#sold supplies; and they had very little in the way of choice so i COMPLETELY COINCIDENTALLY bought the same ballet shoes; pencil case

[fingertipsmp3]

Full disclosure I do not care if someone copies me. I quite literally do not give a shit. Maybe it’s just because I’m 28 and getting mad about someone “copying” you is high school shit, maybe it’s genuinely not a big deal, I don’t know. I could run into someone who’s wearing the same thing, head to toe, that I am and I would neither notice nor care

[introversiontherapy]

Drove 30mins one way to a specific store to rectify this mould issue. I got these for very, very cheap at a nursery centre that primarily sells plants that have already grown that one could purchase. They also sell seeds but this store mainly profits from plants that are already grown in pots. Where they sold the seed starter supplies, was on a small table, there weren't many choices to choose from. And really, I should have known, but I am not going to beat myself up seeing as this is my very first time growing plants from seeds. Anyway, note to self, these peat boxes are NOT GOOD for seed starting. The spaces between them are small and tight and good ventilation cannot be achieved. I should have just cut them out into individual boxes, that would have been much better than leaving them in a 4x3 or 3x3 configuration. By the time I figured that out, some of the mould had already gotten past the peat and into the starter soil itself.

Back to the store that I live 30 mins away from. I'd been there once before and they only sell seeds, gardening and birding supplies, no plants. They had a much broader selection of seed-starting equipment, one that I have my eye on for next season, complete with its own heating pad! I bought new supplies today to change my peat set up...

I don't like that my answer is plastic, but since I already have seedlings growing, I am looking to relocate them for now but not to their forever homes yet. I needed a good foster environment for them to get stronger before I put them in planters or in the ground. I could have chosen this silicone seed starting tray that I saw, but they were a bit more expensive than cheap plastic and they were also very deep for some reason, meaning, I'd have to add more soil to fill up each box for the established seedlings to sit atop. The one good thing about those shitty peat boxes is that they allow the plants to transplant well, with little to no transplant shock. These plastic boxes do the trick well enough for now.

This is what my final set up looks like. The three separate peat boxes on the bottom, contain chervil seedlings that have just germinated. This is what I should have done with the ones I used previously. Ah well, you live you learn. There are two trays holding all of these flimsy boxes together. Both plastic, one is a black gridded type of thing that you can see and underneath that is a clear plastic lid. I thought this set up might be nice as water tends to leak out of the seedling boxes, which isn't a bad thing entirely (it's like watering from the bottom and from what I've read, this method is the best for seed starting). The black grid thing acts like a sieve and allows the structure of this set up easier to hold when I move them from place to place within the house. The plastic lid liner under that, acts like a waterproof layer so water doesn't get everywhere indoors.

I had transplanted my sweet peas (the flower kind, not the ones you can eat) into a wooden planter a while back! And no transplant shock! Indeed, they lived in those mouldy peat boxes before I set them free here. When I transplanted them, they were only about 3 inches tall, but look at them now!!! I'm so proud of these guys! I grew them from seeds!!!! That is what I've found very rewarding about this hobby--not only are seeds cheaper than buying already established plants, but I also get a real sense of accomplishment at seeing them grow from seed to beautiful fragrant plants that I can enjoy in the garden!

[slasherhaven]

All slashers reaction to their s/o being a stripper or pole dancer? That line of work is so stigmatized I feel they'd all be weirded out but when they see the fuckin CASH, the hundreds their s/o would make in ONE NIGHT damn

The Slashers Reactions to Their S/O being a Stripper:

Thomas Hewitt 

Thomas is...torn.

The Hewitts are a pretty conservative, stuck in the ways, kinda people. Thomas being the most open to difference out of all of them.

He loves you but all he knows about the job is the stigma behind it. 

But he’s not going to leave you because of it, please explain it to him.

With some explanation, debunking some stigmas and stereotypes, explaining that it is just your job, he comes around to it. 

Alright, you’re still you and you’re loyal to him. That’s all that matters. He’s sorry for judging you at first...

Luda May is unsure about it, worried that you’re not as dedicated to Tommy as you say you are. Just prove her wrong. You love that man and that has nothing to do with your job.

Hoyt has definitely made a comment or two about it, always receiving a warning glare from Thomas. Don’t worry, he’ll defend you!

Luda May starts to come around to it because it’s so obvious that you only have an interested in Thomas...plus the money doesn’t hurt. That’s more cash than they’ve seen in a long time...you could be an actual godsend.

Michael Myers

Does not care what you do for a living.

Is a little unsure about how he feels about other people getting to see you in a state of undress but comes around to the idea more when you explain that they aren’t allowed to touch you.

Good, because that’s just for him!

Michael doesn’t care all that much about money but he’s still impressed by how much you can make in one night alone.

Other than that? Pretty unbothered.

Does enjoy your private dances though, he cannot deny that.

And you know when he’ll want one because you’ll go into your bedroom and find his selected outfit laying on the bed for you.

Jason Voorhees 

You do...what for a living? 

Jason is definitely going to have some issues with it.

We all know how he feels about anything sexual. It’s something he’s uncomfortable with and views as inherently wrong.

But he does love you...

And you’re nothing like he would expect somebody in that line of work to be.

He probably has a lot of preconceived notions about your work that you need to work through.

Just be patient with him, help him see that there is nothing wrong with what you do or the people who do it.

He’ll get there eventually because he loves you, it’s just going to take a while.

Brahms Heelshire

Uh-huh...uh-huh...no, yeah he’s listening- do you have the attire at home or do you have to keep it at the establishment. No, no, he understands. Can he see what you wear while you work? He is taking this seriously, Y/n!

Admittedly Brahms is going to take an issue with it. 

Not with the job itself. Just his own jealousy.

You’re meant to be with him and he doesn’t like the idea of other people getting to see you like that.

But they can’t touch you? Well...that’s good...you mean they can look but can’t touch? Only he gets to touch you?

Okay, you’re winning him over.

Give him his own private dance and he’s sold.

Bo Sinclair

Will probably look down on the choice of job before you tell him what you do for  a living. Then he’ll be forced to reconsider his preconceived beliefs. 

Bo tends to look down on everyone for one reason or another, he supposes strippers were easy targets to do so.

But the more he thinks about it, the less it actually bothers him.

He really doesn’t mind if he gets his own private dances.

Plus that money is very convincing. It’s not like the brothers have any real income and it can be difficult to keep a good stock of supplies. With you around, that shouldn’t be a problem anymore.

Will pick out your outfit for that shift.

Sometimes it’s just because he wants to see you were a particular set, other times he just likes the idea of you dancing in the outfit he chose.

Kind of like a reminder to the two of you that you might be dancing for those people but you are his, and you come home to him at the end of the day.

Vincent Sinclair

Any negative thoughts Vincent has is more due to jealousy and insecurity rather than how he thinks of you.

He sees you as a person, not as your job. So he won’t judge. He really doesn’t think he has any right to judge considering his ‘work’.

He loves you and doesn’t care what you do. 

Sometimes he just wonders why you would want...him...

Just lots of reassurance, cuddles, and kisses should get him feeling better again!

Honestly just likes watching you dance. Not even in a sexual way (though he can’t help how his body reacts to your seductive movements) just in admiration and adoration.

You’re stunning and the way you move is hypnotising.

He can see why you get paid so well!

He doesn’t care about the money all that much. It’s Bo that takes advantage of that.

Will likely have various sketches of you wearing your different outfits that you wear for work. You like to ask for his opinion on them and he’s happy to give you an enthusiastic thumbs up and nod of the head.

Lester Sinclair 

Is honestly just happy that you’re with him.

You’re a stripper, you dance for people who would kill to be with you or even touch you, and yet you come home to him.

That’s fine by him!

Might get a little insecure about it but is super easy to cheer up.

Usually Lester just ignores Bo’s comment but if he says anything about your work (probably just to annoy either of you, he doesn’t really care) your man will defend you!

May actually be addicted to your private dances, the ones that he knows are just for him.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is never going to judge you for your work, even if it’s something he doesn’t completely understand or is stigmatised. He knows you’re a good, wonderful person who he loves dearly. And you love him back! That’s all that matters to him.

The only problem might be his own insecurities but you can tell when it’s bothering him and are quick to put things right. Showing him plenty of love to remind him that he is the only man for you.

Will sometimes pick out an outfit for you to wear for your next shift. He wasn’t to be supportive!

Loves when you buy new stuff and decide to put on a little bit of a show to show him them, asking for his opinion. He loves them all!

Is always a little flustered afterward so give that boy some love!

He doesn’t care about the money but the rest of the family (mostly Drayton) try to leech off of it. You’re family now, your money is their money. Sharing and all that!

Billy Lenz

Isn’t too sure how he feels about this news...

But put on the brand new set you got for work, give him his own little private dance, dedicate the night to him and he’ll be okay with it.

As long as you don’t give your customers the same treatment, you’re perfectly fine!

Will help you pick out your set for your next shift but don’t expect him to not get handsy. He can’t help himself!

Money isn’t something Billy cares about. It’s not like he goes shopping or anything. But at least you can buy quality things for him to borrow without asking sooooooo...

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Admittedly, Asa is not a fan.

It’s not that he’s judging you or looking down on you for what you do. Looking down on somebody for that alone is nonsensical, there are worse things you could do. He should know.

However, dating a stripper wasn’t something he had seen for himself.

He’s a possessive man so he doesn’t like the idea of somebody eying up his partner at all, especially if he isn’t there.

But one night he visits the club, sits right in front of the stage and you focus all your attention on him.

He admits that you’re mesmerising to watch, maybe he should look into getting you a new outfit. Perhaps a more lacy number?

He’s never going to be a fan of your career choice and will likely try to convince you to quit, telling you that you don’t even need to work. He can support you both.

But all those private dances definitely sweeten the deal for him.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Strippers don’t usually capture Jesse’s attention for too long and he wouldn’t purposely go to a club for the reason of seeing them but sometimes his work takes him to places like this.

You likely worked in a more high end establishment, more wealthy patrons.

Either way, something about you just got his attention. The way you moved or maybe it was the way you looked at him, the bat of your lashes or the smile on your lips. But you drew him in.

Sure daddy Chromeskull!!

Would likely pay for a private dance and when he finds himself even more enthralled with you, he would make you another offer. Paying you for more than just dances, come home with him, not even for sex (though that is very much on the table), just come to his home and look pretty, that’s all he’s paying you for if that’s all you want to do.

If you’re reluctant to accept the generous offer, he will win you over with generous tips and gifts. New lingerie, jewellery, fragrances. He’s determined and convincing, you have to give him that.

If you’re only stripping for the cash, you’re likely going to stop doing it all together. Jesse is paying you more than you ever earned at that place. Plus it’s a really nice house, you’re living in luxury. 

Otis Driftwood 

It’s likely how you met in the first place. He visited the club you were dancing in and you both just hit it off.

It doesn’t bother him at all.

Will kill anyone who speak bad about your work and will kill anyone who touches you when that is clearly against the rules.

He likes visiting you while you’re working. ‘Paying’ for a private dance that always turns into more.

He actually likes watching the other patrons watching you, knowing that they didn’t even have a chance. You only had eyes for him and he knew it, so their stares didn’t bother him.

Especially when he was there to take you home after your shift, getting to rub it in everyone’s faces as he pulls you into a kiss before escorting you out of the club.

He’s very proud to show you off at all times.

Baby Firefly

Probably met you in the club. Probably shamelessly flirted with you while you were on the job. And, well, you couldn’t help but give her a discount.

Doesn’t care about your work in the slightest.

But will happily help you spend that pay check!

You pole dance? Show her! Teach her! It’s a fun date idea!

She’s not great, too impatient to get any real technique, but she’s having fun and that’s the point!

Loves for you to do little fashion shows in your new work outfits. Even offers to do your hair and makeup for you before a shift!

Baby is super proud of what you do and the money you make. She has absolutely no problem with having other people know what you do for a job. And anyone has anything bad to say about it? Well, they’re just her next target!

Yautja (Predator)

He’s going to need an explanation.

Okay. So what he’s hearing is that you dance for money in various stages of undress?

Not a problem!

Yautja don’t have the same sense of prudishness or nudity that some humans seem too.

But he’s still a little possessive of his little mate. So as long as these customers aren’t touching you or think they have any right too, he’s okay with it.

You do it for good pay, to support yourself, there’s no shame in that at all.

Your explanation might need a little demonstration. Give your alien mate a private dance just for how accepting and understanding his is! It’s his reward!

Turns out, he’s a big fan of your dancing.

[tossawary]

I need to know more about “SVSSS - Baby Brother Liu Qingge” bc I love tiny and very deadly baby LQG

I have a 3k-ish Shang Qinghua POV that was supposed to be the introduction to this fic concept! So... ah... baby Liu Qingge does not appear in this, but you can see the setup for how an 8yo-ish Liu Qingge was supposed to be introduced. My hope is that this will someday become a "Shang Qinghua and Shen Jiu go on a mission with Baby Brother Liu Qingge" one shot.

-cut-

Shang Qinghua didn't really have the words to describe what it was like having Proud Immortal Demon Way's characters finally come into his second life.

He didn't have the words to describe a lot of his transmigration experience, honestly! His words had described a lot of this world already, haha, hadn't they? Sometimes a person just had to put up with it and keep going.

And then excuse himself later to go scream into a pillow! Many times!

At first, life was just him in a body that didn't fit and strange memories that slipped between his fingers like sand. His memories of a past life had settled eventually, the System finally came fully online, and his relationship with his second family was fully fucked forever. That was fine, though! That was fine! With some unsolicited prodding from his System, he left to go seek his fortune soon enough and he never had to talk to his character's birth parents or siblings again.

But Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had never said much of anything about Shang Qinghua’s family or home village, besides saying that the man had dreamed of more than his mediocre origins, so everything had been unfamiliar and original and real. Getting to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, which he had described in great detail, was a real headfuck. There were no words for the experience of recognizing things that he’d written in another life.

He saw the glistening rainbow bridge and the intimidating sect entrance and the majestic meeting hall on Qiong Ding, and he nearly screamed. He definitely squawked. His vision got really fuzzy for a minute there and he had to sit down on the ground before he fell over. What the fuck?! What the fuck?! He’d made a world! The System had really made a world out of his web-novel! He was really stuck in Proud Immortal Demon Way!

There were upsides and downsides to joining Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. Downsides included: the hard training, the harder workload, the dangerous missions, the disrespect towards An Ding Peak, and being surrounded by arrogant and foolish teenagers looking to look down on someone. It was really something else to look some of them in the eye and think, "Bro, I don’t know your name, but you kind of owe your existence to me. Could you stop being such a fucking asshole about leaving your chores for me to do?! Respect your father!"

Upsides included: actually becoming a cultivator (pretty cool, even though the work of cultivation sucked more often than not), better living accommodations and food, and actually getting to see some of the cooler places, plants, monsters, and magic that were a part of his world. Sure, carting a monster corpse brought in by Bai Zhan Peak to Xi Jiao Peak for butchering was smelly and heavy and altogether miserable, but seeing an impossible animal was still kind of incredible. If this unwilling Shang Qinghua could stop being pushed around and stepped on long enough to appreciate the upsides, he’d really appreciate it!

It was interesting and infuriating to log the differences between what he’d imagined, what he’d written, and what the System had created. What sort of author described every single object in every single room? Who had time for that? Who wanted to read that? The System had filled in all the living details of An Ding Peak - the Leisure Houses, the training grounds, the storehouses, the warehouses, the kitchens, the lesson halls, the leisure gardens, the farming fields, the livestock fields, the stables, the cart lot, the water supply, the sewage systems, and so on - so that people could actually live here. Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky as an author had done many things worthy of complaint and criticism, but wasting his readers’ time with sewage systems was not one of them!

The System had also filled in all the little details and decorations - the paintings on the walls of sect history, the detailing on the rooftops supposedly offering protections from dream demons, the chipped and faded paint of old storehouses that disciples would be tasked with replacing, the statues in the fields to scare off scavengers, the carvings on the doors meant to reduce resentful energy, the childish etchings of bored students the surface of the lesson hall desks, the old bench where the An Ding Peak Lord liked to sit and eat flatcakes - so that it really seemed like people had built this place and maintained it and added to it for generations.

Shang Qinghua had his quibbles here and there. Sometimes the System had made choices that he objected to! He would have done it differently if it had asked him, the author, to contribute. He really felt as though the System should have asked him to clarify the plot holes and the gaps in detail, instead of choosing precedence randomly or building off random implications taken way too literally.

Sometimes he found out that the System had built things out of throwaway lines that Shang Qinghua himself had completely forgotten about. It turned out that Ku Xing Peak made a lot of purification tools and containment vessels because Airplane had offhandedly mentioned that this was their specialty, and now Shang Qinghua had to cart around delicate ceramics to be sold to city merchants or other cultivation sects. He never would have dared to write that if he’d known that it would one day in another life be his job to do things like take inventory and chase down signatures for successful deliveries.

Places, items, and creatures were one thing, but logging the differences between the people he met and the characters he’d created was something else. At first it was okay, because he was surrounded by nameless An Ding Peak nobodies - his fellow disciples, their teachers, the hardworking managers and merchants, even the peak lord - none of them had ever mattered in Proud Immortal Demon Way. If Airplane had been the one to name any of them, he didn’t recognize the names or remember them.

Then he met Yue Qingyuan.

Wow, it was a worse headfuck than first arriving at Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, when Shang Qinghua finally realized that this was the young version of one of his actual characters. It took him a minute. As a lowly outer disciple, Shang Qinghua hadn’t received “Qinghua” as a name yet (his name was Houhua, not that anyone ever used it) and the future Yue Qingyuan was still called Yue Qi.

Shang Qinghua was fourteen at the time. Yue Qingyuan must have been around the same age, so he didn’t strike the tall and handsome figure of the sect leader Airplane had described. The boy was broad, but actually a little short. He had freckles. He had acne.

But he also had a warm smile that seemed to go all the way to his eyes when he offered to give Shang Qinghua directions to the right office on Qiong Ding. He had a steady hand when he helped Shang Qinghua up, after the An Ding disciple had suddenly tripped over nothing upon being introduced. Yue Qingyuan - Yue Qi - walked him to the right office and did his best to make small talk, friendly and kind even though Shang Qinghua was having difficulty stringing more than a few words together in his shock.

Even then, it was obvious that the boy was developing the calm surety and the social charm that would make him a greatly admired sect leader someday! It was all Shang Qinghua could do not to blurt out: “Holy shit, you’re REAL?!” Which would be closely followed by: “Hey, is Shen Qingqiu really real too?!” And then maybe closely followed by: “FUCK!!!”

As the years went by, Shang Qinghua met more of Proud Immortal Demon Way’s characters, and it was weird every time. None of them were exactly like he was expecting. He kept expecting… well… he kept expecting them to look like the fanart, like flawless character models, more or less. Instead, he kept getting… people.

Wei Qingwei, head disciple of the sword-focused Wan Jian Peak, was also shorter than he was expecting, kind of stout, with a wide face and a wider smile. Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had apparently had the man crack a few jokes upon his rare appearances in the web-novel, usually during tense situations, as he was reminded by the System upon thinking to himself: “Why is this guy LIKE THIS?!” So, because of just a few lines, the real Wei Qingwei had a relentless sense of humor and loved telling jokes.

Upon their first meeting, when Shang Qinghua was fifteen and had been sent over to help renovate some Wan Jian dormitories, fifteen-year-old Wei Qingwei had pretended to fumble a sword and, using a packet of dye and a sleight of hand, made it look like he’d accidentally cut off his own hand at the wrist. Of course Shang Qinghua had screamed and panicked! Anyone would panic! But Wei Qingwei had laughed at him and said, “Got you! Shang-Shidi, the sword wasn’t even unsheathed!” Asshole!

Qi Qingqi, the head disciple of Xian Shu Peak, was much taller than he was expecting. Apparently Airplane had once described a group of some of the peak lords by saying something like: “Each one of them was like a giant to young Luo Binghe.” That group had included Qi Qingqi. The System apparently had taken that to mean that Qi Qingqi was of a height with the likes of Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu. Shang Qinghua discovered this adaptational choice when he was almost sixteen, when this giraffe-like girl came to An Ding Peak to complain about an order someone along the pipeline had dropped completely, and he accidentally found himself (still waiting on a really good growth spurt) eye-level with Qi Qingqi’s chest.

Airplane had apparently once said in Proud Immortal Demon Way that Qian Cao Peak Lord Mu Qingfang appeared a little older than his colleagues, by which he’d probably meant that the man was just tired or something, but this head disciple Mu Qingfang appeared to have ten years on all the other head disciples. Which was good! Shang Qinghua approved of their future head healer not being a teenager and having more training!

On the bad side of things, Airplane had also once said in Proud Immortal Demon Way that the Zui Xian Peak Lord Zhang Qingyan liked his drink too much. This was the peak specializing in alcohol, so it had seemed to make sense! It was supposed to be funny, if anything! Well, at sixteen, Shang Qinghua found out that the System had focused too much on the “too much” part of that statement and now the head disciple of Zui Xian Peak was pretty clearly a budding alcoholic. (Sometimes a cultivator’s constitution and ability to “cure” themselves just… made a person drink more. A lot more.) Which was… not good.

At seventeen, Shang Qinghua met Mobei-Jun.

He didn’t know where to get started with Mobei-Jun.

Somehow he’d… forgotten that Mobei-Jun had been originally based on Airplane’s idea of “the perfect man” and not the super pretty, muscular but slim-waisted protagonist type? The real Mobei-Jun was… tall… and big… and thick. Mobei-Jun’s intimidating features were… more striking than pretty. The first time Shang Qinghua had come back to his Leisure House and found this spoiled brat of an ice demon napping shirtless on his bed, and gotten an eyeful of all that heavy muscle and chest hair, he’d nearly knocked himself out on the doorframe trying to turn away before he had a heart attack.

Mobei-Jun really was going to be the death of him, holy shit.

Especially because this ice demon really was a spoiled brat! Airplane had described this character as being arrogant and apathetic, so now Shang Qinghua had to deal with a Mobei-Jun who took long baths and then carelessly dripped water all over the floor and all over fresh sheets! Who ate all of Shang Qinghua’s cooking and ungratefully only demanded more food, sprawled over furniture not really fit for someone of his size, and then watched Shang Qinghua like a fat tiger! Ahhh, this demon really was lucky he was handsome!

Mobei-Jun was also kind of violent, and mean, which was… well, it sucked.

Back to the sect that Shang Qinghua was now actively betraying, however, as far as he could see, there was still one future peak lord missing.

It wasn’t Shen Qingqiu, who Shang Qinghua had thought would be the last one to show up. Shen Qingqiu had shown up and had been advancing through the ranks of Qing Jing Peak before Shang Qinghua had even met Mobei-Jun, which meant that Yue Qingyuan had finally stopped looking like someone had torn out his soul. (Shang Qinghua had been forced to grit his teeth every time that someone mentioned how privileged that Yue Qingyuan was to have been granted that year of secluded cultivation in the Lingxi Caves at such a young age.)

No, of all the peak lords, it was Liu Qingge who Shang Qinghua had yet to meet.

After meeting Mobei-Jun and becoming an inner disciple, the System had given Shang Qinghua three years to make it to head disciple, probably because the deadline for a new generation of peak lords to ascend was fast approaching. He was working hard to achieve that! Not only did he have to sabotage the current favorite, but he had to make sure all his own training, missions, work, and research were as close to flawless as he could get it! All while keeping an intruding ice demon happy! He wasn’t totally sure that he was going to make it at this rate, even though he’d been here for years.

So it was a little concerning that Liu Qingge hadn't shown up yet. There was so much left to do. A world-state that had yet to be established. Liu Qingge had work to do here!

Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu still had to develop a hatred for each other as disciples that would extend to everyone believing that Shen Qingqiu had murdered Liu Qingge as peak lords, after all. Granted, all Liu Qingge really had to do was beat everyone else on Bai Zhan Peak up to obtain the position, and it wasn’t exactly hard to get Shen Qingqiu to develop a lifelong grudge, but the guy was still cutting it pretty close.

It was possible that Liu Qingge was already on Bai Zhan Peak and making good progress, but that he was just so solitary and focused on searching out the next big battle that Shang Qinghua had just never had the opportunity to meet him. Shang Qinghua did his best to avoid Bai Zhan Peak most of the time, honestly! He was curious about where Liu Qingge was, about what the man looked like, but he didn’t let himself sweat at not seeing the future war god, when he already had so many things to sweat about. The System had taken care of bringing in everyone else, so Shang Qinghua was sure that Liu Qingge would follow sooner or later.

Shang Qinghua’s first sign that something was wrong was that, on the day that Liu Qingge finally announced his existence by beating up everyone on Bai Zhan Peak, everyone was saying things like, “I can’t believe some kid managed to topple all of Bai Zhan like that!”

He… may or may not have ignored this sign.

To be fair to this poor writer-turned-disciple, though, he’d been up all night finishing some paperwork catastrophe the An Ding Peak Lord had thrown at him to fix, as some kind of “test” of his logistics skills. Upon hearing the latest gossip, Shang Qinghua thought, “Oh, finally?” And then his overtired brain collapsed from the effort of thinking two words together in a sentence, and all he could manage from there was to feel the intense need to go to bed at a maximum, static-y volume. No words. No more thinky thoughts. Just the need for speedy sleep.

He stumbled through the rest of his day and then passed out for 18 hours straight. In hindsight, this would have been the time when the gossip was at its hottest. He missed all of it.

When he woke up, everyone was still dealing with the aftermath of what had happened on Bai Zhan Peak, but the conversation had shifted more towards replacing Qian Cao Peak’s depleted supplies and the repairs to Bai Zhan’s training grounds. Liu Qingge was the name on everyone’s lips, still, but everyone knew the basic information now. Now, everyone was just exclaiming over and over again how unbelievably young (and pretty) he was to have bested every other disciple on the sect battle-focused peak. This didn't seem too strange.

