#no more finding sibling my traveler is just a photographer now

[electric-plants]

finally been doing the old notes and new friends quest and the part i’ve been most invested in is how great a photo spot this boss arena is

[kusin-tisdag]

Ideas for Legacy-players

So, I'm a game play legacy-player. Meaning that I play legacies and let the game decide what will happen. Therefor I don't have a set plan for my Sims or make them into certain people. However, I have learnt over the years to at least set up certain things. I'm going to make this post to give ideas and tricks to others who play in the same style.

For me, playing a legacy is also about the family, it's history and the context for each generation. It's totally fine to play in other ways, but these are my thoughts on legacies - as a way to tell a whole family's history.

More under the cut because this got long!

Setting up the world

MC Command Center is your friend (here's a good tutorial)! Yes, we have neighborhood stories now, but with MCCC I find that more things happen, but also - you get pop-ups! I have pop-ups for everything that happens, which is important since I also care about my Sims' friends and extended family. (And I love gossip.)

MCCC also let's you control the amount of children your NPC are allowed to have. Since I forgot to fix those settings, I have some Sims with way too many siblings (lesson learned)!

MCCC is also just awesome for the quick "edit household in cas" which is very handy if your Sim is talking to someone with no sense of style. Or wearing broken CC.

When setting up your world, give yourself a moment to think about if you want an empty world or have the premade families in it.

Also, reflect on whether the neighborhoods are close or if they are far apart. The classic "just a loading screen away" or actual travel. For traveling this might be a good mod (I haven't tried it).

I like to keep my NPC in their homeworlds. I use kuttoe's Home Region and Townie Democraphic-mod.

Your generation - and the generation before

I have let generations just be gameplay. Gen 0 of my current one is very much so (and the Vasas was very much that). That's fun to play, but eventually might get.. a bit same same. Now, I try to create more of a story for the Gen that I play. Usually this starts to happen when the heir becomes a teenager. I start to understand who they are and what they might want to do in their 20s. For Una, that was The Strangerville Mystery - which I actually find to be a very good thing to play for a legacy player. So I drop things about their dreams and personality already through their teen years that then lead to their generation.

Take photos! Use the game's cameras and have your Sims photograph each other. I often forget this and I always regret it. Give the heir photos for them to keep, so they can eventually put them up on their walls. This ties them to their heritage - and this is important for me.

Also, think about how to weave in their heritage into their story. Was their parent famous? Has that affected them? Will others talk about their parents or grandparents? No one exists in a vacuum, and neither does your Sims.

I have learned to always move the heir out. I have kept them with their parents before, but it does "muddy" the line between generations and very soon I have too many Sims to focus on - and the heir gets lost. However - if executed well the differences between generations can be highlighted by having them close and interacting. Just take a moment to at least reflect on it.

Inheritance. Sure, monetary. Reflect on how much you want your heir to get help starting out their own life. But also - we all inherit something from our parents. We all take something with us from the generation before. Did they have a happy marriage? Divorce? Single-parent? What fears does your heir's parents have and how do they try to keep your heir safe? This can mean love-advice ("don't date werewolves!") or careers, to lifestyle choices in general. Do they approve? Disapprove? Neutral? Let your heir reflect on these things, at least a little.

Create a community

Already when your Sims are young - give them friends! Sojus guide to clubs is a great tutorial for this. Have these friends follow them through life. I always have my kids get to know children in the neighborhood by having them visit and just ask them to join. Or I add them manually if that's easier.

Then use this mod to add at least some of those kids to your Sims High School-class. (read the instructions!)

Depending on your Sims' story as they become YA/start their gen they might still meet these old friends. Or if they go on their own adventure they might reconnect later in life.

As your Sim starts their own family, add their friends as adults their child will now get to know. Have them over at birthday parties! Make them a part of your Sim child's life too. I always grew up with my mum's friends over for dinner and at my birthday parties. If your Sim's children are at odds with your Sim, these are the adults they could turn to instead.

If you chose to have a Sim who doesn't have a "community" have them reflect on it. If it stands out from your other generations, it should be addressed.

Your Sim

Who are they? How much do you make them into what you want, and how much is their own? This will always be a balance, but usually you'll have an idea about them and who they are as a teen and then I'll try to follow their wants and fears. To follow their lead is usually the best for me - it becomes more fun to follow their whims. Some wants - like breaking up or similar I try to build a story around.

Connect with your Sim. For me, this is done by writing dialogue for them. Some are not comfortable at all with this, but for me it has helped. You do you, but do try different things if you find it hard to connect with them.

For this, I have often found that it's the best if I play a Sim week and then edit. When I edit post I often figure things out about my sims, and how I frame their story.

Age spans. I have changed my age settings so many times (MCCC again!). You can find the ones I have now over here (will be seen fully once Gen 2 starts). Look at other Simmers that you like and see if you can find their age settings. In my game 1 year = 4,2 days and then I just do math and round the numbers.

Falling in love (or not) and family life

Does your Sim already in their teens start dating? Or are they slower to start? This is also depending on how much you play your Sims as teens, or if you still focus more on their parents (probably your current gen). But try to give it a thought, make a conscious choice. A shy Sim might not even dare to make a move while an outgoing might dare more - so use their personalities to help you.

Some marry their childhood best friend. This means you won't have a million dates with different Sims, but you still might want to think on how they keep the spark going. Do they share interests? Can they do more of this?

Some go on multiple dates. Think about how much time and effort you want to put into documenting their trial and errors. Too many posts about different dates that don't lead to anything might not be the funniest to read (or for you to create) (more on this later).

Some get pregnant in their early 20s. Once again, think about how that affects them. Do they want children? (check out this mod!) And having a child while young might affect their other dreams. Have them reflect on this!

And vice versa.

Sometimes, your heir just doesn't seem to be... very legacy oriented. Or maybe this Gen's story is about the tragic death of your heir! Enter - the spare and it’s descendants! Or, if found family is completely fine for you and genetics don't matter, maybe the torch is handed over to a friend's child instead!

And who to choose? I have previously simply chosen my fav. Now I force myself to chose the firstborn. Some use polls to help them!

For legacy players, family is the center of it. But how much? I find this to be a bit difficult to balance. If I have family-oriented Sims they will have many posts about their children but also their parents and siblings. I try to think more when my Sims are not family-oriented and avoid that many posts about every family-member. Because that would change the "feel" or "setting" for my generation. At the same time, I want to get to know my future heir, so their childhood and teen years matter. But maybe let them reflect more on their childhood as they become YA and finish playing your current Generation while you still have them?

Becoming an elder

Very rarely do I play elders. This is a shame, because I do think it's an important life-stage. But since the heir moves out, the previous generation often gets to tend for themselves.

I think playing elders somehow can still be done. I'm planning on having the kind of parents who don't stop meddling in their kid's life, or the heir who just enjoys using their parents money/house/claim to fame for themselves.

I have this mod, and am looking forward to using it more.

If your heir is family oriented, they will most probably want to visit their parents now and then, or have them over for holidays.

Your simblr

So, I guess you're here because you want to post your story. Most of us won't get many followers, so my guide is mostly to make sure I enjoy my own simblr.

Reshade/gshade. It's not the easiest to understand initially, but yes - I strongly recommend it. This can also help distinguish between generations, if you wish for example to give a more "dreamy look" to one gen, a "darker and harsher" to another etc. Do look around and nerd away with this! (1, 2)

When editing: SHARPEN! Resize and sharpen. Look at others, figure out a good picture size and edit. This will help.

Photograph using tab-mode and reshade. And, think about angles! Close ups? Further away? What kind of emotions do different angles create?

Keep the originals, if possible. This has often helped me when I need to make obituaries or for some reason "go back in time". I can then edit the original screenshots, not my edits.

Tag your posts! The amount of time I have forgotten a kid's name but managed to find it because I remember one of their parent's are... plenty. It's also a fun way to see when your Sim met another Sim the last time (especially if it's childhood friends!) Once again - this helps create context and community.

Also tag generations.

Set up some kind of page for your legacy. Have short recaps of each gen, help your readers (and yourself!) to remember what has happened before.

What to post and what to skip: I mentioned it before but multiple dates can get a bit same same. Also homework or running the treadmill (my sims always end up fitness freaks 😅). I usually try to post more the highlights or bigger events, and then use those "everyday"-posts in between. They still add something, and everyday life is still everyday life and a part of your Sim's story.

Poses. Posing might feel very stiff and usually if you have a gameplay-legacy posing Sims will stand out. I mainly use poses for photos that the Sims themselves take. I take posed photos every Winterfest and also at weddings.

In conclusion

Play for you. Play the stories you want. My ideas are mainly a way to remind myself on how to make that happen.

I am a storyteller. When not playing sims or on my day-job, I write. Original fiction, fanfiction, you name it. I love stories and I love characters. I want my Sims to reflect that.

I also do other things to keep me in my current heirs "world". I create pinboards and I follow instagram-accounts that remind me of them. I listen to music that I find capture "their" vibe. This is something I also do when writing, so it makes sense to me.

Not all of your thoughts and ideas or backstory is going to make it into the posts. That's fine. You know, and that's what should matter to you.

And finally: re-read your legacies. You wrote them for you, enjoy them!

And I think that was it! I do use many more mods than I have posted here. I have a resource page, a cc-finds -blog and I also try to link in my posts to any mods that heavily influence something that happens in the story.

Hopefully this was helpful for someone, or at least fun to read!

[honeybewrites]

Writeblr Intro!!

Figured I should do an introduction for my little crevice of the internet! 

I go by HoneyBe, or just Honey, or just Be, or really any other name you feel like! I mostly use she/her, they/them pronouns, but feel free to use whatever. I’m in my 20s and on the AroAce spectrum. I’ve been writing on and off since middle school and I’m hoping to get better at improving my skills, because 12 year old me didn’t care about that but 20 year old me does. I’m hoping to find (or build) a little community to support and help each other with all the writing things. Mostly though, this is just me gaslighting and guilt tripping myself into thinking that by not writing and posting, I will disappoint a nonexistent audience on the internet and not just myself, because apparently that’s the only way my brain will cooperate with me. 

Couple other little tidbits about me:

Big fan of the found family trope. Literally will make me squeal at a highly obnoxious volume.

LOVE extensive world building. I want to know every detail of a magic system and how a planet operates. I will listen to you rant about lore for hours, just please let me do the same every once in a while. I am begging, please, I want to tell you all the things.

I’m a little funky photographer trying to start her own little funky photography business, mostly to give myself more time to travel and write and also to get out of my full-time retail job (it’s pure hell and I hate it with an unholy, unmatchable heat of a thousand suns).

I love flowers. They’re just so pretty and as a little honeybee myself, it’s part of my job.

If you mention dragons, you will summon me. I have an obsession with the magical creatures and it knows no bounds.

My Main WIP, or I guess world, is what got me into writing in the first place, and I’ve been messing with it for years. You’d think that would mean I have it decently fleshed out, right? Nope. Unfortunately, The Plot keeps escaping my basement and causing a train wreck. If anyone has better restraint suggestions, let me know. My neighbors are starting to get concerned.

Anywho! The whole world is called The Seven Realms, or as my docs are titled, 7R. I know, so original. She wants to grow up and be a series with little series siblings, all connected in one Big Family. Seriously, I have OCs all over this world’s history and very vague vibes, aka, The Plot, to go along with them. Here are my two main ones.

Eclipse of War Chronicles (EoWC)

Colliding Stars (supposedly book 1)

The Realms are in chaos. A war started nearly a hundred years ago, still raging today, has wrecked both sides. The original intent of the war has long left everyone’s mind; it’s now a fight over territory and unification. The Realms border on complete and totally collapse from the strain of this ongoing blood bath and neither side refuses to admit defeat.

Project Viall, created during the hight of the war, was set on creating superior fighters. After many failed attempts, two successful subjects were created from the genetic experiments.Trained side by side to be flawless and merciless loyal weapons of death, they end up on opposite sides of this vicious war. Both intent on destroying the other, while their partner and closest friend hides behind the mask. Bonds are tested. Secrets revealed. Loyalties made and destroyed as two partners threaten to destroy the entirety of the Realms in their hunt for blood.

Legend of the Ancients (LotA)

The Fallen Dragons (supposedly book 1 of another series)

A brutal war has left the dragons all but extinct. To preserve the species, the remaining dragons have gone into hiding, leaving behind a subspecies borne through the war to fend for themselves: the Tanimoriem. Generations later, no one has seen or heard of a dragon, leaving the Tanimoriem as their only remains to once was. Knowing little of their history and being hunted simply for being kin to dragons, the Tanimoriem learned how to fight viciously and keep to themselves, earning a reputation as vile, unfeeling demons.

Accepting a bounty mission, Ryuk, a seasoned Tanimoriem, gets more than he bargained for. He had been told this was another monster that needed killing. A dangerous beast. Instead he’s met with a child who finds his horns and wings fascinating. Ryuk is forced to look after the child until he can figure out what secretive plot is brewing, because it might just involved the Tanimoriem.

Of course, my goblin brain has given me plenty more snippets and random characters in different times in this world that I have yet to do much with. The world of the Seven Realms has consumed me for years and I have been shown no mercy. I’m planning to do a proper intro post to each WIP and their characters at some point… *puts twenty reminders in phone to write intro posts*

Also!! I will take all asks, tags, and DMs you can throw at me. Literally. Ask me about anything. Books, WIPs, OCs, hell, even ask about my least favorite color or my favorite bread. I do not care. I will answer. I want to be friends will all of you!! I don’t sting! I promise!!

[bigshoeswamp]

In the last few weeks, I've received many asks from Palestinians asking for support in their GoFundMe campaigns. I don't have much to spare, but I've managed to donate make a total donation of 15 dollars to them. Can you match my donation?

Here's a list of the people who have contacted me and some words from their campaigns' pages. Please take the time to read their stories and, if you can, please share and donate, even if it's a dollar!

Heba Al-Anqar (@heba-baker) - €4,503 - €60,000

Hello, I am Heba Al-Anqar, 21 years old, a university student. My university was suspended due to the war. I am writing about my family: my father Bakr (54 years old), my mother Alaa (46 years old), and my sisters Aya (18 years old), Amal (15 years old), Muhammad (13 years old), and Maryam (8 years old). We have faced many challenges in this war, from the destruction of our home to the famine we continue to suffer in northern Gaza.

Ahmed Altaban (@ahmed4palestine) - $18 309 USD/ $20 000

There are seven members of the family: Heba (the mother), Amjad (the father), their sons Ahmed, Khaled, Soliman, and Abdallah, their young daughter Lamar, and Ahmed (the grandfather). The siblings were all pursuing engineering, design, or completing grade school. Lamar in particular aspires to be a doctor some day.

Eman Zaqout (@rakan2010) - $25 669 CAD- $40 000

My name is Eman Zaqout, from Occupied Gaza, Palestine. I am contacting you at a really desperate and urgent moment. I am seeking your assistance to raise funds for saving our lives, facing the starvation in Gaza and help me achieve my doctoral degree dream after awarding prestigious PhD Fellowship. I'm a wife and mother of two little kids. My husband Mahmoud Zaqout 39 years old, my son Rakan 12 years old and my doughter Seba 10 years old. I am also an employee working in a medical field and at the same time a scientific researcher conducting different research inside and outside Gaza as well.

Mohi (@mohiy-gaza2) - $30,000 USD- $31,000

I am 23 years old. I live under the bombardment and constant aggression against Gaza. Here we struggle with a life of constant death and loss. I lost a large part of my family. We also lost our house in which we used to live. We were displaced more than 10 times from one place to another, searching for safety. In fact, there is no safe place. We had many ambitions and hopes. I graduated from university and intended to travel, work, and many other things. But the war came and destroyed all that. We also had a source of livelihood and clothing shops. The occupation completely destroyed and burned them all, and we no longer have any source of livelihood. (...) Therefore, I hope you can help, even if just a little, as this will help us get out of death."

