#this took three days and a lot of laptop crashes

[copperbadge]

Lately, it's felt like every time I've started to work on writing, I'll just be getting into the rhythm of it when I get interrupted, either by work or the cats or because the time I'd booked in the library study room is up (you can only do two hours at a time, and only four hours a week total). It was getting to the point where I kept re-reading the same chapter or so of previous work but never managing to add to it.

So I tried an experiment this past weekend -- I found a really cheap rate on a local hotel room, and on Friday I took an overnight bag and a very old laptop with limited processing power and checked into a room about a mile from home for a quasi "staycation". I unpacked and had a quiet night on Friday, as prelude to working Saturday-Sunday. The idea was to write uninterrupted by other people, pets, the presence of all my Stuff around me at home, et cetera.

I had snacks but I also bought meals out, which was nice; I don't often order in or buy out when I'm at home. The way I set up was that I would do fifty minutes of writing with do-not-disturb engaged on my phone and then ten minutes of checking email, texts, etc. since often what pulls me out of writing is a text or an email that needs answering, or the anxiety that I'm missing one that would. If I set it so that every hour I check, well, nobody's going to die if something doesn't get answered in an hour, so the anxiety isn't there, and neither is the distraction. (I found a nice app for this, review later depending on how functional it continues to be for me, but it's a like $4 app called Forest.)

It worked pretty well -- writing for an uninterrupted hour, as long as I know what I'm working on, is very functional for me. I average about two thousand words, that way, though there is a limit to the number of hours I can put in. I ended up doing two hours in the morning and one hour in the afternoon, then switched from fiction writing to clearing out my tumblr drafts and some correspondence for the fourth hour. So it went something like

Go out and get breakfast, bring back and eat in room

Change into lounging clothes and do two one-hour sessions

Go out and get lunch, eat lunch out

Bit of a rest break back in the room

Two one-hour sessions, one of writing; when tired, switch to something that requires less creativity

Go out and get dinner, bring back and eat in room

And then in the evening the plan was to watch movies or catch up on reading, but I ended up being mentally weary, so instead I did some simple tarot reading. It was less divination or even meditation than just messing around, keeping the creativity stimulated; I did a couple of Creative Writing spreads, some very brief divination spreads (I nicked a nice three-card spread here that I mentally call He To Hecuba, and just used it in general rather than for a specific question) and then invented a spread when I was starting to get irritated that the same like, five cards kept coming up, more on this in its own post.

Sunday I did one more writing session but it was less successful, I think partly because what I was writing required a lot of research and partly because the previous day I'd dumped eight thousand words into the file. (Research took longer because I brought the most garbage laptop known to man, and the browsers crash if you try to open Google Maps, but in other ways it was ideal since there wasn't much I could do on it other than write.) But I had a good breakfast, got some rest, packed up easily enough, and headed home just ahead of the rain storm.

I don't think it's something I'll be able to do in that format especially often, since the deal I got on the hotel was an anomaly and Chicago lodging, even just AirBNB stuff, is stupid expensive. But in addition to helping get some work done it was a nice break, so I'm going to look into ways I could swing it on a perhaps monthly basis, or some other way to cheaply spend an entire day alone with decent access to a bathroom/snacks and a way to come and go easily. I've looked into coworking spaces before but they tend to be prohibitively expensive and don't really have the setup I'd prefer; there's a hostel on the north side with private rooms that I might try out but it doesn't seem significantly cheaper than a hotel. I might just have to pick one weekend a month and watch last-minute hotel price cuts where they simply want to fill a room for a day or two.

Anyway, functionally I wrote almost a fifth of a novel this weekend, and one that I wasn't feeling super on fire about; I'm feeling much better about it now that I've got some established plot going and I feel like I "know" the newer characters a bit better. (Also I'm enjoying writing Simon as someone who is absolutely entranced by his love interest and clueless that what he's feeling isn't mild antipathy because they met while fighting over ricotta.) So it was a big help, although if I were to put a budget line item in the Extribulum Press ledger for "writing staycation" it would wipe out my royalties surplus very quickly.

[russeliarat]

Oh my god I finally redesigned her like promised and I adore this so much more. The old design was comparatively very clunky and I didn’t have much of a proper idea about where I wanted to go with the design. Now, I’ve had more time to think about how I would rewrite Hyrule Warriors, this design fits her much more. In this post I explain my personal grievances about Cia’s design, so here I’ll pretty much just go over how I changed it from the first redesign.

Here’s a link to the original redesign - I personally quite like Lana’s still, though would probably add more subtle bird-like traits to her outfit to tie her a little to Cia, possibly a hummingbird because of their symbolism.

The biggest idea I had was that she would lean very heavily into the bird theming, specifically ravens, and would have an almost masquerade look to her, reflecting her want to impress Link. Her hat and mask fit a lot more with the costume-like look, but it serves a double meaning - the red gems dotted around her outfit and the glowing red eyes of her mask symbolize Ganondorf’s influence over her and how she’s stuck in her own mind and very toxic views (one of the themes in the rewritten story is about admiration vs obsession and how Cia and Lana embody that).

I kept most of the colour palette on the warmer side instead of this odd mish-mash of cool and warm tones. Most of the reds and pinks stay close to Cia’s head, hands, and feet, to attract attention to the most vital parts of the design when in combat and prevent a mix-up of characters on the battlefield, though I did make sure to dot them around the design here and there. I turned her pants into a dress and kept a slit to show off that funky leg tattoo. Her sash is meant to look vaguely like the tail plumage of a bird. I can’t really compare it because the previous design was a sketch, but I added a lot more detail to the clothing than before, which I’m incredibly proud of.

[ohproserpine]

v. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and bloof, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder

"THAT SLAG!"

Velvette's piercing scream echoed through the meeting room, slicing through the air. Vox and Valentino jolted, turning their gazes toward the source of the disturbance.

"Good-for-nothing piece of shit twat assistant!" Velvette paced the room, her movements agitated and frantic as she angrily tapped away on her phone.

In a sudden surge of anger, she flung her device across the room, sending it flying above Valentino's head. A crash punctuated the air as it collided with a window, the impact shattering the glass into shards that rained down onto the floor.

"Velvette, darling," Vox raised an eyebrow, his voice calm as always, "What's got you so worked up?"

He took a sip of his coffee, the rich aroma wafting up from the steaming cup as he idly scrolled through his laptop. "Is it that showgirl situation again?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Velvette rolled her eyes. "Of course, it is, you git! It's been literally the ONLY thing I've been banging on about this week!"

Valentino's sigh cut through the conversation as he adjusted his sunglasses. Holding his glittering firearm up to his face, he pressed rhinestones on it with tacky glue, unfazed by Velvette's anger.

"It's just some performer, babydoll. We can find a replacement."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Velvette seethed as she stormed toward them, her heels clicking loudly with each step. With a forceful slam of her hands against the table, it shifted forward, jolting the items on its surface. With a hiss of pain, Vox recoiled, his hand jerking back from the scalding coffee he had spilled on himself.

"The boutique opening is in three days! How on earth am I supposed to find a girl who's got the looks and a set of pipes in time?!" she exclaimed.

Valentino looked up from his bedazzling, a raised eyebrow visible above the rim of his sunglasses. "Have you tried one of my models? I got a lot of pretty little chicas who can charm the socks off anyone. No need to stress yourself out."

"Your models? Do you have any idea how much time and effort it's going to take for me to wrangle those little amateurs into something remotely resembling a professional performance?" Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Sod off!"

Valentino snarled in response but turned away with a huff, muttering under his breath, "Have it your way."

"If I may," Vox spoke, wiping his hand with a grumble, the sting of the burn still lingering. He tilted his head slightly, raising a single brow. "Have you tried scouting?"

"Have I tried scouting?" Velvette mocked, her hands waving around in frustration. "Of course I have! All I've come across are bloody singers around here, and they all look like they've been dragged through the dirt backwards!"

"Well, have you tried the back district?" he offered, tapping his claws on the long glass table. He watched as Velvette pulled out a pocket mirror from her purse, visibly cringing at his suggestion.

"Why in bloody hell would I go there?" Velvette grimaced as she re-applied her dark lipstick. "I'm not about to waste my time scouring the back district for some dime-a-dozen talent. I need someone who's got class, not gutter scraps."

"Well, there's this performer," Vox insisted, snapping his fingers. A screen materialized with a whiz, displaying a video of a figure in a sparkly silver dress singing and dancing. As the video drew to a close, the camera zoomed in, capturing a close-up of the woman's face. Her features were radiant, a smile gracing her lips as she gazed out at the audience.

Velvette snapped her mirror shut with a flick of her wrist, interest sparking in her eyes. She leaned in closer, studying the performer's features.

"Who's this?" she quipped.

"Dolly, at least that's what they call her," Vox hummed, sliding the screen over to Velvette. "She works at Mimzy's Lounge."

Velvette's expression darkened, strands of hair falling over her eyes as she took the screen in her hands, leaning down to view the image again. The glow of the projection illuminated her face, casting shadows that danced across her steely expression.

"Mimzy?" she uttered the name slowly, her lips dripping with venom. "That's the cunt who tore up my best showgirl!"

"Drama," Valentino chuckled, spinning his bedazzled gun around his fingers.

"Well, this Dolly girl is her biggest star, and she's been making quite a name for herself there," Vox drawled, gesturing toward the screen. With a tap of his claw on the screen, he zoomed in closer. "She's got the looks, the voice, and the stage presence you're looking for."

"And she's managed to shine even in the shadow of that cesspool," he added with a sardonic grin as he sipped from his coffee.

A flicker ignited in Velvette's eyes as she straightened. "Then it's settled. I'll pay her a visit."

"Sounds like you've got a plan brewing, my dear. Care for some company?" Vox spoke with a smirk playing on his lips.

Velvette shot him a knowing glance before a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "Why not? I could use some of your charm."

.

"Cher? Dearest? It's time to get up," the radio atop your bedside table rumbled, your husband's voice crackling through the air.

Grunting in protest, you burrowed deeper into the warmth of your blankets, seeking refuge from the harsh bite of the morning. But Alastor's persistent calls refused to be ignored.

"Mon cœur? Cher? W̷A̴K̶E̴ ̶U̸P̷!̶" it blared, the words amplified by hissing static, demanding attention like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly peeled yourself away from the cocoon of comfort that had enveloped you. Sitting up, you felt the blanket slip from your shoulders, pooling around your hips. Memories of last night flooded in, and the remnants of Alastor's romantic gesture still adorned your room. The bouquet sat atop your dresser, with scattered white roses delicately strewn across your bed like whispers of affection.

Despite the tender atmosphere, a throbbing headache reminded you of an unwelcome guest that accompanied you into the morning—the hangover.

Dragging yourself to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Then, pushing yourself to your feet, you padded across the room, the cool floorboards sending a shiver through your bare skin. You picked up the radio, its incessant blare akin to an annoying alarm clock, with Alastor's voice still grating on your nerves.

"Alright. Alright. I'm up, love," you grumbled, rubbing at your eyes which still felt thick with sleep.

The radio rumbled with delight at your response.

"Hellish morning to you, my dear!" Alastor's voice boomed through the speakers, his jovial tone slicing through the early morning gloom. Despite your grogginess, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sound of his voice.

"Hellish morning to you too, darling," you returned, laced with affection.

"I trust you had a restful sleep?" Alastor questioned.

"As restful as one can get with a noisy radio blaring in their ear," you sighed, already feeling the weight of the day bearing down on you.