The System probably would have based the War God's appearance on his sister, Liu Mingyan, a strong contender for the most beautiful woman in all of Proud Immortal Demon Way. Liu Qingge apparently being a very pretty boy fell neatly into line with all the other character design surprises that Shang Qinghua had gotten smacked with so far.

If Airplane had known that he'd be transmigrating into his novel, maybe there would have been even more handsome men! And everyone would have lived happily ever after and nothing bad would have happened ever, probably, but also there might be more sexy guys too.

-

TBC

[miyacchis]

Notes from a Con Man - Musical Great Pretender Stage Report Act 1

This is a bit extremely rambly, but I want to give some description of the distinguishing features of the staged version of Great Pretender as compared to the anime, although my plan is not to give a complete recap of the plot, as I’m sure anyone who is choosing to read this has watched the anime - or so I assume, but you know you do you. I try to control myself and keep it just to what is relevant, but I’m also a wordy bitch and that will never change, so, reader beware, I guess.

 The stage is set up with three levels (the stage level, the second floor, and the third floor where the band is). Both the stage level and second floor have a couple of rooms that can be pulled out or opened, and backgrounds are projected onto the set to create different settings. With the exception of the opening theme, which is taken from the anime, all of the music is live, and there’s very good interplay between the band and the performers, and I don’t know if I’d ever been to another show that felt so vibrant/alive/idk?

First, the biggest change made for the sake of clear storytelling on the stage is the addition of a framing device: the plot is conveyed to the audience through Edamura’s (Miyata Toshiya) narration as he tells his story to a prosecutor after the events of LA Connection. The play opens where LA Connection ends with Edamura being questioned at a police station, where it’s clear that he has been attempting for hours to convince detectives to believe the team-confidence-wild-and-wacky-adventures ™  explanation as to how he came to be in possession of a bag stuffed with foreign currency. Detectives are fed up with him and ready to go berniewiththesteelchair.jpeg on his ass. Enter Kitaoji (Kato Ryo), an elite prosecutor who seems to be on track to become attorney general, although it is unclear to those at the police station why he would take interest in Edamura’s case. 

Edamura is initially reluctant to open up to Kitaoji (Kato Ryo), certain that he won’t be believed, but after Kitaoji quotes from Shakunetsu (side note: I had no idea that in English Shakunetsu was turned into Die Hot which is an absolutely incredible pun and I really commend the translator), Edamura thinks Kitaoji might be just the person to believe him and help him to make amends to all those he had harmed through his life of fraud. Kitaoji encourages Edamura to start at the beginning and goes to eat a piece of candy, prompting Edamura to question, “What would you do if this simple piece of candy was sold for $5 million?” at which point he begins telling his story, transporting us first to a club in Hollywood where we are introduced to the plot with Sakura Magic and, more importantly, Laurent (Miya Rurika, goddess, dressed devastatingly in green), who is identified in quick succession as a French trader, an arrogant Don Juan, and the “bastard who got me into this mess.” 

Edamura bumbles through Laurent’s plot to build hype and clinch a deal with Cassano (Otani Ryosuke) by having Abby (Yamamoto Chihiro) “test” the “drug,” while giving small asides to Kitaoji to explain the main players and reveal to him that this is all a con job, but when Edamura is called to sign the contract to supply Cassano with the drug for $5 million, he flips out, pulls Salazar’s (Mikami Ichiro) gun, and flees the club, without the excuse of believing that he had taken drugs as he did in the anime. It is also not at this point that Edamura makes the connection between Laurent and Kudo and realizes that he’s been set up (Miyata!Edamura is overall a bit less perceptive than Kobayashi!Edamura, as we shall see, although I think this was a function of simplifying aspects of the characters’ interactions for the sake of clarity for the stage). 

Kitaoji pops in and out of the story from this point, donning different costumes (an unhoused person, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, Razzie from the Shakunetsu series, etc.) to illustrate different aspects of the main characters’ conversations, and he serves as a way to get into Edamame’s head, allowing him to express what he is thinking and feeling as events in the story play out. It is in the metanarrative that we get some of these more comedic scenes, as well as additional insight into Edamura’s character as he grapples with his own identity as a scam artist and the son of a child trafficker.

After escaping Cassano’s henchmen outside the club, Edamura rejoins Kitaoji to ask if he’s following the story so far, which of course he is not (lol), so Edamura dives into how he met Laurent and came to be in LA. From here we flashback three days, joining Edamura and Kudo (Fukumoto Shinichi) in Asakusa as they spy Laurent as a potential mark. Edamura pulls the wallet-switch trick, and this scene generally follows the anime, although parts, such as the scenes showing Edamura selling water filters and Edamura and Kudo being raided by what seems to be the police, have been cut. After realizing that Laurent pickpocketed him and saw through his grift, Edamura quickly follows and catches him as he is about to depart in a cab to the airport. Just a moment to talk about this cab because it was such a cute, clever idea; it was really just a little push car driven by one of the supporting cast, and it can be disconnected in the middle, so as the driver pulls off, the back seat can be left behind, allowing the audience to watch Laurent and Edamura’s conversation as they are taken to the airport. 

Similarly to the anime, the successive scenes are nominally delivered in English, so Edamura switches to a dialect of Japanese to represent his accented English, which I mention only because Miyata discussed Edamura’s code switching with Kobayashi (Edamura’s Japanese voice actor) in an interview in vol. 51 of Stage Square and how he was concerned that he might confuse Standard Japanese and the dialect during scenes where he has to go back and forth quickly. Kobayashi reassured him that as he got into the character of Edamura Miyata would naturally fall into dialect whenever speaking to Laurent and Abby, and I’m very biased, buuuttttt throughout the run of the show, Miyata performed this beautifully, and as someone who for several years lived in the Tohoku region, the dialect of which Edamura’s accent reminded me of, his accent made me really nostalgic. 

Anywayyyyyy

After Laurent and Edamura bet on the outcome of Laurent’s upcoming “business negotiations” and it’s agreed that they will travel to LA together, the opening theme plays, the main cast is introduced, with Edamura running up and down the set to give a sense of action, the title in massive letters is lowered onto the stage, and we rejoin the main plot with Edamura trying to elude Cassano’s gang on the streets of LA by hiding behind the title. The supporting cast gives us some great background color as like random people in LA, like we’ve got some girls with Starbucks cups, some people breakdancing while simultaneously mugging a Dodgers fan, a skateboarder shouting “STREET”...for some reason. Perfect encapsulation of America *chef’s kiss*

Laurent finds Edamura and tells him to come home because he’s a good boy (😳), and Edamura is then introduced to Abby who, just as in the anime, kicks and knocks him out, after which they collect him and take him to an upscale hotel where Cynthia/Paula Dickens (Senna Ayase) is performing as a jazz singer. Laurent greets her briefly, but we don’t properly get introduced to her character until a later, very frustrating scene, but I’m not going to get started on that yet (it’s not her that’s frustrating, but it’s how they chose to have her and Edamura meet, but anyway we’ll get there). She sings “Summertime,” and it’s a lovely performance; all of her acting choices are very clearly informed by her experience in Takarazuka - she has these really dynamic, almost over-the-top movements and she uses that to her advantage to be one of the more comedic actors - and it’s really entertaining to watch.

Laurent orders them drinks; Edamura has something pink in a little martini glass, and he splutters when he tries to take a sip because he can’t handle his alcohol, which makes Laurent laugh, giving a lot of credence to Laurent’s statement soon after that he derives a lot of pleasure out of toying with naive boys like Edamura who pretend to be tougher than they really are. There’s also some funny adlib with Abby at this point where she gets brought different plates of food like fake fruit on one day and a tower of donuts on another. Laurent explains who Cassano is and the plan to defraud him and gives Edamura a notebook with a fabricated recipe for Sakura Magic, so the notebook is not part of what Edamura prepares himself when he goes later to get himself captured by Cassano to negotiate with him. Edamura has a couple of outbursts accusing Laurent and Abby of putting on airs, pretending to be carrying out justice, repeatedly interrupting the band who give him dirty looks and Shi-won, dressed as one of the saxophonists, loudly blows the saxophone back at him, and this prompts Laurent to be like nah we’re getting too much attention here let’s continue this back at the hotel. 

The hotel scene is fairly similar to the anime, but once Edamura is left alone, we get the first instance of him thinking about his family as he reflect on what Laurent had to say about how people don’t always believe the truth that is in front of them as they would rather believe whatever is most convenient. He flashes back to his family going home together after his father finished a case (the hotel room is on the second floor with his mom and dad entering on the stage level; the younger version of Edamura is done in voice over), and of course they seem like a happy family, although it’s interesting that what his dad has to say about ethics was cut from the script. The scene focuses more on Edamura idolizing his father as a great lawyer.

Okay, so we’ve finally come to the scene I absolutely hated and did not think was necessary, after Edamura leaves the hotel room. He is approached by three unhoused persons, one of whom he at first thinks is Kitaoji coming to interrupt the narrative again, but he soon realizes that they are “real homeless.” It was really just a disgusting, cruel stereotype; one of them is playing with a rat they found, another is acting like a junkie, and the ringleader is trying to get money off of him because they haven’t eaten in three days and then they steal his little Toyotomi Hideyoshi figurine and play keepaway with it and don’t stop until Cynthia/Paula Dickens (at this point she’s Paula tho so I’m going to refer to her that way) enters and is like knock it off. So that’s how they meet. Cool. They could easily have come up with something else and they just didn’t.

But, anyway, since he got his figurine back, he explains to Paula that his hobby is collecting capsule toys, and during his explanation, a gacha machine is projected up on the stage, out of which comes Kitaoji dressed as Toyotomi, followed by a bunch of other figures from Japanese history. This part always got a pretty good laugh out of the audience, and I think it was a pretty cute way to stage it. Paula insists they go to dinner together, so she can hear more about Toyotomi, and the capsule toy figurines all follow to a diner (serving “breadfast” 24hrs lol) where Shi-won is dressed as someone named Ricardo. The figurines all start to get drunk, while “Ricardo” fixes Edamura and Paula some tacos; meanwhile Edamura explains that Toyotomi began as a simple peasant, but because of his hard work and study, he was able to climb all the way to the top and unite all of Japan as a powerful lord. 

Edamura asks why she decided to help him before and he despairs that he must seem like a beaten dog, but she explains that while she might seem confident, she faces tremendous anxiety getting on stage every day, particularly as she wants to make it big as a performer but can’t expect to get the attention of a label just because she can sing a bit. (In the background, Francis Xavier is completely sloshed and ends up drinking with Ricardo) Edamura suggests that she take inspiration from Toyotomi as someone who was able to trick even his enemies into working with him and represent herself as someone more important than she is to get music producers onto her side. She seems fired up by this proposal, and she says that she’ll follow the example of Toyotomi, “Japan’s best confidence man,” which gives Edamura his own motivation to get back to trying to win the bet with Laurent. He asks Paula to wish him good luck and runs off, and we get the first dance scene with Edamura and a number of samurai as he builds up to confronting Cassano. The scene ends with him running into a video shop, presumably to rent Cassano’s movies.

Laurent and Abby are called to Cassano’s mansion - they argue if Edamura is capable of pulling off a job like this, although Laurent insists that he has a natural talent - but they are certain that he must be dead when they hear from Salazar that Edamura was taken into their custody at the airport trying to run. However, Edamura bursts onto the scene, dressed in a new Hawaiian shirt, and at this point, Miyata looks as though he has been in a swimming pool, but it’s just sweat lmao. Cassano informs them that he’s made a new deal with Edamura for $10 million, and when they ask how, we get a flashback showing how he got onto Cassano’s good side by praising Shakunetsu with Kitaoji, as Razzie, acting out scenes from the Shakunetsu movies on the second floor of the stage. Whenever Cassano hugs Edamura in these scenes, it was really funny because his jacket would get just absolutely covered in Miyata’s sweat just ugh gross lol 

Cassano’s accountant joins them and they play out the whole bit about confirming Edamura’s credentials as a pharmaceutical scientist, at which point Edamura finally realizes that Kudo is working with Laurent, when he calls Kudo to thank him for deceiving Cassano’s attorneys. After Cassano has confirmed Edamura’s identity, he takes the crew to his factory and insists that Edamura make Sakura Magic for them right there and then so that they can be sure to properly replicate his recipe. She does this the whole play, but particularly during this scene, you can really see how well Miya Rurika portrays Laurent as always calm and and in control before Edamura but as quietly losing his shit whenever he feels like they’ve been backed into a corner, and we also get some very cute like Laurent clearly being exasperated with Edamura but the two of them starting to be able to play off one another as they convince Cassano that the factory isn’t up to snuff for making Sakura Magic. 

They have to clear out because they hear someone coming, but Cassano promises that he will build a new laboratory for Edamura and entrusts his care to Salazar. The police bust in after everyone has left; Anderson does the absolute most to show off to everyone that he’s properly securing the scene, but he’s clearly relieved that Cassano slipped through their fingers once again oh my how does this keep happening oh well better luck next time. We get a proper introduction to Paula and Shi-won as members of the FBI who have come to investigate Laurent and his organization (Paula has changed into this beautifully tailored brown tweed pantsuit and she pulls it off so well), and Paula threatens to expose Anderson’s connections to Cassano if he doesn’t follow her lead.

After the scene in the factory, we return to the present in the interrogation room with Kitaoji and Edamura. Detectives bring Kitaoji additional files on Edamura, asking if the prosecutor has heard of the attorney Ozaki. They inform him that Edamura is Ozaki’s son, and Kitaoji is a bit shocked; he leaves, saying that he will review the files. The detectives collect the money before exiting the room, but not without getting in a dig at Edamura, telling him that he clearly takes after his father. Edamura is stricken by this statement, and the act ends with Edamura battling with this internal conflict. 

I don’t think anyone would want to read all of this, but if you have, thank you so much. I hope some of it at least was interesting or informative. I’m going to end there for now, as I’ve already gone on for too long, and I’ll finish writing up the second act in another post.

[worldsover]

No More Drowning ft. Olivia Hye

length ✦ 7138

genres ✧ drunk hookup; outercourse; roommate!Olivia

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Perspiration deluges your white Taekwondo uniform. You make it fit loose so that it doesn’t stick to your skin. A refreshing breeze now annoys you as it whistles through your damn window that never sealed completely shut. At least you didn't need to turn on a fan today.

“Hey Captain,” you greet the commander of none. Hyejoo lies on a small blue couch, the only pristine spot in the living room. Her outfit suggests that there would be the usual cool air expected of the season but the fall is humid and stuck in the climate of a couple months past. It’s incredible that there is not a bead of sweat formed on her face. You study her and somehow she’s handsome in your eyes which is probably not a word others would use to describe the stunning woman reclining with her feet up.

“Wassup,” she says.

“You gonna-”

“Clean up?  Yeah, yeah, lemme finish this round.”

Her face is welded to her screen though her eyes dart around maybe holding a hint of remorse at the clothes that litter the cramped living space and the dishes in the sink.

“I’m not an impostor! Ahhh!” Hyejoo shouts into the screen. Certainly none of her actions follow through on that guilt.

“How'd this even happen? You got pyjamas on the floor, shirts on the chairs. You a camgirl or something?"

"I'm a camgirl? I can see your tits dude.” Cover your pectoral cleavage in faux shame. ”Yo, I swear I just saw green-"

"And all these energy drinks? Come on Hyejoo, no way your heart lasts more than a year.”

“Wow, meanie.”

You look at your watch. “It’s like 9:40.”

“Shit, right, the marketing test.” Hyejoo’s fingers show no pretense that she’ll stop playing. She definitely didn't see your disapproving face. “Oh relax, I still got time,” she says anyway.

Finally, she looks up at you and her brows crease. “What?” you ask.

"You look good today."

Your heart floats just a little. You always appreciate the little compliments she gives. They were just ones that friends, good friends, would say but you’ll take anything to keep you going. Well, it’s enough to get you to clean up for her again.

“It’s gonna be a long shower by the way.” She giggles and you step over empty cans and bottles when you walk to the bathroom.

“No prob, I’m heading out soon,” Hyejoo says.

“Sure you are.”

Her exaggerated yawn seems not so exaggerated by how she stretches her entire being before putting her phone away.

“Oh, soon means now. How long’s it going to take?” you say.

She shrugs her shoulders. “One, two? I dunno.”

In a rush to get all her supplies in her bag, a series of metallic clangs sound out when finished beverages fall over like dominoes.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry about that, I really am. I can buy you lunch if you want something?” Hyejoo starts picking up a few of them to set aside in the corner and you help her.

“Nah, I’ll still be in the shower by then.”

Hyejoo scoffs. “If I'm addicted to caffeine, you're addicted to water. A sandwich sound good?”

“Yeah sure. I got a lot on my mind, Captain.”

“That include me?” A dismissive puff of air exits your lips. No, no way. She walks up to smell your uniform. Your acute awareness of her distance or lack thereof causes you to ignore her pupils' subtle drift downwards.

“You’re a weirdo, you know that?”

"Get to your shower stinky."

You wave Hyejoo off then enter the bathroom. The scurry of little steps and a slam from the front door echo the whole apartment. Never any privacy in here. These sounds give way to the jet engine of your shower with its pressure betraying the bargain rate of your rent. Soap washes away your muscles' ache and the sun’s beating on your skin. It's been unusually warm since the leaves turned brown. Water builds up in the tub.

Something's not adding up. There it is again. That plunging in your heart. Sparring always helps a bit after your early morning manual labor carrying bags of sand. However, it does not stop the resurfacing of your every mistake as there's nothing but your mind in the shower. You don't have a plan and your future is void because money and work hours kill you as much as school. You're not even getting all the wages you earn and there's nothing you can do about it. Past choices bubble up in that unkind way. The cup fills and clear blue liquid engulfs you.

Lift yourself out the tub to catch a breath that you don't deserve. Deliberate respirations do nothing to slow down your heart rate. The only thing that can is a captain. You could wander the ocean on a raft with her alone but you have no idea if she felt even close to the same. Maybe she's just the most important friend you've ever had. Light from the small window hits the tiled floor. Unplug the drain. Right, you left your clothes in your room so wrap yourself with a green towel you find hanging from the doorknob.

Shit! There's not a mouse in sight but you shriek like there is one when Hyejoo materializes in the confined kitchen. Hyejoo expresses no surprise herself as she sits cross legged on the miniature wooden dining table playing yet another mobile game. Laundry baskets and garbage bags hold all the previous mess. Your surprise at her appearance transforms into surprise for her proactiveness. You want to give her thanks but no words escape your lips.

"You gonna put on some clothes? Perv. That’s my towel too."

Your hands push off invisible blame. The hands of the wall clock reads five minutes before noon. "Woah, woah, wait a sec. What happened to the midterm?"

"Walked out in the middle of it. Couldn’t deal. Dropped."

"Wait, what about the refund?"

"Sunk cost dude.” Hyejoo sniffs a wide white shirt hanging from a chair next to her. “This yours or mine? Ehh, it's clean either way."

You catch the shirt and smell it. A little vanilla. It's hers. “Thanks Captain.”

“Even sniffing it? Really a perv.” You almost forget a single piece of fabric separates full exposure of your genitals but the realization makes you blush anyway.

“Nah, you smelled it first and. Whoever smelt it, dealt it.”

“That’s not what that saying means.” Hyejoo gets up from her awkward seat.

Incredible how many new ways she can throw you off like when she bumps into you with her eyes are still on her phone. Hyejoo's clumsiness will be your death as the towel slips down and hangs solely from your half erect dick. Cool, you're just a clothing rack now. She turns you around with one hand and snatches the large shirt with the other. Your bare moon is in full view.

"You gonna put this on or just stand there?" she says with no qualms about the absurd sight of your newly cleansed rear. You scramble to wrap the towel tightly around you to tame your erection but there's no way she hasn't noticed by now.

"Y- yep, I, I will do that, for sure." Turn back around and take the shirt to put it on carefully. It’d be oversized for her but it fits you snug. Your ears must have joined your cheek’s redness because your nipples poke through the thin white fabric.

Hyejoo takes a single glance away from her screen at your makeshift towel skirt and laughs. "Actually, you look cute like that. Just keep the towel on, it's less to clean."

Wide-eyed, you say, "What if ahjumma barges in?"

"What if? Whatever, no fun." She sticks her tongue out then gets comfortable on the couch while her diligent and nimble fingers peck at the screen.

Return to the restroom and deal with your erection before it becomes a problem. You’ve seen hints of her comely body before and it helps you undress her layered attire in your imagination. Instead of the black button-up long sleeve and track pants she wore just moments ago, you picture a crop top, her hair tied up and white panties, and it's that latter image that affixes to your mind. On a particularly balmy day, Hyejoo wore only her underwear because she had nothing else to do but game and it hasn't stopped plaguing your fantasies ever since. Your hands are Hyejoo’s, soft and loving just for a moment.

"You taking another shower in there or what?" Hyejoo shouts, “I’d definitely hear from here!”

Reality smacks you in the face. She had no fear of you, no worry that you’d take advantage of her. Were you even a man? Stop your jerking and get up. 

Open the bathroom door absentmindedly and thump. It smacks her head. You don’t even think about why she was standing right next to the door, instead sweeping aside her hair from her face. Red doesn’t come from where you hit her.

Simultaneously, you and Hyejoo say, “You okay?”

“Um, I’m, look-”

Her blush grows but she interrupts your blabbering, “I didn’t hear you respond and thought you, uh, died in there or something.”

Nearly reached la petite mort if that counted but instead you say, “No, I just. Had a lot to consider.”

“Sure.” You’ve never seen her this flustered since it’s enough for her to scurry back to her room. Hopefully things wouldn’t be too awkward.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“I fucking hate you!” Hyejoo yells.

“Oh yeah? Same!” you retort, probably too loud.

Her tone goes down. “Were those the lines?”

“Ehh, as long as we get the gist of the argument down.”

Hyejoo and you stand on the stairway up to your rooftop apartment in your rehearsed spots. She looks a little confused on how to start what she wants to start but you poke at her when you see the landlady walking towards the stairs.

“Chill out!” she yelps.

“Chill out, you’re telling me to chill out?"

"Seriously, oppa," that's about as strained as a human can say a word, "You’re such a slob!”

“Shut up, look at me straight in the eyes and tell me you’re not just as bad,” you say, trying not to laugh but Hyejoo’s punch knocks the wind out of you. Your pain is only half acting. Her sympathetic look does nothing to soothe you.

"Ya!" The elderly woman interrupts and forces you two apart. “That’s enough! I get you’re cousins but even I don’t fight this badly with my family.”

Hyejoo whips her pupils towards you as though to ask the same question you had, if you sold the illusion too hard.

“I get that living with your kin is tough but at the very least, no murders on my property. Not until one of you graduates.” The old lady squints and turns to each of you saying, “Promise me. No hitting. Not in my sight.”

You nod then Hyejoo’s sigh becomes an assenting nod when the landlady smacks her wrist nearly black and blue. Satisfied at her hard work reconciling family matters, she walks back down her stairs to do her usual wandering around the neighborhood. Hyejoo and you take a second to stretch and relax.

“Ha. Do as I say, not as I do,” Hyejoo says as you both sit on the concrete steps.

You caress your tender rib. “Or don't do at all. Ow. You wanna be a Youtuber? They do boxing and gaming, and you'd kill doing both." Hyejoo's laugh is rich and all that it takes for you to forgive her. You exhale. "Hopefully that gets her off our backs for a while.”

“How do you even manage Taekwondo? You’re so fragile and-" Her sentence is interrupted when she looks at your built arms.

"No way they hit as hard as you, Captain." You miss her carnal look when you close your eyes and think about the nickname that you aimlessly threw out one day.

She stands up. Your eyes violently spread open at her “Kya!” Hyejoo’s fighting stance and shouts masquerading kihaps are totally off. As much as Hyejoo could kill you, a Taekwondo fighter since your childhood, she could also be incredibly cute too.

You tsk. "All that power and no technique."

Hyejoo sits back down none the more ashamed and scratches her head. "You think it would’ve been easier if we came clean?”

“Ahjumma could never allow two strangers to live co-ed. No way. I’m still surprised you came up with that so quickly.”

“It just came out so naturally, oppa!” she says in a deriding high pitch. “Yeah right I ever call you that again.”

Ring ring. You answer the call and Hyejoo's quizzical stare turns concerned at your breathlessness from the words that drill into your ear. They slam, they crash and their volume could break your eardrums even though they’re said as calmly as possible. The hole in your raft grows bigger and leaks more so even when you reach the abandoned shore, you're marooned.

"Fuck, fuck, god."

Sprint for the next bus. Pay no heed to the girl chasing you. Dammit, this can't be happening. Every problem gets fucking magnified because you can't have anything good and if you did, never could it last for more than a goddamn millisecond. You embark on the most anxious ride of your life even though you already know exactly what's going to happen. Transfer buses. The skyscrapers hover over you and gloat about how you’ll never enter their doors. Asphalt and glass swelter you when they reflect radiation down the sky. Your skin hurts. You get off the bus and arrive at the headquarters of the construction company. At the front of the building stands your boss.

Slap. "Did you not get the message? Were you under a tunnel?"

You get on your knees and bow. "Sir, I'm sorry."

"No one else is going to hire a goddamn delinquent like you."

"Please. I thought you understood." You nearly prostrate yourself

"I have no idea what you're talking about. There's a lot of assault on your record."

You stop yourself from blurting out that you fucking know. Defending yourself from bullies is assault? He already knew this was bullshit since that's why he hired you in the first place but now he's backtracking like a rat. 

"I'll do anything to work here." He shakes his head while you hold back a tear. "Please. Just. Just tell me why?"

"You got greedy."

"Greedy?" You raise your head and then your tone. "Getting paid for the work that I do is greed?"

"You're on your knees and wanna talk back? Get out."

