#that said i have wasted time as well though so. i feel. rather empty still. idk but. i have to do this all

[cooliofango]

SEBASTIAN SOLACE FLUFF you walk into his shop looking like death, at first he acts snarky as usual, but he feels bad. you were never flashing him with flash beacons or pissing him off. he gives you a med kit for free, and lets you stay to rest. he lets you sleep cradled against his tail, and doesnt want to admit it but he enjoys it.

Not So Expendable

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Synopsis: Reader has had a bad run and needs to catch a break.

A/N: NERVOUS!!! 😂 I want this to be a good start to the Pressure fandom so I hope I did well! Thank you for requesting to help me get started! (And so quickly too!) I hope I’ve portrayed Sebastian well! If anyone who reads this has any positive constructive criticism feel free to share!

TW: Mention of injury, slightly graphic but nothing incredibly gory!

The familiar sound of someone pulling themselves through the vents pulled Sebastian’s attention towards it, the soft light blue glow of his three eyes settling on the rather ragged figure of the expendable making their runs for today. They breathed heavily through parted lips, a bloodied hand returning to their side to return to applying pressure to the deep red soaked material of their suit-- the right side, he noted.

“Oh my!” A baiting tone left his lips, sharp, pearly white teeth visible as he smirked down at them. “Aren’t you a sight to see?” A deep chuckle filled the air that quickly began to fill with the thick smell of iron. He’s seen wounds similar to the ones this expendable had on numerous occasions. This early in the run, they usually stem from a very specific monster here in the Hadal Blacksite. “I thought you would be smart enough to avoid such simple trickery. They’re only Good People, after all.” The emphasis on the monster’s name was spoken condescendingly, humming in amusement at his own play of words.

There was no response from the expendable. Their hand only pressed more firmly on their wound, limping towards him without so much as a glance in his direction. They only seemed focused on the items draped along the length of his tail. Sebastian frowned in slight annoyance, an emotion that showed vibrantly in his tone, “Fine, fine! Straight to business are we? And here I thought we had something special.”

That line was said tauntingly, though his frown softened. The expendable before him was definitely different from the others he has come across- special is quite the stretch, though, no? The first time you came with a group was a memory that stood out to him in that moment of reminiscence. A large and rowdy group of eight came in to purchase what they wished, with a rather infuriating kid thinking it was a good idea to use the flash beacon right there in the room with him. The sudden bright light stung his eyes harshly. He was about to lash out at the kid, a hand raised to rub the stinging sensation away. But a certain expendable’s voice beat him to it.

“Come on! Is that really necessary? You’re wasting the uses on it anyways!”

While it wasn’t necessarily a direct defense for him, there have been many other occasions where you would put your little group in line whenever you went out as a team. Likewise, you would remain courteous when interacting with him when you would make runs alone as well- no matter how much he would try to tease and annoy you.

A slight tug against his tail brought him back to reality, watching as your face went from relief as you placed a hand on the medkit settled dead center of all of the wares he had up for offer, to a heavy sense of worry as your hand moved to grab the price tag set above it. “Something not to your liking?” Though his tone still held a bit of mockery, it waned into something a little softer.

The expendable quickly shrugged off their bag, struggling for a moment to pull the zipper open with their free hand before digging through its contents frantically. Their face grew paler as an empty flashlight and old keycards toppled out the sides of the open bag. A few files were tossed onto the ground, as well as a couple of DNA samples- but they weren’t even half of what the medkit cost.

Sebastian cringed at the sight, an unpleasant feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Sympathy? His jaw locked in place at the thought. No way. Sympathy for an expendable who will only be sent back once again when they’re on the brink of death, only to be healed to be good as new for the sole purpose of doing all again until the people of UrbanShade were satisfied? Absolutely not, was what he decided. It was nothing more than a slightly sick sense of pity.

The expendable in question dropped onto the ground, seemingly too weak to keep themselves up anymore. Their chest rose and fell with each heavy and shaken breath they took, leaning against an empty spot on his tail.

God, they looked pathetic..

Sebastian scoffed irritably, that same awful feeling that started within the pit of his stomach now crawling up his spine. They looked pathetic. He ripped the medkit off of its hook, tossing it in the expendable’s direction. It clattered loudly when the plastic box made contact with the stone floors, only stopping when it had hit the expendable’s leg and bounced off of it, landing it a few inches away from them.

Tired eyes moved quickly to the box and then to him, leaving only a second to wonder before it was hastily scooped up into their hands. Their hands shook from how weak their body was, and their hands slipped from how bloodied they were- but they managed to open it with an audible pop. The gauze wrap was in their hands in mere minutes, struggling to unzip the scuba suit they wore in order to make their most life threatening wound more accessible.

It was then that Sebastian was able to get a clearer view of the wound you so desperately were trying to keep from draining the expendable completely of their energy. He’s unable to tell if the wound was as deep as it looked, or if the wound was just large, causing the blood loss to make it appear deeper than it really was. It was definitely way worse than the smaller cuts littering their arms- most of which have already healed on their own- as well as the large bruise on the left side of their jaw.

Relief caused Sebastian’s shoulders to relax momentarily, his shoulders dropping with each second he watched the expendable patch themselves up to the best of their abilities. He scoffed at himself upon realization. He shouldn’t be feeling that way towards an expendable. He shouldn’t have helped them to begin with! He keeps telling himself this. And yet, here the both of you are.

The gentle pressure against his tail pulled him from his thoughts once more. The expendable rested against his tail again, eyes fallen shut and breathing more evened out than before. They looked far more relaxed than they were mere moments ago. They appeared almost too relaxed.

“Hey, now! Who said you could get some shut eye?” He initially began to tease, moving his tail to start wrapping around the expendable’s body with the intent on lifting them up to wake them. But he stops himself. His tail is wrapped completely around them, but it hadn’t tightened enough to safely lift them up without the risk of dropping them. The relaxed state, in comparison to moments earlier, eased his nerves. Much to his own dismay. A feeling of defeat washed over him, sighing to himself in slight annoyance as he crossed two of his three arms across his chest.

“Very well..” His voice was soft as to not awaken them, watching over them carefully as the room rumbled with the passing of an Angler just outside the room.

[noxtivagus]

gna be productive now

[canthelpit0]

Heartless

Pairing: Chris x reader

Wordcount: 3k+

Summary: Chris used to drink back in high school. And now being rich and in his early 20s he started back up again.

Warnings: angst (if u squint), relapse, drinking, alcohol addiction, weed, mentioned drugs, slight use of y/n, Chris pov, (slight) unreliable narrator, model!reader, no smut, kissing

(A/N: possible ooc. I don’t do drugs, so I don’t know how realistic this is.)

Chris PoV

I feel dizzy.

But I love it, I love this.

I take another sip of my solo cup looking at all the people.

Back in high school I used to drink and smoke, and I even did some drugs at some point. But I had stopped after high school, after all, I thought that I could let loose and have fun, but that after high school that I’d start working.

Having been partying and drinking for my junior and senior year, staying sober for over two days was hard, but in the end I’d managed to stay sober for a whole year.

I wasn’t even the legal age to drink yet anyway.

I started smoking occasionally though, just to hold me off from alcohol.

Somehow we managed to become famous YouTubers, moving out to LA and living our dreams.

But being in LA meant getting invited to all sorts of parties. We usually just said no and that we wouldn’t go, mainly because of my past habits. But after a while our manager started to force us to, to make connections.

However being so close to alcohol, and being offered drinks and blunts all the time was fucking with me.

I started to smoke more, going from around one cigarette every two days to five a day.

It was a common fact that I’m a smoker in our fanbase. And I wasn’t proud of it. It is disgusting. But I would rather do that, before relapse back into my drinking habits. That’s at least what I told myself.

I started to unconsciously get colder towards Nick and Matt. I couldn’t help it.

So when an influencer texted me inviting me to some party, I agreed. I snuck out of the house at night, walked around the corner to the gas station, got an Uber and went to the party.

I put my phone on silent, turned off all trackers and snap map, as well as put it on airplane mode just to be sure.

But deep down I always knew that at the end of the day, if I do manage to get home without Matt’s help, I’ll still be drunk, they’ll know I relapsed.

But at this moment, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting drunk tonight.

This is the second drink I’ve had tonight. And I wasn’t even close to tipsy. Maybe I should play some drinking game?

I shrug to myself scanning the crowd of people. All people with faces that look like influencers. If that even makes sense. They just look like they do TikTok.

I shrug to myself. I glance over at the window to the backyard porch, seeing the backs of a few girls sitting there. I can’t see their faces and I don’t care to.

I look down at my drink, seeing the way it’s half empty now. I huff. Bringing the cup back to my lips again, I down the whole cup.

Jake and Johnnie come up to me. I make eye contact with Jake and purse my lips.

It’s a commonly known fact that I smoke tobacco, yes. But to everyone’s knowledge I don’t drink, and have never touched a drink In My life.

Well Matt and Nick haven’t, I never said I haven’t, but I wasn’t exactly open about my past with alcohol either.

Matt and Nick said they’ve never drank, wich is true. Yet I never agreed. I did say on that podcast that I do smoke.

“Yo Chris” Jake greets dapping me up. I give him a weak smile. “Hi guys” I respond with a slight smile.

I wish I didn’t know anyone here and could just get wasted in peace. I’d get wasted at home but I literally can’t buy alcohol

“I didn’t know you drink?” Johnnie asks taking a sip of a water bottle. I don’t know if they drink, all I know is that they’re old enough to. Unlike me.

“Well.” I shrug. I’m still standing in the kitchen so I just put down my empty solo cup for the time being.

“Aren’t you underage tho?” Jake asks raising an eyebrow down at me. He shifts on his feet. He wouldn’t stop me per se, he’d just quietly disapprove.

“Yeah” I shrug. I lick my lips glancing at the half empty beer bottle on the counter. I purse my lips contemplating if I should pour my solo cup full again.

Because on one hand I want to make it seem like this is the first time I’m drinking and that I’m innocent, but then again the temptation is too strong, and before I realize it I’m pouring my cup full again.

Both the boys in front of me were saying something about not drinking too much, but I wasn’t even paying it attention.

“-Just don’t drink too much, right, you can get drunk really fast.” Jake rambles on a smile present on his lips like he thought this was an innocent joke. Not like I just relapsed or anything.

I take a sip from the beer, feeling it burn down my throat. I don’t even make a face at it, if anything I relax more when the taste hits my tongue.

“You handle your alcohol well, wow.” Jake says half joking, having finally stopped his rant.

“Anyway, where are Nick and Matt?” Johnnie asks cutting Jake off before he can start yapping again.

“Home.” I mumble taking another sip.

“Oh why’s that?” He asks back his words questioning as he tilts his head slightly.

His eyes look really dark with the dark eyeliner he’s wearing, in the dimmed room.

“They just didn’t want to come.” I shrug. I feel like I’m being too direct and rude.

It’s funny. Whenever I’m sober, I act more cheery and extroverted. But I don’t feel good. When I’m drunk or drinking it’s the opposite.

“Huh?” Jake huffs questioningly. “Well this is the first time you’re drinking right? Were you planning to, or how did that happen?”

I think he thought that maybe some person gave a drink to me and that’s how I started drinking tonight. Because god forbid I wanted to get drunk and was planning on drinking here because shady parties like this are the only places I can get my hands on alcohol.

“No,” I pause making eye contact with both of them, before my eyes meet the beer in my cup again.

“It’s not.” I shrug.

They glance at each other before looking back at me and I feel their eyes burn through my skin.

“Well, drink responsibly.” Jake says again slowly. He wasn’t going to stop me. They were all for ‘you do you’. And besides it’s not that bad anyway it’s not like I’m alcoholic or something. “And don’t drive.” He chuckled jokingly, winking.

I let a slight smile take over my face. I close my eyes and shake my head slightly, letting out a dry chuckle.

Johnnie waves back at me as they start to walk off into the crowd of people in the living room.

Time flies.

I drink some more, wander around and what not.

I’ve taken a bunch of drugs before. Asides from the obvious like coffee, cigarettes and alcohol, I also used to smoke a lot of weed. I’ve done lsd, cocaine, ecstasy. A lot of ecstasy. And Xanax.

Well I took Xanax kind of on accident in sophomore year. Matt has anxiety, and it used to be really bad so he had prescribed pills to take. And one day I thought they were pain killers and took them.

It made me feel very euphoric but calm and relaxed at the same time. That was the first big deal drug I ever took.

I was never interested in not being sober. But when junior year hit, and I started to go to parties, I tried verity’s kinds of drugs because if the high Xanax put me on was great, how would stronger drugs be.

Tho at the end of the day I did that way less than just drinking.

I look around getting bored of just standing around. I walk out to the backyard porch to get some air. There is a couch in the corner on both sides.

What’s wired about these types of parties is that there are not just influences or that type of people here, but also low ranking celebrities.

Like actors and actresses with low status, up in coming singers, low ranking models and what not.

There is a girl all alone on the couch to my right. I glance at her, scanning her features. Our eyes meet. I’m not as drunk as I was planning to be, but the night is still young so whatever.

She looks like she could be a model. But for all I know she could be a really pretty YouTuber too.

She takes the blunt from between her lips breathing out a puff of the toxic smoke. She was smiling, the weed rolled into a perfect blunt.

“Hi?” She asks. Have I been staring? I purse my lips staring back at her. I kind of forget to respond before I see her raise an eyebrow at me.

“Hey.” I respond simply shifting on my feet to turn to face her. She nods to the couch next to her and I take the hint and sit down next to her.

I take a deep breath in, closing my eyes slightly. The cold LA air feels so good against my burning hot skin.

“You smoke?” She asks offeringthe blunt to me.

I lick my lips slightly. She seems pretty faded, she must’ve been smoking for a while here now.

I look over her features,my eyes taking in every detail.

I him in response, watching the way she holds out the blunt for me. I take it and put it between my lips. As soon as I feel the weed fill up my lungs I can feel my body relax.

I slump back into the couch giving her the blunt back while I breathe out the smoke.

“What’s your name?” She asks putting the blunt back between her lips and smoking it.

“Chris.” I say simply. She hands me the blunt once again. And oh, I didn’t realize we’d be sharing now, but oh well.

“You look like a YouTuber.” She says bluntly, tilting her head at me.

We get that a lot, we look like ‘generic tiktokers’.

I shrug. I turn my face to the side and blow out the smoke before looking back at her and offering her the blunt again. “Maybe because I am?”

She chuckles dryly and takes the blunt. She puts it between her plump pink lips. “I’m y/n” she mumbles around the weed before inhaling again. I watch the way she holds the blunt between her pointer and middle finger.

The way her hands look so delicate. The way her acrylic nails look.

“And what do you do for a living?” I ask rhetorically. A slight grin threatens to spread on my face.

“I model.”

“Never thought models smoke?”

“Well I do.”

She offers me the blunt again.

We talk for even longer. We both seem to be blunt and direct people. there was no messing around and beating around the bush.

After a while silence falls upon us again. This is the second blunt we’d lit by this point. She leans over and puts that blunt out on the ashtray on the couch table.

“You’re pretty you know that.” I blurt out. She sits back raising an eyebrow. Her body is turned to me and she just looks so pretty. If I could have my way and we weren’t at some LA house party right now, I’d eat her out right here on the backyard porch.

“Thank you?” She chuckles. And god how good she sounds.

Her words sound like silk. They flow so well together and her voice 100% fits her face.

While we were talking she said she’s from New York. Wich is great. I love meeting east coast people. There are not a lot in California.

She’s apparently from manhattan. I’d been there before.

She turns to me more and tilts her head teasingly. I lean in my eyes staying locked on hers.

I can’t help the huge grin growing on my face.

“Yeah” I breathe out. By now we’re so painfully close. I put my hand on her jaw holding her in place. I can’t help it when I glance down at her lips for a second.

She does the same tho and looks down at my lips.

So why would I draw out this moment any longer? I crash my lips on hers and feel her immediately react and kiss back.

The kiss is gentle but hard at the same time.

By this point I can barely feel the alcohol in my system, only the weed. And with us kissing that’s all I’m focused on. I can’t think straight, and not because I’m cross faded.

My eyes are shut trying to feel this as much as I can. This feels like a high. Whether that be because I am actually high, or if kissing her just naturally feels good.

I tilt my head slightly in an effort to deepen the kiss, feeling the way her arms wrap around my neck and pull me closer.

My hands go to her waist holding onto her.

But suddenly, before things can escalate, I feel my phone ring.

I pull away slightly our faces still close. I groan in Annoyance. I lick my swollen lips glancing back down at y/n’s that are also plump and kiss swollen.

I pull out my phone from my back pocked seeing Matt’s caller ID.

I purse my lips and hang up the call. I crash my lips back onto y/n’s. She sighs into the kiss and kisses back just as intensely.