"Hah!" Alastor laughed, the sound making you roll your eyes. "But where ever would you be without my dulcet tones to serenade you awake?"

"Probably catching a few more precious minutes of sleep," you muttered, already regretting the start of another day. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

"Ah, but that's why you love me."

Back in his hotel room, Alastor chuckled to himself as he shrugged on his suit jacket. From his microphone, he caught the rustling of your clothes, followed by the gentle rush of running water.

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor summoned a gramophone, its boxy form materializing atop his dresser with a soft thud. Soon enough, the needle gently descended onto the spinning vinyl record, releasing a soft, nostalgic melody that filled the room.

I'll never smile again Until I smile at you I'll never laugh again What good would it do?

As Alastor began to sing along, his smooth voice seeping through the rusting speakers of the radio, you paused in the middle of washing your hair, caught off guard by the unexpected serenade.

"Stupid, stupid man," you muttered under your breath with a shake of your head. And yet, despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, warmth creeping into your heart.

For tears would fill my eyes My heart would realize That our romance is through

Exiting the bath, you toweled yourself off and approached your wardrobe, humming softly as you selected your attire for the day. After scanning through the hangers, you settled on a vibrant red hooverette dress. With matching stockings and white heels, you completed the look, the final touch being a few roses plucked from the bouquet Alastor had given you, tucked behind your ear.

I'll never love again I'm so in love with you I'll never thrill again To somebody new

Dressed and ready to face the day, you returned to the radio, the soft strains of music and Alastor's voice still lingering in the air. As the final notes faded into silence, you stood for a moment, savoring the fleeting illusion of domestic bliss for a moment longer.

With a pang of sadness, you glanced at the clock, realizing that it was time to go.

"I have to head out now, darling," you spoke into the radio, feeling a tug at your heartstrings. "My shift starts in a while."

"Ah, until we meet again, mon cher," Alastor's voice replied warmly. "Do take care of yourself."

In response, you leaned down to press a kiss against the speakers, a gesture of your affection. The soft sound of the kiss was barely audible, but Alastor's ears perked up and caught the gentle touch against the metal surface. He chuckled softly, then, with a soft click, the radio fell silent.

As you slipped your purse over your shoulder, a thought crossed your mind—should you bring the radio along? The temptation to have Alastor's voice with you throughout the day was strong, but the risk of further damaging the precious device gave you pause. With a sigh, you decided against it, opting to leave it safely in your room, where it would patiently await your return.

Heading out of your room, the lounge was already buzzing with the hustle and bustle of customers and staff. Although no singer graced the stage yet, the speakers blasted with the familiar tunes of Hell’s Top 10 Hits.

"There you are!" Mimzy's voice cut through the lively atmosphere, her smile failing to reach her eyes as she bounded towards you.

"Mimzy," you greeted flatly, acknowledging her with a nod.

"How are ya doin', doll? Just the person I was looking for," she purred with a bat of her eyes. "Alright, listen, I've got a marvelous idea for a performance."

You sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for whatever scheme she had cooked up this time. Mimzy's requests were as extravagant as they were challenging, always pushing the boundaries to maintain her club's "reputation" and squeeze every last dime from these sinners' wallets.

"Let's hear it," you replied, mustering a polite smile.

"So, I was thinking," Mimzy began, tapping her finger along her chin, "how about a duet? A throwback to the good ole days, sharing the spotlight. It's bound to be a performance these wayward fools are going to talk about for ages!"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the relatively tame suggestion. The blonde wasn't exactly known for her subtlety or restraint when it came to showmanship. At most, a duet with Mimzy was sure to be a spectacle, for better or for worse.

"And when is this going to be held?" you grinned tensely, hands at your hips. There was bound to be a switch somewhere.

"When else? Prime time tonight!" Mimzy giggled as she threw up her hands with a flourish.

And there it was.

"Tonight?" Your eyes widened, shoulders squaring in shock. "Miss Ma'am, that's cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"

"Bushwa! We'll make it work," Mimzy replied dismissively, waving off your concerns with a flick of her hand. "And I've already got the perfect song in mind. It'll be a real humdinger, mark my words."

"Alright," you sighed, hoping for the best but bracing yourself for the chaos that was sure to follow. "Tonight it is."

"That's the spirit! Hell, why don't you take the morning off?" Mimzy grinned as she hurried off down the hallway to make preparations. "I'll see you tonight! Make sure to be here by sunset!"

Standing by the stairs as stiff as a pole, you watched her skip off with an unusually chipper air. It struck you as odd, but you pushed the thought aside, eager to have the morning to yourself. As you turned away, however, your head throbbed once more, the reminder of your hangover cutting through the moment.

"Looks like a ciggy is in order," you muttered to yourself, rubbing at your throbbing temples. Making your way outside, hoping to smoke away the edge of discomfort.

Trudging along the filthy backstreets, you did your best to avoid the muck and other questionable liquids that lined the roadside. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, assaulting your senses with each step you took.

No one spared you a glance as you passed; the citizens of hell were absorbed in their own pursuits or concerns, and you blended into the backdrop of the grim landscape. 

Finally reaching a clearer stretch of street, you took a seat on one of the benches, the worn wood groaning under your weight. The city bustled around you, a mix of sounds and movements that seemed to blur together.

With a weary sigh, you reached into your bag in search of company—nicotine.

Fingers fumbling through the contents of your purse, you felt the familiar shape of the roll, and with a hum, pulled it out. However, as you continued to rummage through your belongings, a sinking realization settled in.

Your matchbox wasn't there.

Dropping your head into your hands with a scowl, you could feel the stress mounting within you, bubbling up like a simmering pot ready to boil over.

Wallowing in your misfortune, you failed to notice someone approaching you from behind. A sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you, and as you turned, you found yourself face to face with a tall and slender spider-like demon. His frame was practically drowning in a plush white fur coat, the color almost blending into his skin. It contrasted sharply with the sleekness of the black bodycon dress clinging onto his curves underneath.

"Need a light?" he asked casually as he held up a pink-colored lighter.

You eyed him skeptically for a moment.

In hell, kindness often came with a price. Whether it was a favor owed, a debt to be repaid, or simply a hidden agenda waiting to be revealed, nothing came for free. However, when your head throbbed again, you sighed and relented with a nod, accepting the offer despite your reservations.

Angel Dust ignited the lighter, the flame pirouetting gracefully and flickering in the wind. Drawing closer, you leaned in, offering the tip of your cigarette to the flame. With a gentle hiss, the tobacco caught fire, wisps of smoke curling into the air like ethereal dancers. As you took a deep, shaky inhale, the saccharine poison of the smoke flooded your lungs, leaving a bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue. Shutting your eyes, a sense of calm washed over you as you leaned back, letting yourself be carried away by the fleeting tranquility of the moment.

Remembering you had company, you grounded yourself and opened your eyes. "Thank you ever so much, dear. Can I have your name?" you asked, tilting your head up at him. The stranger moved to sit down next to you, the worn wood of the bench creaking under his weight.

"Angel Dust," he said, and your eyes shot wide open, lips forming an 'O' shape.

"The porn star?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"Didn't take you as the type to watch my shit, toots," Angel laughed heartily as his grin widened from ear to ear in response, his golden tooth gleaming at you like a wink.

"Well, I may not be your typical fan, but your name does tend to make its rounds in conversation," you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. Taking a drag from your cigarette, you gestured with it casually. "I saw you in my husb—erm, the Radio Demon's commercial. Hazbin Hotel, was it?"

"Yeah, and don't worry, I know. Dolly, was it?" Angel Dust replied smoothly, his demeanor surprisingly nonchalant given the situation. Extending his hand for you to shake, he continued, "Nice to finally put a face to the name."

His confession caught you off guard, but you shook his hand firmly nonetheless. "How did you—did Alastor tell you about me? You two must be close."

Angel Dust hesitated, a grimace crossing his features. His crimson eyes darted away briefly, as if weighing his words carefully.

"Let's just say... word gets around in our circles," he replied vaguely, tugging his coat closer around himself.

"I don't know him that well, though," Angel Dust admitted with a shrug, his gaze drifting off momentarily. "Sometimes he can be a bit..."

"A pompous dick with a sadistic streak?" you suggested, exhaling smoke as you raised an eyebrow at Angel Dust, testing the waters.

Angel Dust laughed genuinely, throwing his head back. "Something along those lines, toots," he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not the only one who sees it," you remarked, a wry smile playing on your lips.

"Believe me, ya ain't alone in that," he agreed. "So, ah—What brings ya out here? Aside from the obvious need for a blow."

"Just needed some fresh air," you admitted with a shrug. "Plus, I may have indulged a bit too much last night and woke up feeling like death warmed over."

"I hear ya," Angel Dust replied, nodding sympathetically as he raked his eyes over your worn-out form, noting the slump of your body and the dark circles under your eyes. You looked so different from the sparkly performer he had seen on stage days ago.

"Hey, I actually caught one of ya shows the other night," he piped up, attempting to shift the conversation to a lighter topic.

"Did you?" you cooed, surprise evident in your voice.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, stretching out on the bench, spreading both his arms across the back of the wood. "Gotta say, ya put on quite the show up there. I mean—ya had the crowd eating out of the palm of ya hand."

A faint smile crept onto your cheeks at his praise, a swell of pride rising within you.

"Well, thank you," you bowed your head in gratitude, momentarily forgetting your fatigue in the warmth of his words. "It means a lot coming from someone like you."

Angel Dust waved off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand, lips jutting out in a playful pout.

"Ah, c'mon. I call it like I see it," he grinned with a shrug. "N'trust me, I've seen my fair share of performances."

Lost in the easy flow of conversation, you surrendered to the comfort of the moment, finding solace in the presence of your spider companion. Hours passed, and before you knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon,  painting the park in hues of golden warmth.

A jarring ringtone shattered the moment, causing Angel Dust to glance down at his phone with a whistle. His brows furrowed as he scrolled through a flurry of notifications, irritation flashing across his features.

"As much as I'm enjoying our little chat, duty calls," he sighed, flicking away ash from his cigarette. "Can't keep the boss waiting."

You nodded in understanding, offering a wave as he rose from the bench. "No worries, Angel. Catch you later."

"Looking forward to it, dollface," he replied with a wink before sauntering off into the city streets, leaving you to enjoy the peace alone. After a few minutes of watching the sunset, you decided it was time to go. You stubbed out your cigarette and rose from the bench, making your way out.

As you approached the streets leading to the lounge, the neon lights of the city burst into life, casting vibrant reflections on the pavement. Climbing the stairs to the entrance, you were enveloped by the familiar sights and sounds of the establishment. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke, mingling with the pulsating rhythm of the music from within.

Mimzy was nowhere to be seen, which came as a welcome relief. And with a last scan to ensure she wasn't lurking anywhere nearby, you made a beeline straight to your dressing room, eager to ready yourself for tonight's performance in peace without a certain blonde talking your ear off.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you began to prepare for the evening ahead, carefully applying your makeup and fixing your hair into place.

A sudden knock broke your routine, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the door. With a quick twist of the knob, you swung it open, revealing an imp demon. White blotches adorned his skin, and he sported sunglasses perched high up on his nose. In his hands, he held up a box, his expression expectant as he waited for your reaction.

"May I help you?" you murmured, tilting your head at him, curiosity coloring your tone.

"Yeah. Are you Dolly?" the imp asked, his tone curt and impatient.

"Yes?" you replied, a brow raised.