Islam Al-Najjar (@islamgazaaccount3) - €2,150/ €30,000

My name is Islam Al-Najjar, a 27-year-old Palestinian from Gaza. My life was turned upside down when our home was destroyed, and I lost many loved ones and friends. Now, I find myself homeless, jobless, and struggling to survive. We lack basic needs such as food, water, and healthcare. Despite these hardships, we still hold onto hope, believing that your generous support can help us overcome these adversities. My grandfather is 85 years old. He lost his left hand due to a previous Israeli bombing and suffers greatly from this serious injury. We also suffer a lot in taking care of him due to the scarcity of basic resources like water and food, and their complete absence.

Ahmed (@ahmadresh) - $13,241 USD/ $31,000

Hello, my name is Ahmed, 19 years old from Gaza. I finished high school with a high average and a very good grade, and because of the genocide war on Gaza, I was deprived of enrolling in university. I had dreams and ambitions to study photographic design, but I was deprived of all of that because of the genocide war on Gaza. I was living the best days of my youth. But with the beginning of this war, I became unable to live my normal life. At least our warm house sheltered me and my family until it was bombed for the first time, that damned night. Our house has become like a ghost town. We continued to seek refuge from death there until we were besieged and displaced from our safety under fire to a tent (shelter) in the bitter cold of winter, with the lack of basic necessities of life (water pollution, high cost of living, disease, insect infestation, ‏malnutrition, ‏Difficulty of movement, overcrowding), and many other daily difficulties, especially with the significant increase in prices.

Haya (@hayanahed) - €86,967/ €100,000 target

I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my parents, two sons, and four daughters (two of them suffer from allergies). I've witnessed the evidence of the tragedy that has struck our lives in Gaza, where my family and I have survived amidst numerous previous wars. But today, we face the most dangerous and fierce battle in the current war. The urgent need intensifies for us, as we have nothing left and are unable to secure our basic needs such as food, water, and safe shelter.

Sara (@sara-97a) - €1,297/ €50,000 target

Before the war, 7 -year-old Sewar dreamed of becoming a doctor to treat people and alleviate their pain. Sewar is a kind, active, intelligent and diligent girl in her studies. Every day, Sewar and her two brothers, Abdul Aziz and Omar, begin a bitter journey to get water and food, collect firewood for cooking and help their father and mother secure the necessities of life. The lives of the three children, Sewar, Abdul Aziz and Omar, have been turned upside down. They were kind and innocent children who went to school every morning with enthusiasm. Please help us arrange the costs of food, water and medicine for the children and their sick grandmother.

Nisreen Suhail/Hazem Shawish (@nisreensuhail - vetted by association) - €7,869/ €50,000

I’m Hazem Shawish, trying to save my family from the war. We’re a family of 8 members, me, my mother, and I have 4 brothers and two sisters. And their kids. Islam (30) years old, Hashem (31), Samer (29), Mohammad (35), Nisreen (37), Noor (36), Amal (12), Kenzy (17), Zoheer (19) In the shadow of conflict, our family has faced unimaginable hardships. The passing of my father, a victim to the cruel grasp of hunger and inadequate healthcare, left a void in our lives, underscoring the fragility of our existence here. My brother, Samer, battles bipolar disorder, a condition exacerbated by the ongoing war and the severe shortage of essential medications. Without access to the necessary treatment, his life is at risk, and we live in constant fear for his well-being amidst the chaos that surrounds us. These personal tragedies have deepened the urgency of our situation.

Dr. Husam Farhat (shamfarhat1) - $8,590USD/ $29,500

Amidst the relentless bombardment, Dr. Farhat faced an unthinkable tragedy: the martyrdom of his beloved sisters, Inas and Amal, along with their husbands and children, and his brother Mustafa. This devastating loss shattered not only their dreams but also their hopes for a peaceful future. (...) Now, after all this devastation, my family and I are living as displaced people, homeless and jobless, with no clear future for ourselves or our children. Every day is a struggle to find food for my children, who have been robbed of every chance at a normal life by this war. Once, we lived in Shuja'iyya, in North Gaza, where we had a home, a life, and dreams. But now, after being displaced over nine times, we find ourselves in the refugee camps of Nuseirat, the war has stripped us of everything—our home, our security, and our future.

Dr. Mohammed Aldeeb (@mohammedaldeeb) - €41,065/ €55,000 target

I am Dr. Mohammed Aldeeb, a dedicated medical professional specializing in emergency care, hailing from the Gaza Strip, We are a family of 4 members. (...) In the chaos and carnage of conflict, I sustained injuries, and the sanctuary of my home was obliterated, leaving my family and me destitute and displaced. Yet, amid the ruins, a flicker of hope persists. At Al-Aqsa Hospital, I continue to extend a helping hand to those in need, drawing strength from the resilience instilled in me through years of education and service. Today, we find ourselves sheltering in a humble tent, stripped of our possessions and livelihoods. The loss of my job, my home, and the comforting presence of my loved ones weighs heavily on my heart. Nevertheless, I refuse to surrender to despair, clinging to the belief that brighter days lie ahead.

If it serves as an incentive, anyone who sends me proove over at my inbox that they've matched my donation of $15 USD can request a drawing of their choice to me, on my quick commission style, as seen bellow

[limetameta]

I need tombraxas fics and your opinion on it

I'm about to go OFF under the cut so beware

If you're looking for HEALTHY tombraxas I can offer you the following:

TOM RIDDLE HATES SOCIAL MEDIA

Summary: They're in high school it's modern au, the most dramatic thing that happens is that they know Walburga Black in person, who's trying to be an influencer. This is the cutest tombraxas I've ever written and I love it so gosh dang much. They're just so soft with each other and they love each other like lovesick teenagers can. Tom is a lil repressed and scared because he's a foster kid and Abraxas is a nepo baby and that's bound to create problems, but Abraxas is just so SAFE for Tom.

TOM RIDDLE THE IT GUY

To this day I believe I've peaked with this writing and that I'll never write anything funnier. Take the Riddle era kids, age them up, and shove them in a no magic office au. I'm laughing as I'm writing this honestly every time I remember this fic I giggle.

NOW IF YOU WANT TOMBRAXAS AS KIND OF THE DRIVING FORCE FOR PLOT, BUT SEEN FROM AN OUTSIDE PERSPECTIVE MAY I OFFER YOU:

KNIGHTS AND (PRINCES)SES:

Voldemort Wins the 2ND WAR AU - Ginny falls in love with Luna, but parallel to them Tombraxas is out here being divorced toxic and learning to reconcile because Luna is Voldemort's favourite student and Ginny is Abraxas' favourite student. I like this fic a lot. MAINLY because I love writing Voldemort wins fics that make Voldemort depressed.

THE ARITHMANCY FIC

Trans Harry AU. Abraxas is SICK AND TIRED OF DIVINATION. HE'S GONNA GET VOLDEMORT AND HARRY POTTER TO FUCK OFF WITH THEIR PROPHECY BULLSHIT IF IT'S THE LAST THING HE DOES. Featuring Voldemort being very domestic with Abraxas.

NUMBERED DAYS

Every adult in Harry Potter's life has failed him as a mentor figure. Enter Abraxas Malfoy, who's like I BET I CAN SPEEDRUN my man Tom winning this war and not having him deal with Harry Potter - I'LL BECOME A PROFESSOR AT HOGWARTS! SECRET MARRIAGE TROPE, VOLDEMORT AND ABRAXAS DISS DUMBLEDORE FOR HAVING A GAY RELATIONSHIP LONGER THAN HIS ONE SUMMER ROMANCE ASS. Harry Potter is not harmed. Who knew that was an option???

SNAPSHOTS

This is a story of tombraxas as told through a series of moving photographs.

RUIN

The first time I ever wrote a fic with tombraxas in it (Abraxas doesn't appear, but Voldemort talks about how that peacock man can get it)

it's old 2016 writing tho so beware.

YOUNG SNAKES

Albus Dumbledore gets sorted into Slytherin and how this changes the course of his life. Tom/Abraxas are side characters but they're together and it's clearly stated in text.

TOM RIDDLE SR.

Tom Riddle Sr raises his son. His son is gay for the peacock man, but this story focuses more on the father son dynamic than on them.

SIBLINGS

Hermione time travels to the past and acts as Tom's sister. Tom is flustered by Abraxas lots in this fic and they are together.

NOW ONTO MY MORE EXPERIMENTAL WORKS THE ONE WHO BRINGS COLOUR

Voldemort dies as per canon but he winds up in a hellish world devoid of colour and his senses. As he travels farther and farther out and gains more of his senses, it isn't until he finds Abraxas that colour returns to his life. I like this fic a lot.

THE CHANGELING

Tom Marvolo Riddle (the human) is switched at birth with a fairy changeling. The Fairy AS TOM RIDDLE grows up in muggle london and goes to Hogwarts and has a liaison with Abraxas and becomes Voldemort and all that. Meanwhile Tom Riddle (the human) grows up in the Fairy world and fucks shit up for the Unseelie Queen. I like the prose in this one a lot.

AWARENESS

Voldemort and Abraxas in this fic are not endgame but they are together. Endgame for Voldemort is finally being happy and healthy. For Abraxas it's Minerva. The two of them are still very much clearly codependant on each other and very open, and they do fuck.

AND NOW!!! FOR THE CREME DE LA CREME, FOR THE OP OF ALL MY TOMBRAXAS FICS, THE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE, THE MAGNUP OPUS OF MY AO3

RETIRED PROMETHEUS

FUN FACT: The very first fic Abraxas ever appears in my writing, the one that set the precedent for all the other Abraxas in my works FIRST APPEARED IN Retired Prometheus - the LONGEST TOMBRAXAS FIC WRITTEN ON FFNET AND AO3 to date. This fic has truly taught me so much about writing. These two in this fic are so deeply convoluted and yet in love with each other in a very toxis way. I adore them. I adore the messiness, the codependence, the nobody will ever love you as I love you, my love for you is monstrous, but that's fine, I'll love you with all of my monstrous being. Everything that you see in the fics listed above this one CAME as a direct influence Retired Prometheus had on me. This is the OG. This is the abyss that stared at me and had me churning out Tombraxas fics for YEARS. This is the, even though I'm a terrible human being, I deserve to be loved, too, and nobody can do it better than you, you, Hercules, who've come to rescue me from myself, from my punishment from the Gods.

[nakuzendara]

As this year is coming to a close, let's take a step back to reflect on what we've experienced💙

This year for me has been eventful, to say the least; it has been full of drama, misfortune and joy. Although I did obviously enjoy the more significant things, I want to take a moment to appreciate the smaller things that keep me grounded and that I usually take for granted.

First of all, here are my favourite photographs of Ludwig I've taken this year:

Ludwig has been my travel buddy for a good year and a half now. I'm a very anxious person, so having him in my pocket to keep me company and distract me from any negative thoughts is very soothing. I'd like to thank him for always being there for me and for being such a good model when I'm taking pictures💖

Secondly, my favourite pictures of my cats:

My cats Bonkers, Meowza and Link are some of the most special people in my entire life. They're a great comfort to me as I'm not the best at socializing. I'd like to thank them for watching films with me, eating my dinner when I'm not looking, and snuggling with me in bed during the cold nights💝

Thirdly, I want to thank my family and friends for being there for me despite my flaws. I adore them all very much and cannot express my gratitude for your unconditional love. I'm aware that I'm not the easiest to be around and can be quite callous at times, but you just being there means the world to me💙💙

Finally, I want to thank the people on this platform. I get very nervous about asks and such, so I'll take the opportunity to thank my favourite people in particular (not in any sort of order):

@thekoopalingsandstuffs (and all of your other blogs)

@thedeitywhoplayedwithbricks

@sabbracadabras

@maggie4thewin

@aron-q

@crossycrosserog

@askthekoopsandjr

@koopaling-au

@mookmayor

@thecrypticshyguy

@fridaverse

@spritesitrus

@hopusthebrainlessfloof

@skratchytheclown

It may not mean much, but your artwork is truly amazing and always brightens my day. I find it hard not to go on a giant ramble about all the things I love about your art. You're all so inspiring and some of the kindest people I've ever met. I genuinely hope the next year brings nothing but good fortune, happiness and ease becasue you truly deserve the best.

I'd also like to mention how grateful I am for all the people who enjoy my art. I honestly thought I would just make an account and post a single photo (due to being peer pressured by my sibling and friend) but to my suprise, I found myself continuing on Tumblr for a while now. I thought that if I made even one person happy from my art, I would be content. Seeing people like what I do after being alone for so many years is genuinely overwhelming (in a good way), so I truly appreciate each and every one of you.

Have a wonderful new year, hopefully I will work on my confidence so I can post more stuff about the stories I have🌙⭐

[leeyanyanyaaan]

imposter!sagau but the imposter is your sibling au

26/03/2023

imagine | sagau | imposter au | siblings au

alright now that i've fallen into the sagau rabbit hole behold the results...

imagine sagau but the "imposter" that got isekai'ed was your younger sibling (especially as siblings who often get comments about visual similarities)

if i had the plot and motivation to write a series about this, i would definitely write in both the pov of younger and older sibling so that readers can choose which sibling to read as :)

in my pov so that uh we don't have to experience truck-kun's wrath </3 let's say that another way to get isekai'ed is by saying a particular set of words

it's not an absolute phrase set in stone, but rather if someone says a wish or desire in a definite tone.

for example: younger sibling said to their older sibling in an argument that "i wish you were never my sibling"

and thus causes their isekai :)

now this is where things can really start to play around, but let's say that younger sibling is only a casual player of genshin, or rather, they don't really know or play much of the game in comparison to their older sibling, who plays genshin as if it's their lifeline knowing absolutely everything from lore to builds to rituals. older sibling may also be a fanfic reader writer and is aware of the self aware au.

ahaha... good luck younger sibling

younger sibling wakes up in a completely different land they're used to, dressed in rpg looking clothes, and next to a glowing stone statue next to them.

younger sibling thinks this is one detailed dream and appreciates the scenery... until they hear hostile voices approaching

"there they are, that's the imposter that's appeared! seize them!"

start running

meanwhile back in the real world, older sibling wakes up and wants to check up on younger sibling after their fight the night before, but things seem to be off...

their belongings and/or room are now nonexistent. when asking your parents of their whereabouts they only give you incredulous looks not knowing who you're asking of as if they never existed.

"maybe we should book an appointment with your therapist. i fear you're starting to see and hear things..."

adamant to prove your younger sibling's existence, now concerned about all the anomalies happening, you start digging for whatever evidence you can find. specifically, photographic.

but any photographic evidence you had including them has been altered, your sibling now out of the picture... except for in a very specific video game screenshots, where you played genshin impact with them in co-op.

your heart sinks.

immediately you turn on whatever platform you used to play and log into the game. but even in the starting screen you could already sense and see and hear how unusual everything was, how everything was all glitchy and darker.

you're silently hoping it isn't what you think it is...

and then you log in.

teyvat is no longer what you remembered seeing the night before. you hear chaos and discord and ongoing battle music. the skies are stormier and red, the winds howled violently, the earth now uneven with cracks. what is going on? who in teyvat concurred the archons' wrath?

descending upon liyue, regardless of whatever nation you last left from, you are met with not your usual party of four, but rather the traveller you play as, standing in front of none other than the four currently revealed archons who are all on one knee kneeling before you.

as you approach them, the electro and geo archons brighten up, almost eerily, at the sight of traveller, while the anemo and dendro archons stayed more reserved, keeping their heads bowed down.

there's never been an event scripted like this...

"Your Holiness!" ...they've never addressed traveller like this "What an honour it is to be blessed by your presence at last!" oh no... "We must also thank Traveller for bringing their grace to us safely as the Chosen Vessel."

"You're just in time, Dearest Creator, for we have just caught an imposter. Now you may witness their beheading!"

you gasped and put a hand to your mouth, fighting back sobs as you witness your fears come to life.

and of course, they noticed.