But my phone goes off again. We ignore it just continuing to make out.

That is until she pulls away and licks her lips. Our eyes lock again, silence falling upon us, until she breaks it.

“Whoever is calling you really wants to talk.” I purse my lips looking at my phone on the couch between us.

I pick it up with a sigh. I sit back and turn back forward. I pick up the call and it’s Nick.

“Christopher Owen.” I hear nicks pissed off firm voice through the other line.

“Turn your location on right the fuck now.”

I sigh. I take the phone from my face turning off airplane mode and turning my location back on. After I do that I put the phone back to my ear.

“We’ll be there in 5” I hear Matt say loudly. He sounds mildly pissed off too.

“Whatever.” I groan dramatically. Why do they always have to hold me off from having fun.

I was just drinking a little bit. Like I didn’t even get drunk yet.

“Go to the front door, we’re almost there.” Nick says firmly to wich I reluctantly hum an argument.

I hang up the phone after it’s silent. I roll my eyes. I let my hand drop from my face to my lap, still holding my phone. I look over at y/n who is looking at me with a curious expression, but she wasn’t going to push it.

“I gotta go.” I say simply and get up.

I don’t glance back before i open the door inside again. I walk through the crowd of people pushing my way to the front door.

★ ★ ★

I sit at the front porch steps waiting for Matt to pull up.

When he pulls up mere seconds later Nick gets out of the passenger seat walking over to me. He looks more worried than angry.

I reluctantly get up. Nick keeps holding my arm just in case, but I really wasn’t that drunk. Sure I was not walking too straight, but it wasn’t like I was at risk of falling over.

He sits me down in the passenger seat Matt watching.

Nick himself gets into the backseat.

No word is said. Matt pulls into drive and starts to drive down the road. I close my eyes awaiting the eventual questioning and rants and whatever.

“Why’d you relapse?” Matt ask, simply getting straight to the point. Ripping the band aid right off.

“Sorry” I mumble. I open my eyes and turn my head to stare out of the window.

No song is playing, it’s just eerily quiet.

“No. Why did you relapse?” Nick asks his tone more firm. “Yeah you were doing so good” Matt adds with a sigh.

I let out my own sigh at the questions.

I don’t know why I relapsed.

It’s just something about LA that is so tempting. Partying is fun, and so is being drunk.

I’m pretty sure Jake and Johnnie must’ve told them. Somehow. After all, at this party, they were the only ones I actually knew. They must’ve texted or called one of them for some reason, resulting in waking them up.

And as soon as they were awake and checked my bed, they started to call me. Makes sense, whatever.

“Chris, you know, you need to talk.” Nick sighs frustrated.

“Why did you relapse?” Matt asks again glancing over at me for a second before going right back to staring at the road. “Is it the temptations of LA, is it your mental health,” he lists off the top of his head before sighing again. “What is it?”

“Chris we need you to tell us the root cause of this.” Nick says firmly. Honestly i should play drunk and pretend I don’t understand what they want from me, but I think they can tell I’m not legit drunk, just because of the fact that they’ve seen me actually blackout drunk before.

“I don’t know.” I say simply my tone staying low. It feels like my words cut straight through the thick tension in the room.

It’s like a re-opened wound.

“What do you mean you don’t know.” Nick scoffs. He was getting worked up, and I know that. I close my eyes for a second bracing myself.

“We thought you were better.”

We- it wasn’t just Nick that thought I got better, but also Matt, mom, dad and Justin.

“I did too.”

Masterlist

A/N: I hope you guys liked this.. I hope it’s realistic enough. But yeah, this was fun to write, tho I do know that it did kind of drift from the actual theme of the song. Tell me if u guys want a part 2 and my asks and requests are open <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo

[wttcsms]

repeat offender, hiromi higuruma.

pairing hiromi higuruma x f!reader  word count 1.9k  synopsis vignettes of hiromi higuruma's life, featuring his inevitable early-onset mid-life crisis, his disillusionment with the justice system, and how he can't seem to shake you off. content contains law partner's daughter!reader, no curses au, corporate/big law lawyer!hiromi, bratty, always trying to get a reaction out of him reader x just trying to survive the day hiromi, slight age gap (hiromi is 26, reader is 20), eventual smut in later parts, sfw but suggestiveauthor's notes something a bit different; just wanted to test out diff narrative formats lol (and also, this was the closest thing in my gdocs to being finished & i feel guilty for not giving y'all new content)

all the wrong dialogue options were chosen here

Despite the ceiling clearance being so high that it’s enough to make a man of his stature feel small and the fact that despite all the warm bodies in this banquet hall right now, it would still be more of a challenge to bump into someone rather than avoiding them; despite the fact that the air conditioning system must be working overtime since he hasn’t felt the need to shrug off his tuxedo jacket once, despite the fact that he’s free to leave at any time he wants since he’s already gone through the obligatory introductions and the empty pleasantries—

—despite it all, Hiromi Higuruma feels trapped. The walls are slowly closing in on him, and someone from across the massive room is laughing a bit too loudly, and the ceiling, with its intricate crown molding, feels like it’s going to collapse onto him at any second. 

That’s the problem when you decide to be someone you’re not. He’s constantly on his toes, always having to look behind him, always trying to make sure his mask isn’t going to slip. Fresh out of law school. Top marks, top of his class, actually. As expected, as always. 

Hiromi is used to setting the curve, so it doesn’t take him long to learn how these circles operate. Laugh at the right jokes, order the right drink, find the right people to praise, the right suit to wear — he’s good at figuring out the right answers to everything. 

“The party’s never going to end, so if you feel like leaving, you might as well just go now.” 

Hiromi turns to face the source of that sentence, only to have to glance downwards, taking in the sight of you. Glossy lips, long lashes, slinky gold gown clinging to the curves of your body. He swallows. Hard. 

You smile. Sweetly. 

“Before you go, though, you mind getting me a drink from the bar?” You point to the bar that’s across the room, the area Hiromi just left, one old-fashioned in his hand. 

The first wrong thing Hiromi says is, “It’s an open bar.” 

Your shining smile barely falters, but he catches the subtle curve of a frown almost taking shape. 

“Do you really think I could fight off that crowd?” You give him a faux pout, one that only emphasizes the pretty shape of your lips. 

Looking like that, he thinks you wouldn’t need to fight the crowd to get the bartender’s attention. Everyone would probably be clamoring for yours, actually. He doesn’t tell you this, though. Instead, he says, “Like you said, I might as well just go now.” 

Boo. This stranger is no fun. What a waste of good looks, you think to yourself. Taking in the way his body fills out his suit, the tall bridge of his nose, the sharpness of his features — maybe it’s for the best that he’s no fun. You’re not sure how you would be able to keep your cool if he actually was interesting. 

“Don’t just paraphrase. I remember saying that after telling you you should do that if you feel like leaving.” 

He wonders what you’re doing here, at one of the biggest charity galas sponsored by the big law firm he’s going to be joining shortly after his graduation. There’s no way you’re a law student; only a select few final year students were invited in the first place. He can’t fathom you being someone’s plus-one; looking like that, he certainly wouldn’t be able to let you out of his grasp. 

He doesn’t ask you anything, though. He doesn’t compliment you, or say anything that’s on his mind. Instead, he hands his half-empty glass to one of the catering employees walking by that’s collecting dirty glasses, and he tells you, “I’ll be heading out now. Good luck with the bar.” 

It certainly wasn’t the right thing to say, but being a genius comes with some pressure. He figures he’s allowed to give out a few incorrect answers every once in a while.

apex predator 

The click-clack of your four-inch heels making impact against the tiled floors of your father’s law firm serves as a signal to everyone that they need to seek immediate shelter (read: cower in the nearest coworker’s office) and try not to make direct eye contact with you. 

When the boss’s daughter comes to visit, everyone’s on edge. 

Everyone except the new hire. 

Hiromi Higuruma is by no means slow on the uptake, but he’s clocking in the most billable hours out of everyone. Very rarely does he get a chance to take a break, and he doesn’t plan on wasting what few precious minutes of a break he can get on hiding from some brat whose single defining characteristic is sharing the same last name that’s plastered on this skyscraper of a building.

When he passes you by in the hallway, you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. Broad shoulders, slim waist, and a familiar slope of a nose bridge you’ve seen before. You almost falter in your footsteps — almost. 

bucket list idea: fuck in an elevator

There’s something intimate about being in the same elevator as someone else.

When there’s a handful of people, it’s casual. Simple. Someone who forgot deodorant, someone who’s running late for work, someone who just burnt their tongue trying to drink their coffee too fast. All of it is mundane. 

Being in an elevator where it’s just you and him — you haven’t decided yet if it’s a gift or a punishment. 

“My father loves the work you’ve been doing,” You’re the first one to break the silence. You can only hope that he’ll be the first one to break the distance between you two: a respectful four feet apart. 

Hiromi clears his throat, straightens his tie. He’s staring straight ahead, right at the shiny silver of the stainless steel doors. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me. I’m not the one who said anything about your work.” 

The corners of his mouth almost turn up at that. He fights the urge to smile. 

“Then thanks for the honesty.” 

“Do you like that?” You ask him. 

“Like what?”

“Honesty?” You ask it innocently enough, but when you give him those eyes, and make your lips form that pout, everything comes out sounding sultry. He’s convinced you could be reading his most recent M&A deal out loud to him and make it sound like you’re reading an erotic romance. 

“Well, I’m a lawyer.” He finds that he has to bite back his smile when he’s around you. He stares at the slowly changing numbers on the screen. The two of you entered from the parking garage, and the elevator’s making its steady ascent to the thirtieth floor. 

“So that’s a no.” You muse.

Hiromi makes no comment.

whatever pays the bills, i guess

Hiromi Higuruma, unlike every other undergrad trying to get into law school, does not take… creative liberties when it comes to his personal statement on why he wants to become a lawyer. Potential medical school students lie and say they want to “save lives” because “living with six-figure student loan debt for the first decade out of school and then making crazy bank afterwards seems like a good trade-off” just doesn’t sound very awe-inspiring, does it? 

In another life, he thinks he’s probably a defense attorney. Representing the Little Guy. Keeping alive his desire to uphold the principles of justice and that the wrongfully accused receive fair representation. Even with the odds stacked against his client, he’s certain that he’s good enough to win their case.

However, the world is unfair. Doing the good thing rarely pays off. Being a good person doesn’t get you very far, either. One of his former classmates was such a bright, kind girl. Passionate statement of purpose, too. She applied to all the same law programs as Hiromi and got accepted to exactly zero of them. 

Hiromi got into every single one, and his statement of purpose was honest, straight to the point, and damn-near clinically cold.

I need a competitive environment that takes pride in its intellectual rigor, but I have no desire to pursue medical school just to spend a decade in college and residency. Law school seems most appropriate for my needs.

who hired the intern?

Hiromi doesn’t know what you do around the firm, just that you’re constantly here. 

Even when you’re not physically present, he still finds traces of you lingering everywhere. The scent of your perfume that sticks to the elevator’s walls, your now-empty medium sized iced matcha latte in the trashcan of the breakroom, whispers of your names when his colleagues are in the mood to gossip, the click-clack of your heels that he can hear from inside his office even though his door is closed.

He can’t tell if you’re just inescapable or if he’s constantly subconsciously seeking you out. He doesn’t want to know the answer.

What he does want to know the answer to is why you’re sitting on top of his desk at seven in the morning, your medium sized iced matcha latte in all its green glory (this is the first time he’s seen it full and not as an empty plastic cup in the trash). You’re wearing a fitted white button down with a gray wool skirt that will have the HR manager doing a wide-eyed double-take when you walk past her. Your legs are crossed, and Hiromi scolds himself for noticing. 

He focuses on your face instead, upset to see that you’re still doing that unfair move of yours — that pout, those eyes. 

“What are you doing in here?” Hiromi manages to get the words unstuck from his throat. He’s not even sure how you got the keys to his office, and then he remembers who your father is. 

You smile brightly. 

“My dad says I need some ‘resume-boosting’ activities, and how convenient is it that the firm is looking for an off-cycle intern?” 

How convenient, indeed.

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re sitting on top of my desk.” During your chirpy exclamation, Hiromi manages to pull himself together. He’s getting a few steps closer to you. He’s not going to sit behind his desk, not yet, but his approach only serves to bring you two into closer proximity. If you stretch your legs, the pointy tips of your stilettos will brush against the fabric of his trousers. 

“Well, every intern at the firm is apparently assigned a lawyer to work under. Y’know, to be a mentor.” 

He can’t decide if he likes or detests where this is going.

“And,” you continue. “Dad only wants the best for me. It’d be, like, kind of suspicious to be working directly alongside my father, though.” Yes, Hiromi muses. Because getting a law internship at one of the most prestigious firms during your undergrad is certainly not suspicious at all. “So, the next best thing would be the so-called prodigal lawyer that everyone can’t stop praising. How convenient is it that you’re able to watch over an intern for the semester?”

“Very convenient.” Hiromi raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to get off my desk now? I can’t imagine you’ll be able to learn much if your back is going to be facing me when I’m sitting at my desk.” 

“Whatever you say, sir.” You hop off the desk, gently tugging your skirt down in place. He keeps his eyes focused on your face the whole time.

[trashogram]

Dicentra

Husk/Reader

WARNING: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Includes Cheating/Infidelity, Heartbreak, Mental Breakdown, Betrayal, Despair, Alcoholism/Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Hurt No Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Not Huskerdust Friendly, Pretentious Title

(I kinda lost motivation to finish the ending, apologies. Oh also I cried.)

You stood there in silence.

      The cool mahogany of the door and its frame held you in place. The doorjamb dug into your side, the only thing grounding you. It was a minor discomfort that kept you fixed to the floor of the hotel rather than sinking through it the way your heart had sunk down from your chest. 

Husk and Angel seemed none the wiser to your accidental voyeurism, so caught up in the moment were they. You might’ve expected as much, given how unapologetically loud the spider demon was being. His vocalizations were what led you to this room. 

To listen at the door.

     Husk’s expression was one of concentration, eyes closed as he took the pornstar from behind, almost punishingly. 

The doorstop. 

Digging into you.

It couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds that you stood there. Less than that. Maybe less than 20 seconds with your whole world crashing down around you. 

     The door closed without a sound before you walked away. 

-*- 

You took the elevator down to the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel in a trance. Everything was eerily quiet as the normally raucous area proved to be vacant when you arrived. 

      It was so quiet. The lobby, yes, but also inside of you. There was no rush of thought or pounding heart to remind you that you still existed. You walked through space and time without feeling. 

A gentle susurration of whispers stopped you, and your eyes slid to Alastor materializing from his living shadow to greet you. 

       His ever-present smile did not waver, but his claret eyes were knowing. The cluck of his tongue was the closest signal to pity that he seemed capable of, though the sincerity behind it was suspect. 

“I’m so sorry, my dear.” He said. The words were sticky with overly-exaggerated compassion. “It’s unfortunate that you had to find out this way.” 

The Overlord’s words caused not so much as a twinge of surprise. It slotted into place in your mind the way pieces of a puzzle did. If anyone knew Husk’s deepest, darkest secrets, it would be Alastor. 

“…Do you know… for how long?” You asked, emotionless. 

“I wouldn’t waste my time keeping a record of how my pets carry on outside of their duties.” Alastor’s tone curdled with disgust. “But, I think the time for playing pretend is over my dear. You know very well that this isn’t the first time he’s betrayed you.”

You looked past Alastor, taken by an instant of dismay — Husk had been cutting back on the booze for you. He hadn’t done it as a grand gesture or even verbalized it, but the gradual change wasn’t unnoticeable. 

     It made you proud. Happy. To have that effect on someone, especially someone you cared for so dearly. Someone you loved. 

    A month ago you’d felt a flash of concern as he emptied a second party-sized bottle of hard liquor. It had been a long time since he’d needed more than one to get through the day since you and he had started dating. At the time, you hadn’t said anything. There were numerous possibilities as to why he might need another pick-me-up. And you’d convinced yourself that pushing him on the subject would only inspire an argument. 

     You hated to argue. So you kept your worries to yourself as that instance turned into multiple. 

“Yes.” You said softly. “I do.” 

Alastor’s head cocked to the side as he studied you. 

He sighed. 

“Naturally I detest meddling with affairs of the heart.” He informed you. “But, if you’re willing to make a deal with me, I may be able to help you. Memory charms aren’t as difficult as you may think and I—”

“Thank you, Alastor.” You cut him off. “… For your honesty.” 

Numbly, you turned your back on him and continued your journey out of the hotel. 

-*-

Tangled up in warm fur, face pressed into the white stripe of his chest. You breathed in the scent of vodka and faded cherrywood that had become such a staple in your afterlife. You couldn’t imagine going a day without it now. 