"Great. This is for you, lady," he said, thrusting the box of jewelry toward you. "If you could just sign here so I can get the hell out of this shithole, that'd be great."

You accepted the box from the imp demon's outstretched hand, eyeing him warily as he thrust a pen and clipboard in your direction. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly took the pen and scrawled your signature on the dotted line, handing the clipboard back to him with a curt nod.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he turned on his heel and hurried away, disappearing into the crowded hallway of the club.

Interest piqued, you turned your attention back to the box in your hands. With a gentle touch, you ran your fingers along the surface and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled amidst folds of satin lay a pearl necklace, the orbs gleaming as if moonlight itself was captured and trapped within. At its heart, a rose pendant bloomed, its petals of silver. 

Taken aback, you reached for the small card tucked within the box. Gently retrieving, you turned it around to see the words "From Al" penned gracefully in elegant script.

"Oh, you cheese…"

With a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you delicately lifted the necklace from its satin-lined cocoon, feeling the cool weight of the pearls in your palm. As you draped it around your neck, the pendant nestled against your collarbone.

Feeling as giddy as a teenager in love, you turned away from the vanity, your heart fluttering with excitement. With a skip in your step, you crossed the room to the wardrobe, fingers dancing over the array of neatly hung dresses.

Before your fingers could grasp onto a dress, a sudden deafening explosion tore through the air. The sound was thunderous, shaking the walls and causing the ground beneath your feet to tremble violently. The shockwave slammed into you with palpable force, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the floor amidst a cloud of dust and debris.

Alarm flashed across your features as your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river. With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up from the ground.

What in hell was that?

Staggering to your feet, you ran out into the lounge. As the dust settled, you could see the entrance of the lounge now reduced to a gaping maw, the doors blown open by the force of the explosion. The familiar sights and sounds of the club were replaced by a scene of utter devastation, with debris strewn haphazardly across the floor and smoke billowing out into the night air.

Two ominous figures cast dark shadows amidst the panicked frenzy of staff and customers.

Struggling to discern the figures amidst the chaos, you squinted, trying to make out the details. One of them was a slender demon, dressed immaculately, with cedar-brown skin and long, fiery red curls tied into neat pigtails.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you recognized her as one of Hell's infamous overlords. Your heart plummeted further as you caught sight of Mimzy, ensnared in Velvette's vice-like grip, fear twisting her features as she struggled against her captor.

But it was the presence of the figure behind Velvette that truly sent a shiver down your spine.

The TV Demon, Vox.

His gaze swept over the room with a detached coldness, as if the pandemonium were of little consequence. Suddenly, his icy eyes locked onto yours, freezing you in place.

"Mimzy, dear," Vox's voice buzzed with deceptive sweetness as he addressed the shaking blonde. "Why don't you go and have a little chat with your esteemed employee about our... conditions?"

Wide-eyed with fear, Mimzy frantically nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Make it quick," Velvette scoffed, releasing her grip on Mimzy's throat. The blonde stumbled toward you, her movements shaky and unsteady.

"What is—" you started, but Mimzy cut you off, panic evident as she began to drag you backstage. Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed you into your dressing room, swiftly locking the door behind you.

"Mimzy, what in hell is going on out there?" you demanded, leaning down to her height and shaking her by the arms.

Mimzy's breaths came in ragged gasps as she leaned against the door, her eyes wide with terror. She struggled to find her words, her entire figure trembling as she tried to compose herself.

"It's Velvette," she finally managed to choke out.

"Why is she here? What does she want from us?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your tone as you searched Mimzy's face for answers. But her response only added to your unease.

"You need to go with them," Mimzy decided abruptly.

"Go with who? What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice turning breathless with disbelief.

"She's out for payback, see? And she won't stop until she gets it," Mimzy explained, her tone grave yet determined, like she had some ace up her sleeve. "I gotta level the playing field, doll. She wants a replacement, and she's chosen you."

"I can't just go along with this!" your voice rose to a shout as you began to shake her again, nails digging into the chiffon of her glove. "My contract with you ends in a year. If I go with them, I'll be their pawn for all of eternity!"

"I can't just risk Velvette destroying everything I've built!" Mimzy defended herself, her tone devoid of remorse. "Do you have any idea how much work it took for me to get this place running?!"

Anger surged within you, fueled by betrayal and fear. "What about me? What about Alastor?"

"Oh, him again!" Mimzy shook her arms away from your grip and pushed herself off the door. "You've been so obsessed with that radio fool, you've forgotten who's been with you since the very start! Ever since you got hitched to him, you stopped caring about a damn thing!"

"I cared! And I still bloody well care, Mimzy!" you shot back, your voice rising with anger. Your eyes blazed with fire, cracks beginning to form on your face as your demon form threatened to break free. "But you were an empty, hollow shell of a woman with naught in her head but money! You'd sell out anyone, even me, to get what you want!"

Mimzy recoiled slightly, her façade momentarily cracked by your words. "You-You think you're any better? Running off with your precious Alastor, pretending like he's the savior of your life. But I know you've heard his broadcasts. I know you've seen the news. He's no better than me, playing you like a puppet while hiding behind his façade of being a good man!"

Enraged, you lunged forward, tackling her against the wall. As fury consumed you, your form contorted and twisted, taking on a monstrous semblance. Your features morphed, sharpening into angular lines, while cracks spiderwebbed across your skin like shattered porcelain. Limbs stretched and warped, turning jagged and broken, resembling the joints of a marionette. Teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs, and as you bared them in a snarl, your lips curled back in a grotesque mockery of a mouth. "Say that again! I fucking dare you!"

"I'll say it as many times as I damn well please!" Mimzy spat, her voice trembling as she locked eyes with your hollow gaze. "Until you get it through your fucking thick, cracked skull!"

The blonde's hand darted to a nearby object, seizing hold of a picture frame within reach. With sudden, fierce motion, she swung it, the weighty wood and glass connecting with your transformed flesh in a sickening thud.

"Mph—!" Biting your lip to stifle a scream, you staggered backward. Thick blood dripped from the wound, pooling on the floor and mingling with the cracks in your porcelain-like skin.

"You've got some nerve!" Mimzy's voice thundered as she stood over you, her pale face flushing crimson with anger. "You wanted that fame, and I made it happen. Now you don't?! Fuck! Some ungrateful brat you are! Willing to throw it all away for some man! Do you really think what he feels for you is love?!"

As Mimzy's tirade continued, her words cutting through the haze of pain and anger, a sense of disorientation washed over you. Her words struck a nerve, stirring up memories that you had long tried to suppress.

.

Rain poured down, drenching your hunched form. The world around you blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and shapes, disorienting and suffocating. 

Beneath the fabric of your dress, your knees throbbed painfully, raw from the harsh scrape against unforgiving concrete. Your hands desperately fumbled in the darkness, searching for something to anchor yourself to. Then, finally, your fingertips brushed against the familiar texture of rusting metal.

With a ragged sigh of relief, you realized you had found the gate of your house. Summoning all your remaining strength, you clasped both hands around the cold, wet metal bars and attempted to pull yourself up.

Through the haze, you felt rough hands sneak around your waist, and as your vision cleared slightly, your husband's face emerged from the blur. His once impeccable suit now clung to him like a second skin, soaked through by the downpour. Strands of his usually neat hair stuck to his forehead, dampened and dripping onto his glasses. Cursing like a sailor under his breath, he scooped you up into his arms, expression turning tense as he felt the icy chill of your body against his own.

If you weren't moving he would have thought you a corpse.

"Cher?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, but your response was sluggish, your gaze glassy and dilated. "Merde. Did you drag yourself here all alone?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved, cradling you in his arms as he hurried back toward your house. Once inside, he wasted no time in laying you down on the sofa.

"Al," you finally spoke, whimpering softly as you raised a shaky hand towards him. Alastor immediately moved towards you, hushing your cries as he pressed a deep kiss on your lips.

Your husband moved to cradle your face in his rough hands, and what he saw shattered whatever fragments of his heart were still intact. Bruises and dried blood stained your body, your skin clammy and pale. Streaks of mascara carved paths down your tear-stained face, and your limbs twitched involuntarily. The taste of whiskey still lingered on your lips, and the fearful haze in your eyes mirrored the terror of a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

"Who did this to you?" he growled, his pupils dilating with anger as he knelt before you, gently slipping your torn stockings and muddy heels off your feet.

"Mimzy," you sobbed out, curling into yourself, the weight of it all feeling too heavy on your shoulders.

"I tried to quit. She didn't let me. The bar. She gave me a drink. More and more. I couldn't stop. I was just so upset." Your words were fragmented, broken by the wrenching sobs that shook your fragile form, vulnerability laid bare before him.

"Mon cœur," Alastor hushed, rubbing circles into your ankle with his thumb. "Calm down. Take your time."

You made an effort, though the first few attempts were shallow and rushed. Eventually, you managed to draw in a deep breath, releasing it in a rush before taking another. And another.

"That's it, my dear. Now, what happened?"

Summoning all your strength, you opened your mouth and began to recount the harrowing events of the night.

Earlier this evening, you had mustered up enough courage to hand in your resignation letter to Mimzy. However, her reaction was far from pleasant. An argument erupted, filled with less than savory words being thrown around like daggers.

Before you knew it, Mimzy's rage boiled over, and she tackled you, raining blows upon you with a fury that bordered on madness, beating you with an inch of your life. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Her demeanor shifted drastically, morphing from a raging storm into a gentle breeze. With a sickening sweetness, she offered you a hand up, as if nothing had happened. Weak and disoriented, you allowed her to lead you to her private bar, where she poured drink after drink, urging you to indulge.

As per habit, you found yourself consuming the alcohol with reckless abandon, the burning liquid dulling the pain and blurring the edges of reality

Alastor's heart clenched at the anguish in your voice, his expression darkening with a mixture of concern and simmering anger. Slowly, he rose from his seat and lifted you onto his lap, cradling you gently in his arms.

Taking your hand in his, he leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur.

"Let me take care of everything, doll," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "She won't ever bother you again."

The tenderness in his voice caused your breath to hitch, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to fall into the reassurance of his presence. It offered a fleeting sense of security amidst everything surrounding you. Yet, slowly as the puzzles fell into pieces, a gnawing sense of dread clawed at your insides.

"Alastor, no," you whimpered, withdrawing your hands and pressing them against his chest, pushing him away with trembling fingers. "Please don't tell me it means what I think it does."

Your gaze pleaded with him, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance, any glimmer of hope that what you feared was not true. However, your husband's smile remained unchanged—comforting yet chilling—as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I would kill for you," Alastor murmured against your skin, his thumb tracing the contours of your wedding ring. Bending down, he pressed a tender kiss against the golden band, sealing his vow with the promise of bloodshed, lips lingering against the cool metal. As he drew back, you found yourself ensnared by the intensity of his gaze, pools of brown reflecting a manic fervor.

"Please let me kill for you."

Tears blurred your vision as you bowed your head, the weight of his words sinking deep into your soul. You knew Alastor's devotion knew no bounds. Whether it meant causing pain, shedding blood, or delving into the darkest corners of his being, he would do it for you without a moment's hesitation.

A warmth trickled down your cheeks with each blink, tracing a path along your skin. Your eyes burned fiercely, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks and silently dripping from your chin like dewdrops. As you attempted to draw deep breaths, your body shook with a desperation to escape, though you couldn't quite grasp what it was you were fleeing from.

