the cover of volume 22 as well as other official artwork has been featuring several Stormbringer and Sheep references, some people believe we might be seeing someone from that cast of characters in an upcoming chapter. But honestly I think they might be on as much copium as I am…

It would be funny to see Verlaine show up and just crush Fukuchi in like 3 seconds while the rest of the protagonists couldn’t defeat him though.

Ango?

We see Ango last in chapter 95 when it’s revealed he’s the one that demanded a seal be put on One Order, at Dazai’s request as part of his plan to counter Dostoy. He hasn’t been a big player in this arc beyond being the coordinator early on for the ADA’s moves, but since they all were reunited and came up with their own plans, he’s been more active as just a background character acting on the messages from Dazai. But, since he is the final piece of the Tripartite Framework, I thought I’d just mention him here as well. Natsume clearly wants the three organizations to work together, so I wouldn’t be surprised if Dazai has also given Ango a message or plan to relay to Mori. I don’t think he’ll ever be a super big part of the current events, though, just more of the background coordinator.

The Guild?

We kind of see them and then we don’t. We know Fitzgerald wants to work with whoever is winning, which as far as we know, he thinks is going to be the ADA. He was giving them aid in exchange for Yosano healing Mitchell, but we don’t really see anything come after this agreement is made? Atsushi and Kyouka get into one ambulance with Mitchell inside to bring her to Yosano, and at the same time, Yosano (along with Tanizaki and Kenji) are attacked by the government who set up their own trap unknown to Fitzgerald and Atsushi. We know Fitzgerald didn’t set them up because in the first few pages after we see the government attacking, we see Fitzgerald explaining why he didn’t go with the 74 plans Alcott prepared that included selling out the Agency’s location. Technically, it only happened because Tachihara is a Hunting Dog, so he betrayed the location of the meeting since Mori sent him and the other Black Lizard captains for security, and Tachihara is using his metal manipulation to pretend as if there’s an ability user attacking them with the government so they have to retreat after Kenji is severely injured. He’s also there to prevent Atsushi from reuniting with Yosano just a few minutes later. Which is truly impressive since he’s technically fighting himself the entire time? Wow is that symbolism of him as a character if I’ve ever seen it, that’s for sure. Not to mention he also stabs himself with Gin’s knife, just *chefs kiss* of a character I really wish he wasn’t killed/vampire-d whatever the fuck happened because he deserved so much better. But anyway, we never see the Guild again after this. So we have no idea what they’re currently doing, nor have we seen the other branch of the “Guild” that Steinbeck created at the end of the Guild arc since the end of that arc. So, I doubt they’ll come back.

The Clock Tower?

They’d have jurisdiction over Meursault, but it’s hard to say if they’ll step in. They haven’t been a part of the story at all beside Agatha’s little cameo from chapter 12. On a side note, I believe Agatha’s ability will be something along the lines of causing death in accordance to the lines in the poem “Ten Little Soldiers” (obviously I’m not putting the original name here) since her ability is named after the mystery novel And Then There Were None that’s about ten people dying on an island of various means that follow the reasons in the rhyme of the poem. It’s quite interesting, actually. But back to my main point, I don’t really see why they would suddenly come into the story now. If anything, they might appear if Fukuchi decides to try and use his vampire army against the governments of the world and create a world-wide coup d’etat with One Order.

Is this a copium-driven fever dream of a hope to have? Haha, fuck yeah it is! But I’ll let the copium win today if it means having at least a little hope that Fukuchi’s arc of shitty OP-ness will come to an end soon. Please. Asagiri I’m begging. I’m on my knees. Just PLEASE

Anyways, that's my thoughts on the matter. This theory was a little out there and not really based on too much evidence, but I still felt the need to write up this post, or else the brainrot might actually get my final braincell and it'd be all downhill from there.

As always, I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading. If you have your own idea of what you think will be the thing to defeat Fukuchi, feel free to say it in the comments or send a message to my Inbox on my profile. We can cope theorize together :)

**i just finished editing this oh my god this is so long i’m sorry i just had a lot of brainrot about this and i’m desperately awaiting whatever is going to end Fukuchi to the point i want to do it myself

[phenexhotfury]

🔥💕Welcome back to the story mode of The Sunny Show : Attraction AU! Part 4⭐️🔥

This 84 incident episode will divided into two parts. I’m so sorry but I don’t want you guys to read the boring paragraph with no pictures

you can also check out my twitter for more : @phenexhotfury

WARNING : This episode contained Blood / Strong Language / Violence action / Crime

As the sound of flames along with the heat flew passed his skin. Jack slowly opens up his eyes.

His eyelids were heavy…and the heat flew along though his eyes. His vision blur by the flames that surrounded his body

“U…ughh..! W..where am I..?” He coughs. Jack thinks and looks around and found himself in a basement of Pizzeria with a rope that tightly tied his arms.

His throat is bleeding as the blood running down, soaking his white shirt collar. Fortunately, the knife didn’t go into deep.