It was absurd to say in Hell, but you swore to yourself that you’d never felt safer than you did here. In Husk’s arms. 

You peered up at him, meeting his luminous yellow gaze before you pulled away briefly. 

“I love you.” 

-*-

     Angel took a deep drag of his cigarette, eyes scanning the room for the hundredth time. It was an exact copy of the room that he and Husk had used last time on the 3rd floor, and the time before that on the 10th floor. 

“Would it kill Charlie to use a different theme for these rooms once in a while?” Angel Dust thought aloud. “All that remodelin’ just to get Deja vú no mattah where ya go...” 

He inhaled another before glancing at Husk. The cat demon was facing away from Angel while he sat on the edge of the bed, a bottle of nondescript alcohol clutched like a lifeline at his side. His head was hung so low it nearly disappeared behind his slumped shoulders, ears peeled back in shame.

      “Aw, come on babe.” The spider quipped. “Ya bein’ too hard on ya’self again. I told ya, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘er.” 

Not even a grunt to acknowledge what Angel said. Husk didn’t move, just sat with his wings tucked against his back tightly. 

The pornstar frowned, finally crushing the cig on the nightstand. “You ain’t the first guy that had somethin’ on the side while he was already spoken for, ya know. Lotta people don’t got it in ‘em to be faithful, dead or alive.” 

    Angel Dust sat up straight, knees pulled up from beneath the covers. The urge to stroke Husk’s feathers as his wings quivered just the slightest bit went untouched. 

“‘Specially in Hell. All the stuff that goes on down here; this is like nothin’. Bet even Y/N would agree wit’ me.”

Husk flinched at the mention of you, and internally Angel Dust swore. He was babbling and breaking the rules (Don’t talk about the Missus) like some kinda hourly amateur, but he couldn’t stop.

“You’re not a bad guy—”

“Yeah.” Husk replied brusquely. 

The mattress sprung back into place as Husk stood up and began to gather up his things from the floor.  

-*-

You were a shivering mess when you arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, but you still responded amiably as Charlie offered you an enthusiastic hand in greeting. 

The bar, and subsequently the bartender, was one of the highlights of the tour that new residents received. You had been perfectly polite — warm, even, when you greeted him. And if Husk had given a shit, he might’ve been suspicious of your sugary front. 

Instead he muttered a ‘hello’ and went to bed that night with the image of your eyes looking up at him through damp locks, and the curve of your lips when you gifted him with a small smile.

-*-

     He headed for the bar as soon as he was done showering, and settled in with an inaudible sigh. 

Niffty was pitter-pattering around with a dustpan, eye to the ground as she searched for insects to torture. A few newer residents milled around as well, putting the time at or around early noon. The bartender noticed that all of them were glued to the screens of their phones. 

Husker grabbed his own, stuffed in his pocket. He’d forgotten to turn it off Airplane mode (one of the weirder pointless things that Hell had to offer, since commercial air travel didn’t exist here). 

The mix of joy and dread that filled him at seeing a notification from you left him mildly nauseous. Previous messages from you lit up his screen: 

‘Sorry I forgot to say good morning!’

                                                             ‘You just did.’

‘I meant in person sourpuss.’

                                                        ‘😒 I resent that.’ 

‘Awww, poor baby you’re proving my point.’

‘Here i'll make it better’

‘❤️❤️❤️ Good Morning ❤️❤️❤️’

               The cat demon smiled as he reread them. 

‘Feel better now?’ 

                                         ‘Yeah, yeah, like a million bucks. Thanks kid.’

‘☺️ yay’ 

        Husk scrolled, smile waning at himself from just a few hours ago. 

                           ‘How long you gonna be gone for?’

‘Bleh, probably all morning. Charlie gave me a list. A LIST!’

                                                      ‘I’m sorry baby.’

‘No sorries. I volunteered. Just gotta get it over with. I’ll let you know when I’m almost home!’ 

‘Love you!’ 

                                                                           ‘❤️’

     His own cowardice staring back at him, Husk scrubbed a hand down his face. You hadn’t messaged him since that morning and the notification was merely you ‘heart-ing’ his reply. Like it was worth a damn. 

What he wouldn’t give to go back to bed and never wake up. 

-*- 

“You can do a lot better than me.” Husk told you one night, nonchalantly. 

You perked up from where you sat, blinking rapidly to dispel the sleep from your eyes. “Huh?”

The bartender’s maw quirked up into a smirk as he watched you from the corner of your eye. The ice in your drink had already melted, barely touched since you’d hopped up onto a stool and ordered it. 

The pretense was adorable. You were a sweet kid with a crush, thinking Husk didn’t notice how you stared and sighed in his direction everyday. 

“‘Said you can do better ‘an me. Unless you got a Daddy you’re lookin’ to piss off by bringin’ an older guy home with you.” 

Your eyes crinkled with your grin. “Noooo. No daddy.” 

“But if you’re offering, I might be in the market for one.” 

Husk turned to you fully, brows raised as you giggled. 

-*- 

         The afternoon passed slowly, ramping up only slightly as it got later. He’d made himself more than a few drinks, and it did nothing to dull the prickling at his spine. Residents trickled in and out, Charlie and Vaggie had returned from whatever outing they’d planned that morning, Angel Dust had just left for work (not a word, not even a shared look, like it never happened), and Alastor was — well who fucking cared where that asshole was. Husk sure didn’t. 

But you hadn’t texted or called. You were nowhere to be found. 

Husk had tried messaging you a couple times, holding off on a call because… because… 

Paranoia had its claws deep inside the old cat, eating him up to the point of hissing with his hackles raised as Charlie appeared on the other side of the bar. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Husk!” The Princess exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to startle you!” 

Husk patted his fur back down, shaking his head. “‘S fine! It’s fine. What can I do for you Princess?” 

Charlie’s expression changed from remorseful back to peppy so fast it gave Husk whiplash. 

“Oh right! Yeah, I was gonna ask if you knew where Y/N was!” The blonde said, “She was helping me out big time this morning, but I haven’t heard from her so I was just coming by to check…” 

     Charlie paused, her words trailing away at the look on Husk’s face. His fur was raising again along his arms as he leaned heavily against the tabletop. 

“You haven’t heard from her?” He asked, a lump rising in his throat. 

“Um, no… not-not since this morning…” Charlie’s brow furrowed. “Uh… and I’m getting the feeling that you haven’t either…?”

Husk swallowed, staring at the polished wood beneath his claws. “No.”

Vaggie had appeared by Charlie’s side in time to listen to the tail-end of their exchange. She looked from her girlfriend to Husk with a frown. 

“We can call her again.” Vaggie stated. “If one of you wants to try that, I can round up our other patrons and ask if anybody’s seen her.” 

“Good idea!” Charlie said, plucking her phone from her coat pocket. “I’m sure everything is fine! Maybe the FMV requires people to turn off their phones!”

-*-

“I don’t think it’s possible to ‘lose the ability to love’.” You sighed with your head on his shoulders. 

      You could almost see the other side of the Pride Ring with this view. Husk hadn’t been lying when he carried you up to the very top of the hotel on sure wings. 

His arm had wrapped around your waist and pulled you in closer. You laid your head on his shoulder contentedly. 

“You’d be surprised how much you can lose when you live long enough, babydoll.” Husk said. 

There was something about the silence after that that made you hold your breath. The air between you two felt oddly electric, buzzing with something on the tip of the tongue. 

“I used to be an Overlord, ya know.” 

-*- 

Husk’s eyes bore into his phone. The flurry of activity around him had become a dull roar as he stayed frozen. 

     All the messages he’d sent you simply showed as ‘delivered’. You hadn’t read any of them. 

He’d called you. 

And called you.

And called you. 

     Adrenaline would coarse through him before each attempt, heart hammering at the chance to hear you finally pick up. Every single one had gone straight to voicemail. 

-*- 

“What’s‘a matter?” Husk’s smooth voice, and the way he lifted your face up to his own, soothed your soul. 

“It’s stupid.” You shook your head. “Angel Dust snapped at me today and I just… still feel bad about it. I wish I knew why he didn’t like me.” 

-*-

“Now what’s all the hullabaloo about?” Alastor manifested without warning, surveying the lobby as a small but determined search party began to file out of the hotel.

Night had fallen, and Husk was still trapped by his phone. The screen remained dark. 

-*-

      Your whimper was swallowed up by Husk as he darted forward to kiss you. He lifted your leg to hook it around his waist, feathers tickling your knee as they fluttered excitedly. The move allowed him to go deeper, to crush you against him until you moved in-sync as one being. 

Heat pulsed inside, prompting an involuntary squeeze from you that elicited cries and long, drawn-out moans. You were left spent, head lolling in bliss.

Husk refused to let you go, face buried in your neck as he shuddered. You didn’t question it. 

-*-

Husk made the drink for Alastor robotically. Half-formed thoughts of how he should be the one leading the search party for you, not Charlie, wouldn’t develop properly. 

      The cat demon’s hatred for the ghoul that owned his soul felt like a drop in a bucket compared to the fear that had been growing steadily throughout the day. 

Husk gripped the latticework at his knees, tips of his claws clinking against the good liquor bottles tucked inside.

“You seen Y/N today?” He asked hesitantly. 

“Ah,” Alastor chimed. “Yes, I did in fact. We crossed paths earlier today in the lobby.” 

“This morning?” Husk said.

Alastor tipped his glass back and let the drink spill over his tongue. He took his time appreciating the taste before setting it back down and returning Husk’s gaze, his hands folded beneath his chin. 

Ruby red eyes glittered. “Not quite. I’d say it was nearly noon when I found her coming down the elevator. She was a tad green around the gills, but I thought it impolite to mention.”

[infiniteko]

You are the only person so far who seems to know what you’re talking and is well studied so I decided to sent this ask for you. It will have a little venting, but nothing too extreme or long also if you don’t mind I’d rather speak in a not non duality way because I wouldn’t know how to formulate my sentences without giving power to the physical world in a sense, and I’m not exactly looking for enlightenment in non dualism it’s just a question about this whole thing that has been going on on tumblr and other communities about manifestation and non dualism.

I’ve been on this journey of manifestation, law of assumption, non duality etc etc for a year now and the main thing that kept popping up in my head was “is this concept true?”

The concept that I’m talking about is: “we are the creators of our reality”

Honestly, this journey has brought me a lot of suffer because I’m a natural overthinker, skeptical, a tad pessimistic and extremely self judging. So I would often feel dumb and stupid for believing I could actually change my WHOLE life and manifest things that would be seem as actually absurd and impossible.

This experience of seeing so many times people saying “we are limitless” or “everything is malleable” “you can get anything you want” has dragged me into this rabbit whole of full peace of mind and hope and then being totally ripped apart by negativity, pessimism and skepticism.

I’m honestly tired and I really, really, really need to get out of it, so you are my hope of weather I should continue my journey to get a better life or finally have a closure on this whole world of manifestation, shifting realities etc

Is it really possible? I’m asking this with my whole heart and soul. It is possible to experience this reality shiftings, changes of physical appearance, revise past and all that?

I really need to put an end on my suffering and move on with my life and I rather know the final answer now instead of wasting my life on things that won’t happen and just end up more frustrated in the future.

Can we change our 3D world (I know you said there’s no separation, but as I said I can’t speak in a non duality way I’m sorry) or we just have to accept we can only control to a certain point?

Is it true that if I’m not meant to be rich no matter what I do, I won’t? That no matter how hard I try I could never “attract” a specific person? Is it true that the only thing I can do in this life is find peace by accepting that certain things are meant to be and never changed? Is accepting that I am not limitless like as all those bloggers, teachers, Neville Goddard claimed I am?

I’m sorry if this ask is heavy or if my words were harsh somehow. I don’t want to put a responsibility on your shoulder, I just really need to find peace and I need a final answer.

Thank you!

Here's the thing Anon: No one can help you but yourself. As harsh as it sounds, IT is what IT is, i'm not sugarcoating anything, it's a bit long and wordy so read carefully.👁️📿

In tibet we have these sayings:

1. ཝ་གསུང་ཞོད་དུ་གཅིག་སྤྱོད་དུ། "You can offer a handful of grass to the cow, but you can't force it to graze."

2. མཐུད་སུམ་བསྡུས་ཀྱི་སེང་གེ་མ་དམ་ཅོ། "You can present the scriptures, but you can't enlighten the mind."

Even though i tag my stuff with "#nondualism" and a lot of people associate me with it, i don't follow any concept in particular. I only point you into the direction of "THAT". What you do with it, is your choice. You said you've been on a "journey" with lots of concepts like LoA, Manifestation, ND. Ask yourself, what exactly has been keeping you from actually turning within into silence instead of gathering one concept after another? Who decides that something is "impossible" and "absurd" like you said? I know you already told me that you'll talk in concepts but i still have to ask, are the limitations you have set for yourself REALLY fundamentally a thing? Do they exist if you aren't aware of such limitations?

Emptiness

NO concept is true, untrue or real. No words are true, untrue or real. I could tell you "no, Non Dualism or "AWARENESS" is not true. You can't change your life" but that's going to have a negative impact on you, wouldn't it? Why is that so? Those words don't prove anything to you. They are just words.

EVERY word is empty by nature, we give meaning to them. If i told you "བདག དངབ བསམ ངས་ཡང་ཡིན་གསལ" could you do anything with that sentence? No, because that sentence has no meaning to you.. you don't speak the language. Whatever I said, is meaningless to you. But if I translated it in english, you would be able to understand because you speak english and give it meaning (-> what was once meaningless and empty, now has an illusory meaning given by you). Got it?

What I'm trying to say is that it is important to understand that words have no meaning whatsoever BY NATURE and because they are meaningless BY NATURE, we can tell you whatever we want to, it is up to you alone what you're going to do with that. Does that make any sense to you? I hope i got my point across on how we give meanings to every empty word.

We do the same thing with different situations.

A stormy day can be the worst day ever for you but for someone else, it's the best thing ever.

If someone told me my content is trash, i do not care. If someone told 18 year old Koda her content is trash, i would've wasted a thought or two on that statement. If Dechen (my boyfriend, co-admin) read that we're spreading lies he would've written an essay telling that person to shut up & move along 2 years ago, but now he'd ignore it because he couldn't care any less. Now, everything is meaningless for everyone. I can decide if I want to be affected by those words, or not. If i told you "Everything's a lie" , what are you going to do then? Are you going to abandon everything just because I, someone you find "reliable", said so? If that's what you would do, why? What made you attach so much importance to a random "person"?

Is it true?

"Is it true that [...]"

"Is it true that [...]"

"Is it true that [...]"

Who are you asking? Me? Why? Do you want it to be true or untrue? Since all words are meaningless and empty by nature, is there a difference between the words "true and untrue" or is it the same "Emptiness"? You alone make your decisions. I can point you towards "IT" but 'you' are the one who's going to recognize "IT" or not. I have nothing to do with that descision.

Read whatever you want to. Practise whatever you want to or don't. At the end of the day, you alone give meaning to the meaningless. You can define emptiness but that doesn't change its Nature which is "emptiness", "nothingness" whatever-ness.

Definitions

"I'm an overthinker, skeptical and pessimistic."

What made you come to that conclusion? In order to answer that, i assume you have to think and list all moments in which you were overthinking, skeptical and pessimistic but are you able to answer that question without thinking? If you aren't thinking, WHAT or WHO are you? Are those thoughts you define yourself by, real in any way or are you just aware of different behaviors and define them as "overthinking, skepticism, pessimism" after thinking about it? Could you define yourself for me, without thinking? Try it.👀

Enlightenment?

You said you are not "looking for enlightenment" from ND , what exactly are you looking for then? Only a "person" can get enlightened, but there is no actual "person" here. What is, is. All concepts only POINT you to one direction -> "IT". Some, like advaita vedanta, are more direct than many limited & watered down versions of ND people now call "Law of Consciousness or Law of Assumption "with extra steps" on tumblr or twitter. In my humble and illusory opinion, it is nonsense but does it matter?👁️

The non-existent "I"

"Is it true that if I'm not meant to be rich no matter what I do, I won't? That no matter how hard I try I could never "attract" a specific person? Is it true that the only thing I can do in this life is find peace by accepting that certain things are meant to be and never changed? Is accepting that I am not limitless like as all those bloggers, teachers, Neville Goddard claimed I am?" -> define and show me the "i" you keep talking about. Do it without thinking. If you ponder on it long enough on a deep level, you will instantly answer your own Questions and the "i" you are talking about. Define and show me your doubts without thinking. There is no person to believe in anything, no person that is actually doubting, no person that is actually here.

「You can mold clay into a pot but that doesn't change the fact that it is clay and will always be clay」

[differenteagletragedy]

swap au: the boy across the street is Baxter, the boy who lives far away but is still your friend is Cove, and the boy who comes for but one summer is Derek.