Bang. A closing door. Your head slumps back down and not a single person on the bus would misunderstand your emotions. You take the longest way home, unsure if you even deserve to go back. Any time, you could give up.  Ponder your choices. Never going to get a job again. Never going to school. Never will have a chance to learn or a chance to improve. Never going to have money and never will have a place to live. Never going to see Hyejoo again. You have to give up.

One missed phone call from your polar opposite. She can do so much better. The longest way home turns longer when it goes straight to the sea as you decide to live life as a fisherman with your uncles. You were always invited. You wasted your time in the city. There's no stress here.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

There's no happiness either. Weeks passed even though only days passed. That’s life on the water. Everything spins. Fortunately, you manage to keep your stomach in not wanting to inconvenience the bus driver, the only other person in the vehicle. 

You look at your watch as you near Hyejoo's home. She must be asleep by now but you carry each foot heavily when you walk up the steps anyway. Apologies, excuses and petitions that you wrote in your head blank away when you open the door when you see a woman asleep on the couch with earbuds on. Her unconscious head bounces to a slow rhythm. Your lungs fail your mouth's movements to form words because of all that creamy skin covered only by a green towel that creates an outline of her captivating curves. Hyejoo's legs beg to be licked and her collarbones direct your gaze to the bulging flesh poking from the top of the towel with her nipples an inch from your sight. Any other day and you’d ravage her on the spot. Stupid brain tells you to leave and stupid you follows.

You're outside when you hear Hyejoo say, "Hey! Motherfucker, where'd you go you son of a bitch?"

She steps out with no regard to her state of dress and you spin around watching for any witness. You notice her hold back when she hits you but her consecutive punches send a message anyway as each strike punctuates her words, "What, makes you think, you can worry me, like that?"

"Woah, you should. You should get back inside your house," your voice breaks and you back away.

"Hold on now, you're really about to go? Like this?" Hyejoo says.

"You. You look busy. I have to go."

"I'm sorry, I was just messing around with you. Come on, you're really telling me-" She notices your tumultuous expression and sighs. “Fuck it, we'll worry about it tomorrow. First of all, come in. With me. Into our home.”

You follow her into her apartment. She quickly returns from her room in a simple white tee and red gym shorts revealing the supple shape of her ass.

“I'm not gonna ask, okay? Tell you what. When you have a problem, the only answer is late night soju, beer and?” she says.

“Chicken, it’s gotta be. Come on, I see the bones right there.” You point to the countertop dishes. “I’m surprised this place isn’t messier."

"I can handle myself, thank you very much. And that. That was leftover, dry, sober chicken. We're going to munch down on that good crispy skin and we're doing it goddamn wasted." You can't help but match her smile, more radiant and genuine than yours.

Hyejoo pulls out all the alcohol from the small fridge while you call for delivery before both of you step outside the home. It’s night but the heat would make you believe the moon disguises the sun with how it shines on the green roof. What a weird fall. Only the trees remind you of the season. A short plastic table as the only furniture easily moved outside means that you’d have to sit close together on the floor, not that you minded.

Her silence confuses you but she becomes her usual self after you both down glasses of mixed beer and soju and especially after she sees the delivery man bringing an absurd amount of plastic bags for two people.

“Let’s. Go!” she shouts sloppily.

The poor worker looks at you so you give him a knowing nod and point to the beer and soju cans strewn about. His thumbs up as he walks away beguiles you. You look at Hyejoo and realize all the cleavage she’s showing with the shirt she chose. It's as revealing as the towel she wore earlier. Did she not put on a bra? Stand up quickly and search for the guy but his motorcycle revs and he’s already out of sight. That fucker probably saw something he shouldn’t have. You’re never gonna order from that chicken spot again. You bite angrily into the spicy crispy wing. Alright, maybe you just won’t order at this hour or whenever that dude works. Hyejoo chows down with drumsticks on each hand and it’s clear she’s responsible for a majority of the finished carcasses. The stains on her shirt would not make her look any less goddamn cute.

“Cheers!” Glasses clink. How many drinks, how many, burp, were you down? She burps too, you burp together. It’s funny. There was a lot of conversation but it slips you.

"I said I wouldn't talk about it, but Doyun and Michael, worried sick. They came here, everything.” Hyejoo garbles her words.

"Just ‘cause I don't show up to the club for a few days?"

"I'm telling you, a lot of people care. For you. I know I do."

It’s been a while since you started your little escape. All the food’s gone. You’re more sober now. You swear. The nighttime is so comfortable that Hyejoo brings out her blanket to lay on, along with a spoon and a watermelon.

"You're gonna have to wash this later," you say.

“Alright fine. Don't. Don’t rest yourself besides a pretty lady.“ Stab. ”On a perfect starry night.” Stab. “And don’t have some of this delicious watermelon."

One more stab at the watermelon she splits it open. Her devilish look suggests she might do the same to your rib cage if you don’t acquiesce. Lie down next to Hyejoo on the flimsy layer of cloth. You share pieces of the fruit and notice water spilling down her mouth. Definitely sober by now. She’s maybe half a meter away.

"Starry's a strong word to use.”  You twirl your finger at the scarce lights in the black backdrop. “Lady too with the way you eat-" She playfully covers your mouth and flicks your forehead.

You don't know when your laughter and banter slow down, or when you start inching closer to her. It doesn't matter.

“Fishing is boring. They make it look all dramatic on shows and you’re just waiting. The night sky’s much clearer though.”

“You gotta. When you do something like that, gotta lemme join in at least.”

“You’re really fine on going on a trip with a man, alone, faraway on the sea?”

“If it’s you.”

“I don’t count, not much of a man at all. I just run away from shit and-”

"Shhh,” she shushes you loudly. “You can count on me.” Hyejoo says and you don’t let her voice project into empty space.

“I will.” It sounds a little forced from you.

“You will,“ she sounds so sure of herself, ”you’ll be okay.”

Your head lays in her neck. A finger in a cup, breaking surface tension so a drop escapes past the rim. You have no outdated sentiments on displaying emotion but you held back often pretending your tenacity was as strong as your body. Not this time. Your cup overflows.

Only moonlight refracts on your tears and Hyejoo wipes them away. You have no idea what she’s thinking as she gazes into the few stars visible in the city. Turn on your side and Hyejoo does likewise to face you then puts a couple of fingers in your hair. Cup her face in return and it wears many emotions, such as impishness, meekness at a few times, and an often impenetrable focus, but above all it’s the standard for beauty in how it assumes no blemish. Her triangle mouth is distinct, welcoming, but you hesitate. Her minute sugary fragrance overwhelms the variety of smells in the air. Crickets and distant occasional traffic. Hyejoo’s head tilts forward then places her lips light on yours and your world is silent. Your heart’s pulse slows so it doesn't interrupt.

“Captain,” you exhale out when she finally retreats her mouth. The name sounds ridiculous in this setting. “Ma’am?”

“Whatever sounds right to you,” she yields, though the subdued caresses on the definition of your arms, and less subtle grabs on your black shirt, convey that she’s in charge even if it’s a gentle direction. "Just Hyejoo is fine."

It's like she’s teaching you how to spar for the first time though neither of you are virgins. Hyejoo gives another kiss then turns you recumbent. You could not and would not stop her now especially when she straddles your denim covered thighs. Take off your shirt and her hands rush to aid you.

“But I’d prefer we don’t think at all.” Is she drooling?

“That’s what got me into trouble. Thoughtlessness.” Your eyes somehow wander away from the woman and her sumptuous yet clothed ass grinding on you.

“What do you think of me?

“Huh?” you say and your eyes snap back to her.

The underside of her shorts warm your groin. “I said, what do you think of me?”

“I think, ugh,” her weight striking a sensitivity in your pants makes you moan, “I think, you’re the most beautiful woman I know.”

“What a player. Well, that’s all you need to think.” Hyejoo rocks back and forth. “Fuck, this is going to be good.”

Lay your hands on her hips and Hyejoo takes your right one, lifting herself just enough to let your dick breathe.

“Why do you need that hand?” you say.

“Feel this.” She takes your hand to knead the thin cloth under her mound and you feel just the tiniest hint of moisture build on your palm.

Pull away to take a base whiff of your slippery fingers. It’ll be a new addiction. The smell of alcohol and the most delicious fried chicken in the world couldn’t compare.

"It's been like this around you since the day we met." Hyejoo bends down and etches every word of the confession into your eardrums, her tone even raspier. "This is all for you."

“Really?” You give her a peck and it turns frisky when tongues join the mix and teeth nibble at lips. 

“Mhm.” Her lips vibrate on yours. Hyejoo gropes your crotch over your jeans. “I know it's going to be perfect.” She unzips and pulls down your pants to your knees. You take them off your legs completely and she searches for your wallet.

"I just lost my job and you're gonna rob me?" She breaks her serious character with a snicker. You sniffle and your mood lightens, “And how’d you know I had a condom in there?”

“Just had a feeling.” She winks.

Not an implausible cold reading but you can't count out the possibility of her snooping through your personal effects. You don't mind her proclivities this time. Hyejoo traces your every muscle’s curve with her index and middle finger and focuses especially around your pecs.

“I have to concede. I love these muscles of yours. Ever since that first day I met you at the open house. Maybe I’m just a simple woman.”

“Simplicity is sophistication.” Her fingers draw a line down your torso.

"Indeed. But I'm most interested in this hunk of meat right," she frees your cock from its confines, "Here." Hyejoo licks her lips.

“How is it?”

You’re already hard but Hyejoo's hands deftly work your shaft stiffer. “It’s so thick and this vein right here. It’ll hit just right.”

"Fuck, Hyejoo," you utter when she spits a little on your cock before she unrolls the condom on your erection. Hyejoo slips aside her shorts.

You don't get a view of her pussy with how she sprawls herself on top of you, but the slickness of her lips and the warmth that she emanates from between her legs immerses your senses enough. The missionary with her on top lets her control by the way she guides your cock and presses down on you.

“Oh god, I was right, fuuck,” Hyejoo proclaims when she sinks herself carefully into you and, on the next bounce, smacks her butt right into your waist. Her snugness clenches and quakes on your cock. Willowy arms share a similar hold of your body when she embraces you. You need her as badly as she needs you. You take heavy breaths, especially through your nose. Even her sweat is so alluring. The velvet texture that surrounds you keeps taut on your dick no matter how forcefully she rides herself on top of you. Squelches and quiet moans to a higher power pepper the warm night air.

Hyejoo removes her shirt and slings it away before bowing back down to lick your ears "God, your tits are perfect," you say even though your hands squeeze her buttcheeks in time to her thrusts. Her perky breasts recoil back and forth as they rub your chest while hard nipples juxtapose their softness.

No chance someone would come up to this little rooftop at this hour or have a good view though your cheeks flush at the thought. What if you had extra chicken coming? Or what if the landlady decided to check in on you two late at night? What if-

Hyejoo nudges her forehead against yours. She knows your habits. Your worried face is too familiar for her not to react so she nuzzles your neck and surrounds you with kisses.

Her husky voice vibrates your whole face. "Just focus on me." She makes out with you before her tongue dips into every crevice of your face the same way your cock does in her pink pussy.

Your dick slips out for a second and you take the time to admire her beauty and your fortune. 

“Telling me not to drown and you’re going to inundate me,” you say in between her smooches, "With all these kisses."

“Well. Mwah.” Another peck. "You're so delectable.”

“So I’m just chicken to you then.” This deep kiss is probably to shut you up. You’re fine with that.

Regret on her mouth that she pulls away from you. One of you rips off her shorts, the last piece of clothing obstructing you two from total symmetry. Who cares who sees. You’re both fully naked with not a woe for the surrounding world. Delicate hands splayed across your upper body grasp tightly and again, your pecs get particular attention while she fondles your nipples. 

She adjusts her back straight up and now she’s on her knees seated on your erection. The cowgirl stance allows her to find a new cusp of your cock head inside her. Hyejoo gyrates on you and you notice the understated lubrication of her pussy begins to overpower everything else in existence. Her musk vaguely reminds you of the ocean while its pheromones have you just as wobbly. It’s enough that, even though you're on your back, you have to hold her waist to avoid keeling over. Nails dig into your chest.

“God, yes, you, your cock, everything, just fuck into me.”

Hyejoo relaxes her body weight and relinquishes the rhythm to you. Pick up a new wind in your sails when you hear her gasp as you pinch her nipples. The momentum has you use all your stamina as though your rigorous fitness had one culminating purpose. You would make Hyejoo cum with only your cock. Rotate and circle your pelvis in pursuit of her most tender spot and an uncharacteristic high pitched wail confirms the location of the treasure. It’s difficult holding yourself up to reach the sensitive wall but she realizes your shared interest.

“That’s, that’s the spot. When I touch myself and think of you, it’s right there, fuck, it’s right there.” There’s no speed or power in your movement, only deliberate jabs and graceful nudges at the softest flesh. Sure it’s work, but damn did you get paid for it since she somehow sops even more between her thighs. Truly the reciprocating delight of friction and silkiness on your dick’s tip is worth it. Your name mixes profanities and wet slapping noises as Hyejoo bucks her hips in climax. Prized juices cascade all over your lap. Her highest vocalizations pierce your ears and her pussy tries its best to milk you but Hyejoo keeps as still as she can to hold your cock’s ideal positioning. Smear the fluids that coat her thighs slick with your hands and lick at your fingers, thirsty like you’re stranded.

Those thighs, by smothering your cock and removing your condom, soothe the pangs of when you pull out. Hyejoo is still in her cowgirl position reeling from her climax and her contorted face is yet more polished than any art you’ve consumed.

Seize the opportunity. Bend your dick forward. The topside of your shaft now rubs on her well-formed ass cheeks, moisturized by the wetness on your cock. Its cradle is different from her pussy's with perfect round cushions in her buns and a tight asshole that greets and tempts your shaft every time you thrust. It’s a siren call you’d have to answer another day. Fucking her bare buttcheeks satisfies you plenty enough.

She lifts up to let your erection return to its idle upward stance and you fuck her thighs in response. Her labia gnaws away at the bottom of your shaft and it begs you to shove it back in especially with how its liquor intoxicates your dick. You don’t forfeit, already overwhelmed by the thickness of her legs and her saliva dribbling from her mouth to help her juices. Hyejoo squirms as you repeat fucking her ass cheeks and fucking her thighs, and it makes the both of you feel heady. Alcohol and lack of sleep would probably do that too.

“Please. Hyejoo,” you implore, flexing your cock to scrape by her pussy lips.

“You want to?” She teases your bare tip but even just the spread of her satin pink on your head makes you shoot just a little. “I. I dunno.”

“Can we?”

“No.” You regret your loud sigh and feel selfish since you already had more satisfaction than one man could ever experience in his life. ”No, not no. No, as in no thinking.”

Plunge back into her wetness. Your cycle in and out continues with you eager to make her climax a second time. Maybe it’s the third time? The only thing you can recall is that this round, you can feel every corner of her pussy on your shaft tensing and relaxing without the latex protection. All of everything is a blur. Hyejoo could be clutching and ogling your muscles. She might be kissing your neck or maybe she’s bobbing up and down to show off her tits and her tummy. God, that midriff would look perfect coated in your cum. You could live forever with Hyejoo mounted on your cock and riding. A ringtone interrupts forever once again. It’s from that number. What was that number? Fuck it, no thinking. Her bouncing tits hypnotize you away from substantiality.

She snaps her fingers. “Hey! Hey. This is, fuck that feels so good, god your cock is just right. Ah fuck, I really think you should answer that.” You take an eternity to slow your boat. Hyejoo points to your phone on the table next to you. Work. She’s right. Both of you take a second to stabilize your breathing. Try to push her off but she refuses, shifting her mass onto your lap and keeping her pussy’s hold tight and warm on you.

“Really?” You groan, “You’re the one who told me to answer it.”

“It’s so late and they haven’t stopped calling.” She rests her head on your chest and yawns. “Your cock is sooo big in me. Don’t even need to move.”

Channel your practice silently jerking off to keep your cool though years of doing that couldn’t prepare you for this. Your hands certainly tried but never could imitate her pussy’s plush tightness. Really wish you didn’t have to but finally, you answer your phone after minutes of ringing. The voice on the other side mumbles a greeting. Didn’t expect to hear him. “Joonho. Why the fuck are you calling now?”

“It’s me! Joonho.”

“Yeah, I know. The hell you calling for?”

“Now that’s no way to speak to your boss, is it?”

“Huh?”

“I said that’s no way to speak.”

“I got that!”

“Hyung. That asshole, management fired him.”

“You telling me-”

“Yeah, they caught him stealing.”

“How the fuck?”

“Dude got too big for his britches and aimed up with his theft too. Mr. Son really didn’t like that shit.”

You cheer in your head. It wakes up the girl resting on you. Guess that wasn’t in your head. “Fuck man.”

"I know right. Fuck him!" You're not on speaker but Hyejoo must’ve heard him say that. You massage your ringing ear.

“Ow. But thank you. Seriously, it’s so late. You could’ve called me tomorrow.”

“I’m drunk as shit man. Sounds like you are too.” You don’t even realize how much you’re slurring your words. “Should I pull up, maybe we drink a little more?”

Stare at the woman still holding your cock in place, fluttering her lashes at you. Hyejoo mouths if you’re gonna take much longer. “I. I don’t think I will. We’ll have to meet up some other time, okay?”

Understanding that you’re winding down your call, she gets back upright and starts bouncing again. “You gonna pass out or something?” Joonho says.

“Something like that” Hyejoo teasingly drops her waist into you and waits, then lifts herself. You purse your lips. “Listen, ah.” And again. Purposeful slams into your cock too loud not to be picked up by a phone. “God. I gotta go, I’ll text you again tomorrow aight goodbye,” you rush your words.

She holds her hair up in pleasure and her profane cries let everyone living below know that you’re fucking the most gorgeous girl with more energy than you’ve ever had. For all the pressure on your sensitive nerves, it’s that image of Hyejoo satisfying her need with your cock that brings you closer.

“I’m almost there! Fuck, fuck.” You pull out and despite her drowsiness, Hyejoo diligently takes your dick with both hands, scoots back and bends down, slobbering on it with her mouth while her fingers stroke the skin of your shaft.

Hyejoo’s lips pop when she releases your cock’s tip. “Where do you wanna-”

“Those fucking perfect abs,” you shudder.

She takes advantage of your previous thrusts’ zeal on her thighs and repositions herself in cowgirl one last time to bend back and choke your cock with her toned legs. One single motion is all it takes. A tsunami and a storm clash. Didn’t remind her that you hadn’t cum at all away at sea as you explode. You call out, “Hyejoo, god, yes, fuck, Hyejoo, yes,” at every wave of pleasure. Shove desperately and Hyejoo’s eyes grow big at how much semen streams out of your slit because the volume of cum nearly rivals the fluid she ejected from her wetness. Her inner thighs, her lap and her stomach all soak in stickiness. She holds onto your arms as she finds enjoyment not only from your cock’s throbbing on her clit, but at your biceps and other curves. An inquisitive pinky takes a sample of your cum to lick up then, to your surprise, she collects all the cum she can with both hands and swallows it down.

“Ahh,” she presents her tongue to you.

Finally, you sit up and no amount of exhaustion would stop you from nibbling her neck as thanks.

“Relax, you hungry beast. You just came all over me and now you’re trying to tell the world we just fucked.” She gives you a little suck on your lips instead.

“I don’t mind.” You clash at her mouth and your teeth click. She smiles and gives you a deep but final smooch. Both of you breathe stiltedly and take time to readjust into the world once again.

“Me neither, if I didn’t have a presentation tomorrow.”

You fall back and feel everything aching in a good way. “Ah shit, school.”

“What did I tell you earlier?”

“Hmm?”

Hyejoo falls flat next to you and clasps her hands into yours. “You will be okay. I called them with an excuse. Speaking of which. You’re gonna find out sooner or later that a certain cool as fuck girl blew the whistle on that son of a bitch.”

This whole thing feels like it should be temporary, like a one-time thing. Any more and it’d be weird, yet her confidence makes you reroute all that anxious energy in your heart’s pace into something good. It’s not love but, “Thanks. I just. Thank you.”

“You are always welcome.” Her lips curl up.

“So. You a snitch now, huh?"

"Relax,” she hisses the end of the word. ”Maybe I snooped through the construction company records, maybe I didn’t. You didn’t hear from me, ‘kay?" She nudges your side with her elbow.

“Hey!” You laugh a little, ticklish in that spot. “Okay, okay. How’d you manage that anyway?”

“Joonho didn’t mention it? Well, I have my connections,” Hyejoo says.

You breathe out and you deserve it. “You really are the Captain.”

“Damn right. Guess you’re stuck on this boat a little.” Yawn. “Longer.” Her eyelids slowly descend.

Watch Hyejoo fall asleep and realize she’s nude and still a little sticky. You decide to make a smart decision just once by putting away all the garbage in your apartment. She giggles reflexively when you clean her up and you struggle but manage to put on her previous outfit.

After you get dressed yourself, you lie next to Hyejoo and watch the few lights in the sky all distanced from each other. You feel a little reticent but the old lady shouldn’t fret if the outdoors is a better bedroom for one night. Close your eyes. Drift away into the best sleep you’ve ever had even if it’s only you and a blanket separate the hard concrete rooftop from the atmosphere. Dreams of water are gracious for once. The ocean lacks bounds and you smile for it. Who cares about tomorrow? It’s made of sticks and rope fashioned from whatever bamboo you could find but the raft holds two. That’s all you need.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

"A college roommate scenario where the male reader is living with LOONA's Olivia Hye and she's attracted to him sexually since he moved in due to his physique. Then one day, he got home all stressed and the two hooked up eventually." - @optimisticwritersworld​

AFF, AO3

Pretty sure this was supposed to be all casual but then I started adding to explain the co-ed living scenario and the stress, so here we are. Watch out for more LOONA though no promises on timelines

[babedur]

augh, revising this fic means that suddenly I don't have a place to put this, and I love this interaction. (Looks like... I'll probably be re-revising it to fit it back in...)

But hey. Felix and Parvati, just after Roseway, talking about what happened to Edgewater.

--

"You don't want to go out?" Parvati asked Felix. "No one you want to visit?"

"Not particularly," Felix answered. He was bouncing a tossball against the wall of the cargo hold. "Never did know who my parents were, and- well, I've got friends, but no one I feel like I need to see when I've been gone all of a day."

"Oh," Parvati said. "I... I get that. When I was thinking about coming with the captain, leaving Edgewater... I kind of realized that I knew a lot of people's names, and faces, but... I hadn't been close to anyone in years. Not since my dad died, and I took on his work." As she spoke, Felix caught his tossball in his hand and turned to watch her. "I liked being depended on, and I kind of miss Silas, and Thomas, but... not enough to stay." She sighed. "Especially with what happened there."

Felix crossed the hold and flopped down next to her on the deck. "What happened?"

"Well," Parvati said, "Things had been bad in Edgewater for a while, with the marauders, and the plague, and as there got to be fewer people who could work, the people that were still working had to work harder... and a lot of people just. Left! Starting with Adelaide, but then more people. A few friends of mine. By the time Maisie came to town, there were a decent amount of people living over at the old Botanical labs, farming and scavving instead of working at the factory. So, Mr. Tobson told Maisie to cut their power so they'd have no choice but to come home. And I came with her, because I knew the area and she clearly didn't, and Mr. Tobson wanted me out of the town for a few days because of, um, some things I'd said..."

"What'd you say?" Felix asked, looking excited. "Did you say things were unfair?"

"N-no," Parvati said. She laughed a little. "It was- I just said that the cannery would work better if we actually used saltuna, and, well, everyone knows that, but... saying it, it's different. So, I got... assigned to Maisie, even though I'm not a guard, I wasn't trained to fight marauders or robots, just to get me out of the way for a while-"

Parvati took a few deep breaths. Felix sat with her, arm pressed to her arm, until she was calm enough to continue. "Anyways, the two of us met the Deserters, and Maisie took a shine to them. She said that the corporate model of society, wasn't even very old, and that people should know how to farm and hunt and make things in every community, not have it all sold back to them like it was something special, and... and she sent all the power to the deserters, cut off the town completely."

Felix's eyes got huge. Then he frowned. "Wait, so all the people..."

"They'll... probably be okay," Parvati said. ADA thought that prediction was optimistic to the point of being inaccurate. "Adelaide's people weren't sick, and they were mostly making things work. Thomas'll shape up as a mechanic, and Grace'll keep them safe..." Her face fell. "I don't know. Looking back, I don't think.... I think Edgewater was going to fail, sooner or later. It just happened sooner, is all. And Spacer's Choice didn't lift a finger to help us, even with all Mr. Tobson kept saying about the Spacer's Choice family." That last line she said mockingly, bitterly, clearly quoting someone.

"They'll be fine," Felix agreed. "People are more clever and stubborn than the corporations want us to think. They'll dig in and make it, you'll see. They already had food, and shelter, and that's most of what people need to live anyhow."

"Yeah," Parvati said. "Yeah, you're right. Adelaide'd be a monster not to share, and teach them how to live. Maybe they'll be... I don't know, something different, when we come back. Adelaide's community, not Spacer's Choice's."

"That's the spirit." Felix grinned. "Man, someone up there in Spacer's Choice has got to be absolutely furious, a whole town going rogue like that."

"I don't... I don't think anyone is," Parvati said. "I mean, in a way I'd like there to be someone, but things were going badly in Edgewater for years. If they were going to do something, why didn't they do it sooner? Send us medicine, or new workers, or supplies to fix up the cannery, better ships to catch actual saltuna in- Mr. Tobson was a lot of things, but negligent wasn't one of them. He'd have to have been begging them for help for a long time. They just didn't care. We'd stopped making our quotas. I can just... I feel like someone in a board room somewhere went, 'Edgewater isn't profitable, so why waste money on those people?'"

"And they left the town to rot." Felix's voice was full of anger. "Those bastards. Hope I get to meet some of them someday. I'd teach them a thing or two."

Parvati giggled, and wiped at her eye with her forearm. "You think it'd change anything?"