"Oh Your Grace... there's no need to cry. Don't worry, this will all be over soon."

no it won't. this nightmare is far from over.

like in the electro archon's quest, your screen became glitchy and red as you are no longer able to control traveller's actions. no matter what keys you pressed and clicked, you could only keep walking towards the yuehai pavilion. though you could see glimpses of sadness on the traveller's face.

and then your troubled heart finally tips over the edge

at the sight of your younger sibling about to be behead.

what will you do now, C̵̗͈̻̺̹̬͔̼̏͗̾̅̃̀̃͗̀͑͊̕͠͝͝ͅŗ̸̭̱̜̮̫̤̳̂̆̈́̆̈͆͒͊̾͜͝ͅę̷͆̽̈́̑̎̀̑a̷̫̟͍̫̫͓͎͍͆́̀̍̈̚͝ṫ̵̡̛̤̯̯͕̾̾̊̈̎̍̄̏̓͌̊͜͠ͅô̸̮̝̌r̴̺̩͚̹̼̜͐͌̽́̅̓͘Y̸̛͉͒͐̐͛̈́́̓̈̕͝͝ö̴̤̺͇́͊͐́̑̅̅́̿͝͝͠ư̷̦̪̗̖̗͈̰̝͂͐̆̐̀̒̍̄̾̑͊̀̄͝r̴̤̰̒͌͌͐͛̅̈͝͝ͅḢ̸̩̰̫͕͍̎̋͑͐̑́͐̀͂͌̕͝ỏ̴͕͉̽̌l̵̛̠̲̣͚̩͑̐̈́̔̈́̍͜i̵̡̛͓̓͒͐͆̈́̌͆̔͛n̶̛̜̗͇͉͙̦͊͛̿̑̇͂͗̏͜͝ę̷̬̯͙̘̼̱̲͆͝ş̴̝͓̹̰̜͕̮̜̩̯̻̯͎͔̇s̶̔̽̍̈́̎̇̌̐��̢̞̥͈̭͊͛̓̿Ŗ̵͈̼̬͈̘̀͒̅̄͑̇̄̿͑ę̸̛̠̮̬̝̰͙͖̝͖͉͔̺̼͑͌̓͊̄̏̌͊̄̃͝͝ͅả̶̧͔̳̺͎̬̋̍́͐d̷͖̣̤̻̭̱̫̻̦̘̘̎́͌͋͊͒̈́͜͜e̸̳̤̩͓̫̱͇̣̓́͐̔́̕r̸̢̡͚̪̪̞͍̝̱͕̗̫̜͚̀̏ͅO̶͎̗͙̞̳̻͈͉̔̐͂͛̔̏l̵̼̤͓̉̋̀̇͆̍̂͗̍̔̀͝͝d̴͇̗̭͇̾͑̈́͘e̶̛̛̥͇̳͈͍̱̦̗̜̰̅̐͗̋̔̌̓̀̅̈̚͝ṟ̶̱͍̭̕ͅS̸̢̥̱̣͓͊̒͆i̴̡̧͈̟̻̼̯̩̘̣̓b̸̡̘͙̠̯̙̖͇̙̲͖̪̍͒͝l̸̛̠̣͐̊̆̍̀̿̑̓̾̂͠i̸̡̨̤̭̫͕̣̯̦̼͙̊̅̏̇̈̊̊̇̚͝͝n̷̢̛͔̞͈̳̤̱̱̉̔̎̄̇͌̅̈́̌̈́̑͌̚̚ͅg̵͈̟̻̦͚̼̳͖͑̎?

...

i did NOT mean for this post to be this long, it was only supposed to be a snippet of an imagine omg XD and i even had extra ideas that i couldn't fit in like older sibling making a sagau side acc ask the community and find ways to isekai into genshin, ei empathizing with the siblings, and older sibling showing their wrath to genshin (because i would absolutely wreck havoc in hell should anything happen to my younger siblings) D": oh well oh well maybe another time~ regardless, i hope you enjoyed!

[froggiebi-moved]

i swear nothing has been so validating and helpful to hear than other intersex people with pcos explaining that they had an alternate puberty than what we were taught to expect - because i did, too.

the first sign i had that i was entering puberty was the development of acne at age 8. even as a kid i knew how weird that was, as everyone around me still had nice, smooth skin, while i was the kid in the photographs covered in red bumps. it was humiliating.

as i travelled further into puberty, my boobs and body hair developed as expected, though the boobs got way too big too fast, and the body hair was patchy (but at least easier to maintain). my hips developed, too, but i always felt more top heavy due to the growth of my boobs, as well as the fact that my body type already had a longer torso and big tummy, the latter being a very common pcos thing. i had also been tall until i suddenly stopped growing at 14, giving me a squarely average height and dooming my legs to be forever short. i'm not kidding; at 11, i was about an inch shorter than i am now. i grew a measly 3cm in as many years, and that was it for me. i am now 164cm (5'4") despite my parents and all my siblings being taller.

as a teen, i tried to focus on how i was just like the girls now, how we shared this commonality (even if i had extreme dysmorphia from my body developing somewhat differently), but i couldnt help but be preoccupied with the state of my skin. i noticed the boys were not only more likely to have acne or to develop it early, they were more likely to have severe acne than the girls. my acne began to spread over my chest, shoulders, and back, and some zits were particularly painful and/or itchy. i didn't have cystic acne, but it was mild to moderate on almost every inch of skin down to my armpits. i thought of myself as a monster, fated to be the ugly, overlooked friend, the weirdo who couldn't get a boyfriend as they kept having crushes who didn't like them back - fairly typical teenage concerns to be sure, and one that i couldn't even express as different to my peers' as we were all hormonally haywire. even my irregular periods and heavy cramping seemed normal, because it was hard to find a teenage girl without a single experience of irregular periods and heavy cramping.

all the girls talked about using proactiv, clearasil and neutrogena to battle their pimples, and i tried what my mother was willing to buy for me, even dicey balms she found on ebay, but nothing helped; not until i went on the combination pill at 16. until then, i understood the boys who straight up pretended they didn't have it because either nothing worked, or there was nothing socially acceptable they could do about it - what millennial teenage boy would ever wash their face with specialised soap? don't worry boys, because i tried it, and it didn't do shit; the pill, however, was like a miracle cure. it didn't clear my acne up 100%, but it got better by at least half, and the redness calmed down. my face now seemed just as pimply as most other 16 year old girls, and i couldn't be happier.

i wasn't diagnosed with pcos until i was 19, after a decade of suffering and hating myself and questioning what was wrong with me and begging my mother to take me to a specialist. she even told me that as a teenager she only got pimples when she was due for her period, but didn't make that same hormonal link for me because i had pimples all the time. the constant dismissals and blaming, the shit like "you just need to be more hygienic! here, put toothpaste on your skin!" - it was all infuriating, and only succeeded in bringing my self-esteem down further.

the diagnosis helped a lot with helping me let go of a lot of the self-blame and shame i developed alongside my symptoms, but as an adult i have had other associated issues. since giving birth to my son, i have been growing facial hair that steadily became more and more noticeable, and it now has to be removed every week or so - just like my body hair, it's patchy, so i can get away with leaving it for a few days, despite it growing at the same rate as a typical beard. pregnancy changed my body and made that "topsy turvy" feeling even greater, as my bust is now far larger than my hips, despite women's clothing accommodating for the opposite. (though to be fair, this is also genetic, as my mother was more top heavy than i am; it's just another factor in the struggle of accepting my body.)

on top of all that, i have been struggling to understand my gender for the last decade, coming to the realisation i am nonbinary but itching to know what "flavour", trying on a bunch of different labels (mostly multigender ones that hover around agender), knowing i had dysphoria but not really understanding how as it differed to most accounts told by afab people. due to how my hormones work, as well as my nebulous dissatisfaction with my body, i figured i had to be a transmasc, or at least equally masc to fem. however, the more i heard trans women's stories pre-transition, the more i realised i could relate to them, and that i was doing the same thing - trying to conform to what i felt i had to be, though for me it was more that i didn't feel "womanly" enough to deserve being called one, despite wanting to be involved in the collective of women. trying to pigeon hole myself as transmasc or even completely agender wasn't realistic for me, and the reason my dysphoria was so great was because i wanted to be fem and to feel that i fit in - with women.

this whole confusing journey has been aided by my making the connection between dysphoria and pcos, finding out pcos is considered an intersex condition by the intersex community, being acceped into the community, and growing to understand just how complicated gender can be for us; i'm far from the only intersex person in this boat, despite sailing in it alone for quite some time. i've been calling myself a nonbinary woman / agender woman for a while now, and it feels right, even if it seems counterintuitive to perisex people. but i'm done trying to make myself palatable for perisex people, especially perisex cis people. i am intersex, and nonbinary, and a woman, and the "nonbinary" part modifies the "woman" part, and the way in which i am nonbinary and a woman is further influenced by my intersex status and bisexuality. and all of that is okay.

we are who we are, and when you have a community behind you, it'll quickly absorb the limitations you've put on yourself all your life. i see that now.

*terfs do not fucking interact*

[sortofanobsession]

In the absence of light (Umbrella Academy Season 2) Chapter 4

Author's Note: This one is a bit all over but I didn't know where to separate it. So I just decided to post the section mostly as is.

@crazycatmaddy

So as it goes, Y/N = your name. Y/N/N = your nickname. Reader pronouns She/Her.

Tag Requests are Open just message me.

Primary Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Female!Reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Series/TUA Masterlist

Content warning: Canon typical drama, manipulation, firearms, arguing, violence, PTSD, sibling rivalry, the usual stuff.

But I still have a heart

Diego pulls his powerless sister behind him when the four of them are met by Elliot with a very distinct firearm. Five makes quick work of disarming the man. The female Hargreeves can’t help but feel useless and helpless again. Diego and Five deal with Elliot, not even noticing how their sister hugs herself.

"You alright?" Lila moves to stand in front of her.

"Yeah, just a fun reminder I am powerless and no help to anyone," the lowest of the Hargreeves siblings admits.

"I doubt that; if you can fight half as well as either of these idiots, then you are fine,” Lila says, gesturing to Five and Diego. “Please don't leave me with this lot."

The Eighth Hargreeves nods, but she is distracted. She finds the same photographs of her siblings that Five had seen. She looks at them one by one.

“Are these your other siblings?” Lila asks.

“Yes,” the saddened sibling states. She ignored her own pictures and focused on the ones of Klaus, Viktor, and Allison. She was used to worrying about Klaus, but she also knew her brother was pretty good at landing on his feet when he was sober enough to do so. And he had been completely sober when she last saw him. She missed him, but she knew he’d survived time travel once. No, she worried about Viktor and Allison the most. Viktor hadn’t even been conscious when Five started to use his powers on all of them. Allison’s vocal cords were too damaged for her to use her powers. Hopefully, her sister healed better than she had.

“Is this you?” Lila asks as she points at the photos of Y/N in the alley.

“Not my favorite day to think about,” the eighth sibling admits.

“If this was your state before you had dropped here, I can see why he was desperate to find you. Good thing the article didn’t have any photos like these.” Lila’s tempted to show them to Diego now, just to see his reaction. A painful reminder of his failure to protect the one person he had spent most of his life trying to protect. That would be entertaining. But the brothers seemed too caught up in whatever the creepy photographer guy said. Creepy to have pictures like this of people he didn’t know hung up in his home. And this was the guy Five trusted? Go figure.

Y/N is in shock as she sees the film, especially when she notices that their father is in it.

"He's here," she mutters to herself as Diego and Five discuss if he killed JFK. She hears none of it as the pulse in her ears drowns them out. Her hands started to shake as she thought about the last time she had seen her father. He had been livid that she was leaving. That she refused to spy on the others. He had tried to stop her from leaving. Demanding Luther as Number One stop her. Luther couldn’t have known back then why their father had tried to keep her leaving more than the others. Their father had already said all sorts of terrible things about her succumbing to weakness. That she was as pathetic as Klaus and no one out there would accept her. She was too different. He hadn’t been completely wrong. Very few people had accepted her. Viktor’s book at least helped her be viewed with sympathy. Sympathy wasn’t acceptance. She thought about Grace and Pogo finding small ways to help her and the others despite risking their father’s ire. They weren’t there to help them anymore. The weakened Hargreeves was more afraid of the fact their father would probably want to find out why her powers failed than she was of the idea she might never get her powers back. She doesn’t notice how Lila watches her. The newest member of their little group easily picks up on the shift in behavior.  

“Diego,” Lila calls. Diego wasn’t used to her calling him by his actual name. No snark. He looks over at her. She nods towards his sister. He sees what she trying to call to his attention instantly. Luz was staring at the image on the projector, but it didn’t look like she was actually seeing it. He’d seen plenty of damaged people in the psych ward with that thousand-yard stare. He calls her name. Five and Elliot look over when she doesn’t answer. Five tries, but she still seems lost to them. The brothers exchange a look before a worried Diego goes over to her.

"Luz?" Diego is in front of her. She finally looks up at him.

"Hmm?"

"Called your name a few times," he says.

"Oh, sorry," she says, " What's up?"

Five shrugs when Diego glances over at him. "Nothing,” Diego says, not wanting to make things worse. “You okay?"

"Dad's in Dallas," she says, her crestfallen tone doesn’t sit well with either of the brothers.

"He is," Diego agrees.

She looks away. "He would be mad if he knew I lost my powers. Without Pogo and Mom, No one will- He'll pick me apart and-"

"That won't happen," Five is quick to stop her.

"He doesn't even know us yet," Diego tries to soothe her worries.

"We don't exist to him." Five is quick to add. "Your anonymity will protect you."

"I'll protect you," Diego quickly offers, brushing his fingers across her cheek. Lila throws a balled-up piece of paper at his head. He corrects himself, “We'll protect you."

“You’re okay, Y/N/N,” Five tells her.

She wants to believe them, but can she? They can’t be with her 24/7. Diego and Lila were on the run. Five was too young, or at least looked like it, and Luther wasn’t always at the club. But she wasn’t going to tell them that. They had enough to worry about. She looks at her watch. “I should go,” she tells them as she get up. “I have a shift to prepare for.”

At the end of her shift she pulls Luther aside.

“Why are we doing this here?” he asks. “I’ll be home in-“

“Because the clock is ticking again, Luther,” she insists. “You wouldn’t believe what Five found. It’s-“

“Don’t care,” Luther says as he starts to walk back towards the club.

“I’m serious, Luther,” she cuts off his path as best she can. “Five and Diego need our help.” He could easily move her out of his way, but she is still his sister, and he still has the task of looking after her here. “Lila and Elliot are helpful and all but-“

“I’m serious too, Y/N,” he states. “You are in no condition to be going along with whatever half discussed plan those two have. And I’m too busy trying to keep a roof-“

“We don’t need the roof here if we can go back-“

He reaches for her arm and starts to lead her towards the car he had been loaned. “You need to go home, and forget-“

“THIS ISN’T OUR HOME, LUTHER!” She screams at him and tries to shove his hand away but it’s a futile effort. “HOME IS WITH OUR FAMILY!”

Luther is keenly aware of the few people that linger outside the club are now looking at them. Watching to see what the giant of a man is going to do to the comparatively tiny waitress. He drops her arm and takes a step back. He tries to think of how to calm her down, but he hadn’t seen her this mad since he locked Viktor in the bunker. He never knew how to handle her temper. Their siblings did, but Luther usually just let the fire in her fade. He should probably feel guilty that he’s glad she didn’t have the Wisp. She couldn’t burn him alive with the thing now. She was already drawing enough attention to them by arguing with him in the damn parking lot.

“Say what you want, just stop screaming,” he demands.

“This is bullshit,” she practically hisses at him, but she had lowered her tone enough that no one would know what she was saying. “You think that things aren't fair for you because you do all the work to keep me safe. That’s your damn job, Number One! You were so bitchy last time because no one respected you as Dad’s Number One! I did, Luther! I did and look where we are now. Look at me, Luther!” She snaps. “The Wisp is gone. My powers are gone, but even I am trying to fix this mess. Why aren’t you? Last time you were all about fixing shit, saving the world. Now? Nothing. You don’t care. Well I do. Don’t you miss the others? Don’t you miss Klaus? Viktor? I know you miss Allison.”