When I tell you the powerful and immediate urge I had to rewrite the entire dang game with this ... this is so much fun, thank you!!!

You could hear the new neighbors moving in at your spot behind your house. You'd thought about taking a peek to see what kind of people they were like, but decided to stay out of the way, watching clouds on the poppy hill instead. With how nosy your moms had been after the "for sale" sign disappeared, you'd be learning about them soon enough.

After a while, the clouds stopped holding your attention and you stood, looking for a new activity. Before you knew it, you were making your way to the shore -- there was always something to do there.

When you arrived, the typically empty beach wasn't quite as empty as it usually was. Up near the path, away from the water but still on the sand, was a boy. He looked to be your age, maybe a little older. He hadn't heard you approach, and was instead staring straight ahead at the ocean.

"Hi," you said, and you quickly broke whatever spell he was under. "I haven't seen you around before."

"That would be because I just moved here," he said. He pulled on the hem of his shirt, then smiled at you, extending a hand. "My name is Baxter Ward."

At the time, you thought it was weirdly formal, something grown-ups did to greet each other, not kids. But over time, as you got to know him and all his quirks, you looked back at the moment fondly.

That summer, he became your best friend.

You took to each other immediately, and if you had it your way you would've have spent every waking minute together. Sometimes Baxter couldn't hang out though -- he didn't talk about it much, but he seemed sad sometimes when he talked about his parents, and the few times you spoke with them you got the feeling they didn't like you very much.

But Baxter, as oddly formal as he was, wasn't afraid to break rules. And after a meeting between his parents and yours that didn't seem to go so well, your moms were quick to welcome him whenever he wanted to come over. You were able to get close.

By the time the summer was over, you could hardly remember what life was like before he came into it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Five years later, you were 13, and Baxter was still your best friend. He went to a private school while you went to the public one, and from what little he told you about it, he didn't really have friends there. It was a boring place to be, he told you, and he'd much rather be spending time with you than with those spoiled rich kids.

He never bothered noting that he was also a spoiled rich kid.

One day, the two of you were in your bedroom, wasting away a day together. He was lying comfortably on your bed and you were sitting at the foot of it, leaned against the window he regularly used for secret visits -- when he didn't want to hear his parents complain about him spending so much time with you, he found it easier to just slip away unnoticed.

"There's a boy coming over today," he mentioned, ending a comfortable silence. "I think you'll find him interesting."

"If you think he's interesting, then I'm officially scared," you teased.

He smirked in response. He was proud.

Over the past few months, Baxter had started getting more experimental with his fashion. He'd always dressed a bit preppy, and that hadn't changed much, but now he was moving towards clothes that were only black and white. He'd shown you a few more alternative pieces he'd ordered, things that matched the color scheme but were a little more out there, but he hadn't had the nerve to wear them out yet.

"He's the son of a business partner of my father's," he explained of the mystery boy. "I've met him a few times before, he's very shy."

"Then why do you think I'll think he's interesting?" you asked.

"He's also very cute."

You blushed, and he laughed.

You'd had a crush on him for a while, and you couldn't tell if he knew, or if he might like you back, but it was certainly clear that he enjoyed teasing you about anything even remotely related to dating. It always flustered you, but he enjoyed that, too.

He opened his mouth to say anything else, but before he could, the door to your room opened and Liz popped her head in.

"Some kid is at the door asking for you," she told Baxter. "I didn't realize you'd officially moved in."

"Thank you for the warm welcome, sis," he said easily, then stood and looked at you.

"Let's go," he said. "That would be the boy of the hour."

He held out a hand to help you off the bed, and, blushing again, you took it. There was that smirk again, but this time he chose to let it go.

When you went downstairs and to the door, you saw the boy had retreated back towards the street, looking uncomfortable. He was tall and gangly with bright green hair and glasses, and Baxter had been right -- he was cute.

"Cove!" your friend called out brightly, leading you over for an introduction. The boy, Cove, held up his hand in a slight wave. He was nervous.

But as awkward as Cove was, he managed to work his way into your cozy little friend group of two, turning it into a trio.

At one point during the summer, you and Cove had exchanged phone numbers. His father -- his parents were divorced and he lived in another neighborhood with his dad -- was much more easygoing than Baxter's parents, so you were able to visit him quite a bit.

You were even invited over for a sleepover, which Baxter had been surprised about. He'd reacted strangely when you told him about it, it seemed -- you weren't sure if he was upset that his parents had never let you stay over, or if it was something about you getting close to Cove. But in the end, he'd put on his old friendly smile and told you to have fun.

When your moms dropped you off at Cove's house, he greeted you at the door and invited you in, as awkward as the day you had met.

"It was my dad's idea, to ask you to stay over," he explained as you made your way to his room to hang out. "Not that I don't want you to stay over! It was just his idea is all."

"Why would he want me to stay over?" you asked.

He turned to face you as you came to a stop in his bedroom, but he kept his eyes down. He started rubbing his arm, a nervous tick you'd picked up on pretty quickly.

"I don't ... I mean, I don't really have many friends, I guess," he said. "My dad wants me to have more. I think he worries about it."

"Why didn't you ask Baxter?"

"My dad doesn't like his dad," he said.

That made sense to you. You didn't like Baxter's dad either.

Cove didn't live in your neighborhood, but he still lived near a beach. You walked there together and spent most of the evening there, and when you went back, his dad had cooked you dinner.

Throughout the day, he had loosened up, but when it was time for bed, he started getting shy again. His father had laid out two sleeping bags side by side on the living room floor, and after you both got into them, he didn't say a word.

"Cove?" you asked.

He didn't say anything. You turned to face him, sure he hadn't been able to fall asleep that quickly. In the faint light coming in from the kitchen, you saw his eyes wide open, and maybe a tiny bit of color on his cheeks.

"Are you all right?"

He turned his head toward you slightly, not enough to make eye contact, and said, "Yeah."

It wasn't very convincing.

It was your turn to stay quiet -- you weren't sure what to say. Then, without further prompting, he turned to face you too. He met your eyes.

"I get nervous around you," he said plainly. "More than other people. That's why I don't say stuff sometimes."

"Oh," you replied. Then, "Why?"

He shrugged, a decidedly non-romantic gesture, but it still tugged at your heartstrings.

He ended up changing the subject, and you laid there together for a long time, whispering about what you'd done that day and what you wanted to do tomorrow, what you wanted to do with your lives. It was nice, and when you finally fell asleep, you thought maybe you could see Cove being in your life for a long time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Five more years went by, and more big changes came with them.

Baxter was your best friend and still your neighbor -- for the time being. You'd graduated high school and were now adults, and you knew he was desperate to get out of his parents' home.

Cove was still important to you, though you'd been seeing him less and less. His father had cut professional ties with Baxter's, and there was a bit of bad blood there. He'd also decided he wanted to go to college to study marine biology, which was no big surprise, but it did mean that a lot of his free time went to studying.

You weren't sure what exactly you wanted to do, but at the beginning of the summer, an opportunity for a quick adventure before diving into real adulthood presented itself, almost literally on your doorstep.

Gossip spread easily in Sunset Bird, and your moms had heard that the newly vacant condo next door to Baxter's house had been rented. They were eager to see who was coming into the neighborhood, but because they had to leave for work before anything happened, they asked you and Baxter, who was almost always over, to keep an eye out.

Baxter agreed before you could say anything. He'd always done anything your moms asked. You thought it was because he was thankful that they'd unofficially adopted him as their third child.

The two of you settled outside on your front step, waiting and chatting idly about some nonsense he'd made up about who the new neighbor would be. He was really getting into the details when a cab pulled up across the street, and a guy who looked to be about your age stepped out.

"This is not what I expected," Baxter whispered to you before letting his mouth hang open.

You watched as the newest resident of your tiny town moved to the back of the car, opening the trunk and easily pulling out a suitcase. He was all muscles and tan skin and had such a big smile as he tipped the driver. The cab left, and the stranger must have felt your eyes on him, because he turned to you then and smiled even wider.

"Hey, neighbors!" he called out, sounding as friendly as he looked. He started making his way over, and you saw bright green eyes twinkling at you.

Baxter stood, sticking his hand out to help you up. You took it, and he used his other hand to smooth his black and white hair.

"My name's Derek," the guy said holding out a hand to you the same way Baxter had when you first met him ten years before. You shook it, and he smiled directly at you before moving to shake your friend's hand as well.

You and Baxter introduced yourselves, then Baxter asked, "So, Derek, what brings you into our tiny neck of the woods?"

"I'm on vacation," he answered. "Well, kind of. I play college soccer, and there's a coach in the city that's really good, I'm going to work with him this summer. My parents wanted me to have an actual vacation too though, so ..."

He finished his thought by gesturing to his condo.

"I see," Baxter said, and you could hear it in his voice already -- he was turning the charm on. "Well, you know what they say about all work and no play. If you ever feel the need to play, don't hesitate to find us."

Ten years of friendship, and Baxter could still make you blush. If Derek was taken aback by his forwardness, he didn't show it -- instead, he laughed openly.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said. You thought you saw him sneak a glance at you as his smile turned smaller, but you weren't sure.

You learned quickly that Derek was serious about his work. He left for long stretches to go into the city for his private training, and you frequently saw him out for runs around the neighborhood.

But he also, it seemed, had taken a liking to you.

One evening, he knocked on your door. You were home alone, so naturally you were the one to answer, and he was there, as always, with a big grin on his face.

"Hey!" he said. "I totally get if you have plans, but if not I thought I'd come check to see if you wanted to hang out?"

"I'm free," you told him.

"Cool. Do you wanna come over?"

When you paused, he quickly continued, telling you, "Oh no, I'm not ... I'm not trying to ... do you like video games?"

A few minutes later, you were sitting next to Derek on his couch, starting up a game of MarioKart.

His composure regained, he said, "I hope you know I'm not going to take it easy on you."

"Why would I think you'd take it easy on me?" you laughed, looking at the tv to choose your character.

"Pretty people always think they can get their way."

That stopped you in your tracks. You glanced over at him, and he was smiling at you.

"You would know," you replied, trying to return the compliment.

As you played, you both found little ways to get closer to each other. Once he scooted over to show you which button to press to do a certain move, and soon after you'd done the same, pretending like you'd forgotten.

After a particularly intense race, it happened -- you finally beat Derek. He'd stayed true to his word and hadn't taken it easy on you, beating you time after time, but now, you'd bested him.

You stood up enthusiastically, cheering for yourself, and ever the gentleman, he stood up as well to cheer along with you.

The next thing you knew, he had his strong arms around your waist, and yours had gone up around his neck. He leaned in a bit, then paused.

"I like you," he said softly, "and I think it would be nice to kiss you. But I'm going back to college in a couple of months, and --"

"A couple of months is enough for me," you told him.

He smiled again, then kissed you. It was gentle and sweet, and over far too soon.

"I'm thinking I should probably make a little bit more time this summer for playing," he said, giving you a smirk that could almost rival Baxter's.

[andromeda-nova-writing]

My Favorite Actor Is…

Fem!Reader

Summary: Infatuation over a film star. It’s a very common thing to have happen. There’s not much to be done over it besides talking about said infatuation over that actor. And if there is jealousy to be had at least handle it as healthy as possible.

Words: 975

AN: I wrote almost all of this on my phone as I was dealing with the holidays when it was written. Just when I thought I would have time to myself to edit the fic and make sure things made sense, I got a new puppy. So it was either edit the fic and be unsure if things made sense or get help. Thanks @milkstore. You are the best. Puppies are tiring but very cute.

“Ayaka had me and Thoma go with her to see a film earlier today,” Y/N explained as she poured herself and Ayato a cup of tea. The two of them were still warming up after coming back to the estate from Inazuma City. The winter air had been so chilly with flurries landing on them but not sticking to the ground.

“Did the three of you enjoy yourselves?” He took a towel trying to dry off his hair. Even though it was flurries, being out there long enough meant that two of them were a little soaked. They had hurried in quickly changing into something dry leaving just hair affected by the snow.

“Yes. It was quite exciting. But I did have one gripe with it.” Ayato could hear the disappointment in her voice changing so fast from the happy one she had started the conversation with.

“What would that be?” He left the towel wrapped around his shoulders to avoid his hair dripping. Ayato grabbed the teacup and took a sip embracing the warmth it brought him.

“There was a new actor in the film. He had the most gorgeous eyes but only had a few lines of dialog.” Y/N rolled her eyes before she frowned. “It was an absolute waste of perfect talent. And to make matters worse, that's the only film he's in.”

Ayato remained silent before letting out a single word in judgment, “Oh.” Now he wasn't one to let jealousy affect him. That was a silly emotion filled with insecurities that he didn't have. But to say he wasn't the slightest bit affected by her words was a lie. One that he would tell because who was he to dump feelings he should process on his own onto his lover.

Any understanding of his emotions was ignored. “Ayaka had told me he even turned down a role that would have given him more screen time. It’s such a crime really. What I would give to see him on screen for those two hours rather than just two minutes.” He could practically see the hearts in her eyes. 

Ayato didn’t think there would come a day where he’d be annoyed even if it was just slightly by the look she had in her eyes. There wasn’t anything to feel threatened by though. If she had to stand by his side while someone tried to openly flirt with him while he and Y/N were holding hands, he could at the least let her fantasize about someone she would never meet.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and he will get cast in another movie.” He did his best to remain engaged in the conversation. When he looked down at his cup filled with the most gorgeous green tea he hated the reflection that looked back. 

“I wish. Sadly he’s too busy with other projects to even think about acting.” Ayato enjoyed the small victory he had gained even though Y/N was upset at the fact she was telling him. Who knew her love of the arts would betray him?

“Well just be glad that he was able to appear in this film.” He comforted her. Maybe the lack of rest was getting to him if such a disgusting emotion as jealousy was trying to make an appearance.

“I am. I do wish I could at least meet the actor and tell him how well his performance was. Thoma said you’d be able to make that happen.” Y/N had placed an empty teacup on the table. He hadn’t even noticed that she was drinking it this entire time.

All Ayato knew was Thoma who he thought was filled with so much loyalty had betrayed him unknowingly earlier. Now he had to compete for his wife’s attention with some mystery actor that he would do his best to never let her meet. “If they are busy it might be easier to get an autograph.” He hoped that Ayaka would be okay with him using her as a way to talk through these emotions later.

“Really? But even Ayaka agreed that he would find the time to talk.” Y/N spoke with a frown that hid the smirk she really had. Not that Ayato could notice at the moment.

How do you ground your adult younger sister and man who grew up almost like a second sibling to him? “That’s not guaranteed dear. It’s a bit of wishful thinking. Ayaka and Thoma don’t even know the man. Who even is this actor anyway?” His composure was finally beginning to break. He wasn’t proud of it.

Y/N laughed. “I didn’t even tell you the movie we saw. I’m sorry. The movie was The Two Musketeers.” It wasn’t often that Ayato felt embarrassed. “The actor was a man named Kamisato Ayato. You sure I won’t be able to meet him?”

It was at moments like this that he was reminded why he and Y/N had wed. It was also moments like this that reminded him one of the reasons they wed was that they both enjoyed a bit of mischief and teasing each other now and then. It was something that lately he had been catching her off guard with. And here he was getting a taste of his own medicine at the moment.

“Y/N.”

“Yes.” She answered with a laugh. 

“I would prefer if you would try to not make me jealous of myself.” Ayato requested with a sigh.

“You know I was wondering when you would catch on.”

“It’s been a long day. A long week.” He explained. She could see the tiredness on his face.

“Why don’t we get my favorite actor to bed then instead of trying to hold a conversation about the day?”

“That would be smart.”

[ravenadottir]

ok, i understand why fusebox is taking down the old app from a financial perspective, and with it the first three seasons, but if that's not the biggest shot in the foot idk what is.

there are so many people that start playing the stupid games this shitty ass company puts out there because of said seasons, so like... no. it's by far the most commented seasons in any discussions on reddit and it's still a winner when it comes to fics and headcanon posts on tumblr, like ????

i get that it hasn't been lucrative for them probably (?) but it's a stamp of what fusebox used to be and how it could improve... and that empty promise of remastering the seasons to bring it back?

no thanks, i know y'all are gonna kill some storylines like you have been doing for 3 years now, so don't bother. just take down the only seasons that are worth playing so we can just get the fuck out of here and concentrate our attention on the fics.

now, i tried playing seasons 4 and 5, couldn't go pass a few chapters because everything seemed so stupid e pointless. i was determined to get through season 5 (don't ask me what dumb title it has, i can't be bothered to remember) but like, i couldn't ???

it was so disengaging i would rather do a jakub route and cheat so i can get dumped by returning!islander than going back and trying again. i guess this is it for me regarding fusebox.

and since i'm on the subject, i have been feeling like that for a while, just waiting around for a season that is worth my time, and it hasn't happened yet. i'm over this shitty company and whatever they released after season 2, that's just it.

if you like what they did, and has been doing, good for you, i can exist on this corner absolutely hating everything and you can love it all, my problem is with the company not the people that find joy with the work they put out here (which apparently there's a bunch of evidence of AI and it doesn't surprise me in the slightest). well, that's it. that's all i have to say on the matter.

i've barely been here due to several personal life issues, and i fucking guarantee my personal life and the gossip i've been digging up from my family would make a far more entertaining game than whatever the fuck they're doing now.

i'm still gonna continue updating the fics though, and maybe eventually turn my inbox on again ?

but for now, i'm still going through a lot and time has been wasted on multiple problems in my personal life, maybe i'll expand on those on a different post because i do need to shout into the void about everything that has been happening.

this post is not nearly as articulated as it could be, but that's just me venting. anyway, carry on with your day.