"I'll tell you one thing, hauling boxes for the rest of my days won't. And you spending the rest of your life trying to fix that canary of yours wouldn't have done it, either." Felix smiled. "Out here, in the aether? We're learning corporate secrets, undermining their hold on the colony. The Board's got people terrified of change, of anything new, but I think once people realize what change could *mean*- The Board's going to have a lot of angry people to deal with. You included."

"I'm not angry," Parvati protested. "I'm- I'm sad, and, and I feel like they abandoned us..." She paused. "Oh my stars, I'm angry."

"That's the spirit," Felix crowed. "The Board keeps us tired, and busy, and scared- but we need to be mad."

[santigarcia]

fly away with you

an ezra x reader fic~

rating: m for smut; virgin reader; some violence 

word count: 6,780

summary: Waking  up with no memory after a head injury, you find yourself in the presence of your rescuer - a handsome stranger named Ezra. 

a/n: I AM SO SORRY i’ve had this fic like...finished but i just never got around to posting it. i had it broken up in chapters, but i just decided to post them all here w/ breaks to signify where the chapter would have ended. (im also adding the first two parts - so if anything seems familiar this is why!) 

Ringing. There’s a loud ringing in your ears. Your vision is blurry, and that ringing won’t stop. You can’t hear anything else, and you’re not sure what you’re seeing. The color brown and green seem to blur together. What happened? Did you hit your head?

Reaching up to touch your temple, you feel wet. Your hair having been matted down with something sticky. Pulling your hand away, you look at it. Not that it does any good because your vision is still blurred. But there’s enough red on your fingertips to know it is blood.

Suddenly you smell it, your blood. And dirt. And earth.

Something else is mixed in, maybe smoke? Something in the air is foul.

The air.

You panic. Where’s your helmet? How long have you been breathing in this air? It’s the air you smell that’s foul. What if it’s toxic? Frantically you try to get up, but you can barely get your legs under you. You’re still too dizzy.

When your vision finally clears, you see your helmet on the ground next to you. There’s a large crack leading to a hole. Shards are everywhere. Some have blood on them, and you assume this is where your head injury is from. But upon further inspection, you see blood on the rock nearest you.

What happened?

It’s still foggy, but you try and retrace your steps from the day.

You had been with your cousin, whose whereabouts now you have no idea. It wasn’t even your choice to come along. But he claimed that your hands were the steadiest, and you’d be best for the harvesting. You had no idea what he was even talking about. You only agreed because your home world is the last place you want to be right now. And hey, he said he’d pay you so why not?

The ship ride over was a nightmare. It was smooth sailing quite frankly, but you’ve never been a fan of space travel. You like it on the ground. Though at the present moment the ground is covered in your blood, what a day it’s been. And you can barely remember it.

You do remember harvesting a couple of those things, you can’t even think to remember what your cousin called them. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t hard either. You did just fine.

You also remember some arguing? Something was happening? There were these other people?

It’s starting to come back to you, but this air is getting to you. How long have you been walking? Are you even going in the right direction? You feel dizzy again and things are starting to spiral.

Then everything goes black.

A voice this time brings you out of your stupor. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you can make out it’s a male voice. It’s not your cousin, this voice has a thick accent.

You blink several times to clear your vision again, and you take in your surroundings and this stranger.

First you notice you’re inside laying on a cot of some sort. Everything in the room is an olive green. An ugly yellow light shines overhead. It’s very dim. The space is small, it seems to be a large tent. There’s medical supplies and strange photographs on the wall. Where is this?

The man is sitting near you in a metal folding chair. He’s got no choice but to sit close to you, there’s not any room in this area.

He’s in a suit not unlike your own. His face is kind. His voice is deep, but nonthreatening. Light scruff dusts his cheeks and jaw, and his eyes are pleasant. There’s a small blond streak in his brown hair. And a haggard scar on his cheek. His kind eyes and kind smile almost seem out of place next to that scar.

He’s still talking, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. He’s gesturing with his hand. Just one. It’s only then you realize he’s missing his right arm. You feel dizzy again. What if this man is dangerous? Or did he just lose that arm in some accident?

You reach up to touch your temple again, and you feel cloth. A bandage has been wrapped around your head. And you notice, other than a slight headache, you’re not in any pain.

“Where am I?” you wonder aloud. Your throat is so dry your voice croaks.

“At last, the lady is with us!” the man speaks and this time you understand him. His voice sounds nice. That accent is so strong. “Alas, I must admit, I myself do not know where this is. But I was out and about on my harvest when I saw you lyin’ unconscious on the ground. You were gaspin’ for air. So, I took it upon myself to bring you to shelter and here we are.” he gestures with his arm while he looks around the room. That ugly yellow light shines on his face, and suddenly the light is not so ugly on his tan skin.

“Thank you,” you tell him sitting up a little. You’re still feeling dizzy, but you feel safe. “What happened?” you think aloud again. And where is your cousin?

“I heard what sounded like gunfire off in the distance,” he explains, “that’s how I came to find you.”

“I was with my cousin; did you see anyone?”

“I am afraid I only saw some bodies, miss. You were the only one I saw alive.”

Your cousin, and whoever attacked you must have been near where you first woke up. But in your daze, you started walking and missed the bodies entirely.

You were warned this was dangerous work. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Grief and shock are setting in. Your cousin is gone, and your harvest.

“I’m stuck here,” you whisper.

“Nonsense,” the man smiles, it’s a warm smile. He seems so kind. You want to trust him. You may have no other choice. “I could not in good conscience leave you behind. You have suffered a mighty fine wound to your noggin, and your poor lungs have breathed in this nasty shit air we got around here.”

He is talking so fast that you can barely keep up.

“Now, I’m sure you’re a-wonderin’ if you can trust me. And right now, little birdie, I’m all you’ve got.”

In any other situation, if a stranger called you a pet name, you might recoil. But he says things so casually, you don’t feel any malice or perversion behind it.

“You can help me harvest, and I can get you outta here. There is my offer plain and simple. You can surely decline, but if your cousin is gone, my condolences. And you have no way to get home.”

Home. You don’t want to go home. You don’t want to stay here, but you don’t want to go home.

“What’s that?” he leans forward, his eyes squinting. He’s trying to hear; you didn’t realize you’ve just said that out loud. “Where are you from?”

“Zulara,” you mumble.

He winces, clenching his teeth, “I do not blame you one bit for not wantin’ to head on back to that planet. I am currently residin’ on Anvarvis V, and I’d be glad to take you along with me.”

You sit for a moment weighing your options. You’ve heard good things about Anvarvis V. or was it IV?

“We’ll split the harvest 50/50?” you ask.

He nods.

“Ok. It’s a deal,” you nod and stick out your hand.

“Alright,” he grins. “I’m Ezra, what can I call you?”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 And that’s how you began a partnership with Ezra. You worked well together. Tuns out you were really good at the harvesting part, and Ezra’s wit and charm made him a good salesman. He brokered deals and sold the product you’d harvested for a lot of money.

You’ve been so busy; you’ve not even gone to his home planet yet. But somehow you liked this life with him. There’s space enough of his ship for you, and you quite enjoy his company.

Truth be told you enjoy his company more and more each passing day. Your cheeks warm now when he calls you “little bird.” Your heart leaps into your throat if he ever touches you.

That first week with him he touched you a lot. Yes, okay he was checking the bandage on your head, but his fingers would graze skin and he was standing so close to you.

That’s when it first started you think. Being so close, seeing his soft lips surrounded by a dark stubble. His gentle brown eyes looking over your wound.

Maybe you were just lonely. Or maybe it was sharing such a small space with your rescuer. But you had a crush that only seemed to grow.

It started to suffocate you being so close to him and not being his.

The two of you fell into a natural routine and you grew accustomed to seeing him shirtless. That first time seeing him without a shirt almost sent you over. You ached to touch his olive skin. He looked so warm. You had to force yourself not to stare.

He thought you were looking at his right shoulder, where his arm used to be. And he began to ramble on about how it happened. You were embarrassed because that’s not what you were looking at, but you listened to his story all the same. He was opening up to you.

Ezra has the gift of gab, and he talks nonstop. But if you ever have anything to say, he listens with a deep interest. You’ve never felt so heard before. He never talks over you. His constant talking if often stories or little tidbits of trivia, but after that night of him opening up about his arm, things changed.

He was almost always in a good mood, but when he couldn’t complete a task due to his arm, he’d be a little grumpy and frustrated. But after telling you what happened, he let you help him without protest.

Maybe he got the feeling he could trust you back.

“Thank you, little bird,” he always said. And the last time he said it, you know he saw your cheeks turn red.

You figure at some point he’ll ask, or you’ll admit your feelings. You’re not sure which, but both options scare you. You’ve never done this before.

Back at home, you spent most of your life in school or working. There was no time for relationships, as much as you wanted one. You read stories of lovers, you kept them hidden under your mattress. The want was there, but no experience to fulfill that big question in your mind of what it’s like.

What it feels like to be loved by someone, to be held. You always were a little shy about the sexual parts of the book, yet those were the parts you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Ezra’s voice cuts in. A deep blush stains your cheeks. You’d been remembering of a story you’d read where a man pleasures a woman with his mouth. You look at Ezra’s mouth and feel your stomach drop and pray he can’t read your mind.

“Nothing,” you chirp at being caught.

“From that look on your face, I’m gonna wager a gamble and say it’s definitely something clanking around in that head.”

Scrambling, you try to think of anything to change the subject. He’s watching you squirm, and he’s delighted in it. Maybe it won’t be too hard after all to tell him if he can already see it.

“When’s the next sell?” you ask, nibbling the skin off your bottom lip.

“Pretty soon,” he replies. “I will head out soon. Won’t be gone long. Will you be alright to wait here until I make a triumphant return?” he grins.

You nod, returning his smile. You feel a heat pooling in between your legs. You shift a little in your seat trying to relieve the pressure. As soon as he’s gone, you’ll do something about it.

Two nights ago, you touched yourself thinking of him. That was the first time. You’d seen his bare ass when he was exiting the shower area. He had to have known you might see, and you couldn’t decide which thought thrilled you more. But the image of him naked was seared into your mind. And that night while he slept soundly, you touched yourself - wishing it were him.

You’d come up with a dirty fantasy, one you will play out again as soon as he leaves. And he can’t leave soon enough.

Normally, you’d go with him. But this buyer is a familiar one and can be trusted. You’re not worried about Ezra taking care of himself in a fight. He’s been in plenty of a scrap or two.

But if you’re honest, your brain is so clouded with the thought of getting a release you’re not worried about him in the slightest.

The thought passes in your mind you don’t know how long he’ll be gone, so you elect to leave your pants on. You lay down on your bed in your little corner of the ship.

The main hanger is around room, your beds are on opposite walls but still in the same room. So, you can see his bed from yours, and you consider going over to his bed, but you’ve already got your hand down your pants thinking about him on your bed.

You begin to tease yourself and you’re already wet from your own imagination. You think of him naked. What he looks like from the front. What he must look like when he’s hard for you. You think of his lips, and how his hand feels. What they must feel like on sensitive skin. You think of his stubble scraping your thighs. How good his long thick fingers would feel like inside of you. How he’d be gentle taking you for the first time.

Your thighs shake and you clench around your fingers wishing it were him.

The release hits you hard, and you gasp. It echoes through the ship. Your breathing is heavy but beginning to calm, when suddenly you hear:

“Well hello there little birdie!”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Horror floods through your veins and your heart is pounding in your head. You’re still coming down from your high, while fear spikes within you. Your eyes are wide, and you’re frozen staring at him. Your mouth is hanging open, and his mouth is curved in a playful smirk. 

When tears begin to fall from your eyes, his expression softens completely. 

“Little bird, I-,” he sticks his hand out trying to demonstrate he didn’t mean to embarrass you, but it’s too late. Tears pouring down your cheeks you run into the bathroom chamber and push the button to close the door harshly. It hisses loudly, and the moment it closes you sink to the floor. Cheeks red with embarrassment. 

In those books you’ve read, maybe the character wouldn’t have cared. And would have let the man know what she was doing. But this just isn’t how you wanted this to happen. As much as you do want Ezra to know you want him. The shock of the moment startled you. 

Ezra outside in the main hangar is uncharacteristically quiet. You can hear him rummaging around. From the sound of it, he’s taking off the bulky outer suit. It takes him a moment since he only has the help of one arm. 

He’ll be sitting down on his bunk and unfasten the clips and zippers. He grits his teeth sometimes, other times he bites his lower lip. You tease him about the different faces he makes when he’s concentrating on something. 

Deciding to clear your mind further, you turn on the shower. For a moment you hope he doesn’t need to take one after being outside, but you imagine he’s letting you have your space for a moment. 

While you shower, you try to decide what you’re even going to say. 

“Hi Ezra, I was touching myself thinking about you.” 

Well. That might not be a bad way to start. But that feeling of nerves hits your gut. What if he doesn’t want you back? What if he does want you? 

You mull this over in your mind and wash yourself clean. Normally the thought of being naked in here while he’s out there has sent you a thrill. Now you’re even more aware of him. 

You decide you do want him. But you don’t know where to start. Him seeing you is one way to break the ice. 

Gathering your courage, you wrap a towel around yourself and exit the bathroom into the main hanger. Your eyes fix upon him, and every nerve is on fire. 

As expected, he’d changed out of his suit. He’s sitting on his cot in comfortable pants, a worn black Henley, and some socks. His hair is sweaty, but it’s sticking up in multiple directions from obviously running a hand through it. His right arm sleeve is tied in a knot near his shoulder to stay out of his way. He’s got something propped up on his left knee, and he’s practicing his hand strength with his left hand. He pauses when he sees you, he doesn’t speak. 

He’s waiting for you to say something first. He can read the terror in your eyes as you step closer. Giving you full attention, he frees his hand, and watches you approach him slowly. 

When you’re right in front of his spread legs, he reaches out a hand to grab yours. 

“You doin’ alright there little bird? You are tremblin’ like a leaf on a tree with strong winds blowin’ every which way.” 

You open your mouth trying to think of what to say. You’d forgotten your entire plan you’d cooked up in the shower. Now that you’re here in front of him and he’s looking at you with those soft eyes, your mind is blank. 

You almost wonder if you should just drop the towel and climb on him, but you can’t help but want some romancing. 

“Say what’s on your mind little bird, I see the wheels turning in your head.” 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” is all you can think to say. But are you sorry? You don’t know what’s going on. 

“I’m not,” he grins, but the grin softens, and his eyes are gentle. He stands and presses his palm to your cheek. Shaking a little from the touch, you lean into his hand. “But I am sorry that my presence startled you so, and that I saw such an intimate act without your permission. I admit I was only present for the uh, grand finale as it were, but on my honor, I will not speak of this again if you would prefer it.” 

Your cheeks darkened as he spoke, and you can see the look in his eyes. It’s a gentle attraction. 

“I-” you start but only blush deeper under his gentle gaze. His eyes are big, he’s listening intently. 

“I understand your profound embarrassment, but there is nothing to be ashamed of seeking a fine release such as that. If I may say little bird, I’m only sorry I was not the one to give it to you.” 

Your eyes widen at the last sentence. You swallow hard. 

This is it. 

“You want me?”

“I do little bird. I have for a quite a spell now. You are, simply put, the sweetest thing I have ever had the pleasure to know, and you have brought a light into my dark life I did not know I was needin’.” 

His hand is still on your face, his thumb brushes you bottom lip. 

“I want you too,” you give him a shy smile which he returns, “only I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“You surely seemed to know a few moments ago,” he winks. 

“Ezra,” you groan and bury your face in his shoulder. 

“My sincerest apologies,” he teases, “I already broke my promise.” 

He’s trying to make you laugh, which it does. And the two of you share a moment of laughter before you pull back to look up at him again. 

“I’m serious though, Ezra. I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never-”

“Never what?” he repeats, thumb rubbing your flushed cheeks. 

“I’ve never even been kissed,” you tell him. 

“Well, little bird. It would seem the honor has been bestowed to me to teach you the lovely ways of liplockin’.” 

“What do I do?” you whisper, which he seems to find amusing. 

“You know something, I have never once been in situation quite like this in my lifetime.” 

That coaxes a smile from you, and you’re already feeling relaxed. 

“I can’t say that I have either,” you laugh. 

“First step, is to close those pretty little eyes of yours.” 

You close your eyes, and smile, you trust him. You think back to when you met him all those weeks ago when he saved your life. You certainly didn’t imagine this happening then. 

“Now, tilt your head just a little,” he pushes a little with his hand guiding you. “And open that mouth of yours, just a smidge.” He pushes down your bottom lip with his thumb. 

His voice stops, and you feel his breath on your face. He smells like mint and sweat. You decide it’s a good smell. 

You feel the tip of his nose first press against the top of your cheek. Then his lips gently press against yours. His tongue just barely touches your lips. His stubbly chin and upper lip scrape on your skin in a way you didn’t know you’d love this much. His hand holds your face gently, and what he doesn’t say, or can’t say during this kiss, is he wishes he could wrap his other arm around you. 

Your knees buckle, and you let go of the towel that’d you’d been holding on to so tight and mold your body to his. A strong thigh is in between your legs, your hands cup his face and you pull away gasping. Your heart is fluttering.

He’s slow to open his eyes, the smile splits his face before his eyelids even flutter open. 

“Now that,” he licks his lips, “was simply divine.” He leans in and places a couple quick pecks to your lips getting a laugh from you. 

You take a step back, and the towel is going to fall. And you were going to let it. But much to your surprise, his hand stops it by pressing his hand against your chest, keeping the cloth from exposing you to him. 

“Hold on now,” he breathes. “That little heart that’s fluttering under my hand has surely had enough excitement for one day. And as much as I would love to see that body of yours, I am not wanting to take you to bed in this dirty old ship. I would rather take you home. Since I am unfortunately missing a tool of the trade, I am not experienced in taking lovers into my bed with ol’ lefty here. It’ll be a learning experience for us both little bird. You alright with that?” 

You nod, putting your hand over his on your chest. 

“Then let’s get you home.” 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Your head is pounding, and you can see him. Your cousin. It’s like you’re on the outside looking in. You see the clearing of trees and two men with your cousin. It’s a standoff, everyone is frozen. There you hear a sharp crack somewhere in the woods, causing the men to take fire. One man shoots your cousin, the other steals the harvest from your cousin’s dead hands. Then that man is shot, he killed his own partner and took the harvest from his hands. He turned around to face you, and you saw his face. 

It was Ezra. 

With a sharp gasp, you jolt awake. Sweat is on your brow, your heart is racing, and you feel sick to your stomach. Panic sets in because you can’t remember where you are. 

Looking around you realize that you’re home, with Ezra. 

After your kiss with him, he got the ship ready and punched in the coordinates to head home. His home, but now it would be yours. You expressed to him your apprehension of space travel, and he took down the med pack to give you a medicine to calm your nerves. 

“Fear of flying is not uncommon,” he’d told you warmly with a kiss on your cheek. 

After the flight and landing, he gave you another medicine to help your lungs adjust to the air of this planet. 

You were so nervous, but full of excitement! You have a new home with this wonderful soul. 

The planet is gorgeous. The ship landed out the outskirts of the city. It’s nighttime so you can see it’s all lit up, and it’s blue. Every light is a twinkling blue. 

“It’s beautiful!” you’d gasped. Ezra was proud to show you his home. 

He was not originally from this planet; this is where he lives now when he isn’t prospecting. 

He owns a small house is near the outskirts. He could afford a city apartment if he wanted, but he preferred living out away from the hustle and bustle of city life. He likes his view of the trees from his living room, which are also blue. 

His house is humble. One bedroom, one bathroom, a quaint kitchen, a small table, and a sitting area. The shelves and walls are covered in artifacts and trinkets from other world’s he’s visited. You love it. It feels like a lived-in home. 

“We will have to share this bed unless you want me to take the couch?” Ezra tells you when you collapse onto his bed. It’s been too long a day with all the space travel. 

“I don’t mind,” you tell him, and he grins easily. 

“No gettin’ to business tonight little bird. I gotta rest, you do too.” 

You nod, you’re too tired for that. Though if he wanted to, you wouldn’t have said no. 

You fell asleep that night with his body close to yours. 

He’s still close by when you wake up from your dream. 

“Little bird?” he asks waking up, rubbing his eyes with his hand. “You alright?” 

You scramble out of the bed to get away from him. Your heart is beating so fast. 

“It was YOU,” you gasp, tears are beginning to fall. 

“Me? Birdie, I do not have a damn idea what on this planet you are referring to.” 

“You shot and killed my cousin! I saw it in my dream!!”

He sits up and tries to calm you down. 

“Little birdie-”

“Stop calling me that!” you cry. You hug your arms around your waist. 

“Look at me. Look at my face.” He waits til you look at him, there’s no joke or smile on his face. His eyes are wide, and you can tell he’s upset you’re upset. “I did not kill him. I didn’t even have my gun with me when I found the bodies.” 

You think back to when you first met him, and what you can remember from then, he didn’t have a gun on him. 

“But it looked so real,” you sniffle. 

“I had hoped this would not happen to you, but one of the side effects of the medicine I had given you is nightmares. You’re on a new planet, in a new place. It would not be a surprise to me if you had weird dreams. Now as to your cousin, I do not think you will ever uncover the mystery of his death. I can recall to you what I saw again if it will ease your mind.” 

You sniffle again and nod. 

He tells you what he remembers, and you do trust him. But that dream still felt so real. 

You had been finishing up a harvest when your cousin went to look for another. Your memory is hazy after that. 

Ezra fills in the gaps based on what he saw. He’d seen two bodies; one was your cousin and then another man. Your harvest was gone, and there were footsteps leading in another direction. Ezra, not wanting to get into it with this guy, went the opposite way. Which is when he found your shattered helmet and blood. He followed your footprints which led him to you. 

“So, I killed my cousin,” you bury your face in your hands, sitting down on the bed. 

“You are making less and less sense,” his eyebrows crease. 

“You said there was a large branch and I must have tripped, so me tripping sounded the alarm causing the gunfire to go off,” you being to cry into your hands. 

Ezra scoots closer to you to wrap and arm around you. He holds you close to him and kisses your hair while he shushes you. 

“That was a whole tricky situation and no one’s fault. I have been in a sticky situation like that before and it would seem that people who are trigger happy need no cue to fire away. You are not at fault. Besides, if all this had not occurred, I might not have met the love of my life.” 

You look up from your hands, tears still in your eyes. 

“What?” 

“You heard what I said,” he kisses the shell of your ear. 

Crying now tears of joy, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss all over his face. He topples backwards, laughing the whole way down. 

“I love you too,” you say between kisses. “I’m sorry I accused you of murder,” you laugh. 

He laughs, rolling over so he’s on top of you. He kisses your face and dries your tears. You start to writhe under him when you feel him beginning to harden on your thigh. 

“What do you say to some breakfast and then we come back to this bed huh?” 

Feeling a little bold, you reach down to cup him through his sleep pants. He gasps out in surprise and buries his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Why leave?” you ask, unsure of what to do, but you like touching him. You continue to, until your stomach rumbles loudly. He raises an eyebrow teasing you, even though you still have your hand around his cock. “Fine,” you laugh, “breakfast first.” 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 While Ezra makes breakfast, you look around your new home. Since the house is small and his voice carries, you ask him questions about different objects, and he rambles on from the kitchen.

There are photographs of him when he was younger, those are your favorites. You’re looking at one particular photograph, when he had both arms and no blond streak. He looked like a completely different person.

Your thoughts are torn away when you hear him call your name.

“Could you reach that spice for me off the shelf?” His one hand is too busy to stop and reach. “Just set it down on the counter there,” he nods. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smile and wrap your arms around him from behind. Kissing his cheek, he hums. “I’m sorry I’m acting so strange, I think I’m a little nervous,” you admit kissing his shoulder blade.

“Well birdie, it is no small feat to be joined in a union with another person in such an intimate fashion, especially when one is not experienced. It is a lovely thing but can be an overwhelmin’ experience. I am glad to assist and ease the knot in your belly of nerves.”

“I love the way you talk,” you smile kissing his shoulder again.

“And I quite love the way you are holdin’ me right now.”

“I’m sorry again about this morning. I’m sure that’s not the morning you had in mind.”

“No to worry. Grief and change do a wonder on your mind. I know that from losing my arm.”

“Tell me how you got that blond streak in your hair,” you murmur and lean your cheek against his shoulder.

“Now that is an interesting story!” One of which he tells for the rest of the morning. And when he’s done, you’re still not sure what exactly happened. But you laughed and all but forgot about the nerves in the pit of your stomach.

So much so that when he stands and reaches out his hand for you, you’re not sure what he’s doing.

“You ready?” he asks, motioning his head toward the bedroom. Your heart skips, but you nod, yes.

He leads you back into his room, and has you sit down on the bed. He moves around the room setting the mood. First, he pushes a button on the wall that lowers the curtains, dimming the room. He closes the door behind him and sits next to you on the bed.

“How does this work?” you ask a little timid, but very eager.

“Lay back,” he tells you. He lays down on top of you and begins to kiss your face and your lips. Anywhere his lips can kiss, he kisses. Your cheeks, your ears, your eyelids even. The tip of your nose.

Then he moves to your neck and chin and jaw. He adds some bites to your neck, and sucks on your clavicle.

“Can I?” he asks tugging on the hem of your shirt. You nod, and with his help, you pull it off exposing chest to him now. You swallow, feeling a little shy watching him eye your breasts.

You’ve never seen him so speechless. Instead of talking, he puts his mouth to use and suckles your perked nipple into his mouth. His hand cups your other breast and thumbs over your nipple. When you gasp, he sucks harder and pinches his fingers harder. Your hands fly to his hair and you pull. He growls a little and you feel slick between your legs.

“Ezra?” you whine. Your breast is shiny with his saliva, and there’s a sting left behind from his teeth and grit from his facial hair.