“That’s not-“ he starts but she isn’t finished.

“You wanted us to rely on you. Now I’m asking you, as the one sibling that does, to do the right thing. Please, Luther.”

“No,” he bluntly states as he shoves the car keys into her hand. She stares at him with angry, tear-filled eyes. But he won’t let her sad eyes work this time. “Go home. Better yet, go tell Five and Diego sending you to beg for them won’t work this time. You shouldn’t even be involved in any of this. Without your powers-“

“That’s right! I don’t have my powers, but I still have a heart. Did you lose yours when you landed in that stupid alley? Are you even happy here? Because I’m not. Do you think I enjoy being degraded by old creepy men that think how a waitress responds when they grab a girl's ass determines her tip? I am cold and scared, and I miss my family. And that roof you mention, my tips pay for most of what’s under it. I do everything you tell me to. I run your errands. You won’t let me take a break, let alone try to find the rest of our family. We need to find Allison. I need to find Klaus and Viktor. They-“

“You think I haven’t tried to find them? And all I do now I do is to protect you,” he counters. “You needed someone to take care of you, and I stepped up. Would you rather still be in that hospital or on the street? You’d probably be a warden of the state or, worse, dead. No powers. No documentation. Don’t act like you don’t need me.”

She was taken aback at the familiarity of his statement. It was very similar to the one that just seeing her father had brought back. Then again, what did she expect. He was Number One. “Then let me make this a hell of a lot easier for you,” she says as she shoves the keys into his chest. “You’ll be so glad when I’m someone else’s burden again, won’t you?”

He grips the keys tight and groans. He didn’t actually hate that she relied on him. She was one of his least annoying siblings. She’d just hit a sore spot with some of her points. Sure, he missed Allison, but he thought they had been doing okay before Five showed back up. They had a life here. “Come on, Y/N/N,” He starts to backtrack, but she is already halfway across the parking lot. “You know I didn’t mean it like that!”

She ignores him and hails a cab. Thankfully, the driver didn’t ask questions beyond where she was headed. She gave him Elliot’s address. He’d probably seen his fair share of tearful women trying to leave a painful situation. Probably thought she was a pathetic dame who caught her husband at the gentleman’s club one too many times. He couldn’t possibly know the truth.

Diego takes one at her after Elliot lets her in and sees red. Just seeing the mascara-stained tear tracks and red rimmed eyes is enough. He is ready to fight whoever has upset her. He’d burn Jack Ruby’s club to the ground if he must. His rage only grows when she tells him she had fought with Luther. Five barely manages to talk him down as Lila takes her to the bathroom and helps clean her up.

"There's that lovely face," Lila grins as she wipes the last of the makeup from the other’s face.

"Thank you," the female Hargreeves manages now that she is calm and clean.

"Anytime," Lila winks before she leads her out. The waitress is still in her skimpy little work outfit, and Diego can't remember if he'd ever seen her in anything like that before. His mouth goes dry. Even with her hair pulled back, no makeup and no powers, he still thinks she’s perfect.

Lila rolls her eyes.

"Easy lover boy, your girl is fragile," Lila says in a low tone as she pushes past him to sit on the couch and watch TV. Diego glares at her. But for the weaker sibling, that breaking of eye contact is like breaking a spell. She feels uneasy again. Like she still doesn't know who she really is. Diego sees the way her shoulders slump and she looks at the floor. Suddenly shy, despite the scandalous outfit for the time.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?” Diego asks. “Five says Luther is different, that he-"

She shook her head. "He just doesn't listen," she says as she sits down at Elliot's kitchen table. Her face in her hands for a moment. "And I don't get it. Last time stopping the apocalypse was his biggest priority, and now, he just doesn't care. He doesn't care if we ever go back. He doesn’t get that I have nothing here. This isn’t home. I want the chance to go home. Even if I never get my powers back, I just want to go home." She feels like she might cry again. Not thinking she reaches out for Diego. And without hesitation he goes to her. He kneels in front of her, one hand in hers, the other on her knee. It reminds her of when she sat in the infirmary while giving blood to Allison and wanted nothing more than to touch him. So, she does. She ghosts her fingers along the scar on his brow. He closes his eyes as she does. Just trying to believe this isn't some dream, and he'll wake up still in that damn padded room. He catches her wrist and kisses her palm.

"I'll do everything I can to get us back home. So, you can go back to that shitty boss of yours that doesn't respect your time. I'll give your stupid neighbors something they can’t ignore, and we can figure the rest out from there, how does that sound?"

"Eso suena como el cielo, cariño," she smiles and leans her forehead against his. "Absolutamente perfecto."

"Tu eres perfecta, mi luz." He pulls her forward and kisses her. She kisses back but pulls back far too soon in Diego's opinion.

"What about Lila?" she asks in a harsh whisper.

"Lila know I've been fighting to get back to you, she's-"

"Just a bit of fun, love," Lila says from where she watches the two of them with a grin. "Although, it still could be fun." She winks at the pair and disappears down the hall. Diego hadn't exactly expected that, but Lila was anything but predictable. And he found it adorable the way his luz blushed all the way to the tips of her ears at the suggestive comment.

"I mean, the outfit does give off a certain vibe, Luz," he grins. She blushes again and buries her face in his neck. He can't help but laugh.

"I missed you," she sighs against him.

"I missed you too, Luz. More than you could ever know."

She spent the night wearing Diego's shirt and in his arms. And after promising they would all behave and that it was only practical since there was only one room, Lila on her other side. She fell asleep safe, happy, and warm for the first time since she lost her powers.

Rough Translations:

"Eso suena como el cielo, cariño" = That sounds like heaven, darling

"Absolutamente perfecto." = Absolutely perfect.

"Tu eres perfecta, mi luz." = You are perfect, my light.

[cartograffiti]

January '24 reading diary

I finished a whopping 17 books in January, thanks to picking up a lot of quicker reads (novellas! poetry! manga!), and a bunch of them were really exciting!

At Christmas, my mother bought a copy of Taskmaster: 220 Extraordinary Tasks for Ordinary People for the assembled family to pass among ourselves. It's fun and funny, but there's very little in it I'm likely to try. It's also worth noting that the book was published in 2018 and Alex Horne ran a contest alongside it, which means that there are some prompts with a 2019 deadline, and some that require going to specific places in the United Kingdom.

Some cookbooks! Pieometry: Modern Tart Art and Pie Design for the Eye and the Palate was another Christmas gift to me, by the amazing Instagram sensation Lauren Ko. I've always found her very precise decorations intimidating, and I doubt I'll attempt more than the simplest of the ones she gives instructions for here, but they're inspiring to look at, and I very much want to try some of the recipes for interesting fillings and naturally colored crusts.

I picked up Snacking Bakes by Yossy Arefi after seeing someone claim that an earlier Arefi book, Snacking Cakes, had changed the landscape of home baking in the US. I found the recipes in Bakes really basic, but I hopped into the much longer hold line for Cakes, so maybe in a couple of months I can tell you how much that's hype.

I probably won't make anything from Tasting History by Max Miller, but I like him on YouTube, and expected that. This is a book for reading about historical cooking, and the recipes are a bonus if one really intrigues you. Nice details, well laid out.

It fit in nicely with a couple of reading challenges to read a Pablo Neruda collection--I chose The Essential Neruda on the basis that Hoopla had it--and I enjoyed it hugely. I'd read Neruda poems from time to time as a child and student, mostly ones about nature and love, but this collection has a nice breadth to it, introducing me to examples of his work that deal with labor exploitation and political events. I can't speak to the quality of translation, but even only knowing his work in English, I find the rhythm and imagery really special and memorable. I'm especially fond of "Drunk as Drunk on Turpentine." He's one of the most famous Chilean writers, and I'm glad to be more familiar now with the reasons why.

Last month, I said that my mother and I had started working through a hard Nick Bantock puzzle book, and we were very impressed with it. It's called The Egyptian Jukebox, and it's a succession of interesting puzzles about interpreting the contents of photographed shadowbox "drawers." Mom, who is an excellent codebreaker, worked out a core mechanic pretty swiftly, while I floundered with wrong approaches for a bit and then asked her to confirm whether I was finally on the right track; that made the first few pages the hardest part, and the rest relied more heavily on my strengths of observation and lateral thinking. We both found the final solution extra fun because of a personal connection, but I think the journey will be satisfying enough for most puzzlers.

I've been trying to read literally any Becky Chambers book for multiple years without getting around to it, but this month I listened to the audiobooks of A Psalm for the Wild-Built and A Prayer for the Crown-Shy and just adored them. This is a duology about Sibling Dex, a monk whose role is to serve tea and listen to people's problems, and Mosscap, the first robot anyone has seen since robots became sapient and withdrew from human society, generations ago. They travel together, with beautiful writing about nature, spirituality, and various kinds of social responsibility. Every bit as good as I'd heard.

Dumb Witness is a solid mid-range Agatha Christie mystery (which is to say better than most people's), an inheritance murder plot involving a letter sent months after it was dated, interesting poison facts, and key evidence from a dog. It's a bit dated, because it relies on subverting some ideas about mental health and xenophobia that have changed since 1937. I can appreciate what she did, but at a remove.

More than one of the reading challenges I'm doing this year call for reading a manga. I like manga, but I probably haven't read any in about 10 years, since I read all sorts of Clamp and shoujo and shounen with high school friends. I fell off as my tastes moved to series aimed at young adults, which were at the time harder to find in my area. Anyway, I'm excited to have gotten sucked into a manga again! I'd seen some of Shirahama Kamome's beautiful art from Witch Hat Atelier and I quickly fell in love with the story, which surrounds Coco, a young witch being taught to work magic using art supplies. The interpersonal relationships are strong, the apprentices are real people with distinct outlooks, and the larger plot about what kinds of magic are banned, and whether they should be, is fascinating. I tore through volumes 1-5, and I have two more checked out and another on hold. Both cheerful and serious, original, and not set in a school environment. Lovely, and one of several things motivating me to try drawing again lately.

The Emelan group read has gone into the Circle Reforged novels, and we're reading in chronological order. Battle Magic was...fine? Not the most interesting Pierce major arc, but lots of interesting things woven through it. It was written in her period of slower pacing, which I don't like as much.

I know several big fans of Dorothy Dunnett's 16th century historical fiction drama the Lymond Chronicles, and oh man am I on the boat now too. The Game of Kings is so confusing (complimentary), full of emotion and grabby characters, and I fell in love. She expects a lot of her readers. I sent in the chat where I'm live blogging that, "Here's an obscure Ancient Roman. Now understand an allusion to how a particular beetle moves. Jokes in five languages. And there's even a plot." Sometimes it's overwhelming, but it's also exactly my kind of thing, every chapter has at least one perfect scene, and Dunnett does some incredible literary magic tricks. One night I felt like I felt like I was being crushed in a vise. I'm already reading the next one, which has a reveal that made me stop reading for fully 40 minutes while I unpicked what I'd missed. I want to write fanfiction. God.

And yesterday I put on a sim game and listened in one sitting to all of Malka Older's The Mimicking of Known Successes, a wonderful sci-fi novella about a detective (Mossa) on Jupiter collaborating with her former college girlfriend (Pleiti) to investigate a case that touches on Pleiti's research, the study of ecological history with the hope of repairing Earth's ecosystem enough for humanity to return to it. Their chemistry is great, the plot is clever, and the dialogue in particular is shiny and tender. I found a couple of world-building beats underdeveloped--there's a thing about "conservative" being a slur in this future that I don't think stuck the landing of indicating the threat being conservative posed to people who had to change or die--but I look forward to reading the next.

[insurguitor]

K so ramble time :D Talkin bout my CJRP anon trio btw

Mkay so! Swimmer! P sure yall already know his appearance but just in case here ya go:

Swimmer is an entity of some sort, basically just. Not human and not something that naturally occurs. They do not have bodily needs! They don't need to eat, drink, breathe, sleep, etc., though they can if they want to. Their clothes are part of their body and they're just all water under everything. Except the glitches and the tail. They are also able to just turn into water, which they do to avoid injury and travel through small spaces. Also their teleportation isn't quite teleporting! They're kinda just converting themself into data and using that to travel, it's just so fast it looks like they teleported. Shut down the internet and they won't be able to "teleport" anywhere. They can also theoretically transport themselves into devices via bluetooth or something like that, though they find it really uncomfortable physically, mentally taxing, and that's just a privacy boundary they're not comfy crossing. Their access to the internet in this way allows them to get a lot of information from a lot of places, though they have a little bit of trouble remembering things they get access to this way.

Disc is a robot! It's very humanoid in appearance and is almost completely black. It has white patches across its body, white hair that reaches down to where their shoulderblades would be, and black sclera with glowing white irises. They also lack a mouth. They have a monotone voice and have extreme difficulty expressing emotions, and they're pretty strong too. They have a photographic memory and use that to their advantage when they research! Most of the time they research human things to figure out how to take care of B-Day. They've ended up as the target of the others' antics more often than not, but they don't really mind as they're pretty harmless. Like Swimmer, they do not have bodily needs. But unlike Swimmer, they are not able to experience them if they wanted to! They mostly stick to keeping everyone out of trouble and keeping an eye on B-Day, though they can get aggressive if something or someone hurts or becomes an active threat to the other two.

B-Day is an ordinary human! No powers, no magic, no special abilities, nothing. They're pretty flexible and extremely good at slight of hand stuff though. They're 9 years old and don't remember much about their birth parents, having lived with the others since they were around 3. They're pretty short and have pastel blue hair that barely reaches their shoulders, blue eyes, and pale skin. Their outfit varies from day to day, but it usually includes a pink bow or two somewhere, their pink rollerskates, and a pair of red aviator sunglasses. They also carry a messenger bag with them when they go out, containing various things they consider "useful," including glitter bombs, party poppers, confetti, tubs of icing, birthday candles, a lighter, and a bag of assorted candies. They have a penchant for chaos and enjoy pranking people. They also get into a lot of goofy antics with Swimmer. and they enjoy messing with Disc's hair, usually braiding it, styling it into a bun or a ponytail, or just putting clips in it. They love baking and celebrating, being the one to plan each of the trio's birthday parties and also assigning Swimmer and Disc birthdays when they discovered that they didn't have one.

Now dynamics! All three pretty much live together now that they're in the anon village. Swimmer and Disc have a big sibling/little sibling relationship and like to do mischief together. Disc makes sure they don't get into trouble and is a sort of caretaker to the others, though it can get parental at times, especially with B-Day. It's pretty much the one doing all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc. B-Day likes to bake and usually does so under the watchful eye of Disc, but they're pretty good at it and skilled enough to bake on their own if they tried to. Swimmer cannot cook for their life and always somehow manages to catch something on fire. They were banned from the kitchen after they somehow managed to burn ice cubes. The trio tend to stick together, but Swimmer is the most prone to leaving the group, regularly wandering off. B-Day also goes off on their own on occasion, usually to prank people or, sometimes, to celebrate someone's birthday. Disc rarely ever breaks off from the group, usually only doing so to tend to or look for something. The trio also go clothes shopping from time to time! Mostly it's for B-Day, but Swimmer will snatch things that peak his interest and will pick out outfits for Disc with the assistance of B-Day. Disc only gets the pants from said outfits, B-Day get the shirts for whatever they plan on using them for. It's a weird tradition they have that I haven't exactly decided the origin for yet.

[sternenbeleuchtet]

dear bestfriend

E.:

It is only now that I truly appreciate the person you are. You are strong. Despite always having been different and shunned for it, you are remarkably kind, sensitive, and optimistic. You always see the good in people. I have rarely met an individual whose mind and soul is as pure as yours. I don’t think you’re even capable of willfully harming someone, or manipulation.

You are so open minded. You are non judgmental. You’re so compassionate, you understand. Your view of the world is just admirable.

You’re one hell of a lot smarter than some people would give you credit for. Even after I have dumped you and treated you like trash, you were kind to me, as if nothing happened.

I apologize. If I could do things differently, I would. You were a great friend, and you’re a unique person.

I hope you reach your goals. I hope you find happiness. You deserve it.