[666writingcafe]

A Revealing Conversation

Lucifer

I don't know what exactly prompts me to do this, but I find myself walking inside the library with a cup of coffee in my hand. The door to the attached study is slightly ajar. Poking my head in reveals Zephyr fast asleep with their head resting on top of the desk. Setting the mug down on an empty spot on the desk, I touch their shoulder and gently shake it, successfully waking them up.

"What time is it?" they ask, rubbing the sleepiness out of their eyes.

"Eight," I respond."

"Morning?"

"Yes. I brought you coffee." Zephyr gives me a quizzical look. "I made a pot for myself, and I didn't want it to go to waste." A partial lie, but I don't want them teasing me if they knew the truth: that I intentionally made enough for the two of us to share.

"Thanks." They take a sip of the coffee, making a face as soon as the beverage hits their tongue.

Which is odd. I don't recall burning it.

"Oh, don't mind me," Zephyr tells me, setting the mug back down. "Some blends of Devildom coffee tend to be too bitter for my taste. I do appreciate you grabbing me a cup, though. It'll definitely help me feel more awake." They pause briefly. "Just out of curiosity, what did you use this morning?"

"Something called hell coffee, I believe? The person that helped me pick it out at the store said that it's rather strong, so I figured that meant it had a decent amount of caffeine in it."

"I see." They look slightly amused as they pick the mug up again. The next thing I know, they're downing the coffee like it was a shot.

Which I've only seen Diavolo do. It's not like I've done it.

Another lie. Why do I keep doing this to myself?

Zephyr softly smiles, appearing to pick up on my confusion.

"Someday, you'll understand why I did that, but for now, just know that some of the foods and drinks around here are laced with magic." Before I can tell them off for being vague, they turn their attention towards the biggest stack of paperwork and begin working through it. I should take that as my cue to leave them alone so that they can focus on what Diavolo assigned them.

But I don't. I can't.

I quietly sit down in one of the chairs across from them and watch them work for a moment. They seem poised, even when doing something this menial.

Even when punishing my brothers. How can they remain so composed when I want to scream and bang my head against the wall?

It just isn't fair.

"Something on your mind?" Zephyr asks, glancing up at me. If it weren't for the genuine curiosity in their eyes, I would've simply brushed them off by saying I was simply staring off into space or something.

Instead, I ask them,

"How can you stay calm in all this chaos?"

"Years of practice," they answer, still focused on their paperwork. "And knowing that there will always be quiet periods where I can decompress."

"What about in the moment, when you're confronted with it and can't escape it?"

"Well, that's when I start cursing to myself. The key with dealing with chaos is to not let your frustrations show. If the people around you sense that you're upset, then they're more likely to reflect those emotions back at you, making everything that much more tedious to slog through."

"What would you call last night, then?" Zephyr appears to contemplate my question as they continue working.

"Karma." In an attempt to hold back laughter, I end up going into a coughing fit.

"Hold your arms up," they instruct. "It'll relax the muscles enough for you to breathe properly." Surprisingly, their advice works.

"Better?" I nod my head. What I feel to be an awkward silence settles between us, but given their peaceful demeanor, it's probably just me.

"You can stay if you want, Lucifer. I don't mind your presence. We can continue talking, or you can simply enjoy the quiet if that's what you'd prefer."

"How are you not scared of me?" The question slips out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"Pardon?" Zephyr's giving me their full attention now. I shouldn't have said anything.

Because now I can't hold back anymore.

"Most people either see me as a heartless monster or put me on this ridiculously high pedestal. They get so nervous around me that they can't even string two words together, let alone have a proper conversation with me. I wish I can say that my brothers are exceptions to that, but I can't. I still see the fear in their eyes sometimes when they look at me. The only way I've been able to have some degree of companionship is with those in the same position of authority as me, and even then they have to get used to me first before they feel comfortable around me.

"I think you might just be the first to see me as a normal person. Even Diavolo looks at me like I'm a shiny new toy, and he's the closest thing I have to a friend in this godforsaken place. I just don't understand how a previously low-ranking demon is able to do the one thing no one else has been able to do in my entire existence. What do you have that they don't?"

Zephyr sets their pen down. I wouldn't be surprised if they told me to leave. I just dumped a whole lot of trauma on their lap without seeing if they were okay with it.

"Many years ago, I met someone that was pretty similar to you," they respond. "He intimidated everyone they came into contact with due to both his attitude and position. He also tended to push anyone that wanted to get close to him away. I didn't let him do that to me. Even when he screamed at me to go away, I stubbornly stuck around. After a while, he decided that he might as well trust me if I was that determined to stay by his side, and he did. It didn't happen all at once, but little by little, he allowed me to see the more vulnerable, intimate sides of him that he previously kept to himself.

"So, to answer your question, Lucifer, I'd like to think I have a pretty decent amount of patience and compassion. Certainly more than a lot of people in this world."

"Do you still keep in contact with him?" I ask after several moments of silence. The question seems to make Zephyr a bit sad.

"Unfortunately, no. I was forced to move far away from him and assume a new identity. To reach back out to him would put both of us in harm's way, and I care too much about him to do that to him."

"Do you love him?" They don't answer me initially. "I understand if you don't want to tell me. I'm probably overstepping my boundaries--"

"Yes." They look directly into my eyes. "I miss him every single day. If circumstances were different, I would have married him and spent the rest of my life with him. But that simply isn't possible."

"Zephyr, I--"

"It's not your fault, Lucifer. You didn't know." They softly smile. "I've learned a long time ago to not dwell too much on the past, because then you end up missing out on the present, which is chock full of fun and exciting opportunities. Instead, it's best to think of the past as lessons that you've learned, and to use that knowledge to help you grow and develop as a person. Does that make sense?"

Before I can respond to them, someone loudly knocks on the front door. Zephyr hits the power button on their phone to check the time.

"Son of a bitch," they mutter.

"What?" I ask.

"Oh, I told Solomon to pick me up at around nine so that I can drop stuff off at home before we run some errands. It's just that I hoped to be more or less ready to go when he arrived."

"I'm sorry, Zephyr. If I'd known you were expecting him--"

"It's quite alright!" they exclaim. "No need to apologize. I enjoyed talking to you."

Has the study always been this warm, or is it just me?

"I'll at least help you gather your stuff." Zephyr smiles.

"That'd be lovely, Lucifer. Thank you."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

THERES A BOMB STRAPPED TO MY CHEST AND IF YOU DONT TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED W ZEPHRIT THE NIGHT BEFORE IN YOUR COFFEE SHOP AU IT WILL EXPLODE AHHHHHHHHHH

Well apparently threats + enthusiasm are the best motivators ever, so, here you go (I might have been a bit carried away) :

Honestly, Ifrit shouldn't be here. It's late, both he and Ivy have a long shift tomorrow, they should get a good night of sleep to face the next day in the best conditions.

Key word : should.

Unfortunately, neither Ifrit nor Ivy are known to do what's good for them, and Pebble is half their self control. Knowing the man, that is a concerning fact.

Anyway, Pebble's not here, they're catching up with Aether and Dew, which means they end up at a bar, with the objective of getting thoroughly wasted.

Well, not Ivy ; he offered to be the one driving them home, sticking to his soda, though he does make a point to pour it in an empty shot glass and down it at the same time as the rest of them.

Ifrit, knowing he's a bit of a lightweight, tries to take it slow ; he still wants to remember this night, and he'd rather avoid the worst of the hangover that will surely make his shift that much more tiring.

There's a bit of a blank in the conversation, Aether ordering new drinks, Dew out for a quick smoke, so Ifrit let his eyes wander in the room.

His gaze lands on someone sitting alone at a table, stomach immediately flipping. Long hair falling on their shoulders, a Nightmare On Elm Street tee tucked in baggy jeans, held on their hip by a thick belt with a shiny buckle that catches the dim lights. But what really gets Ifrit is the way that person is looking at him, unabashedly staring with a little smirk, lazily twirling their cane in their hand.

Fuck.

For a while, they both only do that. They stare. Check each other out. Ifrit knows he looks good, tight jeans on and tank top threatening to reveal his chest every time he shifts even the slightest bit, but oh does the burn of that person's eyes on him feel like the biggest compliment he ever received.

Then, the stranger leans back in their seat, making a come hither gesture, which really seals the deal. Ifrit is on his feet in and instant, color rising to his cheeks. He hears Ivy sniggering and wishing him good luck, but it's muted, distant, all of Ifrit's attention on the person cocking their head at him.

He's standing in front of them in three strides.

Up close they're even more captivating. Freckles, creases around their eyes, a small scar on their cheekbone. Older than Ifrit is, but he wouldn't be able to know by how much ; all he knows is that there is a hint of grey at their temple and that it's unreasonably hot.

"Like what you see ?"

Oh, fuck, if the croon of their voice doesn't fuel the fire in Ifrit's guts.

"Sure do. Could ask you the same question, stranger," he manages to choke out, though it doesn't have the teasing lilt he usually so easily injects in his flirty exchanges.

The person chuckles, sizing Ifrit up with something almost predatory in their eyes. There's an easy confidence, something sure and steady and...authoritary to them that makes Ifrit want to drop on his knees right here right now.

"Zephyr. Name's Zephyr, sweet thing. And yes, I do enjoy the sight of you and your big doe eyes...?"

"Ifrit," he answers, voice unsteady, face burning, getting stupidly worked up by a basic conversation. But it's the way Zephyr watches him, like a hawk ready to sink its talons in soft flesh.

Ifrit would let them.

"Now I'd love to keep talking to you, don't get me wrong, but I also might keel over if I don't get my hands on you in the next minute or so," Zephyr conversationally states.

"Bathroom ?" Ifrit wheezes, itching to taste them, to feel them.

Zephyr grabs their cane with one hand, Ifrit's necklace with the other, and makes a beeline for said bathroom.

It's baffling, really, how easily Ifrit let himself be led like this, following behind like an obedient pup, struck by the overwhelming need to be good, to please Zephyr every way he can.

The door of the stall slams shut behind both of them, lock clicking. Surprisingly, Ifrit feels a bit intimidated now that he's alone with Zephyr. He's done nastier shit, in riskier and more embarrassing settings, but somehow, being cramped in a narrow space with Zephyr specifically has his nerves acting up.

That is until Zephyr cups his neck to guide him into a heated kiss, all apprehension bleeding out of Ifrit as he leans into it, backing Zephyr against the door, gropping their hips.

"How do you- how do you want me," Ifrit manages to pant against their mouth, distracted by the feeling of hands slipping under his shirt, pawing at his belly, then up, up to his chest, ripping a whimper out of him when deft fingers pay special attention to his nipples.

Zephyr seems to consider as they lick a nasty stripe up Ifrit's neck, reaching the shell of his ear just in time to whisper right against it.

"I want you on your knees."

Well, Ifrit's been ready for that for long enough that he immediately goes down, barely needing to be guided by the hand settling in his hair. His own find Zephyr's thighs, anchoring themselves there while he looks up, aware that their view probably consists of flushed cheeks, ruffled hair, slack jaw and glazed over eyes.

It seems to do the trick, too, because Ifrit can see them fattening up in their jeans, hips jerking slightly. After another glance up to confirm Zephyr is in, Ifrit reaches up, undoing their belt in a record time despite his shaky hands.

"Do this often ?" Zephyr teases, only chuckling at the embarrassed way Ifrit ducks his head down. "It's alright, no shame in it. You are a sight on your knees, sweet thing."

And, okay, Ifrit has heard that before, because he is pretty and fully dedicated to the blow jobs he gives - his oral fixation is to blame for that - but wow, the way Zephyr says it, phrases it, has him throbbing in his pants.

"Now be good and get me in that pretty mouth of yours, mmh ?"

Ifrit might very well pass out.

He does what he's asked, because fuck his need to please is back tenfold. Also, he might die if he doesn't get Zephyr's cock down his throat right this instant. The second their dick is freed, Ifrit takes it as far as he can, gag reflex immediately challenged.

His jaw will ache soon, there's already instinctive tears collecting at his waterline, but Zephyr's heady taste finally coats Ifrit's tongue and they make a low sound as their head thud back against the door, so it's all more than worth it.

Ifrit doesn't waste time, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks like rent is due. He's good at this, he knows it, and he'll be damned if he doesn't make sure Zephyr knows that by the time they're done.

The hand in his hair tightens, tugging not so gently, sparks of pain only serving to make Ifrit's cock twitch while he extracts as much bitten off moans, gasps and grunts as he can from Zephyr, who's clearly getting lost in the feeling of it all.

Their hips twitch forward when Ifrit swirls his tongue around the head, and he pulls away just enough to whisper in a raspy, strained voice.

"You can fuck my mouth, if you want to."

Zephyr's eyes actually roll back at that.

"Oh, sweetheart," they rasp, grabbing his jaw to shove their cock down his throat again, holding Ifrit still that way, one hand on his face, the other in his hair.

And, to Ifrit's delight, they are not being gentle, snapping their hips forward with hurried urgency, blindingly chasing their pleasure. Despite that, when the tears finally spill from Ifrit's eyes, they wipe them away with their thumb, mumbling a string of praises that warms something in his chest.

"Good boy, taking me so well- fuck, so good, that mouth of yours..."

It doesn't take much longer for Zephyr's rythm to falter as they warn in a breathless voice.

"Gonna cum Ifrit- tell me- where-"

Ifrit is given some leverage to pull away, just barely, to answer.

"In my mouth, please-"

Zephyr is leaning most of his weight against the door now, heaving a sigh at the answer, before thrusting back into Ifrit's mouth, once twice-

With a barely stiffled moan, they come down Ifrit's throat, not letting go of the vice grip they have on his hair until they've come down from their orgasm.

"Oh, fuck, sweetheart," they hum when Ifrit swallows, maintaining eye contact the whole time. It's dizzying, the arousal flowing through him, the taste of Zephyr lingering, the pride of seeing them wrecked that way, barely able to stand on their own, hair plastered to their face, panting. All because of Ifrit.

He's yanked out of his thoughts by the toe of Zephyr's shoe pressing against his crotch, making Ifrit jolt and whine.

"Such a good little thing like you," Zephyr coos, regaining some composure, surely you deserve a reward, mmh ?

Ifrit's out of words, too turned on and throat far too wrecked to do anything else but nod furiously.

"Up you go then," Zephyr hums, offering Ifrit a hand to tug him back on his feet. He let them turn him toward the toilet seat, braces a hand against the wall when Zephyr crowds behind him, working his pants open.

The relief of having his cock, hard and leaking, finally pulled out already has Ifrit weak in the knees.

Then Zephyr wraps a hand around it, breathing in his ear.

"Let's keep this clean, mmh ?"

While he would like to answer, Ifrit doesn't even get to think about what to say before Zephyr starts pumping him, nice and slow, paying extra attention to the head. His eyes roll back, head hanging down, mouth opening around a silent moan.

Truthfully, it takes an embarrassingly short time for Ifrit to start whimpering, already so worked up from just blowing Zephyr, but they don't seem to think any less of him for that.

"There, there, feels good, uh ? I know, I know pretty boy, being so good for me shh, sh, there you go, you close, uh ? I can tell you are. It's okay, it's good."

With so much encouragement, and the feeling of a tight fist around his cock, Ifrit is done for. A few more stroke, and he shoots in the toilet, babbling and half-sobbing the whole time.

Zephyr, turns out, really is perfect, because they stick around, help Ifrit wipe what little mess they made - really, they've been surprisingly clean, overall - and most importantly, they check on Ifrit with a softness laced with an unwavering determination to make sure he is okay that makes his stomach flip again.

So Ifrit let them grab his jaw, gently but firmly, inspect his face, adjust his clothes, ask if he's okay - and returns the favor.

It's only when he's back at his table with a far too nosy Ivy trying to get details, Zephyr long out of the bar, though they didn't leave without one last kiss, that Ifrit realizes he forgot to ask for their number.