“What do you need birdie?” He murmurs into you flesh. His hand smoothing down your skin and gliding over your tummy and to the waistband of your pants.

“Ezra wait,” you gasp.

“Are my ministrations too fast for your likin’?” he questions, lips dragging along your stomach. He’s trying to make you laugh again, or at least relax you further.

“I-” you pause.

“It’s ok,” he smiles and kisses your tummy. “Help me?” he says tugging on your pants a little. You help him push your pants and underwear down, and you watch in equal parts arousal and embarrassment as he sees you.

He touches a pointer finger to your entrance, touching the slick gathered there. He dips inside and you arch your back feeling the drag of his finger inside. His thumb brushes your clit and you jolt.

“Now remember, I am not as well practiced with my left, so you’ll have to excuse any inexperience on my part, though I do know how to please a lady.”

“Ezra!” is all you can think to say when he slides a second finger in.

“But as it seems, you’re enjoying this regardless. That’s good,” he smiles and presses a loud kiss to your thigh. He doesn’t stop the toying with your clit. Even after you hit that first high and come around his fingers. He keeps going. Teasing you just a little more. “You are doin’ so well my girl,” he purrs.

He looks up at you when he pulls his hand away, his grin is pure lovesick. Your eyes are hazy from the high you’ve just been given, and there’s still more to come.

“I want just one more from you before we get down to it alright?” He tells you. He’s working his way up the bed, and you’re not sure what he’s doing. He pulls the pillows together, and he flops down on his back, his head on the pillows. “Alright little bird, c’mere,” he says and taps his chin.

Taking his meaning with heat covering your body, you climb up and carefully lower yourself onto his face. His tongue and mouth ready to accept your heat. You groan in unison as he makes the first lick. You’re still so sensitive from before, but wow it feels good.

Oh.

This is really good.

His mouth, of course, of course his mouth is as skilled in pleasure as it is in talking. His tongue moves expertly on your flesh as if he’s done this to you a million times. You’re coming on his tongue in mere minutes.

His arm is tight around you, and you buck against him as you come down.

His eyes open, and he looks up at you, he’s quite pleased with himself.

“Now if this isn’t the best view a man could have then I don’t know what is,” he smiles, his eyes lingering on your breasts for a beat, then back up to your face.

Carefully, on wobbly legs, you lay down on the bed, and Ezra works to take off his pants. You lean up to look at him, he’s on his knees now, naked. He’s stroking himself lazily, getting ready for you.

“Can I?” you sit up reaching for him.

“Be my guest,” he reassures, and you wrap your fingers around him. He winces and groans a little. “It has been far too long since I’ve been held but someone other than my own hand.”

He feels nice, and you have the desire to keep moving your hand until he finds his high. But he pushes your hand away.

“I do appreciate the eagerness, but if you keep that up, we won’t get to all the fun. Lay down for me alright?”

You do as he asks, and he pauses for a moment. He’s thinking.

When he gets the idea, you see it come across his face with a little “oh!” and a grin. He lays down on top of you, you’re chest to chest.

“Little birdie, I need you to wrap your legs around me? Got it?” You nod and do as he asks. From this position you can feel the tip of him at your entrance. Putting his weight on you for a moment, he reaches down between your bodies and lines himself up with you. “There might be a little bit of a pinch, but we’ll work ya through it alright?”

You nod again, and he pushes inside. He moves his hand back up to smooth your hair out of your face. He moves slowly, watching your face, kissing you more to get you relaxed. Once he’s fully inside, he waits.

He gives you a moment to breathe, then when you give the ok, he moves. His arm is up by your head now, keeping him from putting his whole weight on you and giving him some leverage. His thrusts are steady, and your body moves with him, gasping each time he hits that spot in you.

“It pains me that I cannot reach down to tease that lovely pussy of yours, but birdie, you gotta touch yourself for me. Can you do that?”

You slip your hand between your bodies and touch yourself in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he coaxes. “Don’t stop,” he tells you nibbling your ear. And you don’t. You keep going until you feel the high approaching. When it hits you, he’s not far behind. His cock twitches and pulses, and he comes deep inside you.

Exhaustion hits him and he puts more of his weight on you. Now with a free hand, he pushes your hand away and touches your clit again just to touch you a little one more time. That touch has you jolt, and he laughs darkly in your neck.

“Ezra?”

“Mmm?” he looks up at you, and you start to smooth his hair back.

“Can we do this again? Tonight?” you bite your lip.

“Hmm,” he pretends to think. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Ezra!” you laugh and playfully hit his chest.

“Okie,” he shrugs and begins to blow raspberries on your chest.

You stay with him then, tangled in the sheets all morning. And all afternoon, and into the evening. You can barely keep your hands off one another. And there’s not much desire to go prospecting any time soon, not when you’ve discovered something much richer in each other.

xx

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[starlightsearches]

The Runaway—Ch. 3

It was supposed to be like any other bounty. Just another job. But when Din Djarin meets a runaway trying to escape a tragic past and a bleak future, everything changes. (Set after the events of Season 1, no spoilers for Season 2)

Masterlist

Din Djarin x f!reader (no y/n)

Series Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence, mentions of abuse.

AN: Near-death experience in this chapter, but that’s the only extra. Feedback is always appreciated!

Din squints into the darkness, hardly able to see even with the adjustment his visor makes to the steadily dwindling light. He doesn’t show it, as he leans up against the rough-hewn entrance to your makeshift home, but there’s a stiffness to his muscles after the journey here—his legs aching underneath the weight of the armor, and the sun had been inescapable, beating down on both of you like the wrath of god. Although it’s setting now, the heat hasn’t abated in the time since and underneath his armor Din’s clothing is clinging to his skin.

“It’s around here somewhere,” Din can just make out your shape now, a dark smudge against blacker surroundings, but you move with confidence and quiet surety as you search around the small space. “Ha! Here it is,” there’s a faint click, and the little hovel you’ve led him to is filled with a yellowing light that stutters against the walls before steadily growing brighter. You swing the flashlight around in small, sweeping motions and Din takes it all in, his heart shriveling in his chest like a life-vest with a leak.

“It’s not much,” you say quietly, watching him out of the corner of your eye, “but it’s far from the worst place I ever lived.” Din doesn’t want to know what those places were like.

You’re hunched over, practically in half, but the dirt of the roof still scrapes at the top of your head, little crumbles of dust nesting in your hair as you move. He has no idea what stuff you’ve planned on grabbing—there’s nothing here worth taking. You’ve got a meager supply of food, stacked against the far wall, high off the ground to keep it away from any pests, but no table, no place to build a fire. There’s no bed, either, just a mat and a blanket so threadbare it seems to be made of holes. He can’t take his eyes off the blanket, the blood draining from his face; for a moment, he thinks he might be sick. His fingers curl in on themselves, twin fists resting at his sides, and he wishes that your father were here, right now. He’d end him.

“Hey,” Din turns at the sound of your voice and finds you kneeling at the edge of the back wall, near the mat and you’re looking up at him expectantly—Din wonders how many times you’ve tried to get his attention. You wait for a moment, and he nods to show that he’s listening. “Can you help me with this?” He’s not sure what this is, as you point at the wall—a gesture that gives him no helpful information—but he agrees, the child following closely behind as he takes his first step inside. 

 Din crouches, but only manages one or two half-steps before falling to his knees, which is all it takes to cross the distance from the door to the place where you kneel. You push the flashlight into his empty hands before lowering yourself to the ground. 

Starting in the bottom corner of the room, you rest your palm against the wall, stacking your hand one over the other with careful precision and Din shines the flashlight in your direction without asking any questions. About halfway up the wall, you begin to move towards him, walking your hands along the wall until you’re leaning over him, your body stretched across his without ever moving close enough to touch.

The light falls across your face, your lips moving silently casting strange shadows on the wall behind you before you stop just on the other side of him, the tip of your finger carving a soft x in the wall. “There,” you say quietly, just a soft puff of air against the side of his mask.

You lean back, taking the flashlight from his hands, sitting back on your legs, looking at him expectantly. Din is at a loss.

“I need you to hit the wall where I marked,” you say, characteristically cryptic, “really hard.”

Din looks at the wall, examining it more closely; unlike the rest of the packed-dirt structure, this side seems rock-solid underneath the caked-on, crumbling dust. He hits it hard enough, he could break some fingers, at best. 

You see his skepticism through the mask, shuffling a little closer, “it’s a false wall,” you say, retracing the x with your fingers, “I built it myself when I first came here—couldn’t just leave my stuff out in the open.”

“Why didn’t you keep it under your mat?” Din asks, still hesitant. That was the standard procedure for most of the criminals that Din had encountered, although he’s not sure that you fall into that category. Thieves among thieves will target their own if needed, but it’s futile to try and steal from anyone who sleeps on top of their possessions. Especially when there’s a blade under their pillow. 

You roll your eyes at him, “because that’s the first place everybody looks.” Din makes no move to do as you’ve asked, and you examine him more closely, your eyes searching the mask for the answer to a question that you haven’t yet asked. There’s a pause, a shift in the momentum of this conversation, this partnership, “don’t you trust me?”

Din sighs, rolling his eyes at you and he thinks some part of you knows because you smile as he pulls his fist back, his eyes on the carved x.

“Then again, my hands could have grown in the time since-” you blurt out in warning, but Din’s already loosed the punch. He closes his eyes, unwilling to watch the impact, waiting for the snap of bones, but it doesn’t come, his hand crashing through the wall amid a shower of dirt. 

It’s not a large break in the wall—Din can feel both edges of the space you’ve created without much movement, the tips of his fingers brushing the back wall while his wrist is still visible. He pulls his hand from the crevice, brushing the dirt from his glove and you fill the place immediately, shining the light and digging around in the illuminated opening. 

“Here,” you shove something into his hands, still focused on the crack in the wall. Din takes it, glancing down.

His eyes blow wide when he sees the item—a necklace like a collar, made of woven gold and blood-red gemstones. It’s caked with dirt, but still sparkles in the evening light, each stone throwing fractured ruby streaks against the walls of the room.

“Is this real?” Din asks, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. He’s not sure what kind of material the necklace is made of, but it looks expensive. He starts the mental tabulation: fuel costs, food, repairs that need to be made. New weapons to be purchased, toys for the kid. Maybe even an upgrade for his armor.

Before he can finish the thought, you’re shoving more jewelry his way—handfuls of glittering stones and expensive metals. Din sways on his knees, light-headed.

“I think that’s the last of it,” you turn to face him, shifting into a sitting position. You hold your hands out, and Din lets the collection fall into your waiting palms. You begin to sort the baubles into small piles, brushing the debris from each sparkling surface. Din stops your hand as you’re about to place a set of delicate silver bangles next to a jewel-encrusted hair pin.

“What is all this?”

Your eyes flicker with confusion, trying to interpret Din’s response, and honestly, he’s doing the same. His hand stays on your wrist, his grip loose enough that you could break it if you tried, but you don’t, your stare fixed right where his eyes would be.

    “You told me you didn’t have anything left. That you sold it all.” His voice shakes as he looks at the extravagant spread, the necessities and indulgences he had been calculating earlier multiplying ten-fold. With this sum, you could buy . . . anything. But when he looks at you, your expression pained, he’s immediately chastened. There were some things that had no price.

    “I lied,” you say gently, watching as the child wanders over to inspect the treasures. Din moves to grab him before he can reach any of it, but you hand him something to play with—a simple golden chain—and he’s mollified for the moment, pulling at the object with his little, green hands.

    “Why didn’t you tell me?” You both pull your attention away from the kid when Din speaks, and you sigh, brushing a few stray hairs away from your face with a rough hand.

    “I didn’t know if you could be trusted. For all I knew you were going to take it all and turn me over to my father anyways.” A huff of air escapes Din’s lips at your statement. There’s plenty you’ve left unsaid, words that weigh heavy on Din’s shoulders, a trust that he can’t fully fathom. It’s not just your life that you’ve placed so fully in his hands—it’s his, too, and the kid’s. With this, and the bounty your father had offered, he could buy a better life: no running, no danger, no bounties. He could find the child’s people, make sure he was safe. And then, after that, he could do anything.

    You knew all of this, when you brought him here. Din feels very small, sitting on the floor of this dingy dirt hut in the middle of nowhere, and this choice, this offering, feels much too large.

    You push the piles towards him, scooping them all together in your hands. “I want you to have it,” you say through shaky breaths, “for helping me.” 

    Din makes no move to take it, although he could. He grabs the strap of his satchel instead, tossing it into your lap.

    “Hold onto it for now,” he commands, “I don’t take any payment until the job is completed.” 

    You don’t move, lips parted and eyes on him. He thinks he might see the barest hint of tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, but they fall closed, and for the first time, Din can see what this means to you. You want to live. You want to be okay.

    You begin clearing up the jewelry, packing it into the satchel, slinging it over your shoulder. That’s when Din hears the noise, footsteps crunching over the terrain outside. He stops you with a finger to his lips, pulling the flashlight towards him and flipping the switch, throwing the room into darkness.

     His visor adjusts to the shadows and his eyes follow soon after. You seem to know that something is wrong, and he can see you in the eerie green light that the mask offers as you pull the child into your lap, looking up at him with wide, worried eyes.

    Din moves quickly, back on his feet and out the door in mere moments, scanning the black horizon with careful eyes. He catches their flickering light source first—three people, he assumes based on the cadence of the footsteps and the soft chatter between them. The shortest one carries the torch, walking a few steps behind the others, and Din stands casually, waiting for them to notice him. His hand hovers over his hip, and he unlatches the strap on his holster.

    “‘S that you, Mando?” The familiar voice, one that grates like gravel against his ears, calls over the distance between them. He was right before; three people approach, but the man in front is the only one he recognizes, and everything gets more complicated. 

    “Hello Tate,” Din keeps his voice even, folding his arms over his broad chest, and the light from the torch flickers dangerously off the beskar. He hopes you’re hidden from view, with the child and the satchel. Din could get you all out of this with relative ease, as long as none of them notice your presence. 

    “Greef told us you were on the runaway job,” Dev says, and then he chuckles, “he actually told us not to bother.” He shifts his weight, leaning on one leg more heavily than the other. He’s got a blade in his hand, but his grip is casual, and he rests it against his hip. The other two have weapons as well—the zabrak on his right has a dangerous-looking club slung over his shoulder, and the twi'lek on his left carries a blaster in the hand not holding the torch. None of them seem too eager to use them just yet, and he’s not planning on giving them any reason. Still, he shifts again, resting his hand on his own hip, just above his blaster. Better to be safe. 

    “We decided to take our chances anyways,” Tate continues, eyeing the change in Din’s posture, “and with a bounty like that, can you blame us?” The others laugh, but the smiles don’t reach their eyes. “Somebody on the way to town told us to look for her out this way. We thought we might find you here.”

“The place was empty when I arrived,” Din gets straight to the point, “I think she might have left it abandoned. I’ve been waiting for her to return.”

    Tate smiles, “I thought you might say something like that.” 

    It happens quicker than the light flashing against his armor—weapons are drawn and he’s got the barrel of a blaster resting at the edge of his mask. Din keeps his own blaster aimed at Tate, but he watches the others in his periphery, tracking their movements. 

    “You gotta get a more subtle look, Mando, if you’re gonna be tellin’ lies like that. We heard from a few different people that they saw you chasin’ the girl out of the cantina.” He steps closer, twirling the blade with surprising dexterity given the meatiness of fingers, and from this distance, Din can see the dirt caked into the creases of Tate’s face, see the shadow of a beard growing over his skin. 

    “So now I’m forced to wonder,” Tate continues at a whisper, “where you’ve got her stashed if she’s not here, hmmm?” Din keeps silent, shifting his grip on his blaster, putting the slightest amount of pressure on the trigger.

    “Where is she, Mando?” he asks again, but  his gaze flickers to the zabrak, a movement so minute he almost dismisses it, until he shifts to check on the twi’lek. Din lets out a low sigh through his nose. Tate thinks he’s got the upper hand on him based on numbers alone. In his mind, he’s already won.

    “She back on your ship?” he asks again, growing impatient with Din refusal to accept defeat, “she out there with that little green freak you stole?”

    The sound of the shot booms in response and Tate stumbles back, hand at his midsection, checking for the burn of the blaster bolt, but it’s the twi’lek who falls, eyes rolling back into her head before she lands with a thump, the blaster falling from her hand.

    Din’s already aiming again, for Tate this time but the shot goes wide as the zabrak catches him on the shoulder with the club. His knees buckle and he fights to stay standing, blocking the next swing with his forearm. Wood clangs against beskar and Din grunts at the impact, pain sparking through his armor. 

    He’s hardly recovered before he hears the metallic slash, feels the burn in the open space where the pauldron meets his chest plate, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees red. 

    One of them hits him in square in the chest, and then there’s a boot at his neck. He places one hand at the heel, but the other isn’t cooperating—a strange tingle travels from the tips of his fingers up to his shoulder, and it burns, dead at this side.

    “Gonna ask you one more time, Mando,” Tate leans over him and Din sees black around the edges of his vision, fighting for every breath, “where’s the girl?” 

    Din says nothing, willing some kind of life into his arm, struggling against the weight of the world for one more lungful of air. He hopes you’ll keep the kid safe. 

    There’s a streak of red that shoots across his vision, and it’s funny to him; no one ever mentioned that as a part of dying, but he’ll accept it. There’s another—he lets his eyes fall closed. And then the weight is lifted, and he can breathe again, and he falls into a deep and restless sleep.

[irreplaceable-ecstasyy]

ii. Possessive hand-holding (MARLENE)

The night stretched at the carnival and the ladies eventually found themselves having more fun as they immersed themselves in the atmosphere. The noises that had once irritated them settled into a subtle hum in the background and the blinding lights dimmed to a much lovelier glow, drowned out by their combined joy and enthusiasm. Much to anyone’s surprise, the corndogs became more bearable to Marya, and so did the other variety of unhealthy snacks that were sold at the stores with food coloring enough to paint an entire house. The clouds that littered the sky made it seem as though it had expanded the little box of a carnival that had previously blocked the sky with its menacing bright lights. It became breathable and more spacious!

The clowns that struck so much of fear in Marya now reduced her to a fit of giggles because of Hélène’s eagerness to prove to her that she could protect her. Her dear knight in shining armor whose methods of defense were words of comfort and throwing her fists in the air quite literally. Perhaps it was more of a way to distract Marya and she had to admit it was working very well. It may appear rather childish to the eyes of other but Marya adoredHélène for her thoughtfulness and courage to make her happy at the cost of her dignity. Not that she had little to spare. For Marya, she had dignity enough to supply ten lifespans.

After many headache-inducing rides, the ladies made their way to the game booths with a lot of optimism. Marya had a good aim and Hélène had passionate determination. There was no way this could go wrong with half a fraction of a probability that they might win something. They approached the most typical carnival game they found which was ‘Knock Down the Cans’ and it was a considerably easy start. Or to put it in better words, to Marya it was an easy start.

Marya went first to try her luck and on the first try, she managed to knock all six cans down. At least they knew the games were not rigged. Hélènetried her hand in the game but only managed to knock down the top three cans with the two remaining turns that Marya had left. They won a decently sized stuffed giraffe and Marya was quite amused by the choice. Hélène had the honor of carrying the giraffe with her as they continued to browse through the games.

Then they moved on to the next game which was a game of hoops and bottles. They were given seven hoops each and it was comical seeing how different the two of them played the same game. Marya was more focused on aiming the hoops onto the red bottle which was the jackpot for the biggest prize. Hélène, on the other hand, flung all the hoops with a single swing of her arm and depended on her luck to win; which she did. She landed a blue and a red, blue being the second biggest prize, and she grinned at Marya.

“Did you see that?” she exclaimed gleefully.

“It was hard to miss. No pun intended,” Marya laughed as she tossed her last hoop onto a yellow bottle which was the smallest prize.

Hélène slung an arm around Marya’s shoulders and chuckled pridefully (though, modestly). “I knew it would work!”

“You’re a lucky one, my dear. Of course, it would.”

After accepting their prizes, a large pastel rainbow plushie, a big llama and a small panda, they scurried over to another booth. They had to place all of the toys into Marya’s bag that was surprisingly enough to store their new family of toys and Hélène very kindly offered to carry the lot since Marya spent most of their time lugging that thing around unfashionably. Their next game involved a toy shotgun and balloons for targets in front of them of various sizes. The smallest would earn then the biggest price, and vice versa.

Hélène was so concentrated on getting the smaller balloons which stole Marya’s attention for a few good minutes. The way her tongue stuck out in concentration, how she kept one eye open to aim and her imperfect stance. It was hard to tear her eyes away from her. However, she had to. She could not keep the other bystanders waiting long for their turn with the game so she took her aim and fired her first shot. It hit one of the smaller balloons and she felt a burst of pride within her. She had five tries and now down to four since she had just used one. Aiming once more, she fired but it missed the smallest balloon by just an inch. The failure earned her a loud scoff from her left and she turned to see a woman who had been eyeing her with interest at his own station.

“You had a strong start. Let me show you how it’s done,” she hummed.

With his own shotgun, she fired a shot without so much of an aim and it hit the smallest balloon. It did little to impress Marya, and it only made her slightly infuriated. She was not about to have a carnival game explained to her just because she did not get that shot. But she decided to watch her for her own amusement. The woman, whose details she did not bother acknowledging, finished off the job. She popped all the small balloons within her range before settling the gun down on its stand. Marya’s face remained unchanged aside from the quirk of her brow as the woman turned to look at her with a charming smile.

“And that is how it’s done,” she chirped.

“Well, I never asked for a demonstration,” Marya responded plainly.

“You’re not angry, are you~?” she purred as she inched just a little closer.

Marya tutted softly. “It’s only a game, so why would I?”

“I do love a strict woman who knows how to speak up for herself,” the woman coddled as she extended a hand to accept his prize which he generously offered to Marya. “One for the lady?”

“I apologize but I cannot accept that.”

The woman pouted. “And why’s that? You don’t have to be so kind.”

“Made a new friend, ma belle?” Hélène interjected out of the blue and she stepped beside Marya. For a lady shorter than Marya and the stranger, she exerted quite a presence. She slid her hand into Marya’s and held it firmly, kind eyes fixated hard on the stranger.

Marya knew that look all too well. As composed as Hélène came to be, her play pretend could not go past Marya’s detection. The intensity in her brown hues and the smile that naturally came to her lips only meant that she was trying to put on an act to hide another burning feeling within. From what she could see, it was nothing too severe…yet. Hélène had patience tenfold of Marya’s but her protectiveness over Marya might reduce it tenfold as well.

“No, dear. She is simply a mentor. I missed a balloon and she taught me how to play properly,” Marya told her with a small smile, and her grip tightened on Hélène’s hand.

“Really? How thoughtful of you,” Hélène remarked, her smile growing sweeter.

“It was nothing really~ Couldn’t have a lady like her humiliate herself with such a simple game. Thought a prize would swoon her~” Gosh, the tone in that woman’s voice meant that she was not taking a hint and with how close she had scooted to Marya, the boundary stood thin.

Taking the situation into her own hands, Marya wrapped an arm around Hélène and pressed a kiss to her temple. Her hand still held hers which was highly visible to the woman’s vision. “We should get going. It’s getting quite late and we’ve got work tomorrow, haven’t we, love?”

“We do. It was a pleasure to meet you, miss. Have a great night,” Hélène wished quickly.

Marya maneuvered them away from the booth as swiftly as possible after a brief nod towards the woman, and she had not realized how tight she had been gripping onto Hélène’s hand until they reached their car. Marya unlocked it and released the hand to get into the driver’s seat silently. Neither of them spoke until they got into the car and drove away from the parking lot.

It was quite an eventful night and not quite the way they wanted it to end. Though, Hélène was rather astounded by the way Marya had complete grasp of the situation. She had been the one who wanted to diffuse it because of her budding jealousy but it was Marya who did it. The handhold, the kiss to her temple and the rapid excuse to leave. It was all Marya and Hélène could feel her love for the woman swell.

She spoke up bashfully. “Thank you for handling the issue.”

“It was hardly an issue to begin with.”

“It was going to be one.”

“True but the issue was only centered on that woman. I drew the line but she chose to step over it. I knew we had to leave then before it grew into one.”

“Smart move.”

Then there was a moment’s silence.

“Why’d you do it?” Hélène inquired all of a sudden.

Marya glanced at Hélène questioningly. “Did what?”

“Everything just now. You’re never open to PDA.” Even in the dark, Hélène could see Marya smiling fondly.

Sighing to herself, she held a hand out to Hélène for her to take and when she did, she brought her knuckles to her lips to press a lingering kiss. She did not lower her hand even as she spoke. “I wanted to show her that I already had someone to love. Someone I’m very proud of in all she does, even if she sticks her tongue out in concentration.”

“So you were showing me off?” Hélène joked with a light laugh.

“Sort of like that. Only because I’m proud that I have someone and I truly love you.”

“Marya Dmitrievna Akrhosimova! I never knew you were so corny,” Hélène gasped dramatically.

“Oh, shush… I’ll stop talking.”

“No, no! Go on, please!”

Marya shook her head but continued anyway. “After today, I really just… I’ve never appreciated you so much. From the clown incident at the start to standing up to that woman. You showed me how much you cared and I’m touched.”

“Aw… You big softie.” Hélène pecked Marya’s cheek gently and rested her head on her shoulder. “I love you, ma belle. So damn much. I hope you know that.”

“I do. And I love you too. So, so very much… Now, if you could just move back to your seat. Your head is very distracting.”

“But I’m comfortable.”