Please never change. Please remain the joyful person you are. There needs to be more people like you in the world. Thank you. You’re so kind and gentle, I am glad I have met you. In all our years of friendship you’ve always been well meaning towards me. Always.

J.:

I have a lot to say to you. The start of our friendship was an intriguing and unconventional one, and so was the whole time between us. All the philosophical discussions, all of those geeky jokes. I miss it. Truly. I miss talking to you. I miss the lengthy texts. I miss learning about your past.

I miss hearing about the amusing things you’ve done. I miss hearing about your childhood.

You were like a brother. You’re a very unique individual. One of the best people I’ve met.

An outsider would have said that you’re a creep for being friends with such a young girl, but it was never like that. You never saw me in that inappropriate way. You were more like a mentor to me. And in a way I guess I was a mentor to you too despite our age differences. We learned from each other. There was a sort of intellectual bond that was unique. We were very different in some ways, we even agreed on that, but despite of that, we were alike in some way, too. A lot alike.

You’re different. You’re such a mature, well adjusted person. You’re compassionate, progressive in your thinking, you’re amazing. I hope you realize that and I hope you never change. Stay the way you are.

I am sorry for what I’ve done. Now I realize, after all those years, how deeply I care for you. Maybe I’m delusional but at times I think we were soulmates, like soul-siblings. If things had gone differently I think we could’ve been best friends.

I like to envision the time we could’ve spent together. I like to picture how we could have met. We’d go to events together and you’d be taking nearly all the photos because you’re such a good photographer. We’d talk about all sorts of deep stuff and we’d exchange anecdotes of our past, or make geeky jokes. You’d beat the shit out of me at those quiz games because you’re a fucking history dork, who has a whole bloody encyclopedia of history in his head and I can’t keep up with it remotely.

I think we’d travel together, see beautiful places. I’d tell you about the obscure stuff, like the folklore, and you’d go more into detail about the history.

Enough with daydreaming. I guess in another universe that’s how things could’ve went.

I want you to know you’ve been a good friend to me. I want you to know I cared more about you than I used to think. I want you to know you’ll remain part of my memory, that, I appreciate you more than you think. That I miss you. That I appreciate the time we had together.

K.:

You came into my life relatively late, and pretty randomly. I’ve come to realize that all good friendships start pretty randomly. You’re a strong and remarkable person. I think deep down you know you are— and I want you to remember.

Do not doubt yourself. You can overcome your struggles. There’s always a way. You’re passionate. You’re intense. You’re incredibly strong willed. So much shit you’ve seen yet you keep fighting. And the fight will be worth every second. Because I know it will pay out.

I like all of your sides. I like everything that is perhaps unorthodox to another person. I like the way you express your anger so openly. I like how you do not hide who you are. I like how freely you express your emotions. There’s strength in that. I like how despite of everything, you keep going, you keep caring, you keep fighting for others despite your own struggles. I know one day you’ll reach happiness. I think you’ve already arrived at a point much closer to that, than you realize. You’re progressing. And one day, suddenly, before you truly realize it, you’re happy.

I want you to know that you’re a valuable person and the universe has much to offer to you. You’re YOU— and there is no one else like you. Own it.

And I love your beautiful singing voice, btw. Keep writing songs.

[medlilove]

Grief is the price we pay for love?

I love you, white window, with the ivy crawling up the sides of the exposed brick. And you, the window-sill that the cats climbed up to, to wake us up from our bunk beds, when they were young and strong.

I love you, the view of the rooftops and Victorian chimneys, and the orange sky in the west, on the good days.

I love you cherry tree. The same size all my life. Where sit the pigeons and parrots. Only once in my life did we get your fruit before the birds. Sam from next door, mum to Alex, climbed up a ladder and got them down for everyone, The bowl was huge and full of bright shiny berries, I’ll never forget the sight of them. I'm In the 90s again in that brief moment my eyes close to blink.

I love you, the sound of the aeroplanes and the sound of the sirens. I hope you get to where you need to go every night. I love you soft sound of the train from the top of the hill. When I was very young I would listen to it and the train would travel through the clouds as I drifted off to sleep.

From this same white window that I have wide open in front of me right now. Sitting in the dark, hoping Guy Fawkes will grace me with some visuals to all the noise.

I love you unseen fireworks on November 5th. Just hearing you is enough. I love you rain and cold air and the smell of bonfires. I love and fear you, trees like giants separating my garden from that in front. Taller than my house. Like sentinels in the night, and the day. Constant companions.

I love you comet that I saw once long ago, half a memory.

I said goodbye to the garden today. In a way.

We've never been the closest of friends, me and the garden, it was more a sibling that I often avoided and annoyed. All the wasps and bees nearly did me in as a nervous anxious child. But it has grown on me in recent years, as I have grown and visited home. It looks so lovely in the rain. Small and long crammed into the most overpopulated borough in London.

We had all these little seashells in a container in the bottom bathroom, right in the back of the cupboard. Must have been bought together in some shop by the seaside on one of many a summer holiday. I say that because they were all very beautiful and I can't imagine us as a family finding them all on some rocky seaside in southeast England. That was not something we would have done.

Mum (and Dad) aren't going to take the container to the new place, so I picked the ones I wanted, in an empty jam jar and headed for a wet and lovely garden. Stone tiles cover the majority of it, they were easier than grass. All around the borders are soil and plants.

Like the scattering of ashes, I scattered the pretty shells into the damp soil. Old, well-used inner-city soil, the same that we buried our hamsters in, so so long ago. I blink and I'm in the '90s again.

Across the back wall that I have never gotten too close to. To the second tree in the back, where a full one once stood before it rotted. To the bushes that replaced the tiny pond that went before I was born. All around where I was allowed to hold the big hose to feed the plants. Behind the old chair and into the roses. By the cherry tree where the ladder once sat. Only once. Past those stone tiles where I would sit and watch the ants and pick up snails. Where Tommy and Amber would sit and watch us, separately and together. Where both their ashes are now one with the garden they both so loved. They will stay here forever.

I wish I took more photographs of those fat orange cats. But you don't think about a grieving far-off 30-year-old when you are busy doing school homework.

Where the kiddie sandpit was in the photo.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye I said. Quietly so no one but the trees could hear me. And maybe the passing 747 commercial jet. Thank you, I love you. Even if I thought I didn't. We had a good time, didn't we? Know that even if we never meet again, I will think of you often.

They'll stay there now, those shells. Maybe forever. The lawyers with the little twins will move in. Will they find shells eventually and wonder, what on earth? Why are there shells here?

They are there because I exist. I existed there, and there, a part of me will remain, for as long as time allows it

Like the house, like the little white dog born in 1984, like the orange cats and the big old tree outside the front door with all the drawing pins in, the garden sits awkwardly as an extension of this family.

Sorry, we can't take you with us but well...you understand.

So goodbye goodbye goodbye, I love you, I love you, I love you. You know that right? I ask it as though it will hear me.

The things we love never truly leave us. Especially in that family-like way, where you hate them half the time. The things we love become ghosts inside us and like this, we keep them alive.

If I can say goodbye to the garden, small and wet, then maybe just maybe, I can say goodbye to the house.

Grief really is the price we pay for love.

-

Just before finally posting this I saw fireworks from my window!! What a send off!! Everything is going to be okay!!!!! This is a sign babey! 🎆

[theamazingbrokengirl]

last best place

Dear little erika (aka erika from four years ago),

I love you! You don't give yourself enough credit and when you do you joke about it. I am so so so proud of you. You didn't have the best childhood growing up, mom and dad had problems that forced you to grow up too quickly, and genuinely enjoying life was never a priority. I think kalisi put it in an good way when she said her default setting is always being stressed. I feel the same way. One thing that is true about you is that you have always been stressed about the future, stressed about things going wrong, and stressed about making something of yourself in this lifetime. That has taken so much joy out of being able to live in the moment. I am so proud of everything you've done up to this point. You have moved so many times and never really had stability. I'm unsure if that is something that is good or bad, but it is what it is. You have constantly been moving and I am starting to realize I don't want that anymore. I want to find a place to call home for a few years and live in the same place. Don't get me wrong, I love traveling and seeing new places, but I want some security. When I really think about the things that matter to me the most important is always my family, my friends, and doing things that will bring me joy. Also doing things out of love and with good intentions.

Now that I've graduated I don't know what to do next. All I want is to lay down and just breathe for a little bit. I get so stressed I forget to take in just how good being alive can be and how much joy I do experience. I love Montana and I love the people I know here :) I am so lucky to have them in my life. I have my parents, my siblings, my soul sisters, my college pals, my mentors, and my pickle barrel family. It makes me sad to leave, but I do need some change. My time in Bozeman could go on for honestly a lifetime, but I would regret never getting out and exploring what could've been. It is my home though. I grew up here, and I had a lot of firsts here. It's always going to be the place where I did all my outdoorsy endeavors both alone and with people. I get moments where I feel okay and I know everything is going to be okay no matter where I choose to go, but I have more of the days where I want to cry because I'm scared of change and losing everything.

"Take the risk or dream forever" I read that somewhere and it has definitely made an impact. Do-ers get things done. That is one of my goals is to take chances and ride the wave out. Dream forever. Four years ago my dream was to go off to college out of state - somewhere out in the PNW. Four years ago I promised myself I would do things that would make me happy. Four years ago I wanted to be something on social media and support myself financially through that. I've never wanted a career and that is well known. I do not dream of working, I dream of being able to make money by just existing and creating content or working some fun job like photographing or blogging. Going on fun little adventures, capturing moments, and sharing it with others (or just keeping it to myself). Okay I got sidetracked on the WOOF website.

I don't see myself at a job that isn't flexible and I am still young so I don't truly have any interest for a job that isn't easy to get time off from. That's one of my biggest caveats. I cannot do a 9-5.

[inkabelledesigns]

Loraine Celeste (Custom Doll, July 2022)

Base Doll: Freddie Facilier from Descendants

Clothing Pattern: (I modified it slightly to have longer sleeves and a tiered skirt.)

Normally I will wait until my camera photos are spruced up on the computer, but I can't contain myself (meaning you'll be seeing a lot more of Loraine when I do get to share her full photoshoot). This is all just stuff from my phone. Meet Loraine Celeste, my third attempt at making this character in doll form! XD

Loraine is formerly a ballerina doll that wanted a taste for what else the world has to offer, so she secretly switched places with a nutcracker soldier, Auran Dulce, to see what his stance in life had to offer. While she still hasn't figured out where she belongs in the world, Loraine is an adventurous spirit that has so much love for the world and all its wonders. She travels across the kingdom of Equinox in search of where she's meant to be, and in the process, she makes many new friends.

Her doll was a process, I've attempted to make her before, but it just never turned out right before now, and part of it was that I didn't understand her character. She needed to be free like the wind, and that meant giving her room to explore, so her design changed to be more functional for that, something bright with some flow that also can blend in somewhat. I also wanted her to match Auran in having facial detailing. He has a scar that's filled in with gold, much like the process of kintsugi. Meanwhile she has a rose painted on the opposite side of her face, a symbol of the fact that while she is beautiful, she is a force to be reckoned with, a wild part of nature that has thorns amidst her grace and elegance. Loraine is tough, but she is also gentle and kind when the occasion calls for it. The rose has become an important symbol in developing her, and thus I wanted to photograph her with my mom's rose bushes. Aren't they lovely? My mom has done such a good job taking care of them.

Loraine is one of a group of dolls I've finished since my dad passed away, and it feels fitting somehow. I haven't worked on dolls in a long time, not since April, since Dad was sick and I just, didn't have the heart or energy for it. But something my dad wanted was for me (and all of my siblings) to be happy finding my path in life. And the truth is, I haven't really found that yet. I don't know what will make me happy, but Loraine's story is part of my process for figuring it out. As she goes on her adventures, I'm going to go on mine, we're gonna figure it out together. And with Auran by her side or sending her letters as she travels, I know she'll figure it out, just as I'm figuring it out. Everyone needs a friend like that. It's been my dream for ages to go and write a published fantasy novel, and I'm considering shifting gears to find a place in the publishing industry as a job to gain experience before I go and share this story with the world. I dunno how it'll work out, but that's what I told my dad the last time we got to talk about this. Telling stories is a core part of who I am, I would feel incomplete without them, so I'm gonna find a place in the world where I can do that. The Chronicles of Equinox are something I care a lot about, I love these characters and they light up my life. I want to make it real somehow.

[inkykeiji]

all she want is payback for the way i always play that shit

characters: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: aaaah yikes, sorry it’s so long???? the first part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you wont make it back; touya + reader have been fooling around for just under six months, our innocent lil good girl reader is the teeniest, tiniest bit more firm now. jealousy makes people crazy, yk how it is. touya is marginally softer for like, a second or two. | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), public sex, cheating, drug use, generally toxic relationship (possessiveness, jealousy), size difference, dubcon if u squint i guess???, the tiniest bit of cumplay

words: 11k

synopsis:

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

      ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰         

In early February, your parents finally tie the knot.

“Now it’ll be official,” you remember Touya whispering in your ear, the night before. “I will officially be your niichan,”

The wedding is gorgeous—elegant and classy, just like Rei herself. A wintertime wedding is so beautiful, you tell Rei as she’s busy being fawned over by several stylists, adding the finishing touches to her hair and make up. She’s absolutely stunning, a lacy ivory dress clinging delicately to her small frame, accentuating her natural curves. It glitters gracefully in the pale sunshine streaming through the large bay windows, sparkling any time she moves.

Touya doesn’t sit with his family. Their eyes sear into your flesh, although Touya keeps his stare pointedly in front of him, glaring at the alter. But you can feel their gaze on your skin, can feel their eyes travelling up your body slowly, critically, sending shivers skittering up your spine. It makes your skin crawl, both of your hands curling around Touya’s, a tangled knot of fingers resting in your lap.

You’ve never seen his other siblings before. Rei talks about them sometimes, but never when Touya’s around. You know that once every month, the three of them join Rei and your father for a family dinner, but you’ve never had the pleasure of attending.

You’d missed the first family dinner by fluke, held up late at the library studying for midterms. But every occasion after that, Touya had made absolute certain that you weren’t there. You hadn’t thought much of it the first time it happened, too enraptured and tangled up in Touya to care, grinding desperately against him in the backseat of his car as his tongue forced its way down your throat. But then it happens again, and again, and it becomes too coincidental to ignore.

“Why do we never go to those dinners with your siblings?” you’d tried to bring it up subtly the third time you guys skipped out on dinner, heart thudding in your chest and gentle voice quivering slightly.

Touya sighed, raking a hand through his hair roughly, eyes not straying from the road ahead of him. It’s complicated, he told you in a quiet voice, and you were so startled, so shocked by his sheer, unadulterated honesty, that you couldn’t find your voice, rendering you incapable of replying. Touya didn’t bother looking over at you, didn’t need to, to know that his response surprised you.

The other Todoroki’s are all strikingly beautiful—not that you expected any less. The one with pure snow-white hair and gunmetal grey eyes captures your attention the most, looking as if he’s around your age. He smirks at you when he catches your stare, giving you a small, polite nod—though you can see that tiny glint of mischief in his eye, the same glint you’ve seen in Touya’s a thousand times before. Choking on a surprised gasp, you rapidly avert your gaze, eyes snapping back to the pile of hands in your lap.

Touya notices, of course, because Touya notices everything. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand squeezes yours tightly, just a little too tight to be comforting, as his eyes dart to his siblings across the aisle, glare losing most of its heat when it meets his brother’s stare.

Tense shoulders relax, falling slowly with the measured breath he exhales as he turns back to glower at the alter.

You know other guests are staring at you—you can feel their eyes, too. You know the pair of you look more like a couple than siblings, know you should both probably put some distance between yourselves, at least try to keep some semblance of normalcy, some masquerade of a typical sibling relationship.

But Touya’s knee is bouncing, and he seems…unsure. It’s unsettling, really—Touya always seems so confident in himself—and you can almost feel the tense anxiety rolling off of him in heavy waves. So instead of scooting away from him or untangling your hands, your other palm finds a spot high on the thigh pressed tightly against yours, small fingers beginning to knead the flesh.