Fuck.

Well, you never know what might happen, uh ? Small world and all that.

[tilebytiles]

star treatment - a.t. (part 2)

summary: there's a strange man named alex that has a strange obsession with you, and he makes the strangest offer of your life. word count: 3.2k warnings: none part 1

You had fallen asleep a while ago. The stars, although breathtakingly beautiful this far out in space, had eventually gotten tiring to look at, and your brain itched for something else. You were still too tense to talk to anyone else on the spacecraft, and Alex was nowhere to be found, although you doubted you'd talk to him anyway. With no methods of entertainment beyond staring out the window, you fell asleep rather quickly, your imagination conjuring up strange dreams about the hotel you were heading to.

The only thing that woke you up was the sound of rustling clothes in front of you. Drowsily, you forced your eyes open and your body to come up onto your feet. You were a little wobbly from trying to do so much so quick, but you regained your balance rather quickly and began to follow the journalists down the narrow aisle between the rows of seats. If there was anything science fiction films had taught you, you should have been floating through that rocket instead of walking. Your feet, however, remained firmly planted on the carpet, a fact that was rather disappointing. Floating would have been cooler.

The interior of the seating area was done in soft, warm colours, offering an inviting atmosphere. The seats were a navy blue with an off-white stripe down the center, and the walls were a shade of pink, something close to salmon, you thought. The floor was done in the same colour, but down the aisle was a red carpet. There weren't many seats, so the rocket could only house a group about the size of this one at any time. You didn't mind; the less people you had to awkwardly avoid, the better.

You realised the giant window at the end of the aisle that you'd thought was for stargazing was actually a port. As soon as you stepped into the giant see-through tube, you heard the door slide shut behind you, sealing you off from the rocket. You couldn't help but marvel at the empty chasm of space that surrounded you, as well as the moon that rested beneath you. From here, you could make out the complex building you were realising was meant to be the hotel. It looked futuristic and retro at the same time, an effect that wasn't hard to achieve; the architecture looked like the kind that was popular in the 70s, providing a sort of nostalgic feel, but it was sitting on the surface of the moon. This definitely wouldn't have been possible in the 70s (you could hardly believe it was possible now).

One of the journalists spoke up, shattering the awestruck silence. "He's a bit mad for doin' all this."

The journalist beside him shrugged. "It's kinda cool, though, don't you think?"

"Well, sure, but imagine having these kinds of funds ... and you waste it on a lunar hotel?"

You hardly knew Alex, but it made you feel a little uneasy to hear someone speaking ill of him. You wanted to speak up, but a third journalist beat you to it. "If anything, he's proving we can even do this kind of shit on the moon. It's better than some of the stunts billionaires have been pulling."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Miles," the first journalist grumbled. "Stop kissing his ass."

The journalist named Miles rolled his eyes, then glanced over at you. You hadn't even realised he was walking beside you. He grinned at you and held out a hand for you to shake. "Miles Kane," he said.

You slowly shook his hand. "Y/N L/N."

"You don't exactly seem like the reporter type. What're you doin' up here with this pretentious lot?"

You liked him already.

"Alex invited me," you told him. "I haven't really figured out why yet."

He nodded, seeming to ponder over the information you'd just given him despite it only being two sentences. "I'm sure we'll get along perfectly," he finally said, smiling at you again. "If any of these pricks cause you trouble, just lemme know."

"Thank you." You smiled back at him.

When you made it to the other end of the tube, the door in front of you slid open, allowing your party of prose into the hotel. Your eyes widened once you stepped through the door. The room you were in, which you guessed to be the main lobby, was absolutely gigantic - or at least, it felt that big. There was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the whole space with sconces mounted on the walls to light up the spots the chandelier couldn't reach. The walls were a warm, perhaps almost burnt, shade of orange, and the floor was made of lush carpet, the pattern almost hypnotising. Squiggles of colour stretched from wall to wall above a black background. The wall to your right, close to the door, held floor-to-ceiling windows, showcasing the moon and the stars in all their glory. To your left was the reception desk, the lift to its left and the stairs to its right. Chairs and tables were scattered amongst the space, providing plenty of spots to sit and rest. Mounted on the wall behind the reception desk was a flat-screen TV. You were impressed it could pick anything up out here.

Your group wandered over to the reception desk, and to your surprise, someone popped out of the door that had an 'EMPLOYEES ONLY' plaque, grinning at you all. "Pleasure to meet you!" he said. "Mr. Turner told me you'd be arriving."

Alex's last name was Turner?

"Hold on," the first journalist from before said, "you mean you've just ... been here?"

The receptionist nodded, still smiling. "We've had more than enough resources to last us, don't worry. And they're replenishable! But we can get into that later."

"There's more than one of you?"

"All the staff were busy prepping for your arrival. We hope you enjoy your stay. Let me be the first to officially welcome you to the Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino. My name's Mark, and I'll be your guide for the tour today."

You admired Mark's genuine enthusiasm. Then again, you didn't think it'd be very hard to be enthusiastic about a job like this.

He came out from behind the desk and motioned for your group to follow as he headed for the open doorway across from the door you'd just come through. It opened out into a long hall, branching off into different rooms. "This is where the café is," he said, pointing to one of the sets of doors you passed by. "That's where you'll be eating all your meals, although your options will differ depending on the time of day. That," he said, pointing to another set of doors, "is the gym. There's all kinds of equipment in there, and it's completely free for all guests, so don't be afraid to stop by."

He continued leading you down the hall, pointing at different doors and explaining them. Connected to the café was a greenhouse that provided different types of produce, and it was available to guests ("take a tour or let the little ones learn how to garden!" he had said). There was a library, a laundry room, and even something like a patio at the very end of the hall, allowing you to get as close to the moon itself as you safely could.

When you came back up the hall and squeezed into the lift, Mark explained how the actual hotel rooms would be the last part of the tour; that way, you could all rest as soon as you got to your rooms. Your first stop was the very top of the hotel, where you could see the large hexagonal neon sign spinning slowly on top of its pole. They had built a pool into the roof, complete with a ladder to make getting in and out easy, a diving board, various chairs set up, umbrellas that you weren't even sure were necessary and bathrooms and changing rooms, the latter of which were fully stocked with robes, bathing suits and pool toys.

Heading down a floor revealed the hotel's partial namesake: the casino. The lights were significantly dimmer here than they were in the rest of the hotel, but they weren't so dim that you couldn't see at all. Machines had been pushed up against every wall and were lined up perfectly around the room. It was almost overstimulating, and you were grateful you left when you did, although the aftereffects of all the lights remained in your vision as colourful blobs for some time.

Your whole group was staying on the same floor. You didn't know if you were glad about it or dreading it. At least Miles would be nearby, you thought. He'd been making the occasional quiet joke to you throughout the whole tour, and you did your best to stifle your laughter to avoid dirty looks from the others.

"I'll talk to you later," he said, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hadn't even realised you'd made it to your rooms. His was across the hall from yours. You nodded and flashed him one last smile before unlocking your door with the key Mark had given you and stepping inside.

The room was lavishly decorated. You almost felt guilty for staying there for free. A four-poster bed stood tall, the frame painted a creamy white and the mattress covered in a white sheet. A thin fabric, something like lace, hung from each corner like curtains. The blanket looked soft, inviting, and after many, many hours of being stuck in a rocket and sleeping in a (albeit comfortable) chair, slipping under the covers and taking a proper nap sounded heavenly. You forced yourself to hold off on that nap, though, and continued your exploration of the room.

The overhead light was built into the ceiling, and upon discovering a small remote on top of the chest of drawers across from the bed, you realised the brightness could be changed. There was a floor-to-ceiling window built into the wall across from the door, offering yet another stunning view. The closet that was built into the wall rested to the left of the bed, and to the right was a small nightstand. In the closet, you found all sorts of clothes. At least there was comfort in the fact that no matter what happened, you'd be well-dressed for the occasion. Not far from the nightstand was a door, and when you opened it, you discovered the bathroom.

Ah, yes. It was about time you took a shower.

The water was perfectly warm, and the shampoo smelled lovely. Although it had only been a few days, you still felt gross for having gone so long without a shower; you guessed it was only because you were used to showering every day. When you finished getting cleaned up, you slipped into the cosiest pair of pyjamas you'd ever gotten your hands on and made sure to turn the light off before slipping into the unnecessarily fancy bed.

You wondered what Alex was up to. You hoped you'd see him tomorrow, mostly so you could thank him for inviting you in the first place. Although the concept of a hotel in space still felt a bit mad to you, you were beginning to realise it really wasn't as bad as you'd expected it to be. Maybe you were even a bit proud of him.

•••••

The next morning - at least, you guessed it was morning - you made your first trip to the café Mark had shown you. You had to admit, you were starving. Although you'd been given snacks on the rocket, they were exactly that - snacks. They hadn't been near enough to keep you full, and now your stomach felt like it was going to gnaw its way through your entire body if you didn't get something to eat soon.

A few of the journalists were already in there, including Miles. You headed towards the counter, where the employee behind the till smiled at you. "What can I get for you today?"

"Uh ..." You stared at the imposing menu on the wall, assessing your options. "Can I have the egg croissant, please?"

"Would you like a drink with that?"

"Water's fine, thanks." The employee nodded, punching your order in, and when the small number popped up on the digital screen sticking up from the till, your eyes widened. It was cheaper than you'd been expecting. You quickly fished your wallet out of your pocket.

Once the transaction was complete, you headed for Miles' table and sat across from him. He was scribbling something in his notepad, but when he heard the creak of your chair, his head snapped up. When he realised it was you, he grinned. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hey," you replied. "What are you doing?"

"Writin' down some notes for that article I gotta write. We've been here for less than a day, and I already have enough info to crank out a goddamn essay."

That made you laugh, earning a sideways glance from one of the journalists. It was the one that had been questioning Alex's motives before. You heard Miles scoff, prompting you to look back at him with a raised brow. “Trouble in paradise?”

He snorted. “Hardly paradise with that prick around.”

“Who is he?”

“James Schwartz, also known as one of the biggest dickheads on the planet. Old money - his dad runs the paper he writes for, and his dad ran it before that, and so on. Heard he’s in line for the throne.” He shook his head. “He’s willin’ to do anything for a story. Can’t keep a girlfriend for more than a few months, either.”

“What do you mean, he’s willing to do anything?”

He eyed you for a few moments, as if he was debating whether or not he should unveil James’ moral crimes to you. Eventually, he sighed, leaning back in his chair; so much so that the two front legs rose from the floor. “The best of it, so to speak, is that he flooded some poor shop owner’s voicemail until they phoned him back.”

“And the worst?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and his gaze sauntered over to land on James, who’d put a pair of headphones on at some point and remained entirely oblivious to your conversation. Still, to be on the safe side, Miles’ voice lowered, forcing you to lean over to hear him. “He dated a girl, some model from Bristol. A couple of months later, she broke up with him, and then suddenly, her nudes were up on the Internet, free for all perverted fucks to see. He was one of the first to cover the story, and his article painted her in a suspicious light, spoutin’ some shite about how she shouldn’t have let anyone take such compromisin’ pictures of her. She quit modelling not long after. It was never proven to be him, but …” He shrugged and looked back to you.

Your stomach churned at the mere thought of what he’d gotten away with. “Surely someone questioned him?”

“If they did, he probably paid them to keep quiet. Either way-” He dropped his pencil onto his notepad. “-I would stay away from him, if I were you.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” you mumbled.

After your food had arrived and you’d satiated your hunger, Miles suggested heading up to the pool for a quick dip. You agreed, although considering you’d just eaten, you didn’t think you would actually do any swimming. This notion seemed a bit funny to him, and he even asked if you were chicken, but he didn’t press the matter any further.

Much to your delight, there were swimsuits in the dressing room, and you slipped into a black bikini on the off chance you hopped into the water. Wrapping yourself up in a plush white robe that had the hotel’s acronym embroidered into the left breast, you stepped out onto the pool deck. Miles was already in the pool, clad in a pair of black swim trunks and swimming from one end to the other, engaged in an intense race against himself. You plopped down onto one of the pool chairs and stretched your legs out, watching as Miles swam to the edge closest to you with a grin. “The water’s lovely.”

“I’d rather not get cramps,” you said, making him laugh. He playfully splashed water in your direction, spraying small droplets onto your calves and the chair beneath you. The water was cold against your skin.

You heard the entrance to the pool open, making you turn and look over your shoulder. Alex stood in the doorway, and when he saw you, he managed a small smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“I was looking for Miles.” He glanced around you and spotted the man in question, who offered an enthusiastic wave that was akin to one from a child. “Mark said you’d be here.”

“You should come join me, Mr. Turner,” Miles replied, assuming an exaggerated air of pompousness. “Have you even tested your own pool?”

Alex seemed to genuinely consider that question for a few moments. His hands slid down into his pockets, and his lips pressed together before finally parting to form the words, “No, I haven’t.”

And with that, he found himself in swim trunks exactly like Miles’ less than a few minutes later. It was the first time you’d seen him in anything beyond his perfectly crisp suits, and it also offered you a chance to admire his physique. His abs were lightly defined, as were the muscles lining his arms; the veins in his forearms protruded, as if all they needed was a small push before bursting from his skin; his legs had about as much hair as you could have expected, and there was a light smattering of hair across his chest. Draped over his chest, sinking into the dips of his collarbones, was a thin gold chain, the same one you’d seen him wear a number of times at the café.

Miles whistled, snapping you out of the spell Alex’s body had put you under. “She’s oglin’ ya.”

“Am not!” you protested, glaring at him.

He only rolled his eyes. “There’s nothin’ wrong with admirin’.”

You didn’t say anything, only crossed your arms over your chest. It wasn’t like you needed to respond, though; the heat that spread across your cheeks like wildfire spoke volumes.

If you were being perfectly honest with yourself - which you did reluctantly - Alex had always caught your eye. You mostly attributed it to the mysterious aura that he was always shrouded in, brought into existence by how little he spoke, how much he kept to himself, and the documents he primarily occupied himself with. Even if you now knew what those documents had been for, there were still heaps of things that remained locked away from you. For fuck’s sake, you’d learned his last name from a complete stranger.

In some ways, his mystery was a siren call, coaxing you in for what you thought might be your untimely demise. If there was anything the piles of romance novels in your flat had taught you, it was that strange men- especially rich ones- shouldn’t ever be trusted with matters of the heart.

As Alex lowered himself into the pool, though, you let yourself ogle for a little while longer.

[colourstreakgryffin]

My Winglady

Best Friend! Platonic! Iguro Obanai; Short(not at all) Story

“Obi. You okay?” You gently asked, placing your bento box onto your lap as you noticed how Obanai stared almost mindlessly ahead, his memorising mismatched eyes nearly taking the form of love hearts. At what? You asked yourself in the moment

The Hashira always said it. What a interesting combo. The cheery playful Ice Hashira and the harsh cruel Serpent Hashira. You and Iguro Obanai were basically inseparable, from the moment you two met. He adored you, following you around like a lost puppy and you found it so cute, you made it a side mission to befriend him to a level thought impossible

He made it out like he hated women with a passion but his best ever friend is a woman. How ironic, he didn’t care though. He figured the only two humans he’d truly care about is you and the Master

But boy, was he wrong. Now, there’s a third person that’s slipped into frame

“Obi” You repeated a bit firmer but still caked in that cute sweet voice of yours. Your fingers tapped his nearby wrist after pulling it softly as you tried your best to reel him back to reality.

Your attempts are fruitless as you pout a bit frustrated at his lovestruck expression after a few more taps with no response. Kaburamaru suddenly drops his head onto yours, sliding down after a little while so his chin rolls against your hair

“What’s wrong with Obi, Kabu?” You ask the snowy danger noodle without moving as Kaburamaru lifts himself up and points his snout ahead, you followed the fascinating serpent’s movements until your eyes locked on the target

Sitting with bouncing legs under the shaded bench alone, a bento box on her lap and empty boxes literally surrounding her. You finally knew why Obanai was behaving so weirdly distracted and airheaded

Kanroji Mitsuri. The Love Hashira and the newest Hashira too. She excitedly glowed at each and every chunk she chowed down on from her meal, the seconds flying by made you think intently on what you should do next

Did he? You snapped your head back at Obanai, he had dropped the bento box that was hovering over his lap as his breathing was so light, you were concerned he was holding his breath

“Obi. Hey, Obi. Obi. Obanai. Iguro. Iguro Obanai! Hey!” You chirp louder yet lightly, tapping his cheek. You needed to know if your theory was true. Kaburamaru basically giggled at Obanai’s delayed but flinching form as his head whips side to side

His eyes finally fazed back to normal as he turns around you to meet eyes with a obvious frown, eyebrows knitted. “What, Dokusha! What?” Obanai barks out back

“You like Kanroji?” You ask rather innocently with a kitten-like head tilt. Obanai always thought you were so cute, he couldn’t help but feel his heart ping at your curiosity

“Well… yes… yes, I do. And you know that, I told you so a few days ago” Obanai responded calmly, his voice as smooth as silk. His hands shifted around for the bento box previously pressed on his uniform pants.