“Oh, you minx”-

“Alright, alrighty. Yes, ma’am~”

[wickedmilo]

THE BETTER HAWKEYE | MILO & ORION

PLACE: Outside the University of Maine TIMING: 12:39 AM SUMMARY: Milo runs into Orion and, after not seeing each other in over a month, the two manage to reconnect. WRITING PARTNER: @3starsquinn CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcohol, drug abuse

Milo had always been the type to wander at night, but usually he had a goal in mind. There was always a dealer to meet, a club to go to, a stranger he could go home with. Now, he wandered the streets because he could. Because during the day he was confined to the house, itching to do something, for the sense of freedom he used to have. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly melancholy, he walked past Tower Comics, thinking about the excuses he was going to give his boss when he was ready to return to work. And now he was outside his old college building, staring up at the structure, remembering what it felt like to walk through the doorway, and into a class. Usually late, usually smelling of pot, always with a coffee in his hands. Sparking up a cigarette, he leaned against the brick wall behind him, observing the college from across the quiet street. There was nobody around at this time, despite all of the lights being on. And it was weirdly comforting to reminisce.  

It didn’t take very long for him to be drawn from his memories, though, as a familiar figure began to make his way down the entryway steps. Orion, he would recognise him anywhere. They had attended school together, though Orion had been far too shy to make his acquaintance back then. It was only after getting a job at the comic book store that they really began to get to know each other. His colleagues used to tease him endlessly about the boy’s very obvious crush. But as far as he was concerned, it was pretty harmless. Orion had never once made a move, and he didn’t exactly seem the type. He missed their conversations, he missed the routine of work. Although he had never been one to keep to a schedule, having somewhere to hang out and talk to people away from the nightlife of the town had been nice. He enjoyed it. Pushing away from the wall, it was probably a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop himself from crossing the road. He was feeling relatively mellow. With a handful of pills in his system, freshly fed thanks to Harsh and his generous supply of blood bags, he was in control. He wasn’t a danger. “Hey!” He called, exhaling a breath of smoke. “You do know they don’t give you extra credit for studying in the middle of the night?”  

Some time out of the house would do Orion some good. Following his most recent meltdown, he stayed at the campus library until the sun had fallen. The place was popular for all nighters with college students. He had done his own on multiple occasions, or at the very least used it as an excuse when he was trying to avoid his family. When he finally left the building it was with books tucked beneath his arm and the smell of rain in the air. Incoming rain it smelled like. That, and cigarette smoke. But aside from that, Rio didn’t tell there was another person around at all until the voice called out and scared the crap out of him. He jumped, one of the books slipping through his arm and falling to the ground. “Jesus. Sorry. Hey.” Rio breathed, bending down to grab the book and not even bothering to check who the person was saying hi to him. His cheeks flushed when he finally turned and saw Milo. “Oh. Woah. Hey! It’s been awhile.” Milo had been a familiar and friendly face at the comic book shop. One that Rio remembered fondly from high school even though the two never spoke. He also remembered how flustered he had always been trying to have a conversation with the boy at the comic book shop post graduation. He could remember just how awkward those first few discussions had been until Rio started to get a bit too passionate about the history of comic books. The only thing that could overcome his bad habit of crushing on any guy that was nice to him was how much he loved nerding out over things. 

Luckily for both of them, Rio was a bit less flustered around boys than he used to be. “Ha ha. Very funny. I focus better at night.” Rio shrugged as an explanation. It wasn’t technically a lie, although on this particular night he was just using it as an excuse so he didn’t have to go home. “I haven’t seen you at Towers recently. Do you still work there?” 

Milo felt a wave of guilt when Orion dropped one of his books. He had forgotten how easily flustered he could be. Before he was able to reach down and pick it up, Orion had it securely back under his arm, so he offered him a sheepish grin instead. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he admitted, his version of an apology. He watched, incredibly amused, as his company realised who he was talking to. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he blew the smoke away from where they were standing. “Yeah, I guess it kind of has.” It made him sad sometimes, to remember the simplicity of before. His life had always been turbulent, and unpredictable. But through his own choice. He had still been in control. Tower Comics had been a brief escape from the never ending cycle of getting high, and coming down. He showed up, he stood behind the counter, he sold comics. It was too easy. A quiet laugh escaping him at the mention of being able to focus at night, it felt too relatable given his current circumstance. “Things got a little… weird, for a while.” Like that wasn’t a ridiculous understatement, but he wasn’t sure what else he could say.  

“I, uh- I don’t actually know.” Did he still work there? It had been over a month since he last showed up for a shift, but his boss had always managed to tolerate his bullshit. Missing shifts wasn’t unusual for him. Neither was arriving late for them, sometimes he even left early, slinking away when nobody was around to stop him. He had a feeling if he walked in with an apology and an explanation, he would be able to keep his job. “It’s been like... a month, which is probably not great. But they’ll let me back. I mean- I hope they’ll let me back. Why?” He asked. “Are you still stopping by? Have you been missing me?” He was teasing, but just barely. He genuinely missed Orion, and he liked to think the enjoyment of their conversations had been mutual.  

“It’s fine. I’m notoriously jumpy” Orion admitted with a small laugh. He would have thought that with all the training that he had been doing recently that he might get a bit less anxious. As it turned out, getting rid of that instinct wasn’t going to be easy. As if he needed any other reason to loathe his deceased parents. Now that he had composed himself, he got the chance to study Milo. Rio couldn’t remember how long it had been since the two had talked in the comic book shop, but he knew that it had been awhile. Something about him seemed… different. Physically, he didn’t appear to look very different than he had at Towers, but something was definitely different. Just as Rio was a lot different despite the relatively small change to him physically. Rio’s bleached blonde hair was gone, but he was still stick thin. His baggy hoodie also hid any new muscle definition his training had afforded. “Weird?” Rio questioned. He had an entire list of theories of what Milo might mean by that. This town had no shortage of weird things. But maybe against all odds, Milo’s troubles were completely mundane and non supernatural. “Sorry to hear that. Are things uh- getting better?” 

“Fingers crossed for you. The guy that owns the place seems pretty nice, right?” He had no idea what may contribute to disappearing from work for a month, but he didn’t exactly know Milo that well. The two had been friendly enough at the comic book store, but the friendship hadn’t exactly extended outside of there. “Well I don’t get to rant about comics with anyone else in the store, so yeah for sure. I missed having you to chat to.” Though Rio didn’t go there as much anymore, he had stopped there a few times over the last month or so. Admittedly, Rio had been going there less and less for far longer than a month. While dating Winston, the two stayed busy working at the Scribrary or hanging out with their friends. After Winston left town, Rio had thrown himself into his work. “I drop in when I can! I’ve been busy lately, so I haven’t been able to go as much. But if I knew you were going back I’d definitely try to swing by more often.” He cringed at his own statement. “What have you been up to? Outside of Towers, I mean.” 

Milo continued to smile, feeling a strange sense of affection for his friend. Seeing him outside of the comic book store was a rare occurrence, but it was comforting to know while his life had become so new, and disorientating, it had carried on as usual for other people. The world was still spinning, Orion was still buying comics. Things were going to be okay. Shifting uncomfortably on the spot as Orion observed him, he couldn’t help but feel as though he was being read. In the same way his mom always knew when he was on something, or under the influence, before he had even said a word to her, maybe Orion could see somehow that he had changed. “Yeah,” he laughed, only a hint of bitterness lacing the sound. Taking another drag of his cigarette, he tapped ash absentmindedly. “Really fucking weird.” He admitted. “Don’t be sorry, though. S’not like it’s your fault.” He caught his company’s eye again, showing him his sentiment was sincere. “I mean- I think so?” It was hard to gauge, when everything was still so fresh. But now that Harsh was helping him, now that he had someone there, he didn’t feel so lost. The hopelessness that had been weighing down on him wasn’t quite as heavy as it used to be. “Yeah… yeah, they are.”  

His smile growing at the mention of his boss, he nodded, reaching up to push his hair back away from his face. “He’s pretty chill, I don’t think he’ll mind too much if I just, you know… say I’m sorry.” He knew taking responsibility wasn’t something he was good at, but hopefully his boss would be able to see he was serious this time. This absence wasn’t his fault. “Oh, yeah? Well I’m here now if you need to ramble. Immortal Hulk is still going, right? I don’t suppose you’re caught up?” Raising his eyebrows, he knew it would be unfair to openly tease Orion for his comment, but he couldn’t resist the flirtatious expression. What harm could it do? “So, what you’re saying is I’m the best thing about Tower?” He laughed easily, offering a casual shrug. What have you been up to outside of work shouldn’t be such a loaded question. But how was he supposed to answer? Oh, I died, found out the world I thought I lived in was very much not the world I was living in. Developed a mad craving for blood, hurt one of my closest friends when she randomly decided she wanted to kill me, then shacked up with another vampire who realised I had no idea what was going on… “I’ve, uh- I’ve been around.” He muttered, dropping his cigarette to the floor, grinding it beneath his shoe as an excuse to avoid eye contact. “You?”  

Orion’s brow furrowed as he considered his best course of action. There was still a chance that Milo’s definition of weird was vastly different from Rio’s. “Right. Yeah I know, it’s just- it still sucks. And I’m sorry that it sucks.” Rio rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. At the very least, Milo confirmed that things were getting better. That had to be a plus. If nothing else, there was something positive. He was tired of things only getting worse. He needed to know that things really did get better for some people in this town. “Well I know that we aren’t like uh- you know super close or whatever. But if you ever want to talk about the weird stuff, I’m a great listener.” He hoped that Milo could pick up on the differences between Rio then and Rio now. Back then Rio was far too flustered and infatuated to ever be able to sustain a genuine friendship. He wasn’t nearly as hopeless as he used to be when it came to making friends.  

“Oh! Yeah I think it’s still going. I started it, but I’m behind right now. The series is really interesting, even though I’ve never cared much for Hulk comics. Right now I’m following Strange Academy pretty closely. It has a lot of like, Young Avengers or X-Men school energy. And I’ve always been a sucker for the teen or young adult superhero groups! I’m hooked.” It was comforting to see how easily he was able to slip back into conversation with Milo. Rio groaned at Milo’s very pointed comment. “Well maybe I’m saying you were” Rio laughed, imagining how he would have reacted a year ago if Milo had made the same comment in the store, “Until you disappeared. Now it has to be like the gaming tournaments or something. And I don’t even participate.” With his incredibly vague response, Rio was all but convinced that something very supernatural had occurred in Milo’s life. Teetering the line between nosy and understanding, Rio kept his mouth shut. The two ran into each other out of luck, not exactly the ideal scenario for either to be spilling their secrets to each other. “Me? Well my friend moved out of town and left me in this giant house by myself. So I’ve basically been a hermit for the past two months. So my life is very, very boring.” 

Milo hadn’t been expecting such a genuine apology, it caught him off guard. It was very clear that, despite not being incredibly close, Orion cared about him, and it hit him that he cared about Orion in return. It was strange how easily somebody could become a fixture in your life, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. He felt his throat close, as he fought to suppress whatever emotion was attempting to overwhelm him. It would be embarrassing to explain why he was suddenly choked up. He refused to become the person who cried every time they were offered a shred of kindness. “Thank you…” He said, his voice quiet. He wondered whether it was obvious how touched he was by the sincerity. “That, uh- that means a lot.” Unable to stop a sudden laugh from escaping him, he shook his head, falling back into his usual demeanour. “No, honestly-  you don’t want to hear it. I’d only sound fucking insane, and I kind of brought it on myself, anyway...” Brushing off the comment, he jumped at the chance to talk about comic books. This was an easy subject, this was something he knew.  

“Hm, I’ve heard good things about Strange Academy. Do you know who’s doing the artwork? I know how fucking basic this is but I kind of miss seeing Skottie Young, his variants are always insane.” Grinning, his eyes shining with mischief, he couldn’t help feeling genuinely flattered by Orion’s admission. Not many people saw him as anything more than a waste of potential. It felt good to just be Milo, the kid in Tower Comics who enjoyed making conversation. “I knew it.” He teased. “I’m going to assume the past tense is because I’ve been gone for a month, and not because you’ve changed your mind.” Nodding at the mention of gaming tournaments, he tried to remember whether he had ever attended one. He wasn’t the type to be drawn into the world of comic cons, and gaming. He enjoyed comics because, as far as he was concerned, they were a form of literature. Any extension of that enjoyment never quite managed to capture his attention. “Well, I’d hate for you to settle. I’ll be back soon…” He knew it wasn’t a promise he could make, but he so wanted the statement to be true. “And then your very, very boring life will maybe be a little less boring again.”

Whether it was the scholar in Orion or the side of him that desperately wanted to be better friends with Milo, he absolutely did want to hear more about whatever had been happening in his life. But he also knew enough from his own experiences avoiding a topic that Milo didn’t want to dive into it right now. “Of course. And seriously, anytime. I may be easily panicked but I’m slightly less easily surprised.” That may not exactly be the truth, but when it came to the supernatural it was becoming more and more true. “No pressure or anything. The offer stands for whenever.”  

This definitely didn’t seem like the time though. Instead, Rio enjoyed the comic conversation instead. “Good question. I don’t actually. It looks familiar though I’m sure they’ve done other stuff. I’ll have to look it up.” Rio made a mental note to do some research on it in the morning. “Oh yeah I totally get that! He’s great! I’ve always been a big fan of Jimmy Cheung, but it may just be because of how much I love the Young Avengers. Which I’m sure is annoyingly obvious so I won’t shut up about them.” Nor did he ever plan to. He loved those comics. Loved the idea of rebelling against their parents and the adults trying to hold them back from doing what they thought was right. It resonated with Rio in a way that he was always too cowardly to do for himself. Well, until he murdered his parents apparently.  

“Okay, okay. I admit it. Don’t let it go to your head though.” Rio smiled and raised his hands in surrender of the information. This was all… good. It was nice to be able to hold an actual conversation with him outside of comic books for once. “Well I’ll be on the lookout for that. And maybe sometime we could also do something that wasn’t in a comic book shop too? Like hang out or something?” Rio found himself asking, surprising himself by the suggestion. “In a purely platonic way of course. I mean uh- I don’t like still have a massive crush on you or anything. So this is not me like making a move or whatever.” He sighed, only realizing after that he had basically just admitted to his Milo that pre-Winston, Rio had a crush on the guy. “Not that I ever had a crush! Unless it was super obvious. But even if it was, please for the love of god forget that this last part ever happened.” Jesus. 

Endeared by Orion’s explanation, Milo made a mental note. Maybe he couldn’t tell his friend everything, but it would be nice having somebody he could confide in about certain struggles, even if he did need to be somewhat vague about them. “Maybe, one day…” He offered Rio a warm smile, making it very clear that he meant what he was saying. He wanted to, it just wasn’t quite that easy. Glad of the subject change, he focused on the conversation, thinking back on whether he had ever taken in the name of the artist. “Oh, Cheung is awesome! Whenever I want to imagine what a character would look like for real, I go to his work.” Laughing when Orion mentioned talking endlessly about the Young Avengers, he tried to convey with his expression just how much he enjoyed that fact. It was never an annoyance, hearing someone speak so passionately about the thing they loved. “Definitely not. You could never annoy me.” He insisted, not trusting Orion to accept the sentiment. “See, I’m more of a Jekyll and Hyde kind of guy, maybe that’s why I’m drawn to the Hulk. It’s one of my all time favourite tropes, you know?” Maybe if he took the time to dissect why, he could talk about how he related to the internal struggle, the constant battle between desire and a need to be in control. But that struggle had become much more real to him recently, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about it. If he was being entirely honest with himself, he had never been ready to talk about such a personal observation.

“Oh no, it’s too late. It’s gone to my head.” He continued to tease. Raising his eyebrows, he wasn’t expecting the invitation, but he was incredibly grateful to receive it. Any relationships he had cherished before being turned had basically been burned to the ground. He wasn’t sure how to navigate them now. This was a welcome reminder that it was possible, that he could still have friends. Distracted by the blush creeping to Orion’s cheeks, it was the first time since approaching him that he considered the blood coursing through his veins. His skin was flushed, he could hear his heartbeat. It was difficult to ground himself, but he managed. Turning his head away from the direction the wind was blowing, he made an active effort to avoid his scent. As quickly as he had begun to feel normal, any semblance of normalcy was stolen from him. But he refused to get caught up in bitterness, not when he was so close to reclaiming a piece of his old life. Taking a hesitant step backwards, he attempted to frame the movement as casual, carefully fixing a grin back into place. He was genuinely amused by what he was hearing, everything was just so difficult. “Maybe not super obvious.” He assured his company. “But my colleagues might have pointed it out to me.” It was his turn to hold up his hands, more than willing to grant the request. “Already forgotten. And I would seriously love to. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything. I mean, even this is just… a relief. I guess that sounds dumb. I just- I really fucking missed this.” 

Though the conversation was sidelined, Orion grinned at the thought that there was more to Milo’s story. A book that hadn’t completely closed. Rio wasn’t sure that there was a friendship outside of Towers. That it was just a worker passing his workday by humoring the awkward gay kid with a crush on him. Rio was thrilled to learn that was not the case. Or not entirely at least. So the conversation about his mysterious weird experience would be shelved for another time. “I’m so glad that we agree on Jim Cheung’s superiority. I would have given anything to be like Kate Bishop. She was like, the coolest comic book character ever.” He spent a lot of time wishing he was more like Kate Bishop, though her entire character’s premise didn’t fit perfectly. The imperfect family, sure. But Kate’s entire strength was that she was the only non-powered person on an otherwise super team, temporary status of Eli Bradley notwithstanding. Rio’s own super abilities, wanted or not, sort of ruined that desire. He still wished he was as confident as she was. “Ooh! Yes that’s a fascinating trope! Fun fact, Robert Louis Stevenson was actually inspired to write the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde while he was trying to work on a play about an actual person named William Brodie. Apparently this guy, William was like a big figure in his town. City council and all that jazz, but ended up being outed as a thief. Robert was fascinated by how someone who had such a clean public image could do such terrible things.” Rio was partly staring up at the sky now as he rambled on about the history of a book that was already a couple hundred years old. He could tell that the rain was about to start. Compliments of the super senses he couldn’t forget about. “Sorry I uh- get passionate about random history things.” 

Rio tried to fake a serious tone, but he couldn’t stop laughing. “Oh god, I created a monster. You’re never going to let that go are you? You know, I’m sure there’s plenty of other employees at Towers that I could go and annoy.” As much as Rio was enjoying the positive energy, he couldn’t help his face from heating up at openly talking about his old crush. “Oh god. You said that way too nicely. It was definitely super obvious.” Rio sighed. His face was on fire now, and he could only imagine the bright shade of red his cheeks must be. “Thank you for taking pity on me. Because I desperately need this too. I’m very tired of sitting in my house doing nothing all day.” 

“Kate Bishop, huh?” Milo echoed. He had definitely heard Orion talk about her before but hearing about his favourite characters always intrigued him. He had such a way of explaining himself, he could say the same sentence over and over and Milo was fairly certain he would listen regardless. “Poor Barton, just brushed to the side.” He teased, his eyes shining. He didn’t know an awful lot about Kate and her backstory, but more than once he had been flicking through a comic book, only to stumble upon a mention of trying to please an emotionally distant father. Boy, did he know what that felt like. His father hadn’t been absent. In fact, he had many memories of playing catch as a child, of being read bedtime stories, and baking on the days designed for them both to spend time together. But Oliver Summers had never talked about his feelings, and had always made his expectations incredibly clear. The moment his son was able to read on his own, he was expected to. The moment he was able to study on his own, he was expected to. The moment he could fend for himself, cook his own meals, do his own research, he was expected to. It was academia, and independence above all else. And now that he was officially off the rails, he had grown all too familiar with his stern disappointment, shame and frustration often simmering below his carefully arranged expression. “Bishop is pretty cool though, I’ll allow it.” Falling silent again, he recognised the look on Orion’s face and knew he was about to learn something. At the very least, hear about something interesting.  

He could vaguely remember covering the topic at university, but he had been in and out of his classes. Incredibly unreliable, and incredibly not sober. Which made the information feel fresh, and exciting. “Don’t apologise for being passionate.” He hated to think anybody ever made Orion feel bad for sharing the subjects he enjoyed, even if that person was Orion himself. “People are complicated… it’s fascinating, really. I guess you never really know a person’s motivations. Not unless they outright break them down for you.” Grinning suddenly at the choice of phrase, the irony wasn’t lost on him. They were talking about monsters within literature, but hadn’t he also kind of already become one in real life? He would usually wallow in that, but with Orion it felt easy to see the humour. “Maybe you have.” He admitted, mischief lacing his tone. “And no, I am definitely not. You’ve already confirmed I’m the most interesting employee, so if you want to go and bore yourself with the others then I guess I can’t really stop you.” It was impossible not to notice how flushed Orion was, his skin pink with embarrassment as a quiet sigh escaped him. But there was just enough distance between them both for his friend not to feel like a temptation. The last thing he would ever want to do is hurt somebody he cared about. “I’m not taking pity on you, moron. I want to hang out.” He insisted. “And not many people describe me as nice, so I’ll take it. Thank you for the compliment.” He felt guilty for being pleased to hear Orion spent so much of his time alone, but it only justified his decision. He could spend more time with Orion because Orion wanted company. And, Vampire or not, where was the harm in that? 

Orion only shrugged in response to Milo's question about Barton, “Hey Kate said it best herself when she called herself the better Hawkeye. She wouldn’t lie.” The first drop of rain hit against Rio’s forehead. It ran down his face, a welcome drop of cold against the burning skin. He could just barely hair the sounds of droplets hitting against the pavement now. It didn’t seem like it would start pouring right away, but the rain would probably only get heavier from here. In preparation, Rio slid his bag off of his back and opened it, revealing even more books stuff inside. It was a tight squeeze trying to get the books previously held under his arm in. He was just barely able to zip the bag up. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it would protect against the lighter rain until the conversation with Milo faded. Rio wasn’t in much of a rush to leave right now.  

“Right. Sorry. I’ve been told I over apologize too. Example A, two seconds ago.” Rio had found a decent group of people that had embraced or encouraged his sometimes overbearing passion for history, but each time still came as a surprise. He was used to passive annoyance. A feigned interest in the topic before all too intentionally taking an opportunity to change the subject. But he finally knew people that didn’t do that. He really liked those people. He was just glad Milo was one of those people. “No. Not at all. People always surprise you.” Rio agreed a little too aggressively, eyebrows rising in unison with his emphasis. Hunters were a perfect example of this. Trained to kill, taught to blend in. Some were just better at it than others. “I’m totally going to regret telling you that” Rio rolled his eyes and wiped away at the stream of water running down his face from the rain. “Okay, okay. You don’t have to get all defensive about it. We’ll hang out then. I’m looking forward to it!”  

Milo laughed, he couldn’t really argue with Kate Bishop herself. And though he hadn’t actually read very many of the Hawkeye comics, it was clear Orion knew what he was talking about. “Okay, okay, you win. Kate is the best Hawkeye.” He surrendered, feeling the first drops of rain begin to hit his skin. Glancing up at the night sky, the clouds were dark, and thick. The water was as cool as the night air, and it was a welcome sensation, but he had a suspicion it might be the start of a downpour. He knew it was unfair, expecting Orion to feel the same way about the weather, but he didn’t want to leave just yet. He watched patiently as his friend did his best to save his books, wincing a little as he considered just how heavy his bag must be. “Are you apologising for apologising?” He asked, raising his eyebrows with a quiet smile. “Come on, which way were you walking?” He readied himself to start moving again, absentmindedly brushing down his hoodie before forcing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s get you out of the rain, I refuse to be responsible for your shit getting ruined, and it’s getting cold.”

Waiting to be given a direction, he mulled over what Rio was telling him. As far as he was concerned, he had always been incredibly predictable. His parents always knew how and when he was next going to screw up. As a Human, when he disappeared, Dani always, always knew how to find him. “Maybe some people.” He said finally. “I don’t think I’ve ever surprised anyone.” Offering an easy grin, he hoped his warm expression might be enough to take back the insult, he so often forgot not everybody was used to his humour. It wasn’t as though he could call people names while he was working, and he had only ever spoken to Orion at work. “You won’t regret it, don’t worry. I’m not that mean. And an insult from me is a compliment, I swear. I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just excited-” It felt ridiculous to admit, but it was undeniably true. “I haven’t had anyone to talk to in a while, so…” Anyone regular, anyway. “It’s good to see you. I mean it, Rio...” 

“It was barely even a fair fight. Hawkguy never stood a chance.” Orion laughed. Talking about stuff like this was one of the few times he seemed to excel, or at the very least accomplish, at normal conversation. He missed being able to just talk and laugh and even joke without spending the entire conversation constantly second guessing every single word before he even said them. “That’s uh- Kate starts calling him that when they start working together. Since they’re both Hawkeye.” Rio picked the bag up and swung it back over his shoulder with relative ease, tucking his arms through the straps. “I’m pleading the fifth on that one.” Rio shrugged, but began walking with Milo. He wasn’t sure why Milo thought he needed an escort to his car parked around the corner of the library, but he assumed that it was probably the same reason that everybody assumed Rio needed an escort or a protein shake or regular exercise. But like with most hunters, even Rio was an example of how looks could be deceiving. Most people didn’t peg the sickly looking gay frail kid as the one that could rip a car door off. “For the record, it’s not your fault at all. I’ve been doing a great job ruining my… stuff all on my own.” 

Walking towards his car, Rio spun and walked backwards to look at Milo. He wasn’t sure what Milo meant by that. That he had never surprised anyone. He supposed it could have just been an offhand comment that didn’t require much digging into. But something about it seemed incredibly sad. Rio started to consider his own stakes on the word. In a way, Rio had tried his whole life to be as unsurprising as possible. He had wanted to blend in, be a good person and fly mostly under the radar. He supposed that same tactic would backfire though. It was only more surprising when someone found out he was a hunter now. “You surprised me like twenty minutes ago. Like genuinely scared the crap out of me. Not that that’s super hard to do.” Rio laughed, but hoped it helped at least a minimal amount, “I’m honestly surprised you even like, came up and talked to me tonight. So there you go. First time for everything.” Rio’s foot caught on something on the ground and he almost tripped, stumbling backwards a few times before righting himself. That’s what he got for trying to walk backwards and talk. They got to the mostly empty parking lot and Rio lead Milo to his car, “Welp. Here we go. I uh- yeah. Same here. I could use a friend right now so…” Rio pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it over to Milo, “Want to put your number in? So we can plan a hang out. Or text or whatever.”  