Sapphire eyes find yours, and he gazes down at you with an odd sense of fondness in his stare, the tiniest smile ghosting across his lips. It makes your chest swell with pride, makes you want to grab his face and crash his lips against yours, forces a tingling warmth to spread through your veins. It shouldn’t, but it does.

He barely lets you leave his side that day, keeps you glued to his body, an arm wrapped tightly around you. He’s a constant, looming, protective presence, glaring at anyone who dares to look at you for more than a second.

“Touya-nii,” you laugh a little while leaving the ceremony, watching as one of your cousins immediately averts their eyes. “That’s my cousin,”

“And I’m your brother,” he says flatly.

You suppose he has a point.

The two of you find your parents and the rest of Touya’s siblings—yours too, now, you guess—standing around a limousine, beckoning you over.

Rei begins to explain their protocol for pictures—and yes, you both have to come—but you aren’t listening. Their eyes are on you again, you can feel them, gliding up your skin, taking sharp note of the way Touya has you pressed flush against him, the way your arm is wrapped firmly around his waist, little fingers twisting in his suit jacket as your heart begins to speed up.

Touya can feel it, too, and he looks down at you in concern, his thumb caressing your shoulder, before he meets the stares of his siblings with a glare so ferocious you’re surprised it doesn’t turn them to ash on the spot.

They offer for you to ride in the limo with the rest of them, Touya cutting them off as he curtly declines their offer—no thanks, you’ll take his car instead and meet them there.

Rei tries to reason with him, but the pointed look he gives her causes her to trail off mid-sentence, holding his eyes for a moment before a sad smile settles on her face, nodding once.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Shinjuku Gyoen is nothing short of stunning in the wintertime. It had snowed this morning, around six AM, blanketing the garden in a soft layer of pure white powder, glittering delicately in the early afternoon sun.

Wide eyes drink it in as your face presses against the glass of the car window, your breath fogging it up. There’s something so whimsical and dreamy about snow, you think, about the way it softens even the sharpest of edges, the way it makes everything look prettier.

“You’re so cute,” Touya remarks, watching you from the corner of his eye, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I’ve never been here during the winter,” you murmur in response, still captivated by the grounds.

Rei and your father are immediately whisked away by several photographers to do their photos alone, leaving the rest of you to litter the parking lot.

But the moment they disappear from view, Touya’s got you trapped between his body and the cold metal of his car, lips moving against the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises, things that force soft whimpers from your lips, things that make your legs feel like they’re about to give out as heat pools deep in your belly. He knows, of course, smirks and teases you even more when he feels you squeeze your thighs together helplessly, tells you you’re his perfect little slut and vows to reward you for being so good as soon as he can.

His other siblings are staring, you try to tell him in a quiet, broken whine.

“Oh yeah?” he breathes, pushing his hips harder into yours, practically grinding his hard cock against your waist. “Let ‘em. I bet they’d love to watch me fuck you stupid, huh? What do you think about that, baby? You want them to watch?”

A pathetic sound hitches in your throat and you bury your burning face in his neck, a low, wicked laugh rumbling deep in his chest.

He doesn’t let up on the absolute filth spilling from his mouth until he can hear your father hollering in the distance, calling for the kids and waving the five of you over.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Pictures take too long, and Touya’s antsy by the end of it, picking anxiously at his cuticles as his knee bounces. He’s hauling you out of there the moment you’re officially released, a strong hand wrapped tightly around your wrist. You can hear his mother calling for him, and you look back at her desperately, mirroring her worried frown.

He doesn’t even wait for the rest of them to pile into the limo and leave, immediately rooting through his pockets the moment he’s in the safety of his own car, pulling out a little baggie of white powder. He can feel your wide eyes on him, watching his every movement, but his hands are beginning to shake, and panic is starting to rip viciously at his throat, and he just needs it all to fucking stop.

“There’s no way I could endure this shit sober,” he explains as he searches for something in the powder, cursing when he doesn’t find whatever it is he’s looking for. Frantic cobalt eyes dart around the car, landing on the glovebox, and he leans over you, hastily pulling a reflective object from the compartment.

It’s a mirror.

A tiny, circular mirror that he uses to tap out a line, fingers unsteady and breathing slightly laboured. The gentle sounds of his platinum credit card colliding with glass echo throughout the car.

Hovering over the small mirror, he pauses, a finger pressed to his nostril. He almost wants to tell you to look away, almost does, but he knows you’d disobey either way.

He doesn’t like doing drugs in front of you—you’re too precious, too pure and innocent and he doesn’t want you around anything that could potentially tarnish that. But he also can’t stand that look you get in your eyes, almost like you’re scared of him, on the rare occasions that you have caught him.

He nearly snaps at you when you quietly ask if you can help, if he needs someone to hold the mirror steady, currently balancing on the center console compartment, but you’ve got that goddamn look in your eyes, wide and terrified.

No, he says sternly, telling you that he doesn’t even want you near this stuff, much less touching it.

But cocaine highs don’t last long, he explains to you when you ask about the little round white pills clacking together in his pocket. You’re positive he shouldn’t be mixing drugs like that, positive that your apprehension and disapproval are written clearly across your face, based on the simmering look he shoots at you.

Don’t fucking start.

So you don’t. You swallow down your worries and sit nice and pretty and good for him, just like you’re supposed to.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

He only leaves you twice, briefly, throughout the entire night. The first is almost immediately after you enter the reception venue.

Depositing you near the head table, he tells you to stay put before he hurries away. You know where he’s going, what he’s about to do, an odd ache taking root and throbbing deep in your chest.

He’d scold you if he could see you, able to read your expressions like a fucking book, would tell you not to cry for him—he doesn’t need your pity. The words cut through your mind in a snarl, and you work hard to rid your face of the frown marring it; he’s already having such a difficult time today, and the last thing you want to do is upset him more with your concern.

Distraction, you need a distraction. Wide eyes scan the extravagant ballroom, all shimmering golds and beiges and crystal chandeliers, searching in a frenzy for something—anything—to rid your mind of images of pretty boys with inky hair and white, white, white.

You swear you hear your name, then Touya’s, hissed out in a sharp whisper, and your gaze lands on a small group of people not too far from you, with snow and fire for hair—the other Todoroki’s, huddled in a loose circle.

The air around you just feels off, you catch his sister saying in a low but frantic voice, eyes darting between her brothers. She sounds worried about you, you think, and it makes you feel weird. She shouldn’t be worried about you; Touya takes fantastic care of you. It isn’t any of their business anyway, you can almost hear Touya sneering in your head, and he’s right. You know he’s right.

Her brothers don’t look too keen on discussing the subject, especially the youngest, who keeps pulling at his collar and fidgeting with his cufflinks.

“Well, why don’t you go and tell her that yourself,” the one with white hair says, grey eyes connecting with yours. She whirls around quickly, mouth snapping shut when she finds your face. Her lips morph into a smile half a second later, and she waves you over.

You avert your eyes, hands tangling nervously in front of you. No. You shouldn’t go. You really, really shouldn’t go. Touya told you to stay put, and you can’t bear to think—don’t even want to consider—how furious he’d be if he found that not only had you moved, but you had moved to talk to his siblings.

You must spend too much time deliberating, though, looking back up to find them advancing towards you, only a few feet away. Your heart’s pounding almost violently in your chest, breath accelerating with each step closer.

“Hi,” she’s saying warmly as she reaches you, causing you to subconsciously take a step back. “We haven’t had a chance to meet. I’m Fuyumi,”

You want to say your name, to introduce yourself politely, but your lips are sealed shut, only able to manage a small sound of affirmation.

“Shouto,” the youngest says, cold heterochromatic eyes glancing at you for a moment before looking away. “M’Shouto,”

“I’m Natsuo,” the man with white hair smirks down at you, eyes burning into yours.

Some of your anxiety melts away as you meet his stone eyes; there’s something comforting about the way that he has Touya’s smirk, Touya’s mischievous glint to his gaze, Touya’s playful lilt to his voice.

You feel like you can breathe again when you’re looking at Natsuo, so you keep your stare directed at him as you stutter out your name, gazing up at him through your lashes.

“You always miss the family dinners,” Natsuo accuses with a knowing smirk, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Y’know, eventually, our parents are going to catch on,”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, chills crawling on your skin. He knows?

And he says it so nonchalantly, so casually, as if he’s discussing the weather and not the fact that Touya deliberately kidnaps you to fuck your brains out in his car every single time they gather for one of those dinners. Fuyumi and Shouto look over at him with brows furrowed in confusion, but you choke on a gasp, coughing a little and nodding.

Touya returns then, saving you from having to respond.

“What’s wrong?” he’s asking immediately as his hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you back against his chest and wrapping his arms around you. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you lean on him, heart finally beginning to slow.

“N-Nothing, niichan,” you wrap your arms around his, hugging them to your chest, and he squeezes you in reassurance.

“You sure, baby?” Sapphire eyes search your face as you tilt your head back to look up at him, scanning for any sign of distress.

He shouldn’t be using that pet name here, not in front of his blood siblings, not loud enough that any of the passing guests can hear him with ease.

He shouldn’t.

But that doesn’t stop it from sending sparks skittering up your spine, heat beginning to coil in your tummy. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said you didn’t get some sort of twisted satisfaction at the loud gasp that leaves Fuyumi’s chest, or the sharp intake of breath Shouto chokes on, coughing as he tries to cover it up, all at the drop of that one, simple, four letter word.

Touya loves it, too—you can see it in the way his smirk grows into a full smile, a grin big enough to crinkle the edges of his eyes, can see it in his gaze, in the way his cobalt eyes almost sparkle at their reactions.

Your gaze flits back to the three people standing in front of you—your step-siblings, your mind corrects—eyes gliding over their faces slowly.

Natsuo looks thoroughly entertained, a stupid little grin stretched across his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. Fuyumi and Shouto, on the other hand, look thoroughly uncomfortable, shifting a little in place, their faces screwed up with poorly masked disgust.

Touya’s smile drops the moment he looks back at them. Azure eyes scan the faces of his siblings cautiously, giving Natsuo one quick, sharp nod of acknowledgment before his gaze lands on the youngest. And the glare Touya gives him is nothing short of terrifying, practically snarling at the boy, a rough, dangerous sound that gets lodged deep in his chest. It makes the boy cower away, shuffling ever-so-slightly closer to his sister, who shakily glares back.

Lips tugging down into a frown, you look up at Touya, forehead creasing in confusion. He’s still glowering at the kid, eyes narrowing just a little before he huffs and turns away, leaving without speaking a word to any of them.

“Don’t you ever talk to them again,” he’s murmuring as he whisks you away, something malicious in his voice. “You’re my little sister,”

You nod obediently, promising him that you won’t, reassuring him that you didn’t even want to as you relay the entire situation. But he can see it, the curiosity swirling in your eyes, a question dancing on your tongue.

Because although Touya appears to be on seriously awful terms with his younger siblings, Natsuo seems to be some sort of exception. From the interaction you just witnessed, you’re able to deduce that something, some line of communication, must be present between Touya and Natsuo, evident in their shared looks and swift, discreet nods.

He sighs, irritation coating his voice as he demands that you spit it out already.

It makes you jump a little, but the words come tumbling out of your mouth the moment he commands them to, powerless to disobey a direct order.

“Does that include Natsuo?”

Your voice is so tiny that he barely hears you, brows knitting together. There’s an odd look in his eye as he observes you—something that isn’t quite jealousy, but close to it—nose twitching a little as he considers.

“Alone, yes,” he finally says. “With me around it’s fine, I guess. But you are not to speak to him alone, do you hear me?”

Yes, niichan, of course, niichan.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Dinner is absolute torture, and the two of you can barely keep your hands off of each other. It starts innocently enough, discreetly enough, with palms on thighs, fingers brushing down arms, hands interlaced under the table. But the need to touch grows, and grows, and grows, these simple actions too teasing to satisfy that dull burning in the pit of your stomach, flaring a little more each time his fingers press into your thigh, or his thumb runs across your knuckles.

And you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t start acting up now, not while the two of you are seated at the head table, looking out amongst the guests—a few months ago, you would’ve never thought to do something so indecent, so dangerous, in such a public place. But you just can’t help it, you’re getting restless now, brain going hazy with thoughts of him as your fingers trail up his thigh and ghost over his lap.

“Getting bold, are we, princess?” his hand catches your wrist, holding your palm in place and grinding up into it. His voice is low, head tipped towards you, sapphire eyes dark. A breath catches in your throat and he smirks, an evil little quirk up of his lips, raising an eyebrow at you in expectation.

You’re lucky they’re seated in a straight line instead of a circle, he murmurs in your ear, Natsuo snickering beside him. “Imagine what your daddy would think if he could see you, acting like such a desperate little slut in front of all of these people,”

A soft, broken moan escapes your lips without your permission, thighs squeezing together in an attempt to combat the heat pooling in your panties. Someone down the line of the table says something, but you’re too enticed by Touya to hear them, your father writing off whatever the remark was with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, those two are always in their own little world,” you hear him dismiss, voice sounding muddled and distant.  

“Be a good girl and sit still,” Touya growls in your ear, grip tightening to near bruising.

“But niichan,” you whine, much too loud, gazing at him with glazed, blown eyes. “Niichan,” you repeat, leaning forward to whimper in his ear, fingers flexing around the bulge in his trousers. “N-Need you,”

“If you can’t behave, niichan won’t let you cum later,” he breathes, though his voice is stern, heavy with the weight of the threat.

A pout forms on your lips as he releases your wrist, firmly placing your hand back in your lap and holding it there for a moment, a silent warning for your wandering fingers to stay put.

But he’s up and out of his chair the instant dinner’s over, moving so quick his seat wobbles a little as he grasps your hand tightly in his, practically yanking you up and dragging you along behind him.

The best thing about these fancy venues, he’s telling you as he strides through the halls, cerulean eyes searching for something, is that they have single person washrooms.

The granite is cold on your cheek as Touya shoves you up against the wall, head bouncing a little as it whacks against it.

You whine and he laughs, a cruel, piercing sound echoing off the walls.

“Aw, baby,” he coos contemptuously. “Did that hurt?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut against the throbbing pain radiating through your cheek.

“Poor little thing,” he hisses, lips against your ear as his hands begin to bunch up your dress, gliding over your silk covered thighs, hands fisting in the material as he goes. Pushing it up around your waist, he leans back, hands travelling over the globes of your ass and kneading hard enough to make you cry out.

“You’re a slutty little brat, y’know that?”

Deft fingers hook in the waistband of your thong, all delicate baby pink lace, Touya snickering about how much of a whore you are, wearing such skimpy, slutty panties, as he lets the elastic snap back against your skin.

A little shocked gasp escapes your lips as he begins tugging the dainty fabric down your thighs—you had expected him to merely push them to the side, but he forces you to take them off entirely, stuffing the soaked material in his pocket.

“You think you can just tease niichan like that and get away with it?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head against the wall.

“No,” he murmurs, hips grinding against your bare ass. “Good girls don’t tease their niichans without delivering, do they?”

“No,”

“On your knees,” he orders, spinning you around and stepping back just enough to allow you to sink to the floor. “Get my cock wet,”

Little fingers work quickly, eager to obey, as they undo his pants, practically salivating as you free his cock from its confines.

“Your cock’s so pretty, niichan,” you breathe, eyes glittering with pure, potent desire as you take it in your hands, tongue darting out to trace the prominent veins.

“No teasing,” he growls, a hand knotting in your hair. “I wanna see you choke on it,”

You nod as best you can, mouth instantly falling open, reduced to nothing more than a wet, warm little hole for him to stuff.

And then he’s shoving it down your throat, the hand fisted in your hair holding your head still, and you gag around it almost immediately, working to force you jaw open even more.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he rasps out, voice echoing off the walls of the washroom.