“H…Help… someone…a..anyone…please….” His voice can’t even reach the upstair nor can’t even though the flames that cursing too much noise

“Mnh..!” He tried to move as the flame raising his fear. It’s getting closer and closer to him every second. Jack can’t breathe much. He doesn’t know that he can’t even breathe or not as the smoke filled the room and his lungs. He tries to struggle our of the rope.

“Please Please Please PLEASE!” Jack thinks and trying to struggle with the fear.

.

.

.

——————

-2 months ago…

“What do you mean no…?!” Jean Laurent the crew that plays as Wonder Rory role asking Grace in rage.

Grace crossed her arms and looking at him with an annoyance.

“Jean. We’ve been already settle about this. We’ll reduce your show schedule. For the audience to experience in this pizzeria with some other crew” Grace is still in charge of this pizzeria as a founder.

She hired 4 people to become a crew. - Jean is one of them that she hired. In fact she didn’t even want to hire him in the first place. She saw his arrogance, pride and the vanity in his eyes since they had met.

“It’s because of him, doesn’t it?” Jean said and that caught Grace attention.

“What…?” Grace looks at him and place her paperwork that on her hand down to the table. It’s everyone work schedule.

“That was because of that Mr.Jack, Joseph or whatever his name is-?! Don’t you think we didn’t know that you two are in relationship.”

“You love him, don’t you? You kept him as a freaking favorite pet and gave everything to him while other crews or me can’t get enough money-“ Jean said in a harsh tone.

“You’re freaking bias!!” After that words left his mouth. Grace’s mind snaps and she stands up and slam her table.

“Jean…! Do people like you have the right to complain me or what?!” Grace yelling with her anger and clench her fist.

“You know why I hate people like you…?” “Because I hate a failure like you who can’t do anything and keep mumbling about me being bias….!”

“Did you even look at your rating…?! You have a freaking lowest rating by the guest complain in here…!!”

Grace throw a bunch of paper into his face. It’s his rating record…over the years.

“Get out before I fire..you” Grace said in a cold tone and Jean left the room and closed the door loudly

.

.

.

Her office become silent as it’s should be again…She sigh and move her hand to her face.

“I can do this”

“I can do this….” She said to herself before looking on her phone with a picture of her and Jack beside each other…smiling in happiness.

Grace smiles and close her eyes

Her first plan…is just to used him as her tool to success but as the time passed Jack become someone in her life. Someone that she dreamed for…

Over this 4 years that they have known each other. He is the one who cheered her up. Helping her…and….

Love her… for the first time. Free her from old family that taunted her.

She shouldn’t have a feeling on him…she shouldn’t love him, but now Grace care for him. She can’t hurt him. She sees him as a person not her tool anymore…

——————

As for Grace… she loves him..

Every time she looks at him perform his show on the stage. His move and voice caught her heart and Jack did hold her close to him when they are at home..

At that time. Jack belongs to her alone with no other audience eyes. As he kissing her and Grace holds him close. She doesn’t want to let go anymore.

Putting that love part aside. Grace did her job pretty well and with Gina stands by her side she can control her pizzeria in her hands

But… something is about to happen…

Bad things always happened…

——————

In 1984 - May - 06

Today is a big show for Mr.Jack to perform. His Greatest magician show.

“Ready for today Mr.Jack?” Grace stands with him behind the red curtains of the main stage.

“Of course My little star~⭐️” Jack leans closer to her and kiss her forehead and that made Grace blushing so hard.

“I can be whatever you want me to be. Just say it and I will make your wish come true~” Jack smiles at her and Grace chuckled a little.

Grace moves her hands to tidy his suit , trying to make him looks perfect.

“Come on~ not even a kiss…?” Jack wink at her as Grace looking at him with blushing face that get redden.

“We can do that at home, you know~? It’s not like it’s gonna be last day” Grace smiles at him and look at the red curtains

“The light is calling…It’s showtime~” Grace moves her hand to caress his face one last time before Gina and the other crews opens the curtains.

Jack is getting ready for the show

Jack holds his staff as he walks out into the light. Seeing everyone looking at him, heard them clapping just for him…

——————

While everyone focused on the show. Jean lurking into the building and slowly destroy the gas pipe in the staff room.

“If I can’t have it…no one can…even you Grace” That gas pipe leading to Grace office but what he didn’t know… is that damaged with effect the whole building soon.

Jean comes out and lock the door of staff room and the CCTV in this area is in maintenance….so it’s shut down temporarily..

no one will know…

“What are you doing?” Gina looking at Jean while stand in front of him.

“Just picking up some stuff” He said as he walks passed Gina, but Gina is aware by his odd actions, so she follows him.

Gina secretly contacted Grace and that made her goes down from the back stage.

——————

After Jack finished his first performance. He checked his metal gloves. Looks like the screws were loose… This will cursing a problem to his next solo show.

“Their must be the second gloves in dressing room…” Jack thinks and walks down from the black stage, but what he didn’t know….is the danger that follows him.

While Jack changing his gloves. Suddenly a man that follow him used the metal bat knocking Jack down to the floor before tied him up with the rope

“You have a lot to paid Joseph…”

——————

This part is long enough so…

(Stay tuned for part 5🌟🔥)