A ragged sound echoed through the room, grating against your senses. It took you a moment to register that the noise came from your own lungs, your breaths torn and jagged as they struggled to find a rhythm.

"Okay," you whispered, the weight of that single word heavy with the burden of guilt and a future tinged with blood.

There was a soft chuckle, accompanied by the gentle touch of a hand moving to caress your cheeks. "Good girl."

.

Snapping back to the present, you found yourself staring at Mimzy as she raged around the room, her fury unleashed on the surroundings, wrecking anything and everything in her path.

A man who kills for you. A man who dirties his hands for you. Is that not love?

A kick from her sent your vanity toppling over, causing bottles of your perfume and whiskey to crash from its surface. The glass shattered upon impact, releasing splintering sounds that pierced your ears. As the bottles broke, the air filled with the pungent scent of flora, mingling with the rich aroma of spilled whiskey.

It must be love.

With a hand trembling from adrenaline, you ran your fingers through your hair, the sticky feeling of blood staining your palm. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you turned to face Mimzy, strands of damp, bloodied hair falling over your cracked porcelain face.

"You ornery washed-up bitch," you rasped out in a laugh, voice breathless and laced with venom. "I should have left you to rot in that forest."

Mimzy froze, her wide eyes locked on you.

"What did you say to me?" she seethed, her voice trembling with anger as she extended her hand toward the shattered liquor glass and the spilled liquid, her fingers curling into fists.

With a flick of her wrist, the whiskey began to swirl and solidify, forming chains that snaked around your limbs, binding you in place. Your muscles tensed against the restraints as Mimzy manipulated you like a puppeteer. Slowly, you reverted back to your regular form, forced to your knees before her.

The blonde bent down, her grip firm on your face, nails digging deep into your skin as she pulled your head up to face her. "You're here because of me! Everything you've ever achieved was because of me! I made you a star, and this is how you repay me?!"

You recognized the anger in her tone, but beneath it lurked a deeper pain and desperation. The poor gal was fighting to reclaim control over a situation slipping through her grasp.

A sudden knock at the door startled Mimzy, causing her to tense. The door creaked open to reveal the imposing figure of Vox filling the doorway. As he entered the room, a wave of static filled the air, crackling and sending goosebumps cascading over your skin. His gaze swept over the scene, taking note of your restraints and bloodied head before settling on Mimzy.

"What is the meaning of this?" 

Under Vox's gaze, Mimzy's confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a nervous tremor in her voice. "I-I was just… settling some unfinished business, mistah," she stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

"You've just damaged the merchandise, sweetheart," Vox stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to you with a wave of his hand. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

With a casual snap of his fingers, the wires from the stage lights above writhed and twisted, tearing free from the ceiling with a deafening creak. They snaked through the air like serpents, wrapping around Mimzy's torso and dragging her away from you with a forceful yank.

With Mimzy taken care of, Vox then turned his attention to you.

"Dolly, was it?" he smiled, voice disarming. "I've got to say, I have always wanted to see you up close."

"You've seen me," you replied with a cold edge to your voice, slowly backing away and pressing yourself against the wall. "I'm here."

"Charmed," Vox smiled, his gaze heating as he drank you in, every detail of you like candy to his eyes. As Vox strode towards you, you instinctively curled into yourself, shrinking back deeper against the wall. He chuckled softly, noticing your reaction, and halted his advances. Instead, he took a seat on the cushion by your toppled vanity, glowing eyes locked onto you.

Pretty Dolly Heart.

Your lips were painted a vivid red, pouting slightly in a frown. Damp, glossy curls framed your face, shimmering in the light and tempting him to reach out and run his fingers through them. Rivulets of blood marred your temple, staining the delicate white flowers nestled into your hair.

The TV Demon was interested in you, and he wouldn't let go until he went home with you tonight, that much was clear.

"I have a deal in mind," Vox turned to Mimzy with a look in his eyes that screamed trouble. "Are you willing to trade your soul for hers?"

Your blood ran cold with fear.

"As Velvette and I are business partners, our souls contracts are intertwined. I'm sure there would be no issue if you signed the deal with me instead," he added with a chuckle, his eyes swirling with a dangerous allure.

Panic clawed at your insides, urging you to flee from the impending doom that loomed before you. But rooted to the spot by fear, you found yourself unable to move.

"Yes! A-Absolutely!" Mimzy's words shattered the heavy silence, her voice trembling with desperation as she nodded frantically. Her eyes remained nervously glued to the crackling electricity of the torn wires still wrapped around her, the fear in her gaze mirroring your own.

With a clap of his hands, Vox conjured a new contract and a strong burst of wind swept through the room, ruffling curtains and causing objects to tremble on their surfaces. Blue light flooded the walls, casting eerie shadows and filling the room with an ominous glow. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, every hair on your body standing on end as if charged with static energy.

A tablet materialized and floated before you, its screen pulsing with a faint, golden glow.

"Make her sign here, and it'll be done," Vox instructed, his voice carrying an air of finality as he handed Mimzy a stylus, tapping his clawed finger along the screen of his tablet.

With a trembling hand, Mimzy took the stylus and held it out for you, the strings of her magic wrapping around your limbs once again. You attempted to shout out, but Mimzy's magic stitched your lips shut, leaving you unable to utter a sound.

Helpless, you watched as your hand was forced to reach out and take the pen into your grasp, your fingers moving against your will as Mimzy guided them to sign the contract. With each stroke of the pen, a wave of despair washed over you, a muffled sob bubbling from your throat as your name appeared on the screen, sealing your fate.

Vox's grin widened, a glint of triumph dancing in his eyes as he held up your old paper contract with Mimzy, the words now rendered meaningless. With a swift motion, he tore it to shreds, the sound of paper ripping echoing through the tense silence of the room.

"Welcome to VoxTek, Dolly."

[anathemaspeaks]

come and get your love

character(s): gojo satoru synopsis: the one in which your best friend needs only one thing - you. or; the three times he's wanted you, and the one time he got you. word count: 4k warning(s): smut a/n: ALL DAY ALL NIGHT NO LUBE NO PROTECTION PLEASE requests are open (please request stuff😭) <3 likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated!

you and gojo satoru were neighbors.

that was how you met in the first place. you were walking home from college, your new dior perfume (which cost a kidney and a half) in one hand, and dinner in the other. you were walking across the corridor-

crash!

a 6"3 blur of white just ran past you, bumping into you and yelling a "sorry!" and muttering something about cursing someone. perfume bottle now in pieces and on the floor, you were pissed - but he was long gone. asshole.

that was the blur you came to know as satoru. while you were eating dinner, satoru had showed up at your door with a bottle of the exact same perfume - not smushed this time. well, maybe he wasn't so bad.

that was the beginning of your friendship.

you invited in the handsome man to thank him, and asked if he wanted to eat anything. he was about to refuse - until he saw the untouched chocolate cake lying in your kitchen. who could say no to that?

that was the first and last time he wasn't a constant pain in your ass. now, he was your self-declared best friend. it's been almost a year since you both first met, and you enjoyed his company a lot more than you'd ever admit. in more ways than one.

the first time:

in this year you'd also discovered something. well, watched it unfold, really. some smartass decided to give gojo satoru an ipad for his birthday. safe to say, he was addicted to it within a day.

he was an actual ipad kid. everytime he came over he'd have his ipad out, playing games or watching something. why he couldn't just use a normal phone or laptop like a normal person was beyond you.

and he never went anywhere without it. he took it to college, and even got it to your house whenever you guys hung out. well, he did just get an ipad, so you could sort of understand it. but still. weirdo.

you both were both going out to a club tonight with all of your friends. you'd finished doing your hair, and you were almost done with your makeup. you still had to wear your dress. you'd decided to go with a sleeveless blue corset dress that reached mid-thigh.

you were done pre-gaming, if you drank anymore you weren't going to get through the night. you were applying your lip liner when you heard a knock on the door. knowing exactly who it was, you went to open it.

the second you opened the door, you slammed it shut. he looked good - he was wearing a white shirt rolled up to his forearms, with the top two buttons undone, and black pants. but that wasn't the problem.

he was wearing a bright blue backpack. a fucking backpack. and you knew exactly what was in it. you had to mentally prepare yourself before you talked him out of it.

"satoru, either you leave the bag or you're not coming."

"but-"

"no, you can't carry an ipad with you to a club."

"okay okay, i'll..." he paused, his eyes moving lower, followed by silence.

"well?" you asked, breaking the pause.

"...that dress looks really good on you" he managed, voice a bit breathier than normal.

"what?" you asked, face now tinged red.

then, he suddenly moved closer and leaned down right next to your ear, his voice a husky murmur that made you shiver. "i said, that dress looks incredible on you," his eyes lingering a beat too long on your curves.

"though, i think it would look even better on my bedroom floor"

your breath hitched in your throat. was he finally making a bolder move on you, one that isn't a really cheesy pick-up line, or a failed attempt at flirting? fuck.

"i think you've pre-gamed a little too hard, satoru," you whispered, the heat in your cheeks betraying you.

he pouted at that, and you almost gave in. his pretty blue eyes wide with hope, and his pouty lips practically begging you to kiss the frown away.

"i'm not drunk!" he protested.

"i know, 'toru, but we've gotta go, come on." it was probably just him being delirious, but you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach.

but then, at the club, he didn't leave your side on the dance floor even once. he was so close you could feel his body heat, eyes locked in a silent, electrifying conversation. it sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

as he dropped you off, with his voice an octave deeper, he said, "you should wear blue more often." then, he straightened up and went into his house like it was nothing.

collapsing onto the couch, you buried your face in a pillow, the scent of his cologne still lingering on your dress, infiltrating your senses. sleep wouldn't come. all you could see were his stormy blue eyes, filled with unspoken desire - one you tried denying you felt for him, until today.

a muted scream found its way out of your mouth, muffled by the pillow, a delicious mix of frustration and something far more needy. damn him and those strong shoulders that seemed to stretch on forever beneath his thin white shirt, the poor fabric straining against his biceps with every movement.

and his face? his lips, so full and slightly parted, a sinful invitation for you to kiss them, the moonlight casting a sinful glow on the way his jaw clenched with unspoken desire while walking back to the car. you swore he was a walking sculpture come to life, every line and angle sculpted by the gods themselves.

satoru knew he wanted you since the day he met you, your angry pout, yet somehow gentle eyes captivating him. but this was different. his hands on your waist all night, lips only a few inches away from each other, that fucking dress that took his breath away - it felt so intoxicating.

things were going to change between the both of you for the better, he hoped.

the second time:

it had been a week since that night, and now you both were attending suguru's 21st birthday party. you were all going to stay at an expensive hotel in vegas for the whole weekend. god, you loved being friends with rich people.

it was three people per room, and you were all to be assigned your rooms by the birthday boy himself. you read the text he sent. you were paired up with shoko... and satoru. you could already tell this was going to be a long weekend.

the roar of the plane engines on the way there served as a backdrop for the girls' chatter - you included. every few seconds your gaze would flicker to him, seemingly engrossed in his ipad. but his scorching glances that lingered a beat too long told you it was a blatant lie.

he was watching you. watching with an intensity that took your breath away and made your heart rate spike. every laugh shared with the girls, every whispered secret, you knew he was looking. at you.

when the plane finally touched down in vegas, the desert heat slapped you in the face. a wave of relief washed over you when you finally reached the hotel lobby. this place was huge.

as you finished unpacking and settling into the room, shoko decided she wanted to leave and explore the hotel.