The praise has your heart soaring, has you sucking hard around him as he thrusts into your mouth, coating his cock in thick saliva and desperate to hear more. It’s intoxicating, every quiet moan you manage to pull from him, every breathless good girl that falls from his lips, makes you feel lightheaded and heady and dizzy for more.

His hips pump a few more times before he’s pulling you off his cock completely, devious smirk forming on his lips at your whine of protest, and commanding you to go bend over the sink.

Calloused hands are bunching your dress up around your waist again, toe of his shoe kicking at your inner ankles and forcing your feet further apart.

He doesn’t bother stretching you out, not because he doesn’t have the time to, but because he simply doesn’t want to. It’s truly one of his favourite things, to see tears fill your eyes while his cock stretches your cute little pussy, and he knows you love it too, don’t you?

Yes, niichan, of course you do.

His cock glistens with your saliva, sufficiently wet that it slides in easily enough, with minimal pain for him. And the soft groan he lets out as he watches your little hole struggle to take him, paired with your sweet little whimpers of his name, is nothing short of gorgeous.

It has your pussy fluttering around him, pulling a breathless chuckle from his lips as he fills you to the hilt, hips pressed against your ass.

And then doesn’t fucking move.

Your brow furrows, eyes meeting his in the mirror. You try to fuck yourself back on him, but he’s too quick, hands stilling your hips immediately and tutting in disapproval.

“Niichan,” you whimper. “N-Niichan, please fuck me,”  

“Do you think you deserve it?” he’s asking, tongue tracing the shell of your ear as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “After the way you behaved at dinner?”

“M’sorry,” you whine, wiggling back against him, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stops them, grip tightening. “Couldn’t help it, wanted you so bad,”

“Of course you couldn’t,” he smirks, hips starting to move slowly, teasingly, stilling after only three simple thrusts. A hand reaches down and finds your clit, forcing a gasp from you as his thumb brushes over it, back and forth, back and forth, featherlight grazes that have you arching back into him, trying to press further into his touch.

“Think you can cum just like this for me?” he asks, beginning to thrust shallowly again, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging against that spot buried deep inside your cunt, that spot he knows so well, then nudging your cervix. “Hmm?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, breath starting to come out in short little pants.

“Then do it,” he demands in a whisper, eyes still holding yours. “Show niichan how pretty you look, cumming all over his cock,”

And the combination of his deep, rough voice rumbling against your back as praises tumble from his lips, his thumb and cock, and the fact that anyone within a fifteen foot radius of this washroom could probably hear you, has you cumming within minutes with a sharp cry of Touya-nii!  

Touya laughs at how pathetically quickly you came, about how easy it is to have you creaming on his cock, heat seeping into your cheeks as you try to look away.

“My turn,” he breathes, yanking your head back up by your hair, fingers finding root in the intricate updo that has begun to fall apart. “And I wanna see your face as I fuck you, so keep your damn head up,”

And then he’s slamming into you with enough vigour to propel you forward, face pressed against the mirror, toes barely touching the ground. Every moan and whimper and mewl he forces from your throat fogs up the glass, leaving tiny glistening drops of condensation as they fade.

You’re trying so hard to keep your eyes open, to watch him as he fucks you, because he always looks so damn pretty.  

He’s stupidly attractive, with his shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, first few buttons undone and collar popped, revealing his sharp collarbone, smooth ivory skin stretched taut across it. Ebony hair clings to his forehead and neck delicately, coated in sweat, and he’s emitting the most glorious noises, heavy pants and little broken whines, peppered with praise.

Nails bite into your flesh as he holds you in place, hips snapping relentlessly, your fingers curling around the porcelain sink.

“You want niichan’s cum?” he growls in your ear, eyes burning into yours. You whimper in response, nodding against the mirror. “Yeah? Then fucking beg for it.”

Pleads are spilling from your lips immediately, nothing but senseless babbling as he pounds into you.

“Please, niichan, please, need it, your cum, stuff me with your cum,”

“That’s it,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “I want every single person in this godforsaken hall to hear you, I want every single person to know how much of—” he cuts himself off with a shuddery curse. “—How much of a slut my baby sister is,”

“Pretty please,” you whine out the words, eyes rolling back in your head. “Fill me up with your cum, niichan, I-I want it,”

His hips still just as your cunt clenches around him, cockhead pressed tightly against your cervix as he fills you with hot, thick ropes of cum.

He pulls out a few moments later, and you uncurl your fingers from around the rim of the sink, wincing at your appearance; lips bitten raw, hair beginning to fall from it’s elegant style, body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

You look back at him to find him already staring at you, expectantly, impatiently, hands jittery as he quirks his head towards the door.

“We can’t leave together,” he says, as if it’s obvious, even though you stumbled into the washroom together twenty minutes ago.

He needs more.

You nod, slow and dumb, staggering a little on your trembling legs. Grasping the doorknob you pause, turning to look at him again.

“What?” he asks as he searches through his pockets, not bothering to glance at you. He can feel your eyes on him.

“Um...” you shift nervously from foot to foot, lip caught between your teeth.

He looks over at you sharply, brows rising as if to ask why are you still here?

“M-My panties, niichan,”

Oh.

A wicked smirk spreads across his face, eyes twinkling, brows relaxing.

“What about them?”

“Well, I—I can’t return to the reception without them,”

“Oh, and why not?”

You pause, blinking a few times, at a loss for words. Why not? Because you can feel his cum beginning to trickle out of you, mixing with your juices and dribbling down your inner thigh?

“Exactly,” he says, when you take too long to reply. “Now be a good little girl and go. I’ll be out soon,”

       ✰          ✰          ✰

You don’t go back into the ballroom, terrified that you’ll be ambushed by his—your—siblings again. Collapsing in one of the plush chairs, you cross your quivering legs tightly in a desperate attempt to keep the cum oozing out of you from getting on your dress.

People are looking again, probably think you’re drunk based on the way you teetered over to the seat, or the way your hair’s begun to come undone from it’s intricate updo, wispy strands framing your face.

He returns from the washroom only a few minutes later, eyes finding you immediately. There’s a stupid, smug smirk on his face, thinks it’s so cute that he fucked you so good you can’t walk, can’t even get up, that you need your niichan to help you.

A pout forms on your lips, eyebrows furrowing. “Not funny,”

“Very funny,” he chuckles as his hands snake under your armpits, hauling you to your feet. You stumble a little, bumping into him and he laughs again, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and propping you up against him.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,”

“Oh, niichan,” you murmur and he pauses, glancing over at you. You reach up, your thumb swiping across his nose to collect excess white powder.

“Thanks,” he breathes, winking at you. You hum noncommittally, about to rub your thumb across his white dress shirt to clean it when he catches your hand, bringing your thumb to his lips and licking it instead.

It isn’t discreet. It’s slow and deliberate, tongue sticking out of his mouth, flattening it against your thumb and dragging it up, from base to tip. You’re sure someone saw that, but you can’t be bothered to care, not when another bout of intense heat rushes to your core, forcing you to squeeze your legs together, trying in vain to keep Touya’s cum from seeping out, from your juices traveling down your leg. A soft whimper leaves your lips, breathing beginning to accelerate as your eyes bore into his, now half-lidded and dark. He holds your gaze for a moment before something snaps.

“We need to go,” he says, voice firm with no room for negotiation. “Now.”

And, God, his voice is rough and raw and fucking dripping with desire. It’s got you nodding before he’s even finished speaking, a flock of butterflies invading your stomach at the downright sinful grin he gives you in response. Such a good girl for him.

Despite the fact that you’ve barely recovered from your previous orgasm, you nearly moan at his look alone, the urge to kiss him burning through your veins and alighting your entire body in direct juxtaposition to the shivers his eyes just sent rippling across your skin. The insatiable need overwhelms your senses, and it’s dangerous. It’s dangerous, how captivated he has you, entirely wrapped around his slim finger and hanging on his every word, how you’re positive that, in that moment, you’d do anything he asked.

You wobble awkwardly in your heels, legs still shaking and having trouble keeping up with Touya’s swift pace. You’re about to ask him to slow down just a little so you don’t break an ankle, when you bump into your father.

Who just so happens to provide you with the perfect excuse to leave early. You can practically see the gears clicking into place in Touya’s mind, sapphire eyes glittering as a sinister smirk spreads across his face.

Your father’s eyes widen as he observes your appearance, strands of hair sticking to your clammy face and eyes half-lidded, chapped lips beginning to crack, leaning heavily against Touya and seemingly too weak to stand on your own.

“Hi dad,” you greet hoarsely, wincing a little at how grating your voice sounds.

He frowns immediately. “Jesus, sweetheart, are you feeling alright? You look…” he trails off, forehead wrinkling with worry.

“Oh, she’s not feeling too good,” Touya says softly, smoothly, just the right amount of concern and compassion in his tone.

“Oh no,” your father breathes, frown deepening. “That’s terrible,” he clicks his tongue with a shake of his head. “Do you think you’ll be able to tough out the rest of the reception?”

You begin to croak out an answer, but Touya speaks over you.

“She’s burning up, sir,” he informs him, and it isn’t a lie—not exactly, anyway. Technically, if your father were to feel your forehead, your body temperature would be above average, a result of Touya fucking the absolute life out of you a mere ten minutes ago.

Touya looks down at you with painfully sympathetic eyes, but you can still see that little glint of mischief, buried under all of that artificial benevolence.

“Maybe I should take her home?” Touya muses, looking back at your father, mimicking his anxiety effortlessly.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “I think that’s the best thing to do,” his eyes dart to yours. “You really don’t look well,”

Oh, you’re sure you don’t. Resting a little more against Touya, you play up the symptoms a bit, whimpering quietly as little fingers twist in his shirt, nuzzling your face against his side. A soft noise of endearment sounds at the back of his throat, large hands readjusting your body to support you better.

Another whimper falls from your lips, but this time it isn’t from pretending you’re ill. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, slimy and cool as it drips down your inner thigh, and a sick thrill shoots through your body, abused cunt throbbing greedily.

Rei comes up behind your father then, wrapping her arms around his midsection and resting her chin on his shoulder, eyes flitting between the two of you carefully.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“I’m gonna bring this little princess home,” Touya explains, nodding his head at you in indication as he speaks. “She isn’t feeling very well, poor thing,”

And it’s scary, scary how terrific he is at lying, how easily he slips into that niichan role, the one painstakingly crafted and flawlessly maintained around your parents, the one he’s perfected at this point.

Rei doesn’t say much, only cooing in sympathy, remarking that it’s such a shame, but your father’s eyes soften. “Such a good big brother,” he praises, clapping a hand on Touya’s shoulder.

Touya has to consciously work to smother the smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he responds.

“You have no idea,”  

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Your parents don’t come home that night, opting to go straight to the airport from the venue, embarking on their honeymoon immediately.

It’s nice, playing house with Touya, having the entire place completely to yourselves. He’s been home an awful lot these past few weeks, more than he ever has in the past, and you get to experience things you never could before.

Every morning and every night, you cook breakfast and dinner together. You go grocery shopping together, wash the dishes together, fold the laundry together, all while stealing kisses in between; little domestic things you didn’t really do with your parents around.

You spend every night that they’re away in his bed, being fucked into his mattress, surrounded by the smell of him—campfire and Marlboros and expensive cologne—absolutely full of him in every sense.

You wake up in the mornings with his hand between your legs, playing with your cute little clit, or his cock pressed against your ass, grinding until you wake up. You have sleepy, slow morning sex while you’re both still half asleep, and it’s the most gentle he’s ever been. It consists of lazy, sloppy, messy thrusts against each other, hips meeting halfway—just grinding until he gets too impatient, though he usually lets you cum two or three times before he finally flips you over, trapping you under his body and slamming his hips into you, growling and grunting, your legs pushed up and folded on either side of you.

You get to fuck in the kitchen—not that you hadn’t before, but this time you get to take it slow. He eats you out while you sit on the counter and then fucks you into oblivion and it’s nasty, it’s disgusting, it’s so good. He cums so much that it’s leaking out of you, onto the counter, his chest heaving as he observes it with an odd little smile and a soft “fuck,”

And you get to fuck in the bathtub, that big jacuzzi in your parents room, water and bubbles sloshing around as you bounce on his cock, loud cries echoing off the walls.

It’s going great, until the last weekend of the honeymoon, a mere few days before your parents are supposed to return.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

A party.

Keigo tries to talk him out of it, tries to at least talk him out of letting you stay.

“She shouldn’t be here,” you hear Keigo hiss under his breath as guests begin to fill the house, Touya snorting in retort.

Keigo doesn’t think you should be around any of this at all—there’s no reason you should have to witness this shit, you catch him growling, gold eyes blazing. No, not a poor innocent babygirl like you, this isn’t the place for you.

But Touya’s too stubborn, too selfish to let Keigo take you out for the night. He knows he’s right, would rather not have you around these people, but he doesn’t have a fucking choice. The thought of you being out of his sight, out with another man, has anxiety rising in his throat, panic clawing at his chest.

As a result, you spend the entirety of the party being passed between Touya and Keigo. There are so many girls here, so many people you don’t know, wide eyes scanning the living room as your fingers twist in Keigo’s hoodie.

Niichan’s busy, Touya tells you, when you ask why you can’t just stay with him, when you ask where he keeps disappearing off to. Niichan’s working, don’t you know? Be a good girl and stay with Kei.

You can tell that Keigo isn’t happy about it. He coos softly when you timidly ask if he’s upset that he’s stuck babysitting you all night, in the middle of an apology when he cuts you off.

“It isn’t your fault, songbird,” he murmurs, gentle fingers tracing the curve of your face.

He’s even angrier at Touya when he takes that first girl back to his room, because the look on your face—the way it crumples accompanied by a soft, hurt sound caught at the back of your throat—kills him.

And it isn’t like you don’t know about his side whores. You do. They’re customers, he had snapped at you, the only time you had ever asked about it. But it’s an entirely different thing to actually have to witness it with your own eyes.

You can’t help the flare of jealousy that rises in your chest every time he takes a girl by the hand and leads them to his bedroom. It stings, burns, feels like a fire’s been lit in your chest, filling your lungs with dense smoke and making it hard for you to breathe.

Keigo tries his best to distract you, gentle fingers on your cheeks turning your face towards him, golden eyes softening in sympathy. He keeps you as preoccupied as he can, but it still isn’t enough. Your eyes are drawn to Touya every time he’s in the room—an automatic, instinctual reaction you couldn’t control even if you wanted to.

And every time you watch a girl giggle into his ear, or hop up with him, that fire smoldering in your chest blazes, rages, has you wheezing and hissing and pressing a palm flat against yourself, a desperate attempt to get the pain to stop.

Tomura’s here, too, though he’s sitting in a shrouded corner on his phone, the light from the screen reflected on his pale face, colours flashing intermittently. He looks absorbed with whatever he’s doing on there—probably playing a game, Keigo tells you, but why are you interested, anyway?

You don’t know, you aren’t sure, you can’t exactly put it into words. He terrifies you, but he sparks a morbid curiosity in you, too. He’s so silent, private, almost inobtrusive; and yet Touya never lets you anywhere near him. Your eyes keep flitting his way, as if trying to will something to happen, staring at him longingly and hoping he’ll look up from his phone for a split second and catch your gaze, that he’ll somehow magically get the hint that you’re desperate and dying to talk to him, and take the first step.

But it doesn’t happen.

Touya is thoroughly unimpressed each and every time he finds you sitting on Keigo’s knee or lap, leaning back against his chest as he speaks with that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, but there isn’t much he can do. The third time he returns to take you from his friend he can tell you’re beginning to get tired, can see it in your eyes, in the way you’re cuddling into a warm chest. He debates sending you to bed right then and there, but you protest, little hands tangling in Keigo’s hoodie.

“Aw, she’s alright for a little more, isn’t she?”

Touya’s sharp jaw clenches twice and he exhales slowly through his nose, eyes darting between your faces.

“Fine,” he says, although it doesn’t seem fine.