Before he finally stopped in place and let his head fall down to see the mess of broken wood and wasted food below. What a great way to spend lunch time, wasting his meal atop of a tree with his best friend ogling at the new Hashira. Lifting it up, he sighed in defeat

“You want mine?” You remark softly, presenting the bento as Obanai shook his head furiously. You hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to open yours yet and you also knew he’d decline but you were in the mood to persist as your secret little plan begun building itself up in your head

“No. No. That’s yours, you should eat it” Obanai argues softly, pushing the box back to you with a hidden smile underneath those annoying bandages. You were one of the very few amounts of people who could make Obanai smile genuinely

“You should have it, Obi. You’ll need your strength to go say hi to Kanroji-san” You chirp, popping open the lid and digging in to fish out a chopstick-full of fresh brown rice

Obanai basically jumped out of his own skin at your confidence. What do you mean by that? As you push the warm food against his masked lips over and over. “Open. Aaa, Cmon. Time to eat” You chirp again, smiling uncontrollably. Obanai sighed once more, taking the box off your lap rather aggressively, though that wasn’t his intention then gently picking the chopsticks out of your fingers

You turned back to Mitsuri, who thankfully hadn’t left her spot under that shaded bench. What should Obanai say to her? You think. Hmm, your brain lit up as the first thing in thought basically made a lightbulb appear above your head, your fingers snapped but you didn’t turn back to Obanai

You always respected his desire to hide himself, even if you found it unnecessary or infuriating. It didn’t really matter, you’d let it go for now in favour of telling him your plan to help him woo over Mitsuri

“So, Obi. I got a idea, wanna hear it?” You remark with that signature light-hearted purr, almost clapping your hands together, your excitement oozing out of every pore your body possessed

“Go ahead” Obanai responded lightly, you could only assume he was eating with the way the light sound of wood tapped against his fingers

“There’s a new restaurant! Kanroji-san seems to really like food, how about you go ask her if she’d like to go to a restaurant with you” You were so proud of your idea, simple and not too weird, it sounded like a great way to start a friendship! That pride was short lived when you heard Obanai briefly choke. You panicked, slamming your eyelids shut and turning back around.

You couldn’t see, it was pitch black but Obanai’s hand pushed against yours. His breathing hitched as he coughed lightly before speaking. “I’m fine, Dokusha. I’m fine” He reassured you as you turned back around and opened your eyes, his fingers still brushed on your haori-layered back

“Do you want to do it?” You ask again, the seemingly empty food box dropped to your turned hip carelessly as the sound of clothes shuffled. You stared forward, eyes meeting the miraculously materialising ones of Obanai. He was in front of you in mere seconds, squatted down on his knees. That bandage mask looked as if it wasn’t unwrapped or moved at all

“You’re gonna help me, right?” He rung out a question back, you could hear the raw concern pouring out of his ears and mouth. He definitely didn’t want to go to Mitsuri without you cheering him on in the background

“Of course, you silly goose. Why would I suggest that idea if I wouldn’t?” You chirp, booping your nose with his playfully as he stepped back to let you jump up to your feet, him rising to meet you

“How about; I go say hi to her, stir up a conversation, I bring her to you, you two talk and you ask her” You sum up the further details of your formatted plan in a quicker format. Obanai’s fists clenched, he didn’t know what to actually say. He most definitely will mess up, he feels too anxious to go actually talk to Mitsuri himself. Can’t you ask her for him?

“What do I say?” Obanai asks a bit quietly, desperate eyes needing your confirmation and the right response. You giggled lightly, patting his head to ease his nerves(since you’re taller but younger). “Say whatever you want, Obi. Maybe something like; ‘It’d be a pleasure to get to know you, Kanroji-san. If you’d like, could we go to the new restaurant together?’” You fumbled over your words moments after, unsure of your romanticising skills

“I don’t know, Obi! I’m not the love expert. Clearly, Kanroji is!” You chirp out, almost defensively of your own inexperience as Obanai just grabbed your hand, ready to jump down from the tall trunk. He didn’t respond verbally, his hand tugged on yours to say ‘let’s jump’

You nod with a cheerful smile, letting him pull you off the thick uncomfortable branch as you two landed gracefully onto the grey stone-decorated ground, haoris flowing upwards with the pull of gravity. You smiled at the way Obanai’s monochrome striped haori seemed to sharpen at the sleeves, almost like the fangs of a snake.

“Oh my god! Obi! Obi! Look!” You semi-squeak in a high-pitch, lightly thumping your free palm on Obanai’s nearby shoulder as you pointed with that same hand, his nervous eyes followed your finger. Kanroji got up from her spot, with all the empty boxes in her arms as she nervously walked, every step so precise as to not drop the huge pile

“Hang on” You smirk in a mix of innocence and malice. Obanai frowned in response, the hand he previously held yours in reached out in a instant to try stop you. That smirk meant nothing good, he immediately went to protest against whatever you had in mind. He knew it could go wrong

“Myōji Dokusha, don’t—“ His firm, somewhat scary tone and upcoming words were cut off when you disappeared out of sight in a launching sprint and quickly knocked Mitsuri over with a slight bump, dashing off to hide behind the wall around the corner

You knew she didn’t feel a actual person touch her. She believed she slipped over her own feet as the boxes fell out of her hands onto the floor but she stumbled upwards to control herself. On steady feet, she looked down

She squealed outloud, like a little animal. Embarrassed as her hands covered her cheeks, her braids almost flying upwards like cat ears as she crouched down to begin gathering her disregarded dishes

Poking out, you gestured VERY hard at Obanai from behind the wall. You could feel his eyes on you. Your hands basically jabbed at the direction of Mitsuri then at the mess of dirty dishes as quick as you could, lips mouthing what you were trying to say. Your actions were screaming “go help her”

Obanai quickly whipped his head side to side again, you were right. He rushed up and begun picking the scattered boxes without so much as looking up at Mitsuri. The Sakura mochi-coloured hair woman gasped in surprise, her eyes gleaming as she watched Obanai swipe up the remaining boxes and rise to his feet, keeping the slight mountain in his hands

“Thank you! Thank you! I needed that a lot!” Mitsuri praised, singing her gratitude on a cheerful, precious voice as you pumped your fist up encouragingly in the background, Obanai’s bi-coloured eyes scanned around for you

He took a deep breath before speaking. “You took too many at once. There is nothing wrong with taking multiple trips” Obanai remarked, he hoped he didn’t sound too judgmental but with the way Mitsuri’s cheeks flared to glittery pink, she didn’t take it as a insult

“O-oh. I know, you’re right. It’s just! I don’t want to make the chef wait! I’d rather bring it all to him! It’s not fair to make people wait, you know!” Mitsuri chimed in response, hopping on bouncy feet in place as Obanai felt himself smile uncontrollably. His heart was beating like it was gonna shoot out of his ribs, his head was fuzzy with fawning thoughts over her beauty. His cheeks felt hot, thank god his mask kept that covered

“That’s good. Taking the first step” Obanai responded, he didn’t even know what he just said. He didn’t care though, he just wanted to be around Mitsuri more

This experience is ten times more intense then when he first met you. Yes, his heart was beating fast and his head was kinda light when he saw you, but this was tripled. He felt as if the angels had a hold of him and were gonna pull him up to heaven. He was a bit delirious, did love really feel like this?

“Yeah! Talking about steps! I’m sorry but I need to go right now! I’m already late to give these back!” Mitsuri responded a bit quicker yet nervous, she hoped she didn’t sound rude in her approach

“Wait” Obanai caws out, making Mitsuri stop on the footstep. Her face was washed over in pure, innocent curiosity. She matched you quite well, it made her all the more intriguing. Was the sweet personality the reason he liked you so much or the reason he liked Mitsuri so much?

“Yes?” Mitsuri asked, she didn’t mind waiting as she was wondering what this kind stranger was gonna say. Yes, she did see Obanai before and during the meeting. They are both Hashira after all, but they were barely on acquaintances level before this single situation

“It’d be a pleasure to get to know you, Kanroji-san. If you’d like, could we go to the new restaurant together?” Obanai directly parroted your speedy-madeup line and your heart flipped in joy. He always put what you said into heavy consideration, it never flew over his head

You wanted to cheer loudly but you had tremendous restraint, slamming your hands over your mouth as a precaution at Mitsuri’s lightened-up expression and wide joyful grin. She was definitely gonna say yes!

“Really? With me? That’s so nice! Yes, I’d love to! You’re so nice, Iguro-san! I originally thought you’d be mean! I’m really sorry for thinking that! I’m so wrong! You’re amazing!” Mitsuri chimed happily, bouncing on her feet like a excitable child and one hand gone back to cupping her rosy cheek with her other arm holding the tall pile of boxes to her chest

Obanai expertly hid away his growing excitement, stone-facing through the boiling pot of endearment bubbling in his stomach at that moment. He breathed a bit heavier to control himself as he shut his eyes for a few seconds longer to be completely ready

Your eager encouraging eyes on him made him feel safer and his confidence shot up in one puff. “Thank you. I’ll send you a letter so we can discuss it later” Obanai remarks, walking up the wood planks himself before Mitsuri could respond and placing down the boxes in his hands on the clean smooth wood-pane floor a few steps inside the shade. The closed door ahead of him would most definitely lead into the kitchen

Obanai turned back around on a heel spin, gesturing to the neatly left boxes as Mitsuri went back to using both hands for the pile. “One at a time, Kanroji. Don’t force it all at once, the chef will understand so just tell him and it’ll be fine” Obanai reassured her calmly, walking past and hopping down the elevated platform to the grainy rock floor below with a thump as Mitsuri quickly placed down the boxes on the platform, effectively blocking her way

She waved at Obanai after rushing back down to the first plank of the footsteps, her voice was a mixer of overwhelming excitement and gratitude. “Thank you so much, Iguro-san! Hope to hear from you soon!” Mitsuri chimed outloud, seemingly hoping back up and going under the shade to finish her little chore when she gathered the boxes. Mission; a real big success!

On the other hand, Obanai walked around the corner of the tall building to your hidden location, you were dancing in victory. Spinning in circles with cheerful yelps, one of your heldout hands was suddenly grabbed out of nowhere

“Ack! Whoa!” You chirped out in surprise, never losing that peaceful friendliness in your voice, despite your slight caution. Thankfully, your slightly spiked nerves lowered down in no time as you realised it was just Obanai. “It was a success, Obi! You did it!” Obanai lifted the hand he held and spun you around in a dancing motion so you faced him.

“I did it?” Obanai asked with a slightly judgemental beat, his free hand slithering in and gripping your other hand with immense speed and pulling you forward to stand only centimetres away from him, his arms immediately clung around your waist in a hug of otherworldly gratitude

“You’re the reason I did it” Obanai gently spoke, head rubbing against the bottom of your cups but he didn’t care. He leant his head up moments after, those pretty heterochromatic eyes sparkling so brightly. He was definitely very excited about how successful that was too

You leant your head down in curiosity, your face exploded in deep rose red blush and your eyes almost popped out as Obanai pressed a muffled kiss to your cheek. It didn’t last long but it was full to the brim with all that gratitude, your cheek plumped up at his lips. No matter how thick those bandages were, the warm and soft skin still touched your skin

“Thank you, Dokusha. Thank you” He sung a familiar string of praises as Mitsuri did to him, his dull yet hypnotising voice had some emotion behind it for once. Your face shined with that beautiful joyful smile of yours, eyes closing as you gently stroked his cutely messy hair

Obanai simply buried his face back into your upper stomach, sighing happily as Kaburamaru coiled up and around precisely to lay his cool little chin flat on your shoulder

“Don’t thank me! It was my pleasure!”

[sillyfanatic]

It’s my birthday. Have a pirate sonadow blurb 🫡

-

He doesn’t think there’s another feeling like it – the sun warming your face, the salty air carried around by a soft breeze – it’s almost like heaven.

Shadow relishes in the feeling of the sunlight on his fur, a warmth unlike any other; it had always felt as though it was an embrace from the sky itself.

The wind picked up as they sailed through the day, their destination unknown. The ship was fully stocked, and she had been well maintained too. The crew was happy, they’d gotten to stretch their legs on the land. It had been an opportunity for some to be alone, the others choosing to socialize with anyone that lived outside of the boat.

There was no place to go, no one awaiting their arrival. It was a moment in-between, one that was sure to leave as fast as it had come.

Sighing, Shadow signaled another crew member to take the wheel, allowing him to store himself away in his cabin.

He was glad to have a moment of rest, but his years of surviving off scraps had left his nervous system a wreck: he was unable to “relax” as it were, always needing to do something useful with his time.

As he stepped into his cabin, he tried to shake the feeling that crept bellow his stomach.

He eyed the bed.

You should lay down.

And yet his desk called to him;

You should make yourself useful. Do not waste your time, you know better than to do something foolish like that.

Huffing, the hedgehog made his way to his rather empty working surface. It wouldn’t stay like this for very long – there was always work to do, something to check off the never-ending list.

And so he started.

On everything and anything, Shadow kept himself busy. He charted courses, logged in progress, assured everything was up-to-date and stocked to its maximum capacity.

He read and wrote, turned away from the sun and the salty air, he found ways to make himself busy. To make use of his time.

He did so until there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” He grunted, that little voice in his head trying to tell him to ignore the knock, the distraction.

Behind the wooden door appeared a familiar shade of blue – trouble in the form of a hedgehog.

“Sonic.” He greeted, rather passively, as he drew up some old paperwork he’d meant to organize many moons ago.

“Captain.” The other said in return, nodding his head with a little smile. Said captain glanced at his crewmate, a little dip in his brow – curiosity.

“Out with it.” He said, though it wasn’t harsh. He knew Sonic well enough to know that he’d not come here for nothing, and the longer he stayed, the less work Shadow would get done.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I suppose.”

Taking a few steps forward, the blue hedgehog stood at the front of his captain’s desk, casting a shadow onto his paperwork. “Why’re you in here?” He tilted his head as he spoke.

“Working.” Was the simple answer, an incomplete one.

“I see that, but-“ He took a breath, pouting for a second as he thought. “Forgive my rudeness here…” Another little pause, as if he was hesitant to continue. Still, ever the risk-taker, he proceeded: “There isn’t really any work to do. You shouldn’t be working.”

“Pardon?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, you’ve been working hard for weeks now, and… you have to admit it, there’s nothing to do.”

“Tcht.” He had to force himself to not roll his eyes at the other. “There’s always something to do.”

“I mean, if you think that way, yeah, there’s always something to do.” He shrugged his shoulders, soft smile lining his lips. “But thinking that way’ll kill ya.”

“Oh, don’t be-“

But before he could give into his annoyance, the dark hedgehog heard his words turn to muffling as a hand came down to stop his speech.

“Shadow.” The other spoke, eyes locking with his. A crew member shouldn’t be so familiar with their captain. And a captain should never allow it, should never encourage it. And yet, Shadow seemed to do both those things. “It’s a beautiful day, there is nothing to do. You should enjoy it.” The hand was removed, allowing him to respond.

He opened his mouth to… refuse? To yell at Sonic to leave? To ask him how he dared speak to his captain in this way?

To accept?

The choice was made for him – before he knew what to do, he’d been dragged onto the deck, gloved hands linked to strong blue arms tugging him across the ship.

It wasn’t long before they were still, watching the ocean from behind the strong wooden railing of their ship.

His every instinct told him to leave.

But the life in Sonic’s eyes begged him to stay.

How could he ever refuse such a thing?

As they took in the salty air, they filled the quietness of the day with banter, their laughter lost to the horizon.

And Shadow thought this was better than the sea breeze and the sun - Sonic was better than the sea breeze and the sun. He was as rowdy and free as the ocean, as strong and reliable as the sails that pushed them through it. And as the captain gazed upon his crew mate he knew that this was no ordinary friendship, that this was a gem in an empty and vast sea, one that only came around once in a lifetime.

He’s be a fool not to seize the opportunity.

-

A/N

Yoooooo crimson part two ??!!;!;;!;! After almost 2 years ,??:?!. I haven’t named this but I’ll post it on ao3 :3 hope y’all enjoy I am RUSTY !

<- previous part

[naavispider]

💙💞Survivor: bonus scene💞💙

Read Survivor on AO3, my cop au where Quaritch is a high ranking police officer who finally works out the street kid he's had multiple run-ins with is his son.