"you coming?" she asked both of you.

"be right there!" you replied. you still needed to fix up your outfit and makeup. now the only ones in the room were you and satoru, who claimed he had to freshen up.

as you applied your mascara, you felt his hand right above the waistband of your jeans, fingers barely brushing your hips. but then suddenly, he straightened up, the moment ending all too soon.

"sorry!" he said, batting his long eyelashes at you and acting oh-so-innocent. oh, he had started dangerous game.

the rest of the afternoon was a blur. you all unpacked, shared stories and spent the entire day lounging around. as the sun set, you went to change your clothes into something more fitting for the casino.

you picked a short, black dress this time, neckline dipping just a little bit too low, knowing he'd be looking at you. the dress clung to you like a second skin. you were a sight to see in that outfit - it was even better than your last one.

you ended up at the bar, the air thick with the mingled scent of expensive liquor and something far more intoxicating. just then, a rather handsome man approached you, his voice smooth and deep. he asked you if you would like a drink.

you decided to have a little fun and play along, enjoying the blatant display of interest - but you were very aware of satoru's gaze piercing into you. his jaw was clenched tight, eyes narrowed a fraction. his stare was so intense it sent chills down your spine.

you took a sip of your drink, eyes meeting satoru's across the room. a slow smile spread across your lips, he definitely wouldn't back down now. not when you looked that divine. not when you had that scum talking to you.

you continued sipping your drink and listening to the man's attempt at smooth talking you. you decided you'd had enough for now, so you excused myself and headed towards the ground floor balcony. you didn't have to look back to know satoru was following you.

the cool desert air on the balcony offered a welcome respite. the real thrill came in the form of satoru, appearing beside you. he looked amazing, navy blue suit doing nothing to hide his body. you were positive he wasn't real.

"need some fresh air?" he asked, clearly trying to act nonchalant.

"oh, something like that" you replied, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "maybe i just needed a moment to appreciate the view... besides the one inside, you know."

he grinned, tilting his head and leaning down so that he could look directly into your eyes from above his sunglasses, "don't think i haven't noticed what you're up to" he said, his voice a husky murmur.

a warmth flared through you, and a barely concealed smile of triumph found its way onto your face. mission accomplished.

"that dress is making it impossible to breathe, impossible to think of anything else but you. makes me wanna forget this whole damn night and just..." he trails off, gaze flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes.

fuck it, he won. you leaned in closer, the distance between your lips shrinking with every passing second. this was it. you were so close, your lips inches away from-

"there you two are. everyone's looking for you, let's go dance."

your softly sighed in frustration. satoru straightened up, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before they returned to his normal wide grin.

"didn't know you were looking for us! let's go," he replied.

you grabbed shoko's arm and went to the dance floor, thoughts of satoru and how he was so close you almost had his lips on yours on you on your mind as you tried to dance the night away.

the rest of the weekend unfolded in a blur of flashing lights and pounding music. you were in a group, inseparable yet frustratingly apart. every stolen touch, every lingering look, felt like a secret whispered in a crowded room. but in the end, the chance for a private conversation never materialized again.

the third time:

two weeks after the party, you all met up at shoko's house. you left to go upstairs and find the bathroom. when you came back down, everyone had started a water fight in the backyard. you left them alone for two minutes.

you walked out, only to get drenched from head to toe almost instantly. you were going to kill suguru for soaking your new gray shirt, which was now see through.

you spotted satoru amidst everyone, his stare locked onto your chest. you were wearing sky blue lingerie. it was a blatant stare - raw, and hungry. it gave you goosebumps. it wasn't planned, but god, you were glad it happened. you set a mental reminder to thank geto.

before you could do anything, his eyes shifted back up, meeting yours. a flicker of apology danced in his gaze, quickly overshadowed by something much deeper.

suddenly remembering where you are, you sneakily grabbed the nearest water balloon, a mischievous glint in your eyes. you aimed square at his torso. the balloon hit satoru's chest with a loud slap!

if your shirt was soaked, it was only fair that his was too, right? now he was completely wet. bull's eye.

he sputtered, the shock quickly giving way to a wide, mischievous grin. water dripped down his face, tracing a path along the sharp line of his jaw and disappearing down his neck to his abs.

oh. his abs. the sight alone drenched you in a place where the water balloon didn't. he shook himself off with a laugh, raising his hands in surrender and unintentionally flexing his biceps. oh wow.

this time, though, his eyes remained fixed on yours with an intensity that almost had you gasping for air. you both continued to drown each other, competing to see who caused the most damage.

as the sun started to set, you all started leaving. you and satoru said your goodbyes to shoko and started walking towards the car, talking about how fun the day was.

you stole a glance at satoru. his drenched t-shirt clung to his broad frame, outlining the way his muscles flexed with every step. your cheeks burned at the memory of his stare, the way his gaze had lingered on your tits, making your face heat up.

"think you'll survive the drive home like that? i did do some damage, you know," he teasingly asked, amusement evident in his voice.

"oh i will, don't you worry, princess," you replied. "just more proof that i completely demolished your snow white ass." he laughed at that, smile making him glow even more in the golden hour lighting. you both continued bantering until you reached the basement and he parked the car.

you were walking towards your apartment. you tilted your head up, a playful shine in your eyes. "so," you started, "what do you say we call a truce until next time? and then winner takes it all."

a slow smile spread across his face. he leaned in ever so slightly, his lips hovering a tantalizing distance from yours. the scent of his cologne, somehow still present, invaded your senses completely.

"truce it is" he conceded, "but winner gets any prize of their choice," he said with a slight smirk.

"oh? and how do you propose we decide this prize?" you asked, indulging him.

he chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "let's just say," he leaned in again, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek again, "i have a few ideas in mind."

you slowly tilted your head upwards and batted your eyelashes, leaning into him before saying "mm, goodnight, 'toru." you let your gaze shift to his full lips before meeting his eyes.

but you pulled away before he could make a move. you relished in the look on his face - like a man starved, eyes filled with a desperate need. for you. you played off your own need for him with a teasing, innocent smile as you entered your apartment.

the fourth time:

satoru was a wreck. the usual carefree, playful glint in his eyes was replaced by sadness, his usual smile replaced by a deep pout. he was draped in a giant, fuzzy blanket, clutching a tub of ice cream like a lifeline. the culprit? a broken ipad.

how he managed to break it beyond repair was quite impressive, actually.

'good riddance,' you thought, thinking about his avid screen addiction.

but the sight of him trudging around your apartment like a kicked puppy, a half-eaten tub of ice cream clutched in one hand and a giant blanket draped over his broad shoulders - you almost felt bad.

you turned on the tv, hoping to distract him, but the suggestion was met with a watery glare and a choked sob. "it's not the same," he moaned, his voice thick with despair, "nothing can make me forget about my broken heart," he sighed.

what a drama queen.

you stifled a smile, the jab dying on your tongue. this wasn't like satoru. this was a whole new level of gloominess. it was kind of adorable, actually. he slumped onto the couch, sitting next to you, the oversized blanket engulfing him like a cocoon of misery.

hesitantly, you reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. his skin was warm beneath your touch, and his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were clouded with a vulnerability you would never guess was caused by an ipad of all things.

"maybe you need a different kind of distraction," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

he turned towards you, gaze locking onto yours. you swore you saw a hint of something other than vulnerability - something that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter. the air hung heavy with the weight of what you said.

neither of you moved, still maintaining eye contact.

"you sure about what you're asking for?" he asked softly, already leaning in towards you.

your gaze flickered from his perfect lips, full and inviting, to the hint of stubble darkening his jawline. every fiber of your being yearned to bridge the gap, to kiss him like you needed to.

"positive," you breathed, neediness evident in your tone.

the space between you vanished in a blink. he leaned in, breath warm against your lips as he filled up the space between you. one hand cupped your cheek, touch surprisingly gentle in contrast to the primal need in his eyes.

his lips met yours with a hunger that stole your breath away, the taste of him a delicious combination of cookie dough from the ice cream, and something else, something so... satoru.

his hand on your face deepened its hold, his thumb tracing a path down your jawline in a slow, deliberate caress. you mirrored the movement, fingers tangling themselves in the soft fabric of his t-shirt, desperate to feel the solid warmth of his body against yours.

the kiss deepened, a tangle of limbs and breathless gasps. his hand moved lower, the thin fabric of your shirt allowing you to feel the searing heat of his palm on your back, his lips moving perfectly against yours

your breath hitched as his hand went under your shirt to grip your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. as much as you wanted to continue, the heat pooling in your lower stomach became harder and harder to ignore with every passing second.

you broke apart from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you both.

"bedroom" you breathed, not wanting to spend another second without his lips on yours. you closed the gap between you both, desperate to taste him again. you felt both one arm hook under your thighs as he lifted you up, never once breaking the kiss, other hand remaining on your jaw, picking you up like it was nothing.

he pressed you up against every wall on the way to the room, lips practically devouring you. your nails dug into the muscles of his back, urging him closer, closer. you were definitely going to leave marks.

he chuckled in pride at the thought of that, a low rumble against your lips that made your skin tingle, before pulling back just enough to trail a searing kiss down your jawline. he nipped at your neck before biting it. hard. he continued until he was positive you would see them for the rest of the week.

you felt his cock growing under you. your breath hitched in excitement as his lips dipped lower, sending shivers dancing across the exposed skin of your shoulders. and finally, you reached your room.

you were a trembling mess, body aching in anticipation and need for him.

in the dim light of the moon filtering through the window, he looked like an angel - chest heaving, lips swollen from all the kissing, eyes almost black with desire - all for you.

he placed you onto the bed, getting up to take off his shirt. you let your eyes wander, drinking in the sight of him. he was heavenly. toned muscles glistening with a light sheen of sweat from the heat, hair disheveled from you running your hands through it and tugging at it.

you sat up to take your shirt off, but he interjected. "let me," he whispered, "been waiting for this for so long, fuck."

he stared at you, fully naked underneath him. hair spread out on your pillow, lips still wet from his hungry kisses, eyes focused only on him. you looked divine, he was convinced this moment wasn't real.

he took off his shorts and boxers, and-

oh fuck. he was huge. and just as pretty as the rest of him. veins ran up and down the length of his throbbing cock, tip flushed pink - almost red, and leaking pre-cum. because of you.

you had to taste him. as you reached out, he stopped you. "i'd love that, but not today," he choked out, voice deep and filled with desperation, "if i'm not inside you within the next minute, i might actually lose my mind," he groaned.

the last of your resolve crumbling, "then fuck me, 'toru, please" you whined, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

he lined up with your entrance, pushing in just the tip. you felt stretched out already. "'s too big" you cried out. "aw, you can take it pretty girl," he cooed. he was barely inside but it just felt so good. you needed more.

you bucked your hips up a little bit, a silent plea. taking the message, he bottomed out in a single thrust, causing you to moan his name. "shit baby. keep saying my name like that and i'm not gonna last long" he grunted, pulling almost fully out of you.

your mind was consumed with only him. satoru, satoru, satoru - fuck, you couldn't get enough. he was practically splitting you in half with his cock, but you took it like a good girl. his good girl.

"fuck, you're takin' me so well. god, look at you, my perfect girl" you reveled in the praise, mind almost numb from how well he was fucking you, cock drilling into your dripping cunt like a man deprived.