Milo smiled, listening to Orion as he continued to talk about Kate Bishop, and Clint Barton. It was obvious to anyone how his demeanour changed when he was talking about something that he genuinely loved, and he sincerely hoped he wasn’t the only person to appreciate that. “Maybe I should make more of an effort to get into Hawkeye.” He admitted. When… if he was allowed back to the comic book store, it would be the first thing on his to-do list. “Wouldn’t it be easier to take up a new mantle at that point?” He asked, trying to imagine working with somebody else named Milo without things descending into confusion. It didn’t go unnoticed just how easily Orion swung the bag over his shoulder, but he chose not to comment. He wasn’t about to embarrass him, not after his admission. Maybe he was right, maybe people really did have a way of surprising you. His smile faltering momentarily, he had a feeling there was a lot more to the words than Rio was letting on, though he brushed them off. If he wanted to elaborate then he would. “Exactly, so you don’t need my help.”  

Following his friend to where he could only assume his car was parked, he moved slowly, allowing Orion to face him walking backwards. The rain was falling with a little more persistence, but there was nowhere near enough water to soak them through. Pushing his damp hair back away from his face, he caught Rio’s eye with an easy laugh, oddly touched by the sentiment. “I guess that’s true, you know… I can’t argue with you on that one.” It wasn’t quite the same, but it felt like enough. “I do like you.” He insisted. “I’d jump at any excuse to talk to you, you don’t know how boring my shifts used to be when you didn’t show up to see me.” His step faltering as Orion stumbled backwards, the boy righted himself before he even had the chance to fully react. “If you were hoping I was going to catch you and sweep you off of your feet, you need to be a good 2 yards closer.” He teased, as they finally came to a halt in the near-empty parking lot. Accepting the phone gratefully, he hurried to plug in his number. Mainly in an attempt to keep the device out of the rain, but also because it felt good to have a contact, he wanted Orion to have a way of reaching him. Handing it back, he pulled his carton of cigarettes from his pocket, ready to light one for the begrudging walk home. Harsh was probably wondering where he was. “I guess, I’ll- uh… I’ll see you around then?” 

Orion had often wondered that same thing about the Hawkeye issue. Though he supposed it did change a bit depending on how far someone dived into the character. “Great question. I actually think in some of the comics that Kate Bishop sort of drops the hawkeye name because she becomes a private detective instead. It’s a whole thing. But regardless, I’m interested in getting your thoughts on it!” He was mostly excited to have someone to talk comic books with again. 

There had been a surprising amount of honesty and sentiment in what had otherwise been a fairly comical conversation. With how bold Milo was being in his statements, Rio found it hard to focus. As the conversation about comics died down, so did Rio’s ability to talk apparently. But he had to try to force himself to not reverse back into his old habits. He wanted to be actual friends with Milo now. Not just a customer with a crush. “Uh-” Rio drug the word out for far too long before snapping back to focus, “Thanks. Same to you.” At least the cold air would help fight any further blushing. “Very funny, Milo. I am not that person anymore! I’m just a clumsy comic book nerd. Not a clumsy- uh- crushing comic book nerd.” Yikes. That wasn’t as smooth as he was hoping it would sound. “Anyways. Thanks again.” Rio said, opening his car door and tossing the bag of books across the center console and into the passenger seat. He was about to pull himself into the car when he turned back around. “It’s only going to rain harder. Probably, I mean. Do you have a car? If not I can give you a lift?” 

“I guess I have some reading to do.” Milo was becoming more determined by the second to pick up the Hawkeye comics. It wasn’t the first time Orion had managed to convince him to start a new series. “I can’t promise I’ll have anything interesting to say though. You’re way better at talking about this shit than I am.” Grinning as he waited for his friend to find his words, he hadn’t been expecting a joke about his crush. “Eh, two out of three aint bad.” He teased. “Though I am offended you got over me so quickly.” He added, the look on his face making it very clear he wasn’t being serious. He wanted to ask why he was being thanked, surely not for the compliments, but he didn’t want to draw attention to any potential lack of self esteem. That hardly seemed fair, and he could make it clear he genuinely enjoyed Orion’s company in other ways. It made him happy to think there would be opportunities in the future to spend time with him.  

Caught off guard by the sudden offer, he shifted awkwardly on the spot. He hadn’t been in a car since becoming a vampire, and it definitely didn’t feel smart to get in one now. Especially not with a human, somebody whose heart was beating, pumping blood through their veins that he could smell, even from where he was standing. “No,” he murmured finally, his voice melancholy as he remembered just how much he could no longer do. He had spent the better part of the past seven years saying yes to absolutely everything, taking risks without considering the consequences, walking headfirst into danger because if he told himself things would be fine then it became all too easy to believe. Now… for the first time in his life, he was being forced to think, to contemplate every action before making a decision. It went against every instinct he had, it wasn’t in his nature. But it was necessary to keep other people safe.  

“No, I’ll be okay. I’m not staying too far from here…” He absentmindedly sparked up his cigarette, needing something to do with his hands. “Thank you though.” Shooting Orion one last smile, he held his gaze, needing him to understand his sincerity. “It really was good to see you. Text me.” The moment the words left his mouth, he turned away. Before Orion could call out to him, or tell him to get in the car. Before he could change his mind and put anybody at risk. Before he could think too deeply on his new limitations, and what it felt like to say no. To have no choice. So much had been taken away from him, and wallowing in that fact had become a past time. Though, he realised, with a strange sense of clarity, he may have just gained a friend. It was this thought that carrying him, as he left Orion in the parking lot. This thought making the night feel a little less dark as he disappeared into the shadows. 

[maryellencarter]

So the final cause, if I recall my Aristotle (I was terrible at Aristotelian logic, or at least at what the badly illustrated homeschool textbook said was Aristotelian logic), was that my apartment has been growing irregularly more squalorous for months. Occasionally I would have a bout of energy and put my groceries in the pantry, but for the most part I've been doing well to keep up on the laundry. The proximal cause was... probably the coloring books.

Anyway, this morning I put on pants that were not sweatpants, probably for the first time in months, because going to get vaccinated is a festal occasion and one ought to look one's best. (I put on my cute top with the frilly shoulder straps and the little rosettes, too, since I figured it'd be smart to wear something sleeveless. And my combat boots with the pastel tiedye laces, in case of hiking, which also turned out to be smart. I was decked out.)

So then I went and showed a number of people my ID and my appointment email, and they poked me with a timy needle -- not as small as the one they used in the ER for the insulin that time, I didn't even feel that one, but a very nice thin needle compared to my usual standard of needles, which are the ones they use to try and get blood *out* of you, and often fail when you are me. Then they made me sit down for fifteen minutes in case I took an allergy, and then they gave me a lollipop (I got blue cotton candy, my favorite flavor) and a sticker with a hashtag on it and I left.

Then I got to wend my way back from the place where the vaccinations were happening -- it was a big event on the college campus, since they have a lot of nice big rooms and wide open spaces there -- and it happened I was coming back from a direction I do not usually wend my way from, and I dropped into Michaels. Usually I go to Joann's, because they have fabric, which Michaels doesn't, and Michaels is generally a bit froofier in the sorts of craft supplies they stock at least locally, but the Michaels and the Joann's are right across the street from each other, and I still haven't heard anything about my special order on the floss color that Joann's was out of. Michaels doesn't have the full range of DMC colors, but I took a look and they did in fact have the color I needed.

Then I wandered around some, because Michaels actually does have a bigger yarn selection than Joann's, and I found some Patons Kroy (my absolute favorite sock yarn for feel and texture) in a colorway I didn't loathe, which is *not* something I've been able to find since they stopped making that one colorway with all the orange and black and gray stripes, which I loved dearly and can't remember the name of. So I was like "this will be just the thing for that one lace scarf I was looking at that needs wool yarn in case it has to be blocked to look right", because knitted lace is like that and you can't block acrylic. You can "kill" acrylic but that's different and I'd rather not.

Um. Anyway. Then I wandered around some more, because I get into Michaels so seldom that it's handy to look at what-all they've got while I'm there. Over the past... week or so I have had a sudden bout of wanting to color in coloring books, because that happens to me sometimes; there was an impulse trip to the Walmart way out in the boondocks on the unlit road for Crayola colored pencils, because I decided I was not going to pay eight times as much for Prismacolors.

(The really infuriating thing about coloring books, in my opinion, is that right now you can either find the kiddie newsprint coloring books which are with us always, of course, or you can find "adult coloring books" which are *in-fucking-variably* filled with horses and lions and whales and other large charismatic mammals covered in what look for all the world like quilting patterns. If I wanted to color a rendition of a quilt filled with tiny stripes and polka dots, I'd get some graph paper! And the dots and lines and so forth are so tiny that you can *only* color them with colored pencils, because that's Adulty.)

(Yes, I know they sell coloring pages on Etsy and places. I've been avoiding the print shop for at least a month and a half now, when if I would put the things on my thumb drive and go to it, I could start getting my student loans out of default. I would never wind up printing coloring pages off of Etsy. No, I don't know why. Print shops scare me, perhaps slightly worse than post offices.)

Um. Where was I? So I had gone way far out to the Walmart nobody goes to which therefore often has interesting things in stock, and I had discovered that Crayola still does the glitter crayons I had coveted as a tiny, and they also make double-ended scented markers, which are like the coolest thing ever to the tiny early-nineties child I still am in my heart. So as of this morning, my kitchen counter was completely covered with... things. There was already the sewing machine and the Dr Pepper that doesn't taste like an old shoe, and the peanut butter and the elephant-shaped porcelain wax-warmer, but there had been a narrow slot where I could put a plate and eat my meals -- my only table having been co-opted a year ago by my workstation. Now that slot was filled with various Crayola products and a coloring book with mermaids in it, which at least had a few pages that could be colored partly with markers or crayons, instead of being entirely minced into geometric shapes barely larger than a pencil lead.

SO, what happened after I got vaccinated and found yarn and floss, is that I found out that Crayola still makes the *pearlescent* crayons I coveted even more as a kid. I had gotten one in a little sample pack included with my big 64-box, and it was very precious to me. It's long gone now, of course.

So of course then I bought the pearlescent crayons, and then I bitched at Leia for a while about how I didn't have any coloring books I could use these wonderful crayons *on* unless I wanted to go back to the Lisa Frank newsprint of my youth. (They did actually have Lisa Frank. I strongly considered it. But my tastes have evolved beyond newsprint.)

Then I googled some things, and I found Walmart listing a Crayola mandala coloring book. I went to look for it, and I didn't find it, but I did find a different coloring book with "stained glass" style pictures (sadly not on actual tracing paper, but it occurs to me that if I could source some tracing paper, which it further occurs to me that I haven't seen in years although admittedly I haven't been looking, that I could *trace them* and color them and tape them on my windows like the tacky '90s kid I am), which GLORY HALLELUJAH has spaces big enough to fucking color in!

...Michaels also had neon and metallic Crayola crayons. I might go back. They were 24-packs of each. The single silver and gold crayons from my mom's 64-pack were pretty much only used for Easter eggs in our house, so as not to use them up. I just -- I have a wealth beyond imagining of special effect crayons and markers available to me, and I'm struggling to find anywhere to use them. This seems backwards.

So anyway, then I also found a cute sundress big enough to go over my ass, and then I sat in the furniture section for a while and pondered buying a new table so I wouldn't have to keep stacking coloring books on top of the peanut butter jar in order to eat, and it occurred to me that if I took down my Christmas tree, which I've had up since the Before Times (having gotten it from in fact the same Walmart east of anywhere after all the rest in town were sold out of the particular model), then I would have a space along the back of the kitchen counter where I could hypothetically put a table.

So, because I am a sensible and moderate individual, I bought a thing of string to tie up the Christmas tree branches with, and did not buy a table yet. Then it was time for D&D, so I hurried home and put my vaccination card on the fridge and got into the voice chat and started taking down the Christmas tree.

Then it was five hours later, and I had started konmari-ing the whole apartment in order to have somewhere to store the Christmas tree, and I had discovered that my closet shelf was almost entirely full of empty cardboard boxes, so I had pulled all those out and rifled through them to make sure they didn't contain anything important, and after rescuing three cards from a friend and one glasses chamois, I stuffed most of the boxes in a trash bag, jammed the condensed Christmas tree and all the winter blankets and my air mattress and various other wintry things into the giant box my office chair came in, managed to get that giant box up onto the closet shelf (I have some soreness around my injection site but I honestly don't know if it's a side effect of the vaccination or a pulled muscle from wiggling a very large heavy box into a very tight space over my head), and moved the Goodwill oddities into a midsize box that I think I brought my workstation home in, but they just moved the remaining onsite agents into a much smaller room so I don't think I'm going to be asked to bring my workstation back for a while, and when I do go to bring it back I think the monitors will fit nicely in my washtub.

(I'm giving Goodwill my crockpot. After I forgot the garbanzos in it for three days until the chicken broth started to stink, I decided I am not a person who needs to own a crockpot. Also something like eight skeins of rather ugly yarn because I bought too much for the baby blankets I was making.)

(I'm not sure why I own a washtub. It's bright blue and plastic. It does have a use, which is to hand-wash my weighted blanket in occasionally, as of course you can't put twenty-odd pounds of glass baubles in a washing machine.)

(I certainly did make some life choices that led me here, did I not.)

Annnnyway, so now I have an almost empty three-drawer Rubbermaid dresser, an entirely empty and extremely large Rubbermaid tote (I'm pretty sure I could trap myself in there, but I haven't tried), a mostly empty square ottoman which is also a storage box, and a royal shitton of tiny things like office supplies and party favors that don't *go* anywhere.

"A place for everything" is the really hard part, you know. I achieved it once. Then I moved out of that apartment and have never achieved it again. Once things *have* places, then even if you don't have the spoons to put the peanut butter jar back in the pantry right *now*, you know it has a spot between the Hormel and the Chef Boyardee, and it's way easier than "oh god if I open the pantry there won't be any room and I'll wind up putting the peanut butter under the bathroom sink with the Johnnie Walker Black or maybe over the kitchen sink on top of the Thermacare back wraps."

(You're supposed to store whisky upright in a cool dark place, okay. None of the upper cabinet shelves are tall enough, so I could have put it either directly over the water heater or directly next to the oven. Instead it lurks behind the toilet paper, next to the Clorox wipes and the pre-pandemic Lush bath bomb, which I should... probably use at some point.)

Erm. So then I was pondering what-all storage I would need to source in order to begin having places in which to put things, *findable* places which is the real grail, and -- I think I took a pause to read Dreamwidth and someone linked me a plushie trilobite, okay. I haven't yet entirely decided whether to buy it, but it occurred to me that I definitely have no home for a plushie trilobite, any more than for the amazing Zaeed plushie currently trapped under my cross stitching or the Star Wars Build-a-Bear who was supposed to make Ewok noises until three weeks of freeze-thaw cycle in a malfunctioning package locker did for his electronic squeaker, or the poor American Girl doll languishing inside the ottoman.

So then I was like "we used to have that little net corner hammock for stuffed animals when I was a kid, we never could get it mounted right, but perhaps with fewer cooks that would be a good option". So I googled for one, and all I could find was an assortment of JUMBO five-or-six-foot-long double-deep toy hammocks, obviously necessary to keep your child from drowning in the flood of stuffed animals that have taken over beds in the past thirty years.

(Okay, I was pretty toy-deprived as a kid, the 1980s were not in general what you would call a time of less stuff in American households. Still. I have a twin bed. I can hardly even *find* a toy hammock that wouldn't be bigger than my bed in some dimension.)

So then, it being the aforementioned five hours later with a lot of D&D combined with hard physical labor in the middle, I said to myself, said I, "Hammocks are made out of net, and nets are made out of strings." And by god, if there is one thing I'm better at than another, it is making things out of string. I've never actually gotten around to trying out the whole process of making an actual fisherman's net, which is much more closely related to tatting than to knitting, but I have yarn and most of the possible knitting or crocheting supplies I would need to invent things.

Which, at long last, explains why I have paused to write this halfway through creating a triangular filet crochet toy hammock out of sparkly yellow yarn.

Joann's is having a 50% off sale on plastic storage whatsits tomorrow, but I think I'll probably spend a large part of the day putting office supplies into ziploc bags and hanging them in rows on the wall with pushpins so as to figure out what-all I in fact own.

[mellifluoushood]

Into The Dark - C.H. AU [Chapter 3]

A/N: After getting completely baked and holding an unloaded gun, I got inspired for the next chapter. I’m hoping this is okay and suitable for everyone. There are mentions of heavy drug use, but I didn’t include too much description of the character doing it. As always, a very special thank you (and CREDIT) to @ammwritings​ for making this mood board for the series! I absolutely adore it. It’s about 3.25k words that just spilled out of me, so I hope it does it justice! xx Synopsis: Full-time college student, Seraphina Sallow, works as a receptionist for world-famous tattoo artist, Calum Hood. Their friendship blossomed when she wrote an article about his tattoo parlour, Fallen Angel Tattoos, for a journalism project at school. Since then, she’s been working as a receptionist at his parlour to put herself through school. As college tuition increases and her social security checks get smaller, she’s beginning to struggle to keep up with her payments. And then, a fallen angel shows up in the parlour, offering her the solution to all of her problems. But, at what cost? (TEASER) (CHAP. 1) (CHAP. 2) Genre (this chapter is): angst / fluff / smut / normal Warning: heavy mentions of drug use and selling, strong language, weapons (firearms), death/overdose of a friend Taglist: @calumscalm​ @gigglyirwin​ @ammwritings​ @loveroflrh​ @dukehoods​ @toofadedtofight​ @babylon-corgis​ @talkfastromance4​ @thesubtweeter​ @vipclifford​ @spicycal​ @cals-wildflower

Seraphina has gone missing. Or, so it seems. For 7 days, she’s been under the radar, barely showing her face around town, never once flickering through the parlour. Calum was angry when she didn’t show up for work the next day and fucking furious when she didn’t show up on the second day. That’s when he knew he had to do something. Without his receptionist showing up to work, he couldn’t leave the shop. So, he gave Michael the keys to his car, took his piercing appointments, and they split up. Michael was in charge of finding Seraphina. It didn’t take long. So, he texted hourly updates, always parked several cars down from where Seraphina moved, keeping track of her. She hadn’t been answering Calum’s texts.

The first day Michael was keeping track of her, she just met with random people he had never seen around the parlour before. The only one he recognised was Luke, an old partying buddy of his and Calum’s before Luke got heavily involved in ketamine and withdrew from the party scene completely. It was the end of the first day and she had driven herself to his house. Michael parked a few doors down, taking pictures with Calum’s camera. He snapped the movement of her head looking left and right, checking, briefly casting a glance over her shoulder. Then, she slid up the steps to Luke’s beaten-down trailer. She rapped on the door twice before a skinny looking Luke came opening the door. His eyes were nearly shut, hand loosely hung on the doorknob. He offered her a smile, that at one point, brought every girl to their knees, but now it looked painful, forced. It didn’t reach his eyes. Michael watched as Seraphina looked left and right again, before shaking hands with Luke. That’s when Michael saw it, the little baggy now sitting in Luke’s boney hands and the wad of bills in hers. Michael lowered the camera, capturing a picture of their parting hands, looking ahead. He blinked a few times, mouth slightly agape as he processed what just happened. He guessed all of these house calls had to do with drugs. And he had a hint she was the one providing it. To see the small, lonely college student supplying the drugs, it broke Michael’s heart. So, he reversed the car and drove to meet Calum.

Calum didn’t believe Michael when he got to the shop. He smacked the expensive camera from his hands, jabbing a finger into his chest, cursing at him for making such an assumption. He swept the ink off his station, lungs burning with anger as he shouted, pushing his fist through the cabinets above his tattooing station. Michael stood in the doorway, looking down at the shattered camera on the floor and the broken man in front of him. He walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Calum shrugged it off by moving his hand to wipe at his eyes, gazing down at the floor.

“I think you should go,” Calum whispered, his fists clenching at his sides. Michael simply nodded, turning and leaving. Calum’s gaze focused on the polished white floors of the parlour. That night, he took his time cleaning, mopping the floors as Seraphina did. Wiping down the desk, counting the cash and locking the doors on his way out. He climbed into the car he had lent Michael, wrapping his fingers around the steering wheel and tightening. His knuckles began to turn white, his fingertips a blazing pink. He grit his teeth so hard it felt like one might shatter on impact. He let out a guttural yell, feeling like the force emerging from his chest was rattling the glass of his windows. When he was finished, he sucked in a breath, wheezing an exhale and squeaking out a sob. He rolled his lips between his teeth, slamming a fist against the horn, scaring pedestrians on the street. His breaths wracked through his chest as he started cursing to the world for bringing his old life back to him on a silver platter.

He remembers those times very clearly, and he made sure Seraphina did as well. She had mentioned her ex-boyfriend in passing one of her first weeks in the shop. She said his name as if it wasn’t a dirty word around town. Connor wasn’t great to me, she had said when explaining her song choice for the day. Calum remembers the thudding in his eardrums when she uttered his name. He froze, feeling the fear crawling through the muscles of his shoulders. He nodded and headed back to his art station without another word. And he remembers the Friday after that day, the conversation they had at Steve’s. Where a couple of gin and tonics deep, she fessed up to witnessing what he had been doing and broke up with him because she couldn’t be in that world anymore. During the retelling of a specific house party she had been at with Connor, he gave a guy a lethal dose of cocaine. The guy had willingly put it up to his nose that night, but Connor didn’t warn him that it may be too much. Or so Connor says. Halfway through her recount, her eyes fluttered over to Calum, the pieces clicking in her head that it had been Calum holding the man on the floor when he collapsed. Slapping his face, screaming, Ashton, at him over and over again until he was rushed to the hospital and pronounced dead. She broke up with Connor that night. And Calum remembers her sobbing at the realisation, clutching to his button-up, blubbering for his forgiveness. Calum forgave her once he learned what Connor had conditioned her into. His little punching bag who ridiculed what she wore, but brought her flowers and told her he loved her. Connor had let her go with little resistance. And Calum said it was the reason he got out of the business himself.

Calum remembers holding Ashton’s hand in the hospital as he was pronounced legally dead, his beginning to chill. He looked grey, laying there. And Calum remembers screaming so hard his head went fuzzy and he lost his balance. Calum turned in his handgun and never looked back. His boss had lost two good men that night.

She had reassured Calum she was done with it. That it wouldn’t drag her back in. But when he went to her that night, staying as far away as Michael had, watching as she walked into his old boss’s building. He drove away that night, checking his rearview mirror for her to emerge from that building, but she never did.

The second day he gave Michael the car, Monday, he drove back to the abandoned building. Michael waited hours for her until she finally left the building at three in the afternoon, eyes bright red, her face sallow and a bruise on her chin. There were new shadows underneath her eyes, the light in her skin, sunken. Michael followed her through her nightly routine, texting Calum that she looked worse for wear, but nothing else had changed.

The third day, she left the building at 3 pm, like clockwork, beginning her shifts around time. Meeting with regulars, with newbies from word of mouth, she handed off baggy by baggy, checking both left and right before pressing her hand to theirs, and walking off as if nothing had happened. Today, her face looked a little green, the shadows beginning to carve their way into her face. Calum stayed there all night for her, waiting to emerge. She didn’t until the next day at 3 pm.

He had sent her a text on Saturday morning after he had left her apartment, empty, ‘So, you’re going to avoid me?’. It remained on ‘delivered’ ever since. After the fourth, fifth and sixth days, it became obvious what was happening to Seraphina. Each day, her variety of products grew, by one or two, the quantity being sold by the fourth day almost tenfold. Each night, it seemed like a different drug. Shrooms, meth, cocaine, crack, ketamine, MDMA. Each day after wore on her face a little differently, like a mask.

The seventh afternoon, she emerged, looking like pounds had been shed off her shoulders and arms, knees beginning to protrude against her skin. Her brown hair was completely tangled, straightened, with curls licking at her forehead from the beads of sweat of whatever come down it was that day. It looked like ket. Her skin looked grey, like Ashton’s, and he knew he couldn’t do it anymore. The evening of the seventh night, he waited at the abandoned building for her. Waiting for her blue Corolla to roll up and park a few spots down, heading in for the night to trip on whatever Roy and his boss shoved down her throat. 

He saw her headlights shine against the pavement, watching as she pulls into the parking spot. Like clockwork. As she shut off her engine, he emerged from his car, stalking across the road. She didn’t notice him. It wasn’t until she was almost on the sidewalk that Calum approached her.

“Seraphina,” he growled. She spun on her heel, simultaneously drawing the Glock from her pocket, dragging the handle across her chest and holding it with her right hand, left hand supporting the bottom. Her pupils were blown chest heaving as she had the muzzle of the gun pointing at Calum’s chest. His hands immediately flew up to disarm the gun, grabbing the barrel and pushing it to the left before she could shoot. She lets out a sigh, her eyes wild, as she realises it’s Calum.

“What?” She whispers back, pushing at his chest as he holds the gun in his hands, away from Seraphina. From up close, he can see the prominent depth in her clavicles, the bones of her ribs sticking out from her chest. Just a week.

“What are you doing here?” She whispers in the realisation of what he’s doing. She shoves him down when she hears the opening of the door to the warehouse. She sees Roy, drunkenly stumbling out and waving her in. She flashes a look down to Calum, telling him to back down. He sighs, hiding behind the shield of the hood, hands her gun back to her, waiting for her to walk away. She turns back and walks over to the abandoned building without a second glance at Calum. When the door is shut, Calum sits on the pavement of the street, the image of Seraphina imprinted to his brain for the rest of time.