For everyone who wanted a scene from Quaritch's point of view! Here's the moment he worked out Spider is his ✨ (I changed it from the main story so that Spider told the precinct his full name the last time he was arrested, instead of telling the hospital the day Q found him. It's not a huge change, just run with it).

It was grey, blustery Thursday morning in downtown St Mark’s, the wind whipping against the windscreen of the PD’s Ford Explorer as Miles Quaritch patrolled down another empty street. At 6am, no one was out yet. The world was quiet apart from himself and his partner sitting in the passenger seat. 

“She was a beauty,” Lyle Wainfleet reminisced, vastly overestimating how much Miles actually cared. “That was the one that got away, I’m telling you.”

“Is that so?”

“I should message her again.”

Quaritch rolled his eyes without looking at his partner. He’d known Lyle for a long time and there was no one more reliable he’d rather be on shift with. However, their differing attitudes towards Lyle’s hunt for a woman was sometimes a point of contention between them. “Should you now?”

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“It seems to me she made her feelings pretty clear.”

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine today? Come on, Colonel, I’m trying not to get my heart broken, here!” Miles shrugged, surveying the bleak street ahead of them. It had been an uneventful night shift, which is exactly the kind that Miles should have hoped for. However, he couldn’t deny that a huge part of him still missed the action and danger of the marines. Rain had just started to spit from the overcast sky, forcing him to turn on the wipers. This part of town was known for its drug involvement, most of which Miles himself had uncovered. Now though, the street was empty, not a single sign of life in the dawn light. There was nothing amiss here.

“You wanna get a coffee?” Lyle’s bored voice drifted over from the passenger seat. He’d already switched off for the shift. 

Miles sighed, thinking they may as well, but then he saw it. A shapeless lump on the floor in one of the archways that lined the shopfronts. “Hold up,” he said. “Let’s deal with this first.”

Unfortunately, the homeless were nothing new to the pair. They had time to check one more over. Miles pulled the car over to the curb, gently bringing it to a stop a few feet away from the sleeping figure. Now that they were closer, the Colonel could make out that it was someone small, maybe young, but their face was hidden in the concrete. Miles frowned as he realised that the person wasn’t huddled up in a blanket or sleeping bag like usual, but instead they were lying almost completely exposed to the wind and the cold, limp and seemingly lifeless. 

“Oh, shit,” Lyle articulated as he too clocked that this could be something serious. 

Without wasting time, Miles opened the door and cautiously approached where the person lay. “Hello, there,” he called loudly, as per protocol. “Are you alright?”

As he knew there wouldn’t be, there came no response. Lyle joined him and they stepped closer, Miles’s heart thudding at the expectation of finding a body. Since joining the police force, it had happened once before to Miles. It was nothing like the death he’d seen in the warzone, but it was almost… sadder. These people had nobody with them, no one waiting for them at home and possibly no one that would miss them when they went. At least there was honour in dying in combat. 

He grasped the young person’s upper arm and shook firmly. “Hello? This is the police, do you need help?” In doing so, he finally caught sight of the person’s face. It was a teenager - and one he recognised at that. The boy had a young face, dirty blonde curls that covered most of his head and a peaceful expression that remained unresponsive. He remembered the teen from a couple of run-ins they’d had over the past few months. Once for underage drinking and then again for stealing. He was a runaway foster kid, barely sixteen if he remembered correctly. “Shit,” he murmured, a pang of something anxious striking his insides at the thought that he’d had the chance to help this boy and he might now be dead. “We know this kid. Wake up!” He pulled the boy by his arm and the teenager rolled over limply, completely out of it. His lips were blue and there was dried vomit on the side of his face. Ignoring the smell, Miles put his ear to the boy’s mouth, checking for breathing. He couldn’t see or hear anything for several torturous seconds. Lyle was already radioing for an ambulance. 

Suddenly, a gurgled cough escaped the boy’s lips. “There, we go,” Miles murmured, trying to rub the kid’s back as he racked his brains for the alias the kid had given them. “Can you wake up, kid? It’s the police, we’re gonna get you some help.”

He knew the boy couldn’t hear him, but he kept speaking anyway. Once he was confident the kid was taking semi-regular breaths, he cast around the scene for the drugs packet he knew he’d find somewhere. “Here,” he said, handing the tiny bag to Lyle, who got the drugs kit out. A few seconds later, they had their answer. “Cocaine,” Lyle confirmed. “Isn’t this the kid we picked up a while back for stealing?”

“That’s the one.” The boy was cold to the touch. “What’s the ETA?”

“Four minutes,” Lyle responded. “There’s a camera up there. That could be interesting,” he nodded towards the CCTV placed not too far away. It was pointing in their direction and would have covered the boy while he slept. 

Miles nodded, pulling the boy’s thin blanket over his frame while they waited for the ambulance to arrive. “Kid, can you wake up? You’re in a bit of a rough state.” He raised his voice as if he was speaking to someone who was deaf. “Kid? Can you hear me? Try and wake up.”

He could tell he’d broken through by the wince in the boy’s features, his body seeming to spasm for a moment before his chest heaved and vomit spluttered from his mouth.

“Easy, tiger…” He rubbed the kid’s shoulders, making sure he was on his side. “At least he’s alive,” he glanced up at Lyle. 

Eventually, the ambulance arrived with flashing lights. It couldn’t have come soon enough, as far as Miles was concerned. Every second felt like the kid was slipping further away from them. “What’s happening, then?” a kind woman with brown hair asked as she and another paramedic hurried over, bags over their shoulders. 

“Sixteen year old boy, found unresponsive. Cocaine on his person.”

“Okay,” the paramedic nodded her understanding. “My name’s Janine, this is Sarah. We’ll get him on board as soon as we can. Do you have a name?”

“Spider.” It came to Miles like a flash of lightning, the strange nickname finally illuminated in his brain. “We’ve met before.”

“Spider?” Janine asked, taking Miles’s place at Spider’s side. “Can you hear me? We’re here to help you. I’m just going to put this Pulse Ox on your finger…”

Miles stepped back to allow the medics to assess Spider. He was a marine, he was used to chaos and stressful situations, normally the picture of calm as he navigated the safest and most efficient way back to safety. But he had to admit this one had thrown him. He was glad that someone else was here to take charge because his concern for Spider was growing by the minute. It somehow felt like his fault the boy had ended up here, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. As he watched them work, it struck him that he felt responsible. 

Which was ridiculous, of course. This wasn’t his responsibility in the slightest. He’d done his job the previous times they’d met. He’d tried to help the kid as much as he could. But something deep inside was nagging at him. It wasn’t enough. 

He didn’t like it. He looked at Lyle, hoping for one of his usual unfunny quips to take his mind off the feeling. His partner was speaking to the other medic and it was all Miles could do to help Janine heave Spider off the cold concrete. 

“Get off me!” Spider suddenly burst out, surprising everyone. His eyes were still closed, but at least he was gaining consciousness. 

“Spider? I’m trying to help you,” Janine continued. “You’re okay… Let’s get you into the ambulance. I need you to stand up. I’ll help you.” She glanced at Miles for support, and he quickly pulled one of Spider’s arms over his own shoulder in tandem with Janine. The boy was extremely weak, relying totally on their support. It would have been easier if they’d just left him sleeping, because like this Spider could lash out at them in his disorientation. Together, they heaved him onto the ambulance and the gurney. He groaned and angry tears began to slip from under his closed eyelids. “Fuck!” he slurred as he curled up on the bed. 

“He’ll be alright,” Janine said, slightly out of breath as she turned to Miles. “He’s dehydrated and has a high blood pressure, but I’m more worried about his temperature. He should be frozen, but he’s burning up. He might have taken something else.”

Miles took this in, thinking what the procedure was for this kind of thing. This was a minor with no known relatives, so he knew they’d have to accompany him to the hospital. At least until they could contact CPS. 

“Okay, we’ll meet you at the ER. You going to St Mark’s?”

She nodded, holding the back of the ambulance open for Miles to exit. “We’ll do our best to hold him until you guys get there, my guess is that you’ve got a few hours at least until he’s lucid.”

Miles thanked her and pressed his radio as she pulled the heavy ambulance door closed. “Fike, can you get me any info on that kid we bought in a few weeks ago?” He retreated to the car as the ambulance sped off down the empty street. He watched it go, feeling like it was carrying precious cargo. Then he realised how ridiculous that feeling was and shook himself. 

“Which one? Can you be more specific, Colonel?” Fike’s voice came crackling back over the radio. 

Lyle slid back into the passenger seat. “Good spot, Colonel. Now can we get coffee on the way?”

Miles let his annoyance settle quietly in his stomach, ignoring his partner in favour of the radio. “Kid bought in for stealing an iPad from the Apple store. Sixteen.”

“Copy that, I’ll check for you.”

“There’s no way the kid told them anything,” Lyle commented, listening to the exchange. “It’s real sad, but he's on a one track road and it’s going nowhere good.”

“And that’s okay is it?” Miles surprised himself for his response. He was never normally this invested in a case. “We should just let it be?”

Lyle had the decency to look abashed. “What are we supposed to do, Colonel?”

Miles shook his head. He knew it wasn’t their individual responsibility to take in every lovable stray, but it still felt like a failure of the police department that a kid like Spider had been allowed to deteriorate to such an extent. “I don’t know,” he relented.

Thankfully, Fike was quick. “Miles Socorro, ward of the state.” 

Miles’s heart stopped. 

For a moment he thought… but it must have been radio static. “Can you repeat that, officer?”

A few seconds of confused silence went by as Lyle stared at him and they waited for Fike to get back to them. “Copy, Miles Socorro, ward of the state.” 

Dread filled his stomach.

Vile nausea rose in his throat and he needed air… he needed to step out… Miles Socorro. She’d called the baby after him? 

This couldn’t be right. This was a mistake, a coincidence. It had to be a common name. 

“Colonel, you alright?” Lyle's voice was far away. 

He was outside again, leaning against the car door, his head in his hands. He just needed some deep breaths. Miles Socorro. Miles Socorro. Miles Socorro. Miles Socorro. Miles Socorro. 

It wouldn’t stop. 

The name swirled around his brain incessantly, each time with more veracity and more vengeance, over and over again until he realised it would never let him go. The baby. The baby. 

It was him. 

Of course it was. He’d known it from their first meeting when the kid had squinted at him against the blinding sunset with an empty cider bottle in his hand.

“Holy shit.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and vaguely registered that Lyle was concerned about him. 

“I fucked up,” he said. “I fucked up. I messed it all up.”

Of course it was Miles. His son. Suddenly he thought of nothing else, gaining a sense of clarity for just long enough to press his radio once more. “Can you look up Paz Socorro?”

He didn’t care what anybody was thinking right now. 

“Is this a relation, Colonel?”

“Just look her up!”

“She’s not on our system… Hang on, let me search…” 

Miles held his breath, the nausea hot at the back of his throat, burning him from the inside out. 

“Paz Socorro, deceased. Died in 2013.”

Miles couldn't stem the surge that retched its way up his throat. He bent double over the sidewalk, vomiting feet away from where they’d found Spider. 

She was dead? Why hadn’t they contacted him? His son… the baby he’d made… had ended up here!

“Colonel, steady!” That was Lyle. 

“Everything okay over there?” That was Fike. 

Miles’s chest was imploding. He’d failed. He’d failed. How had he not been made aware? How could he have not bothered to check? They’d agreed it was for the best they had no contact, but Miles could never, never have imagined… 

Suddenly all he wanted was to be by Miles’s side. His son’s side. Spider. 

He didn't bother replying to either man, instead wiping his mouth roughly on his cuff and slamming the door behind as he climbed back into the driver’s seat. Lyle quickly followed him back inside the car but seemed too stunned to address anything. “Er, Colonel…”

“We’re going to the hospital.”

A moment of silence passed. “Who’s the kid?” Lyle asked in a low voice.

Miles gripped the steering wheel tighter than he had in his life, his knuckles turning white. He couldn't say it. He couldn't say it out loud. Then it would make his failure real. His life’s failure, real. “I think you know,” he said in a voice that sounded nothing like his own. 

Lyle sat back in the seat and allowed Miles to drive the short distance without pressing any further. “All good here,” his partner replied when Fike radioed back. 

Miles’s voice had stopped working. He wasn’t sure any of him was working any more.

[el-moscorrofio-y-el-mercachifle]

I don't see many people talking about Patricia's character anywhere, so I'll talk a little (give my opinion) here.

I personally feel VERY sorry for her. Okay, many of Patricia's attitudes and actions are not justifiable, but you can't help but feel empathy for her at least at some point throughout the story. She was never a saint because several times she was not strange when it came to manipulating/seducing to get something, she never thought before humiliating people among other things that make her a bad person.

But despite all this, you can see that several times she showed herself to be a naive person, she filled herself with expectations, deluded herself and lied to herself, (like for example the whole story with Mário, which she faithfully believed he was would marry her and keep her), and as you said, she always thought she was in control of everything and all the relationships she was involved in, but she never was.

She tried to use everyone and always ended up being used, she tried to manipulate everyone and they easily manipulated her, situations that show that she was really a vulnerable and naive person. I believe that her being so materialistic and wanting to find a rich husband is not only to solve her economic problems, but also to fill a void, because what she really is, is a very lonely person. She's so empty that she'd rather go to the gym than buy food, she'd rather not give up things she doesn't need than live poorly. These things only show that she is a person who lives by appearances, who tries so hard to be someone she is not, rather than showing the reality: that she is alone and does not have someone who loves her to the point of caring about her.

She was so at the bottom mentally (stopping eating to try to look like a life she can't keep it’s not normal, also other things she did) and economically that she had to humble herself to people, like when she went to Daniel because he had become president (that's all he wanted, and we know that sooner or later he would tell her the worst possible way how shameful this situation was and how much she fell to get to that point), or when she tried to seduce Mario to get a ride home.

Anyway, Patricia could be selfish, materialistic and a lot of other things, but that just reminds us that she is a REAL person like so many others out there.

I know many will definitely disagree with me, but as I already said, I know that she is no saint throughout the entire novel, but she suffered as much as those who were called and considered the “good guys” in the story.

Hiiii! Loved that you shared some of your thoughts! Here are some of mine too🥰

Patricia's character was definitely... a topic. It's no secret that to me she became a wasted potential and I dislike the decision to make her purely comedic relief when at first she was honestly pretty much in the same camp as characters like Armando and Marcela: very entitled and blinded by their own gigantic ego, to the point of hurting others for their own benefit even though they didn't realize it. I'm not saying she should have gotten a redemption or anything of the sorts. Characters like Mario never got them but they were still super well worked with. Patricia just became a joke.

I've also mentioned before that I too feel pity for her, or at least, I feel for first-half-of-the-novela Patricia. She was never kind, polite, humble or endearing, sure, but she seemed much more human. She was truly excited to think Mario fell for her, and seemed truly disturbed by that firdt encounter with Daniel. I feel for that Patricia because up until that point, her story felt real. I wouldn't say she was naive, but rather, too egocentric to realize there are bigger fish on the sea. She thought she could do anything to anyone and she'd always triumph. Uo until there, you feel she is a real person clinging to appearences because her life is so empty she literally has nothing else. Eventually it just became comedy and exagerated whining that made you forget that she's actually a person with real suffering, even if she's causing it herself (most of the characters cause their own suffering, too).

I couldn't pinpoint exactly when she became a parody of herself. At some point her role was just to throw venom, be comedic, and complain. That's it. She didn't even cause much trouble like at the beginning, and her extreme poverty was merely the butt of the joke. This last part particularly is where I feel the potential was the most wasted. I would have loved to see more of Patty's real struggles, and, if we had had a but more time with the novela, perhaps we could have even seen this for character development (or character regression, whichever you choose!): for example, how poverty is keeping her from eating, which is leading to headaches and dizziness and lack of energy. How poverty is landing her homeless. How she's forced to rely on, for example, Nicolás. I could totally see their love story having formed from this, like her falling so badly that she has no choice but to rely more on Nicolas now not only for frivolous things like the car and the cellphone, I mean real things like food and shelter and seen in a more real light.

Anyways, Ik why they couldn't develop more their "love story" (I think they probably were meant to be together, as in Gaitan probably had that goal, but we all know all the problems that theproduction went through), so it's just an idea.

I do think Patricia was probably mentally ill, tho. Her obsession with appearences is so bad, like you said, that she's willingly STARVING herself. She's starving and yet she doesn't miss a single day at the gym. She's willing to risk going homeless but doesn't stop buying new clothes or hair dye. She's willing to shower with cold water and go back to a pitch dark apartment where there's no food or entertainment as long as she can still look and act like a rich person in front of everyone. I think we often forget how insane Patty's situation was because we remember more her funny/malicious sides, but honestly, her whole world view was crazy.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and sorry this took so long!😂❤️