"y'know how long i've waited for this? to have you all spread out f'me? oh, you're such a damn tease, doll. you knew exactly what you were doin', hah? wearin' that damn blue dress, and blue lingerie f'me too? what a slut."

his words sent a heat flooding through you - warm, plush walls clamping down on him, moans and whines ripping from your throat, so cock drunk all you could say was his name.

"mm, y-you weren't so innocent either, y'know" you bit back, whines escaping your throat.

"shit, wanted you since i first met you, baby. you drive me fuckin' insane" he choked out, voice getting raspier. he was a vision. muscles flexing so deliciously with every thrust of his hips, teeth biting on his lip as he moaned out your name, eyes looking only at you.

god, he really was perfect. he leaned down to kiss you again, a hand finding its way to your tits. he caressed it, playing with your nipple while fucking you. you were so painfully close.

his balls slapping against your ass, cock pushing into you with a force only he could possess. you loved the feeling of how right he felt inside you, the squelching sound of your pussy fluttering around him as he relentlessly thrust into you driving you both to the edge.

"s'toru i'm- 'm gonna- hngh" you clenched down on him impossibly tighter as you came. he came after a few more thrusts, release mixing with yours and seeping down onto your now very stained sheets.

he collapsed down next to you, an arm around your waist, pulling you to face him. it was such a stark contrast - two minutes ago he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow, and now here he was, looking at you with a dopey smile on his face and a shine in his bright blue irises.

you couldn't help but grin back. you stayed like that until you caught your breaths, heartbeats slowly returning back to normal.

"so, since the day you first met me, huh?" you asked, a playful smile finding its way onto your face. you were met with a blush of embarrassment spreading across his cheeks. only satoru could go from the epitome of a sex god to a flustered mess within two minutes.

"mhm, been obsessed with you since i first saw that look on your face when i broke your expensive perfume. that was hot. but then, i got to know you better, and you were so sweet and funny and so goddamn pretty and i- i just couldn't help but... you know." he admitted, eyes averting from yours.

you gripped his jaw, making him look at you again. and then you kissed him - a soft, tender one, pouring in all of your emotions. you wanted him to know you reciprocated his emotions.

"good, because i felt the same way 'toru" you smiled against his lips.

"well what took you so long then?"

"what took me so long? what about you?"

"you're the one who liked me," he replied, as if it was oh-so-obvious.

"well you liked me first satoru!" you sassed, trying to turn away from him.

he pulled you back and made you face him again, grip on your waist never faltering.

"so, round two?"

bonus points if you can guess where the title's from ;)

the ipad kid part is kinda random but i totally think he'd be one soo

this took me so long to write, i hope you guys liked it!

[lokischocolatefountain]

Picture || Mister Miller

Part 2 of Mister Miller. Read Part 1 here.

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: 18+ (masturbation, nudes, looking at someone’s nudes without consent, girthy age gap, boyfriend’s dad!Joel, pervy Joel, potential future infidelity, no outbreak)

Word Count: 960 words

Summary: Joel knows he shouldn’t, especially with the guilt of his shameful secret sitting heavy in his chest. But there are so many pictures of you and he is just a man.

A/N: Day 1 was so much fun! I hope everyone is having a good December. Thank you to everyone who reblogged, commented, and liked. It means a lot 🥹. Now here’s our favorite old man for day 2. Tomorrow will be my OG, the one who got me into this Pedro Pascal mess- Javier Peña... Keep a look out for more in the Masterlist. Aaaand leave your girl a comment please🥺🥺

“You should get a new one,” Matt said, typing something up real fast on his laptop.

Joel snorted and said, “Sure, I’ll sell that little computer of yours and buy myself a nice iPhone with the four cameras and shit.”

“It’s three cameras and a LiDAR scanner, dad,” he snarked, finally unlocking his spare phone and sliding it across the table to Joel.

“What’s that? Like the scanner on printers?” He asked, confused once more by technology. The kind of things that came out these days were too much for him to be able to wrap his mind around. Chat GPT, hyaluronic acid, iPads, this fucking scanner thing.

“It’s this sensor that projects invisible lasers and gets data on how far every single thing is. And that way, it can map an entire room,” he said, using gestures to mimic laser beams shooting into a room.

“Sounds like it’ll be more useful in construction. The fuck you need that for?”

He shrugged and went back to his work, the clacking of keys filling up the room once more. Whatever. He needed a spare phone to replace his shit blackberry Sarah got him eons ago. The thing had been through a lot with him and honestly, he couldn’t be too mad at it for dying on him. In all the years he had it, he had taken a few pictures here and there of his kids. But everything else in his gallery was filled with pictures of worksites. Broken pumps, proof to send clients that they were at the site that day, pictures of sample tiles to show clients… Nothing personal. It was the only thing he did on that phone other than making calls.

As he retired for the day, he thought to learn about his new old phone a little. See if the camera was any better. He propped a pillow up against the headboard and leaned back. When he finally found the camera app, he took a couple pictures of his room. Looking back at them, he was a little glad that his old phone died. The camera on this thing was better. It was newer than his old one, so maybe that was it. He didn’t have complaints about his old one, but damn this was it. It was so fucking good.

He swiped his thumb against the screen, looking at pictures, not stopping when he went back to pictures of his son. Pictures of him partying that he had never shown his old man before. He smiled, going through pictures of a side of his son’s life he never knew. Shit parents never got to see.

His heart leapt out at the next swipe, the screen filled with a picture of a nude woman.

You, he realized as he looked at the face. You had a smile on, the same sweet one you always sent him when you exchanged pleasantries and thanked him for letting you crash at his place for the summer. But the picture of you was anything but sweet.

He swiped to the previous picture, an identical one. Except you were biting your bottom lip and looking at him—at the camera with a sultry gaze. His mouth watered as he focused on your tits. Fuuuck they were good ones, he had to admit. He wasn’t a boob man. Or an ass man, frankly. He was just bad at the whole thing. But yours ignited something in him.

He found an entire album full of nude pictures of you. Pictures you posed for. There was a variety. You nude, you in bikinis, in figure hugging dresses that drove him crazier than the first category. In high heels, sideways pictures of your reflection where you stuck your ass out. One with you sucking on a fucking popsicle. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He’d told himself it was wrong. He’d found his pleasure in others. But fuck he couldn’t get his mind off of you. And now here you were, naked on his phone without your knowledge.

As he wrapped his hand around his hardening cock, he knew that he’d lost the fight. He should not be doing this. But just this once. It was his phone now after all. A justification. Weak, but it was all he had in the moment.

He pumped his cock, eyes trained on the pictures of you. He swiped back and forth between the pictures, desperate to have you in all your forms. In the cocktail dresses and the ratty old t-shirts. Wearing the bright red lipstick and the soft pink one. He imagine you, whimpering quietly the way you did that night when he found you fucking yourself in his living room.

He groaned, his cock twitching at the recollection of his creepy voyeurism. He wondered what you sounded like when you had a man. When you didn’t have to rely on your fingers, but had a good girth cock thrusting in and out. When you had a finger rubbing your clit softly. He imagined his large hand full with your breast, his lips sucking on the other one.

On your knees, right here in his bedroom, his cock in your mouth instead of in his fist. As your licked his balls with his cock deep in your throat in his mind’s eye, he exploded, coating his hand in sticky white ropes of his cum. He groaned and pulled out a few tissues, wiping off the mess you’d created.

His perverted mind imagined you still there, eagerly licking up his release. His mind was no longer pleased with such sinful images of you. The clarity that came after his orgasm tasted bitter on his tongue.

He would have to delete the photos. Tomorrow. He’d do it tomorrow.

.

.

.

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Main masterlist

[tilldeathdoesmedirty]

Another Day 1

Warnings: dub-con/non-con, age gap, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, emotional abuse, physical abuse, possibly other triggering events. 

Characters: dark!Steve Rogers.

Summary: Be careful what you wish for, one day it could come true. And that might just be your savior in disguise, all it takes is a little bit of persuasion. 

Interact on your own accord. You have been warned. 

Any reblog, comment, feedback is well received and appreciated! Enjoy <3 

Another week, another day, another hour. Every single time the same.

It’s like a torturous cycle that’s never ending. Like the universe is playing a cruel joke on you and you’re waiting for someone, anyone to come out with cameras and tell you that you’re on a reality TV show and this was just an experiment. 

Or at least wishing that you were like the main character from The Truman Show and one day you would find a way out. But what a surprise. Life isn’t that simple. 

You let out a sigh as you throw your head back, leaning in the hard chair at your dull job. You look up at the grey painted ceiling, forgetting about the cheap lightbulb that was ironically placed above you in the exact same spot you are seated in as the awful light shines on your face. 

You immediately squint your eyes, reverting your gaze away from the light, regretting that you ever made the decision to look up, getting even more frustrated with the situation you found yourself in. 

You swear internally as you get up from the chair while closing the laptop, yet another cheap object provided by your employer. Your job working at a sales agency never was much of an interest honestly but as long as you can afford your rent and groceries you could never complain that much. 

As you went to take your coat, you look over at your coworker with a defeated smile on your face.

“Gonna go out for a bit, I need a break… Let me know if you need any help.”

He barely gives a nod in return, not even sparing a glance in your way, clearly his full attention being on whatever he was doing on his laptop.

You pay no mind to it though, already used to people not giving you much thought. You make your way toward the exit of the rather small and depressing building, grateful that you were placed on the ground floor instead of the third or fourth floor, obviously no elevator in sight. 

Only stairs. A lot of them. 

Your whole body shivers as you make contact with the cold weather, which probably was like three or four degrees outside. Your coat not doing much either as you look at the fog that was forming at every breath you took.

You wrap your arms around yourself in hope of making the cold more bearable as you look around, at nothing in particular, just observing people walking by, kids playing in the snow and couples holding hands. 

It brought a smile to your face as you enjoy the crowded street, losing yourself in the noise and the nostalgic feeling it gives you. Remembering the old days where you were walking with your mom, just talking and laughing, without a care in the whole world. 

Yet the bittersweet moment doesn't last for long as you are rudely awakened from your daydream. You feel a body crashing into yours. You quickly look up, startled by the sudden interaction. A man with blonde hair and blue eyes, obviously taller than you. 

He looks down at you with an apologetic expression, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“So sorry sweetheart, in this crowd it’s too hard to see much of anything.” he gives a small chuckle. 

You stare at him dumbfounded. He tilts his head as he waits patiently for your response, unfortunately you realize only after a few seconds what has happened. You straighten yourself.

“S-sorry, sir, I didn't mean to be rude,” you shake your head in embarrassment.

“And no, no problem at all!” You quickly add, cursing at how your voice went up a pitch. 

He gives a small hum in return, still smiling, seeming as if he’s pleased with your reply.

“In this case, if you don’t mind me asking,” he looks around. 

“I seem to be a bit lost, do you perhaps know where I can find Elite Sales?” 

Your eyes go wide as you hear him call out the name of the company you work for, but quickly regain yourself. Of course he wouldn’t know where to find it. The goddamn company didn’t even think to at least put up a poster with the half assed, original name as they call it, on the damn building. 

“Good thing you found me then,” you gave the man a smile.

“I work for the company, I can help you with whatever you’re looking to buy.” you say trying to be as polite as possible as you instinctively go into the customer service voice. 

“Here is our, er, building.” 

He took his time studying the building in question as you patiently wait for him to make a move. You watch him with curious eyes, they can't help but wander as you study every single detail. The way he's dressed… long heavy coat, turtleneck sweater which fits his upper body perfectly, showing how well built he is, classic straight slim suit pants and classic leather shoes which on their own probably cost more than what you make in a single month.