The look of her brown eyes, ones so full of creativity and mischief, swimming with whatever narcotic he had provided for her. Her olive skin was tinted grey, the freckles on her nose faded along with the natural blush of her cheeks. Her hair was greasy, clothes the same as two days ago, lips chapped. Her body looked fragile, as if he were to have touched her to hold her again, she would break. She looked exactly like what she swore to him she’d never be. Calum didn’t even begin to understand why she had started. If she would just sit down and tell him what the fuck was going on, he could help fix it. But, she disappeared, day after day, into people’s doors, coming out with a wad of cash bigger than the last.

He had it on Sunday. He waited outside the building for a couple of hours, the sun peaking over the cityscape and shining down against the asphalt, the beams gleaming into his eyes and waking him up from a light sleep. When his eyes were open, her car was gone. He had looked at the time, 8:07 am. The first day in a week. Calum started his car, heading to the tattoo parlour to open up for the day. He would shower in the bathroom upstairs, coming down at 9:00 am to start with his first customer.

He hadn’t expected to see Seraphina standing behind the desk through the window as if a whole week hadn’t passed. She looked different. She had showered, her face shining with her facial routine that she had neglected for a week. Her chest was still boney and her eyes still had shadows underneath them, but she was dressed for work. Calum couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline through his veins, his blood pumping roughly against his heart, his breathing intensified as he wrapped his hand around the handle of the door and pulling it open.

“What in the ever-loving fuck do you think you’re doing, Seraphina?” Calum’s molars grind in the back of his mouth, his jaw locked in place. He stands in the doorway of the parlour, one hand braced against the wall. He shakes his head, “I can’t believe you’re this fucking stupid,” he spits. She had been waiting for this moment, avoiding him because of this very moment - she prepares herself.

She stares down at the papers on her desk, shuffling them around and swallowing hard, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She doesn’t look up at her boss. He slams the parlour door behind him, the glass rattling at the impact. He locks it, stalking over to the front desk she’s hiding behind. The leather of his jacket squeaks with each move he makes, his Doc Martens thudding against the ground. He looks at the woman in front of him who refuses to even make eye contact with him. He scoffs,

“Wow, you’re fucking dumber than I thought.” She bites on the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge to hurl her abuse back at him. She begins filing bills in the drawers underneath the desk, avoiding the eyes that are following her. Her chest aches, wanting to yell back at him, but she hesitates.

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeats. The back of her skull tingles, memories bursting into flames as she recalls the gun that had been put to her head a few days earlier. If you tell anyone about this, there was a chuckle, I know where you live, where you work, where you go to school… There was a deep breath, I will not hesitate.

“Don’t play fucking dumb with me, Seraphina, I followed you there last night, and the night before that, and the night before that, and actually, ever since Saturday night, a little after you disappeared from your house,” Calum slams his hands on the split level desk, rings clattering against the glass surface closest to him. She tries not to show the guilt in her eyes, casting them down at the surface, trying to avoid asking him about his following habits. She wants to, wants to scream at him and ask him who gave him the right to get involved, too. Because she certainly didn’t ask him, it would’ve been the last thing she ever talked to him about. But instead, she sits in the rolling chair behind the desk, going about her morning routine, trying to keep the tears at bay and keeping herself calm.

“Nothing is happening, Calum. I appreciate the concern, but I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” her voice is quiet. It doesn’t bounce off the windows and walls like it used to. It’s dim, void of melody as she repeats what she’s been rehearsing in the mirror ever since the man held a gun to her head.

“Bullshit nothing is going on! Why the fuck won’t you let me in? What happened, Seraphina? What the fuck happened?! One minute, you have a fucking gun in your pocket, the next you’re asking me to sleep in the same bed as you, the next you’re gone and selling crack and heroin to any little junkie who has your fucking phone number!” He’s shouting, his tall stature towering over the desk. Her resistance cracks and she smacks her hands against the desk, pushing her chair back and standing up. Her eyes alight with anger, frustration, pure and utter hatred. They glow, for the first time, with absolute rage,

“I can’t tell you, Calum!” She shouts back, throwing her hands into the air. She moves to pull at her hair, shaking her head and letting the tears burn at her pupils. She stomps around the desk, pressing two hands to Calum’s chest and shoving him away from her, “I can’t fucking tell you!” Her wrists are tiny, his hands grabbing, his fingers wrapping around them with overlap at the tips, 

“Why the fuck not?” He’s louder than her, his deep voice rasping against the column of his throat as he hurtles it at her with all the force his body can manage. He steps towards her, using his grip to pull her closer, chest heaving and nostrils flaring.

“They’ll kill you!” Her voice matches his, she slams her fists into his chest. Her shoulders slump at her admission before adding in a whisper, “…They’ll kill me…” He can hear how broken her voice is. It’s not just quiet, it’s gone from the smoking, it rasps against her vocal cords, scratching like fingernails on a chalkboard.

“I’m trying to protect you, don’t you get it?” She looks up at him, she sighs, “I had to make a decision, now I have to deal with it. So, if you’ll excuse me,” her eyes soften, casting down to his hands gripping her wrists, her voice is still quiet, “I’m going to get back to work.”

Calum stands silent. His chest is heaving, the muscles in his face sinking at her words. He opens his mouth once, twice. It isn’t until the third time that he can get out words, disbelief in his tone, “What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?”

She looks down at the polished marble floor of her workplace before walking into the back, “I don’t know.”

So, Calum went up for his shower and came back down, without another word to Seraphina, who sat in the front desk, holding in tears, and playing another Halsey song for the rest of the day.

[spnfanficpond]

May 2020 Angel Fish Awards

(New Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle @mrswhozeewhatsis or Mana @manawhaat to check and make sure we got your submission.

Be sure to read through this whole post as people who were nominated more than once only had one tag activated for tumblr tagging purposes!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE MAY’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nominated by @focusonspn

A Night on the Town (oneshot) by @supernatural-jackles

I completely love this fic!! Jensen is a total sweetheart, it’s really easy to read and all those words felt like only five minutes. This is everything a Jensen!girl could’ve asked for!!

Hunger (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer

HOLY. MOTHER. OF. HOTNESS. It was a fucking pleasure for my eyes to read every single word of this fic!! hot as hell, dark, Demon!Dean and in character as always.

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis 

Handkerchief (oneshot) by @babypieandwhiskey

I don’t usually read RPF, but this is an AU, so I dove in. Mechanic!Jensen with a magical supply of handkerchiefs, ready and willing to clean up whatever mess I find myself in? SOLD. Sweet, appeals to my love of Jensen’s back-pocket bandannas, and it activates my competence kink! Excuse me while I go wibble in the corner.

Nominated by @supernatural-jackles

Still The One (oneshot) by @luci-in-trenchcoats

I have a lot of respect for the way Michelle writes such difficult topics. She approaches them with such grace and accuracy, that makes it all the more realistic. This series is no exception. I deeply enjoy this series and the way things are playing out between Dean and the reader. It’s an extremely heartbreaking story that most of us don’t really think about until it’s put into this kind of perspective. This one is still ongoing, and I’m extremely excited to see how she handles the rest of the story. I highly recommend checking this one out. Just heed the warnings beforehand.

Nominated by @peridottea91

Healthy Competition (Series) by @kittenofdoomage

This! Omg this series! I love it so much!! It’s slower moving but keeps you itching for the next chapter and is oh so relatable. What woman hasn’t had body image issues? And what plus sized woman hasn’t had to deal with rude jerks and bullying? This fic is actually super realistic and hits all those relatable issues. Can’t wait to read the rest!!

Dangerous Signs (Series) by @kittenofdoomage

Ok, let me start by saying that I am a sucker for a good “character transported to alt. universe/world” fic. That said, I got soooooooooo addicted to this fic! It was so well written and you could just feel the reader’s hesitation and torn emotions. Should she stay? Should go? Ugh! Fantastic!! Also, kudos for the Norse mythology!! *chef’s kiss*

Nominated by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters

Cotton Candy (oneshot) by @ellewritesfix05

“It was always nice knowing [...] you could always find ways to bring light into Dean’s life.”

And he damn well deserves it! This was so sweet. No one can resist that “I didn’t do it” smile of his ;)

The Oath (Series) by @thecleverdame 

This series is definitely dark, but it’s so so good. If you’re okay with reading about the heavy subjects covered in these chapters, you won’t regret giving this series a try. I can’t seem to stop diving into all of this author’s content. She’s just too good.

Choices (CYOE) by @talesmaniac89 

I’ve been excited about this impressive project since I first saw the announcement post. Though I’m ashamed to say I haven’t gotten into reading the full thing yet, I plan on making time for reading ALL the different endings. I’m excited to see the different ways in which the story plays out, depending on the brothers’ personalities. For now, I’m recommending this first chapter, the starting point, which was already a beauty of its own. If you haven’t started yet yourself, prepare to be amazed.

Not Safe (Oneshot) by @torn-and-frayed

I love this. Spicy but sweet… Is that a cringy enough way for me to try and put my thoughts into words? I also just really miss Bobby, man.

nominated by @impala-dreamer

Safe Here (series) by @because-imma-lady-assface

This is one of the greatest Dean series. Ashley writes Dean amazingly well, too well sometimes, and this series gives him exactly what he needs; a place to feel safe and find comfort. I love this one so much!

Losing You (series) by @idreamofhazel

This is a superbly done Sam series that has stuck with me for a long time. I literally can’t go into Bed, Bath & Beyond without thinking about the ending <3

nominated by @kittenofdoomage

Blind Luck (oneshot) by @crispychrissy

A great Sam x reader that hits the holy trifecta of smut, fluff, and angst.

 Blood And Water (series) by @crashdevlin

Pretty sure I’ve recc’d this before but it’s such a good series, so twisted and angsty, my dark little heart loves it. Heed the warnings!

Just Sam (oneshot) by @dontshootmespence

This might not be everyone’s cup of tea but for me, it’s perfection, because I am a kinky bitch and any other kinky bitches out there would definitely enjoy this XD

nominated by @deanwanddamons

Private Party With A Rockstar (oneshot) by @mummybear

@mummybear Has been working her butt off this month for her RolePlay May. She wrote this story for me and put me in it (my name is Sian). Rockstar!Jensen is one of my weakness’s, and she knows that, and clearly knows me very well too, as included everything I like 😉

She’s Not You by @winchest09

@winchest09 is one of my fave authors. This is a super cute, super fluffy fic which really cheered me up.

Dangerous Signs (Series) by @kittenofdoomage

I LOVED this series. it was so good and lots of fun with some very sexy going’s on. Rhi’s work is just fantastic 💕

Wedding Bells (oneshot) by @katehuntington

This one shot is super cute and fluffy! I love her writing so much and this is not exception 💕 

Not Much Left (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer

Demon!Dean is another of my weakness’s and fic really hit the spot 🥵🔥

Dear Dean (series) by @smol-and-grumpy

This series made me laugh, made me cry, made me horny and made me gasp. One of the best series I have read 💕

nominated by @emilyshurley

Jensen’s Self Care Routine (oneshot) - @luci-in-trenchcoats

It is just adorable. People taking care of themselves for their loved ones. You can’t get more fluffy.

The Proposal (series) - @katymacsupernatural (Ongoing)

If you love fake dating fics, you’ll definitely love this one. Really like the character of “the reader”.

Private Party with a Rockstar (oneshot) - @mummybear

This one is both hot and adorable at the same time

You shook me (oneshot) @myinconnelly1

It’s Myin writing Demon!Dean what more do you want? No seriously that’s the perfect combination

Dancing the Spiral (oneshot) by @myinconnelly1

One of the only times I genuinely felt like a fic was creepy in a good way. And the passing of the whole thing is great. Am I little biased because its Myin, yes but that doesn’t make the fic any less good. sure it’s on the longer side but definitely worth it.

The only exception (series) - @ne-gans and @negans-lucille-tblr

I have only read the first part so far but I had to mention it. It is a serial killer AU so read the trigger warnings just in case.

Make it Big (series)- @negans-lucille-tblr

Again I’m still catching up It’s one of those fics I thought I won’t like reading but was really glad that I started.

Cast no Shadow (series) @kittenofdoomage

It’s Rhi, I can fangirl a lot about her fics. Really enjoyed (?) (that might not be the right word) the whole fitting a new relationship in existing ones. Felt to real in a weird way. It might seem like I don’t like the fic because of how I’m wording this but that’s really not the case.

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

Sunshine (oneshot) by @talesmaniac89

If you like angst, this is the fic for you. It is utterly captivating and heart wrenching. It’s a cut your heart out with a dull centuries-old wooden spoon style hurt. The use of the song lines in this fic is well thought out and poetic. Make sure to have a box of tissues handy. If you don’t at least tear up while reading this, then you don’t have a heart to cut out, and your soul is already in hell.

Choices (CYOE) by @talesmaniac89

A clever interactive series where you get to choose your favorite Winchester, and the ending of the story. This is so detailed and intriguing. I loved the story I ended up with the first time, and excitedly went back in to pick the other options. Each story was unique and well written. 

Babe I’m Gonna Leave You (oneshot) by @waywardbaby

This one shot is an absolutely stunning piece of smut. The lack of dialogue makes it that much better. All you’re left with is the option to feel the detailed emotions—sexual tension to the max.

No Words (oneshot) by @because-imma-lady-assface​

Beautiful, detailed, and heartbreaking. Dean’s pain and need for comfort are palpable, and I cried while reading it. I can’t find the proper words to describe how this fic made me feel, but man did it ever make me feel.

Sky Full of Stars (oneshot) by @smol-and-grumpy​​

This is the sequel to Something Just Like This and is just as exciting as the first series. A roller coaster of suspense. The characters continue on their journey of love, dealing with the good and bad that comes with every relationship—the perfect combination of angst and fluff with a healthy dose of smut.

Something Just Like This (oneshot) by @smol-and-grumpy

A perfect combination of big badass Dean and soft, fluffy Dean, along with all the incredible smut your little heart could desire. I usually don’t like to read a series until it is complete, because I am impatient and don’t want to wait for the next chapter to post. However, this story was intriguing and sexy, and I couldn’t keep from reading each chapter as soon as it posted and then eagerly anticipating the next.

Nominated by anon

Request 42 (oneshot) by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters

This was super-duper cute!! I love frustrated soon to be parents especially when one of those parents is Dean! Great work, well worth the read!

Just A Daydream (onesho) by @maddiepants

This fic is refreshing with its canon-ness! I love Sam's little dream, and you get so wrapped up in it, you forget. Absolutely masterful and HOT AS HELL! Also, Tall People, WTF? 

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

These are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

[sasodei-is-real]

Rules: Tag the blogs you want to get to know better! Tagged by: @justanotherblonde

Name: Emi)

Gender: F

Height: 154cm heh😅

Sexuality: Sorry for my ignorance, I'm not sure if I chose the right term, but I think it's called pansexual?

I don't feel sexually attracted specifically to gender, or to a physical factor. I like the person himself. If I fall in love, I will be influenced by him sexually, too, regardless of his physical characteristics and body.

Favorite animal: I have several. But my favorite, perhaps, is the bird. I love crows. They are the smartest and wisest creatures, I love to watch them. I can look at them for hours. Also, they appeal to me in their own way, they inspire nastolgiya and a very special aesthetics.

I love jellyfish. I find their life very sad and at the same time symbolic. Jellyfish live a VERY long time. Recently, I learned that there is a species of jellyfish that live forever. The cells of these jellyfish regenerate, gather again and revive. But at the same time, jellyfish are completely brainless creatures. They live forever, but they live without any consciousness. They are always in this world. They watch everything that happens, without understanding the meaning of the existing one. They are simply eternal and transparent, like their imperceptible life, beings who do not need this eternity. Simply because they themselves do not understand what it is. Wisdom can be found in this foolishness. As from love to hate, one step, and from simplicity to wisdom

Average hours of sleep: I have different states. More recently, I had insomnia and I slept for 3 hours if I was lucky. At this time, I was very nervous. I think the problems with sleep started precisely because of irritation. I thought a lot and then did not want to accept some of the things that were happening around me, and instead of grammatically resolving it, I turned it all into an attack. I could fall asleep, but I constantly woke up with disturbing thoughts. I just made myself stupid and stubborn, not wanting to cope with problems.

I was a sleepless, aggressive cucumber with bags under my eyes 😂🙈

But now, I can sleep for 8 or even 9 hours. If I read something, or listen to monotone speech and the weather is good (cloudy), I can fall asleep during the day. If you leave the choice to me, I think I can sleep for 12 hours or more.

But the only thing that does not change depending on my state is awakening at night. It started in childhood. About ten years old, I began to wake up at a specific period of time. From three to four in the morning. Most often I fall asleep again after four. But it somethimes happens that I can't sleep again. I don’t know why it’s, but half of my life, I wake up every night (there are exceptions) at exactly three in the morning, and after four I fall asleep.

Dogs or cats: This is a difficult question for me. I love both dogs and cats. They are lovely animals. I think that I cannot choose, because there is a conflict ala "I am one, but I want to be like another." I'm more like a dog. I am very much attached to people and would say that I am even dependent on them. I would like to become a little bit like a cat. Have some kind of self-sufficiency.A balance would be ideal. Be in harmony with people and have self-respect. Then , I gess my answer is...hibride?😂No, both together. As a duo

Current time: 8:54

Dream job: Well, I would not say that I have a dream job. Now I am studying at the university to be an artist painter. As far as I can remember, I have been drawing all my life and I was closely connected with this. My compositions are my life and love. As long as I can draw, I can know that there is always something I can rely on. Sometimes, art is feelings in satire, sometimes a combination of ethics and aesthetics, sometimes a clue, and sometimes just an impulse. It happens that I use art as a therapy for problems. Sometimes I think it is selfish and I feel guilty, because art is so much more than something that you use for your own purposes.But then, I remember that in any relationship, there will be a moment when you become a cushion of safety for each other. I understand that in our relationship with art, which has a huge range of emotions and is based on love, we cannot talk about selfish benefits. This is not a benefit, this is salvation in each other.

Therefore, work for me is a secondary issue. I hope that the paintings will be sold, I will find my audience. I'm sure it will happen sooner or later. But in the meantime, I'm ready for any job. Well, I need to live on something and plus oil paints are expensive. Funds are needed for art supplies. Any job will be my favorite as long as it can provide my opportunity to do my life's work.

When I made this blog: Recently, probably a month ago.

Why I made this blog: Because I think sasodei is criminally underestimated. And it's not about being popular. But it is very popular indeed, especially in Japan, it is considered a canon.

The point is seeing the otnogeny of these liuhs. Each time I spawn how cleverly Kishimoto works. All of his manga is about symbolism and philosophy. Sasori and Deidara's relationship, and the development of that relationship, itself symbolizes the important thought of the real world. They where created for interaction with each other.I am very distant that sometimes people do not see the whole depth of their relationship.

And secondly, many do not even see how reverently and caringly and in a special way they treat each other. Do not see their affection for one another . It's a pity, because their relationship is one of the most beautiful and incredibly deep, reaching its peak through the passage of personal and internal barriers.

I want to show all the symbolism, philosophy and beauty of their relationship. They are worth it.

Sometimes I think that such a deep relationship should not be spoken out loud, because it is too sensitive and special. There is too much philosophy in them, which can be depreciated if you talk about it directly. But I'll think about that later.

After all, besides their philosophy, I want to show their attitude towards each other as loving people.Their relationship and philosophy are very tightly linked. One thing helps the other to develop. And the cause of development is attachment to each other. So, I think we'll talk about th philosophy when the time is up.

Btw, the artist of this beautiful sasodei worck: https://twitter.com/ta_tachico/status/1304789117897568257?s=19

Reason for URL:  Well, that's just a fact)

Sasodey is real. Both his philosophy, which can be interpreted in real life, and it's canon realationship.

Tagging: I don't even know who to tag. Anyone who sees this post on my little blog among the huge tumblr and wants to answer). I will read with pleasure❤💛

@justanotherblonde thanks for tagging me!💗

[meismalis]

*TW* This post contains details about drug use, abuse and rape.

Just listened to the otherside by macklemore and Ryan Lewis for the first time again since my before my addiction

It was my favorite song in grade 12 but man it hits different now.

I started with Percocet, on to oxy 20s then 40s then 80s, then morphine (eslons, hydromorphs) then started shooting the morphine. Eventually ended with heroin and fentanyl. At the end of it I was shooting 5 points of fentanyl laced heroin a day.

I remember meeting up with a guy I never really hungout with before and we went a picked up and he did half a point and I did a 2 point smash of fentanyl and he would not let me do anymore than half a point. I was like listen, I'm not going to die, that will take away the withdrawals but I will barely feel it and I had to literally give him my narcan to get ready to revive me because he didn't believe me. He was stunned at the fact that me, a 98 pound girl at the time, could smash 2 points of fentanyl laced heroin.

My habit was a MINIMUM of $100 a day, and that was just to not be sick. I wanted to actually get high? At least $200-300 that day.

One day, my bf and I were driving after picking up and pulling into an empty parking lot to do a smash and he looked over at the passenger seat and I was passed out, white as a ghost, barely breathing, making gargling noises. He later said it sounded like a drain draining coming out of my throat, the life literally draining out of me. He couldn't call 911 because we had one shitty phone cause we sold our phones for drugs, and that phone didn't have a sim card, only on free wifi would we be able to use it. We were on a long country road too with barely anything around. He ended up pulling into a Tim Hortons after a while and dragged me out of the car on the ground crying and screaming for someone to call 911. 911 arrived and pulled me away in the ambulance and the last thing he heard them say as we pulled away was "I'm not getting a pulse" the cops didn't press charges on him, I guess because they thought he was just about to lose his girlfriend, and took the needles and stuff out of the car and let him go to the hospital.

Meanwhile I'm in the ambulance unconscious with barely a heartbeat, and woke up violently with a massive needle in my chest. They gave me narcan and it didn't work so they jammed an adrenaline needle in my heart, then the narcan started to take effect. I immediately went into precipitated withdrawals, it was hell. The first thing I did was scream at the paramedic for ruining my high and started crying. When my bf came to the hospital and saw that I was okay, he came running up to hug me and the first thing I asked was if he got the drugs out of the car. I was relieved when he said yes. I was about to be released but I was in horrible withdrawals and couldn't wait even one more minute, I went to the bathroom and grabbed the needle and cooker out of my underwear and did a shot right there in the bathroom of the hospital after nearly dying.

When I say you lose all sanity and everything about yourself when addicted to opiates, I mean it. You are chemically a different person. You are physically dependant on something to keep you okay. If you don't have it, the worst pain and symptoms you have ever felt in your life take over. It feels like you need to open up your chest and itch your heart, it feels like your skeleton needs to burst out of your skin, your skin is full of pins and needles, the burning kind. You're sweating buckets, nauseous AF, migraine galore. Every single part of your body is extremely uncomfortable and painful. Your eyes, your fingertips, your fucking hair follicles. Everything is on fire. I would not wish it upon my worst enemy. The way I describe it isn't dramatic enough, it's 10000x worse than what you can imagine. And one little pill or shot takes it all away immediately, and puts you in the most warm, cozy, state of euphoria you have ever felt. Going from death's door to that feeling, I can't describe it. Now as I'm writing this, I have the urge to break 3 years of full on soberness and shoot heroin up my veins. I won't lie, I would love it. Its orgasmic......but I know it isn't worth it. Well, that's actually half a lie. To part of me, anything is worth it. Which is why I had to hit absolute rock bottom and have some pretty horrible things happen to me to get sober.

It's very difficult for me to talk about but there was a 3 month period were I was held hostage by a trafficker and couldn't escape because my bf would of literally been killed. I was forced to break up with him and go with him. He constantly had his "buddies" with me if he wasn't there. Those months were full of pain and numbness. I wasn't trafficked myself (he "loved me so much and didn't want that life for me") but I helplessly watched as he would bring me everywhere to keep an eye on me, including the sketchy hotel rooms where girls would be meeting guys and supplied with their drug of choice and he would pick up the money these girls made, leaving them with like 15% of what they made. Some of these girls were so young. Barely turned 18. Some may have even been 16, 17. It was horrid.

Everytime he would kiss me or touch me, I wanted to throw up. I was high AF every single time, it was the only way I could deal with it. Its very difficult for me to talk about what he did to me in details, I can barely tell my therapist. Anyways, I ended up getting away, I ended up getting a note to my bf and explained everything, and I had to beg him not to react, not to basically kill him. He went to the police and they knew his name, and he had the police come and find me. They ended up fake arresting me and putting me in a cop car so I could get away without suspicion. The cops took a statement from me and ended up raiding the hotel I told them about. Unfortunately no charges came about as the girls were "willing" and "consenting" and "gave the money they made willingly". It makes me sick to my stomach that nothing happened regarding that.

I ended up getting a restraining order (to this day, I'm terrified he will find out where I am) and leaving Oshawa with my bf, and we ended up in a different Town and got clean not too long after that. Since then, I have gotten back to a semblance of myself. I have been COMPLETELY clean about 2 months over 2 years. I started my journey of being clean 4 years ago essentially, I was clean for a majority of those 4 years, but about 2 years in, I relapsed and ended up doing it for a couple weeks after the relapse again, but since then I have not touched it once. My bf and I moved back to our homeland (Newfoundland) and we have made extreme strides at rebuilding our lives. We both have stable decent paying jobs, a beautiful apartment and cat, amazing relationships with our families again, I'm getting my full driver's license in March and my bf paid off his DUI fines and got his lisence back and we're getting a car in a couple weeks, my step mother is giving us her 2014 ford and I am going back to school starting night classes this winter while working full time still, and then in the fall I am going back full-time for Marine Environmental Technology (essentially marine engineering and environmental sciences together :))

I never thought I'd be here. I never thought I would make it out. I was convinced I would die in that state and period of my life. I am NEVER going back there, mark my words.

Oh my, that was way heavier and longer than I expected it to be, though it was nice to get all of that off my chest and out into the open. If you made it here to the end, thank you for listening. I your image of me hasn't been ruined too badly..........