And you are exhausted, straddling Keigo’s hips, face pressed into his shoulder and hot breath evening out softly against his neck. Fingers ghost up and down your spine nonchalantly as Keigo talks softly to the people around him, his laugh vibrating against your chest and filling you with an odd, tingly sensation, a warmth that seeps through your body. You snuggle a little closer to him and he coos, readjusting you in his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him.

“Don’t wanna go to bed with him,” you whisper, words muffled by his skin.

Keigo hums in question, squeezing you once. “Who, songbird?” he presses his lips to your ear as inconspicuously as he can, lidded gold eyes lazily scanning the room for your brother. “Touya?”

You nod sluggishly, little fingers curling in his hoodie, a silent plea not to let you go.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Keigo says softly with a small chuckle, but it sounds off to your ears—sad, even.

“Don’t wanna,” you repeat, pout evident in your voice. “Wanna stay with you,”

You wouldn’t have noticed the way his chest hitches at those four words if you weren’t pressed flush against it. But you feel it, feel his breath getting caught in his throat, reverberating against you as he clears it quietly. Unexpected guilt sours your mouth, makes your stomach turn to a block of heavy lead, weighting your body down.

“You know you can’t, sweetheart,” he finally responds, voice cracking just a bit, right on that last word. “Don’t hurt your niichan like that, he loves you,”

No he doesn’t, you want to say, but you can’t seem to force the words from your mouth, opting to shake your head instead, eyes shutting tightly against the burn of tears.

“He does,” Keigo says, more sternly this time. “Don’t doubt that,”

But you’re not so sure. If Touya loved you—really loved you—would he have disappeared no less than three times tonight, each with a different girl, leading them into his bedroom with those dark glittering sapphire eyes while they gaze up at him like he hung the fucking moon himself?

Honestly, is that even a question you want answered?

You keep your face buried in Keigo’s chest to block it out, to keep yourself from watching your big brother as he flits around the room, handing out discreet baggies in exchange for ridiculous wads of cash and talking in hushed voices, in code, to men who look much too old to be at a house party.

Eventually, Touya returns to retrieve you, bending down and speaking softly.

“It’s time for bed, princess,” A hand pets your head, and you flinch away.

“Hey,” you feel the couch dip beside you as he sits down. “Look at me,”

You’re shaking your head, trying in vain to press even closer to Keigo, but that doesn’t stop Touya from reaching out and gripping your chin, forcing you to face him.

Crystal eyes search your face carefully, wide and alert—he always works sober, you found out. He can tell you’re upset, can see it written plain as day across your face, eyes glassy with your lips set in a deep pout, eyebrows pushed together. Exhaling harshly, he closes his eyes, fingers rubbing at his eyes in exasperation.

“C’mon,” he says lowly, wrapping a hand around your bicep and tugging as he stands.

“No,” you nearly growl, shaking your head and viciously pulling your arm from his grip.

Touya stares at you for a moment, like he cannot believe you just had the audacity to tell him no, before he speaks, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “What did you just say?”

Keigo’s sitting up straighter now, more alert as your body subconsciously curls into his chest, cowering away from your big brother. “Y-You heard me,”

Snorting in disbelief, Touya raises his eyebrows as his tongue runs along the front of his teeth, huffing out the remnants of a chuckle before his smile drops completely, blue fire blazing in his dark eyes.

“Get up,” he snarls, hand in a vice grip around your arm as he yanks harshly. The force of it has you practically falling off Keigo’s lap, though Touya catches you roughly before your knees hit the hardwood, hoisting you up by your arm to stand on unsteady feet.

“Move.” He instructs, giving you a shove in the vague direction of his bedroom. “Now.”

His chest bumps into your back and you stumble forward, yelping softly. He keeps pushing like this, strong hand clasping your shoulder so tightly you’re sure you’ll have five little bruises in the shape of his fingerprints in the morning, driving you to walk with the sheer force of his body.

“No,” your whispering, trying desperately to turn back and look at him as you approach his door, tears flooding your eyes, frantically shaking your head and trying your damnedest to plant your feet, heels digging into the floor in an attempt to stop him from pushing you forward.

“You really gonna say no to me a second time tonight? In less than fifteen minutes? You think that’s wise, baby?”

You don’t—of course you don’t. It’s probably one of the stupidest things you could do, in this situation.

But even though you know, know this isn’t a smart move, know you shouldn’t be testing him like this—challenging him like this, especially in front of so many people—you’re powerless to control the words that tumble from your lips next.

“I don’t want to sleep in a bed that’s been infested by your whores,”

They come out as a hiss—you don’t mean for them to, but they do, voice quivering under the combined weight of your fury and fear.

That gets him to stop, entire body going rigid. Icy dread rushes through your veins, panic clawing its way up your throat, forcing uneven breaths through your parted lips. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you brace yourself for the impact of his bellowing voice, shoulders tensing in anticipation for the blow, for him to really snap.

Except then he starts laughing, his hand relaxing around your shoulder, spinning you around to face him as he backs you up against his bedroom door, caging you in with his body.

“That’s what this is about?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you blink twice in disbelief, prompting hot tears to finally spill over. “I—Wh-Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being silly, princess,”

It hurts, stings like three massive spikes just shot through your heart, causes a tiny whimper to sound from deep in your throat, chest hiccupping with pathetic little half-sobs.

“Sil…Silly?” Time feels as if it’s slowed, your sluggish brain having trouble comprehending the situation unfolding.

His lips pull down into a frown, eyes narrowing slightly as he regards you with extreme precision. “Yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds far away, muffled, like you’re underwater and he’s speaking to you from above the surface. “Hey—”

Your head’s shaking again, in slow, delayed motions from side to side. “No,” you whisper. “No.”

You feel nauseous, and the proximity of his presence is only making it worse, making you feel like you could hurl at any moment. Little hands find purchase on his chest and push, stomach lurching painfully as your head spins.

He catches your wrists easily, holding them together in one large hand, his other coming to grip your chin and force you to look at him.

Thick silence settles between the two of you as Touya’s eyes study your face slowly, noting the tears flowing steadily down your face, the way your breath stutters with sobs you’re so desperately trying to hold back, the way your entire body trembles.

“Are you seriously upset over this?” he asks, laughing a little.

Your gaze holds his, tears casting a thick, gleaming screen across your eyes.

“Yes, Touya,” you whisper, wishing your voice didn’t sound as small and weak as it does. “I’m seriously upset,”

That’s the first time you’ve used his first name—just his first name, void of any honorific—in a long, long time.

It gets him to pause again, his usual and well-worn mask of passivity melting away for just a second as shock crosses his face. Then his features are hardening again, brows knitting together and creasing his forehead, eyes narrowing into near slits.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he spits harshly, the words cutting into your flesh. “You know none of them mean a thing,”

“Then why do you fuck around with them?” you shoot back almost immediately, voice fading into a whisper.

He glares at you, as if you’re wasting his precious time with such childish questions when he’s told you this already, and you can see the blue fire simmering in his eyes.

“It’s late,” he says curtly, voice sounding off to you. “You need sleep.”

You try to fight him on it, but he’s too quick, reflexes too swift, and he shoves you into his room, door slamming shut less than a second later.

Tears obstruct your vision as you stumble around, finally finding his desk chair and collapsing heavily. You don’t even bother trying to open the door, know it’s locked without having to hear that soft click! as the lock turns into place.

He’s right—it is late, well past three in the morning, and you are utterly exhausted, drawing your knees up to your chest and curling up in the plush chair.

But no matter how tired you are, you absolutely refuse to sleep in his bed. The party’s dying down, you can hear Touya’s muffled farewells as guests begin to leave while you fade in and out of consciousness.

You think you might’ve heard Keigo say something, might’ve caught the word stay, might’ve detected the annoyance laced in Touya’s voice as he responds, but you’re too worn out to reflect on it.

At some point in the night, Touya reenters his room, chuckling a little at your antics and carrying you to his bed.

The move wakes you, and you weakly protest—no, you don’t want to be in this bed, please, just let you go sleep in your own bed—but Touya ignores you entirely, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you tightly to his chest.

It’s then that the tears start up again, salt staining your puffy cheeks, head beginning to throb from dehydration.

“Shh, baby, shh,” he hushes you, nimble fingers combing through your hair. “I’m here, right here,”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Touya over these past few weeks, it’s that he becomes marginally softer in the middle of the night. Your fingers twist in his t-shirt, trying in vain to pull yourself impossibly closer, Touya making a soft noise akin to a coo in the back of his throat.

“I’ve got you, niichan’s got you,”

You hate it. You hate that he’s the only person you want comforting you right now, as you lay in his bed, surrounded by the smell of cheap perfume and clinging in desperation to him, needing him close, needing his body heat warming you and his hands on you. You hate the way your sobs come harder the more he soothes you, the heavy ache in your chest almost bruising, crushing your lungs and making it near impossible to breathe.

But you crave his comfort nonetheless. It’s a special kind of comfort, one that’s difficult to describe, one that only comes from the love and adoration and protection of a big brother.

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

There’s something in his voice that makes you stop, pause, his words reverberating in your mind. He sounds almost like…like he’s upset over this fact, like he wishes that you didn’t have all of him.

You want to press for more, to probe and prod and pick away at it, but exhaustion finally claims you, rendering you incapable of speech, your tongue moving sluggishly in your mouth as you desperately try to form words.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

It’s grey when you wake, only a few hours later, eyes sticky and dry from lack of sleep. Your head is pounding, feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, lips cracked and dry from dehydration, and a painful lump forms almost immediately in your throat when you get a whiff of sickly sweet artificial vanilla, then another of intense, synthetic citrus.

The tears are starting up again, collecting in your eyes and clouding your vision. It makes you nauseous, makes your skin crawl and your chest burn as your throat fills with acid. The tears sting, but you blink hard to keep them at bay. You will not cry, not in front of him, not in his bed surrounded by the remnants of those other girls, not again. You refuse to give them the satisfaction.

You spring up quickly, halfway through climbing over Touya’s body when a strong hand latches onto your wrist.

“No,” Touya mumbles, face half buried in his pillow. “Stay,”

“No,” you whisper, pulling yourself free from his grasp and hurrying out of his room. You can smell them on your clothes, on your skin, and it makes you want to scrub your body under scalding water until it’s raw.

Everything hurts—it hurts so much it feels like your chest is collapsing in on itself, like you can’t breathe, gasping for air as you stumble onto the porch, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stop and realize you have nowhere to go.

Touya has cut you off from all of your friends at this point; any spare time you had was now claimed by him.

And that’s exactly why he doesn’t bother rolling out of bed to follow after you, isn’t worried about you going anywhere, knows you can’t leave him, no matter how badly you want to. No, not a precious little girl like you, with nowhere to find refuge.

You sit down heavily on one of the front steps, vision so blurry with tears you’re barely able to make out the figure advancing towards you. They’re finally escaping your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you blink twice, trying to clear them. Your chest stutters under the force of a sob you’re desperately trying to hold back, clapping both hands over your mouth in an attempt to silence it.

“Hey—oh no,” Keigo breathes the moment your watery eyes look up at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, causing more tears to leak out as your shoulders shake, whole body trembling from the force of your sobs, poorly muffled by your palms.

“No, no, no, sweetheart,” he’s saying as he rushes to sit down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders tightly.

Keigo’s the closest thing you have to a friend now. And really, you should be embarrassed by the way you practically fling yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as your hands form fists in his t-shirt. He’s a little startled by your borderline violent reaction, but he recovers quickly, arms encircling your body and pulling you against him.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, one hand rubbing your back while the other pets your hair. “Hey, it’s alright, I’m here,”

And you hate the way his words almost directly mirror Touya’s, the way his low sultry voice turned gentle and soft as he carded deft fingers through your hair echoing almost painfully in your head. But Keigo lets you cry, lets you stain his t-shirt with salty tears and saliva until you’ve got nothing left, never stopping his compassionate motions.

“You…Stayed the night?” you pull back a little, the fact that he’s still here, blonde hair all mussed up from sleep, finally dawning on you.

“Well, yeah,” he says, a little bashful as he looks away and ducks his head. “Wanted to make sure you were alright, s’all. Last night was…” he trails off, frowning. “What happened?”

Golden eyes search your face, his forehead crinkling in concern. A beat of silence passes.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but…” kind fingers move to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll feel better if you let it out, promise. And, not to brag or anything, but I’m preee-tty good at this kind’a stuff,” he chuckles a little.

“Got in a fight,” you whisper, eyes staring intently at the brick wall behind his shoulder as your chin trembles slightly, memories of last night flashing through your mind.

“A fight? With Touya?” Keigo moves his head a little, forcing his face into your field of vision and catching your face with tender fingers when you try to look away.

“Yeah,” tears are beginning to well up in your eyes as you think about it, the sheer fact that you’re in a fight making your heart feel like it’s ripping itself to shreds. A chaotic storm of emotions brews in your chest, switching mercilessly and swirling together so quickly that you can’t even tell what they are. Your insides feel all jumbled up, and trying to decipher what the heck’s going on only makes your head ache more.

They torment you, a deep sense of anguish finally settling at the core. You’re confused, livid at Touya for being such a jackass; jealous, because you want him all to yourself; heartbroken, because you want—need—his approval, desperate to hear him tell you that you’re his good little baby girl.

You want to be his good little baby girl.

But it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. Get used to it, he had told you once, when you had complained about something so silly, so simple as him eating the last ice cream cookie sandwich (he made it up to you, of course, telling you he wanted to taste your cream—such a cheeseball—and making you cum three times before taking you out to buy more).

No, it isn’t fair, but you don’t care. You want him to be yours, too.

Keigo tsks, bringing your attention back to him, mouth set in a hard line as sad eyes watch you. “What was it about?”

“I-It…H-He—” a shuddery breath cuts you off, and Keigo draws you into his arms, holding you against his chest as the sobs start up again, sobs that make it feel like your body’s about to tear apart, desperately clutching Keigo to try and keep yourself together.

“Oh, songbird,” he coos, rocking you gently. “Is it…Um, the other girls?”

“Yes,”

“But you know you’re his favourite, right?”

“D-Does it even matter, if he’s still fucking them anyway?” you ask, pulling back suddenly as hot anger flashes through you. “Why does he need them? Am I—” a sob cuts you off, but you swallow it, persevering. “Am I not good enough?” your voice breaks on the last word, fading into a whisper, big teary eyes scanning his face almost frantically, seeking an answer in his expression.

Keigo blinks, surprised by your sudden brashness, then gives you a small, sad smile. “Only he can answer that, sugarplum,” he whispers, using the pad of his thumb to catch a stray tear and wipe it across your cheekbone. “But just because he’s fucking around, doesn’t mean that you can’t, too,”

Your head tilts to the side, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Give him a taste of his own medicine,” Keigo shrugs, leaning back a little. “He definitely deserves it, for making an angel such as yourself so upset,”

You sniffle a little, wiping at your nose with the paw of your sweater as you consider the prospect.

“Y’know, it technically isn’t cheating, since you guys aren’t in any sort of official relationship to begin with,” Keigo reminds you gently, nudging just a tiny bit more.

It isn’t right—you know it isn’t. You’ve never been one to fight fire with fire, often preferring to avoid conflict and drama, but you’re so hurt; you’re so angry at him—angry at the way he reacted, as if it was you in the wrong, angry at the fact that he doesn’t even seen to care about your feelings on the issue, because he knows you’ll come running back either way, angry because he’s right, as evident in the way pathetically clung to him last night—that all you want to do in that moment is cause him a shred of the pain he’s causing you.

It’s an impulsive decision that has you pulling out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts, thumb jabbing at Tomura’s name—Touya had given you his number for emergencies only—before you have time to think it through, before you have time to regret it.

Tiny thumbs fly across the keyboard, your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline accelerates your breathing.

Hey. Let’s hang out.

Keigo inhales through his teeth next to you, and your eyes dart to him in surprise, as if you had forgotten he was there.

“Well,” he begins, though his voice sounds odd to you—unlike his usually nonchalant, happy-go-lucky manner. “That’s, uh, definitely one that’s gonna hurt him, songbird,”

You look back down at your phone to see Tomura typing a response.

Yeah, definitely. Pick a day.

“Good.”