‘’I don’t mind the staring sweetheart… but I’m kind of in a hurry.’’

You snap back to reality as you realize how he probably saw you staring at him like an idiot. You feel so stupid and embarrassed, you don't even say anything back. You make your way inside the building, dreading the work that awaits you. Occasionally stealing glances at the man, making sure he is still following behind you. You see your only coworker present in the room, being as busy as ever, still not acknowledging you nor the customer.  

‘’Right then, if you could kindly explain to me what exactly you’re looking for?’’ you say as you take a pen and notebook from your desk.

He lets out a sigh as he folds his arms ‘’Not entirely sure…’’

Your eye twitches just the tiniest bit. Not the first time you have to deal with customers like him.

‘’Sir, I can’t help you if you don’t give me at least an idea.’’ you say as your patience is starting to wear thin.

‘’Alright, alright,’’ he chuckles.

You give him a frown as you don’t find any of this funny, but he just brushes you off as he continues.

‘’Tell me sweetheart, how are your safety locks?’’ he looks at you with a serious expression.

You were taken aback by his sudden mood change. You blink a couple of times until finally, you reply.

‘’…Could you please elaborate?’’

He shifts to lean against the wall, in a more relaxed position.

‘’Let’s say, for example, I put all of my most prized possessions in a room. I need something to keep it safe, locked.’’ he says, not once breaking eye contact.

‘’Not just any lock.’’

You think for a moment, taking in his words. You hesitantly nod your head yes while you write the information down in your notebook.

‘’Alright sir, I’ll see what I can find.’’ you say as you finish writing the last word ‘’Can I help you with anything else?’’

The man gives you a smile as he moves away from the wall, now standing fully straight  ‘’That would be all, dear.’’

‘’Perfect. If you could please give me a name and a phone number so I will know how to contact you?’’ you quickly add, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

‘’Steve Rogers,’’ he starts saying then ends the sentence with his phone number information.

You thank him as you finish writing everything down, now waiting for him to just leave and be on his way.

As he gets to the exit door, he stops for a second to look at you. He calls out your name with a smile on his face, wishing you a good day before leaving. You stand in your spot without moving as you stare dumbly at the door that closed behind him.

You never told him your name.

[i05wook]

forgive me - wang yixiang

pairing: bf! nicholas x gn! Reader (ft. enhypen and mentions of euijoo)

genre: angst, fluff, romance, established relationship au, idol au

warnings: swearing (lots of it) fighting/argument, kiss scene at the end!!

Wc: 2.5k 

Summary: When you have had a really long, awful day at work, and so has Nicholas. So when a misunderstanding happens between you, you take a breather before you say something really outta pocket. However, despite Nicholas being the one in the wrong, he is still worried about where you could have ran off to. Nothing will calm his brain until he finds you.

author’s notes: ahh thank you so much for the request anon!! I slightly went off track with parts of this request so I hope that’s okay, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this!! This is one of my longest works I think I’ve ever written, and thank you so much to @wvnkoi @jisungsdaydreamer @odxrilove @liumoonlight and @uwuheeseungie for beta-reading this for me as I was writing it!! 

*bao bei = baby

**qin qin = dear one

Today was just not your day. You had a long and stressful day at work, where nothing seemed to go right all day, all starting from the morning. As soon as you stepped out of your apartment building that morning, it began raining heavily, already soaking you before you could reach for your umbrella in your bag. When you finally managed to get your umbrella up, a strong gust of wind blew seconds later, turning it inside out, and despite many efforts to fix it, the wind had ultimately broken your umbrella beyond repair.

As if the rest of your day could get any worse, you had managed to spill your coffee all over you, smash your phone screen, and your laptop had crashed twice; all by the time of your first meeting. The meeting, however, went great, but as soon as it finished, everything began going wrong again.

Firstly your car had a flat tire, meaning you had to get a taxi back to your apartment, as your boyfriend Nicholas wasn’t able to pick you up due to dance practice for his latest comeback. Then, when you phoned for a taxi, they told you it was going to be over an hour's wait for one to pick you up from work.

The final straw however just so happened to be deciding to take the bus home, sure, it dropped you off further away from your apartment building, but it was much quicker than the 45 minute walk in the still heavy rain. However, just as the bus stop was in sight, the bus sped past you - through a giant puddle, and straight past the bus stop. The bus that ran near to your apartment complex only ran once an hour, so at this point you would have been doomed to wait another hour, or just face the long walk home.

Ultimately, with the want to get home and just hide away from the world as quickly as possible, you decided to just face the long walk home in the downpour. Somehow the rain now matched your mood, contrary to this morning, as you walked the streets, no umbrella in sight due to the unfortunate events of this morning. It seemed that as you passed through the swarms of people that were scattered across the length of the sidewalk, they all seemed to be staring at you, somehow aware, and sympathetic of the events that had occurred to you that day.

Finally, having arrived at your apartment a whole hour after you left the office, you took your shoes off and rounded the corner into your bathroom. Immediately, you started up the shower before grabbing some warm, dry clothes, and turn on the heating in your apartment. Once the shower had reached its optimal temperature you migrated from the cold, tiled floor of your bathroom, into the shower cubicle.

You stood in the shower, the warm water cascading down into the drains, washing away the worries of the day. After thirty minutes had passed, you hopped out of the shower and got changed into your warm clothes that you had laid out on the bed. Nicholas wasn’t expected home for at least another three hours or so, therefore, you held off on doing the housework for a little bit whilst you continued to destress after the day. 

You flopped down, face first onto the sofa in the living room, and burrowed into the blanket that laid on the back of it. Anything to take your mind off the shit show that was today. You turned your head to face the television, and dragged your arm up and out the comfort of the blanket, to turn the tv on for any sort of background noise that would help turn your brain off. You came across a chinese drama on netflix, called hidden love, that piqued your interest. Eventually the distraction worked and you happened to fall asleep fifteen minutes into the second episode. 

You were rudely awakened by the sound of the front door slamming open, followed by a sweet call from your boyfriend, Nicholas. “Baobei, wo hui le!*” He called out to you sweetly. Shit. You thought, you hadn’t meant to fall asleep for so long. You hadn’t had the chance to do any of the house work you wanted to before he got back from dance practice. Hell, you hadn’t even made dinner yet, which was the plan you guys had discussed the day before. 

“Shit, qin qin** I’m so sorry. I fell asleep after I got home from work.  I didn’t have a chance to tidy up before you got home but I’ll go make dinner for us now.” you quickly rambled, still flustered and half asleep from your nap. 

“Fucks sake y/n, it’s not hard to just do one thing. It was the only thing I asked of you y/n, and it was to make dinner. Seriously.” Nicholas shouted at you, seriously startling you. It was unlike Nicholas to shout at you over something so small, but you could tell he must have had a hard day at practice. Even then though, it didn’t give him the right to scream at you over this. You decided to give it a one last attempt at resolving the issue, proposing ordering takeout for once, but yet again this was shot down by Nicholas’ incessant screaming. 

“Wang Yixiang! I will not have you screaming at me like this. I get that you’ve had a long, shitty day at work, but in case you haven't noticed, so have I. I got absolutely fucking drenched today as I left for work, then dropped my fucking phone because of some stupid idiot in the office, then my laptop crashed right before the most important meeting of my life, then turns out I had a flat tire as I was leaving work, couldn’t call for a taxi, and then missed the stupid fucking bus. Therefore I had to walk the fourty five minute journey home, in the fucking rain again cause my shitty umbrella broke this morning. So, excuse me for the fact that when I got home, I was trying to keep my shit together and forget about the day that I’ve endured, and the only way I could do that was having a fucking nap on the couch.” You screamed back at him. This was the first time you guys had had an argument like this, and you were just so frustrated by everything, that tears threatened to spill over the edge of your waterline.

“I’m only human, Nicho, and there’s only so much that I can take in one day. I’m sorry that I didn’t live up to my words, but shit happens. Please, don’t follow me, I’ll be back soon, I promise.” You spluttered out to him, turning your back to him, pulling on your worn out trainers and grabbing the first coat on the rack, before sliding out the front door. 

Luckily, you had your phone already in hand throughout the entire argument, which meant you could leave the toxic environment of the apartment quicker. You really didn’t want to say anything else that could hurt him, the words exchanged were already borderline hateful towards him but you were just so frustrated at the idea of his problems being the only problems in his world. Just thinking of how harsh you had been towards him, caused the tears to finally fall down your cheeks, as you headed towards your best friend, Heeseung’s dorms. Instead of surprising him at the door, in the unfortunate state you were already in, you decided it would only be proper to phone him and let him know of your intentions to crash at his for a couple hours before you felt stable enough to go back to Nicholas. 

You picked up your phone and began to dial Heeseung’s number. The call tone began to ring and ring, and at one point you thought it was going to get cut off. It wasn’t until you lost the hope of him picking up his phone that he answered you. 

“Hey, y/n. How are you doing, love*?” Heeseung asked you, his tone of voice as sweet as ever. In fact, the ever so sweet tone of your best friend, made you lose all sense of composure prior to him answering your call. 

“Seung…” was all you could manage to utter before you absolutely broke down in tears, thinking back over how harsh you had been towards your boyfriend. 

“Y/n, love. What’s up? Where are you? Are those cars I can hear?” He asked at a quick pace, with a worried undertone to his voice. He knew there was a reason that you called him crying and not your boyfriend, and as much as he wanted to know why that was, your safety was his top priority at that point. 

“Love, stay exactly where you are for me please, send me your location and I’ll be with you as soon as possible okay? I need to make sure you're safe,” Heeseung stammered out the instructions to you. In limited words, you agreed and quickly sent him your address, not wanting to be alone for much longer in the bitter winds. You were met by the end dial tone; assuming that Heeseung had received your location, you took a seat on the bench on the sidewalk. 

After ten minutes of waiting, you heard a couple voices shouting out for you in the pitch black of the night, it wasn’t until they got a little closer that you recognised the voices of Heeseung, Jake and Sunghoon calling out to find where you were. You shouted out their names, and the three of them ran straight over to you from different directions. As he arrived, Heeseung wrapped you tight into his chest, resting his head on top of yours. 

“Hey love, why are we crying? And, why are we in the middle of the streets when you have your own apartment, silly?” He asked whilst chuckling lightly. You could see over his shoulder Jake and Sunghoon bickering over something stupid, probably who found you or who got to you first out of them. Seeing the pair of them made you let out a little giggle, which in turn, caused Heeseung to turn around and see them. “Really boys, for god’s sake!” 

Heeseung dragged you back over to the bench that you sat on whilst waiting for the boys to come and again asked you what had happened. “Nicho and I, we had a massive argument when he got home today. Like we both were screaming at each other over stupid stuff, but I just couldn’t stay there in case I took it too far. Like I get that he’d had a really tough day at practice but at the same time I had an awful day at work, and he just had to pick an argument with me, all because I’d had a nap on the couch instead of doing some housework, and preparing dinner like I’d told him, I would,” you rambled to the boys about everything that had happened and why you walked out on Nicholas and left him in your apartment. 

In your peripheral vision, you saw Jake pull his phone out from his pocket upon hearing what had happened, but thought nothing of it. Maybe he was just telling the other boys where they were, or maybe he was telling Nicholas or Euijoo that you were safe, and with them. You owed your life to the three boys who sat with you, who endured the bitter winds in the pitch black streets just to make sure you were safe and calm. The boys meant so much to you, in ways they would never understand. 

After a few moments of silence, you heard another couple of voices shouting out for you, seemingly coming from the total opposite direction to where the three boys sitting with you had come from. The two voices you could hear were quickly recognised by your brain, as that of your boyfriend Nicholas, and his best friend Euijoo. You guessed that Nicholas had called Euijoo telling him exactly what happened and how he had messed up, big time, and that Euijoo had offered to help him find you before it got too late or you got sick. 

Euijoo reached you before Nicholas, and wrapped you in a tight hug similar to that of Heeseung when he first found you. Over the shoulder of Euijoo however, you could see your ever so loving boyfriend Nicholas, his cheeks glimmering slightly under the streetlights as he hung back away from you all. It was evident that he was crying, and the way he hung his head showed just how much he regretted the events of the night. You lightly tapped Euijoo on the back as a signal to release you from the hug he held you in, and headed over to Nicholas. As you reached where he stood, he must have seen your shadow on the ground as he slowly lifted his head up, eyes stained red and swollen, a clear indicator that the emotional distress was shared between the pair of you. You slowly lifted your hand up to rest on his cheek, as he looked at you through his sticky wet eyelashes, wiping away the painful tears that slipped out. 

A moment of silence was shared between the two of you, before Nicholas pulled you close into his unyielding grip, not letting you go, as he rested his head on the top of your shoulder, exhausted. The whimpers in your ear heartbreaking as you recognised just how much pain he was in, your hand reached up to rest on the back of his head stroking it as a sign of silent reassurance that everything was fine.  

“Qin qin, everything’s okay darling. I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you early, it was out of line and I’m really really sorry. I love you, please never forget that,” you murmured an apology out to the love of your life, feeling utterly guilty about everything.

“Bao bei, please never apologise for something like this. I was the one who was in the wrong, I am so ashamed of how I spoke to you earlier today, and for not taking into consideration everything you do for me on a day to day basis. Please forgive me, I know it's not an excuse but everything just went awful for me today and I just missed your food so much that I…” You cut Nicholas off, by trying to pull his head up from your shoulder, him giving you a look of confusion before trying to continue his apology. “I just…” You smashed your lips against his, maybe it was a little rough at first, but it was overflowing with both positive, and negative emotions which seemed to dissipate just as the anger and upset of the night had. 

It was almost like a mutual promise between the both of you to forgive and forget the events of the night.

status: open 

@bambisgirl @enhacolor @acaiasahi @duolingofanaccount @slytherinshua @redm4ri @enluv @jaelaxies

[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Twelve

Poisoned Apple

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

The next few days felt like a fever dream to you, apparently the Guild’s headquarters, the Moby Dick almost crashed in Yokohama. There was still no word from or about Miss Jane which unnerving to say the least for you all. The next few weeks came and gone and life felt normal, a few members of the society returned to Europe to visit family and friends, Emma, William, Henrik, and Lewis, they would be back at the end of the month. So now that leaves you, Dr. Stevenson, Victor, Alexandre, and Gaston alone here. 

Dr. Stevenson and Alexandre were heading out for the weekend, going up to Tokyo to visit an old friend of the doctor’s, and Victor had been invited on a project to help with repairs after the Guild incident so you hardly saw him anyway. So this weekend it was just you and Gaston. You all had returned to the apartment complex now and so you now had your apartment that you shared with Miss Jane all to yourself now, but you didn’t like staying there, too lonely. So now you sat in Gaston’s lounge, he sat on a stood, playing the violin, while you read over the news, then you saw something.

“Hey Gaston.”

“Hm?”

“I think you should take a look at this.” You waved him over and he set his violin down and walked over, glancing over your shoulder. “It seems that gifted are committing suicide with their abilities after a strange fog.”

Gaston’s eyes narrowed as you spoke before he reached up and closed the lid of your computer. “Best not to worry about that, stressing will give you grays.”

You set your laptop aside and gazed out the window, it was raining pretty hard. Gaston’s eyes followed yours, he then looked around the apartment and ran his finger along the bookshelf behind you, not a spec of dust. He smiles and then looked to you. “Say I have an idea. We pack a lunch, go to your father’s estate, start cleaning, find what we can on where he may be, have lunch, bring a book, like an indoor picnic.”

“That sounds pretty fun actually.” You smiled and stood up from your chair, taking his hand he offered you.

“Then let’s be off, my lady.”

—————————

You arrived at your father’s old estate at around noon. You took the key Miss Jane had left you and unlocked the door to the old building, and it was as dusty as ever. Gaston stepped in the hall after you, sipping around to take it all in. “Reminds me of Dr. Stevenson’s manor back in London.”

“I’d love to visit one day.” You replied to his comment as you went to sit over on the staircase, setting the picnic basket and blanket you had brought next to you. “But this place is probably a lot more dusty.”

“Certainly, I honestly couldn’t imagine the doctor letting dust gather on anything.” He laughed to himself and walked towards you, hands in his pockets. “Well then, shall we get started?”

“We shall.”

So you and Gaston began exploring the rooms together, one by one. You showed each other what you found, strange objects left behind from your father that might have been important on a case of his once upon a time. Books in his study were unorganized but looking at them there was no way to organize them for they were all so different. Gaston found photos of your father and uncle along with another individual names “Dr. Watson” your father’s assistant, from what the old stories about him read. You also managed to find older documents from your father that you left inclined to read, they were about his old cases that he took when he was here in Yokohama. Both of you forgot that you came to clean as soon as you walked through the door, there was just so much to look at and see.

So now, hours had passed and now you and Gaston sit on the floor of the main entry, the blanket beneath you as you opened the picnic basket and ate the meal you two had packed, sandwiches, fresh strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, pears, and two apples.

“Strange to think he just left this all behind.” You said, pushing a berry past your lips. Gaston shrugged as he took a bite of a pear slice.

“Your father was a strange man.” 

You laughed at that comment as you picked up one of the apples and took a bite…

Footsteps… walking down the hall

Gaston looked away from you alarmed by the noise, someone was here. His hands rested on his revolver as he stood up, looking around worriedly. “Did you hear that?”

You were to occupied to worry about the question, you eyes were fixed on the bite mark of the apple you just ate from, the fresh was black… it was poisoned. Your mind tried to process if you or Gaston packed this, was it slipped into your bag? If so when? You went to call Gaston’s name but all that came up out was coughs and wheezes as you tried to gasp for breath. You fell to the floor and Gaston was quick to kneel besides you. “(Name)! (Name)!”

Your vision was hazy now and you were just able to see the poisoned apple roll out of your hand and onto a ground where a figure out of the shadows came forth and picked it up. 

Gaston’s eyes were wide with horror as he stared at the figure who held the apple, but the figure merely smiled as Gaston was finally able to speak out his name.

“Fyodor.”

Gaston’s eyes flicked between your unconscious body and Fyodor, standing over the two of you. Gaston tried shaking you awake as the Russian man stepped even closer but it didn’t work.

“Oh ангел музыки, she won’t wake up.” The Russian man spoke, kneeling down to Gaston’s level. Fyodor reached out and brushed the hair out of your face. “Not without me that is.”

Gaston raised up his revolver to rest in between Fyodor’s eyes. There was only a look of pure range on his face. “Wake her up or I will kill you.”

Fyodor’s smile only widened. “Shoot me at this distance with that old gun and you will blow your own hand off along with whatever damage would happen to her.”

Gaston didn’t lower the gun until Fyodor reached out, grabbed the barrel of the gun and lowered it himself. “So I have to play your game to wake her up, don’t I?”

Fyodor nodded and reached out for the untouched apple that was left and held it in front of Gaston to take. “It doesn’t hurt that badly if that’s what you’re worried about. All will be well when you awake.”

“Or I’ll be dead.” Gaston said grabbing the apple from him and looking it over. Gaston brought it to his lips with shaking hands, the composer’s eyes dead locked onto Fyodor’s twisted smile. With all the courage he could muster Gaston bit down on the apple, the flesh of it black like before. He was sent into a coughing fit just like you when he swallowed. He was gasping for breath as he fell into unconsciousness, his breathing heavy as Fyodor looked down at you two, wearing the same twisted smile.

—————————

You awoke with with a pounding headache and your body felt so incredibly stiff, like you had been asleep for days. Your vision was burly and it took a long moment for things to come into focus, you were laying in bed that wasn’t yours, in a room that wasn’t yours, dressed in clothes that you couldn’t see but knew aren’t yours. You tried to move but your muscles wouldn’t respond. The most you could manage was letting your turn fall to the side to see Gaston laying in an identical bed, asleep, dressed in clothes that weren’t his, and now you could also see an IV attached to your arm and one to his own. You could see a table in between the two of you, it had items and nicknacks from your pocket and Gaston’s glasses, but no weapons. When you went to open your mouth only a cough came out, your throat was like sandpaper, how long had you been out?

“Ahh мышь, you’re awake.” You heard a voice from behind you, Russian in origin. You heard a book close followed by footsteps approaching you. You felt a gentle gloved hand reach over and hold your cheek, bringing your face to face him. Before you there was a handsome man, he had black, mid length hair, dressed in white. “Do you know who I am?”

You couldn’t speak and your mind was too foggy to think but you managed to mouth the word no. He chuckled and ran his gloved thumb along your cheek. “My name is Fyodor Dostoevsky, my dear.” He watched as horror formed in your eyes at the mention of his name and his smile grew in his amusement. He leaned down so that his faces was only an inch away from your own. “I see you have heard of me, I have watched you for quite sometime and I promise you this is only the beginning of our game.”

He bent down to press his lips against your own. His lips felt rough and forceful, not kind and gentle like his touch. He reached over and pulled out the IV in your arm which made you wince in pain but he shushed, cooed, a kissed away your tears. He wrapped his arms around you and picked your limp body and carried you over to the arm chair he had been sitting in. With this new position you could see what you were wearing, a long white skirt, a black turtleneck, a white sweater, and white mary janes. He sat you down in his lap and took the book from the side table and opened it, you couldn’t read it because it was in Russian. He sat with you for what felt like hours and the only thing he said was. “Soon, it will begin.”

You didn’t know what “it” was but frankly you didn’t care, you just wanted to get Gaston and get the hell out of here. Soon you heard a groan from Gaston’s lips and your eyes shot over to the man who was coming back to consciousness. Unlike you he had at least some control of his limbs, must be all his endurance from his work with the society. He sat up in his bed his hand unconsciously searching for his glasses in the nightstand, you could now see at least the top of his outfit clearly, a white ruffled shirt, a white vest, a white jacket, white pants, but a bright red tie, it felt off for Gaston to be dressed in such things given his normal attire and personality. You heard a small hum from Fyodor as he also noticed the composer’s state. 

“Good to see you awake as well, Leroux.” Fyodor said as Gaston slipped on his glasses and ripped out his IV which made you cringe. “I see you are as alive as every.”

“I wish I was dead.” Gaston was quick to snap back as he stepped out of bed, but having to catch his balance on the footboard. He paused in his tracks and looked around. “We’re in Mukurotoride, aren’t we?”

Fyodor smiled and nodded, setting his book aside. “That would be correct, I brought you two here so you will be… safe from what is to come.”

“Safe?” You finally spoke, asking a simple question. “Safe from what?”

A low chuckle emerged from Fyodor as he looked at you with those violet eyes. “You were reading the story, gifted committing suicide, the fog…”

Then it clicked for both you and Gaston. The fog is coming to Yokohama and someone is behind this all.

Fyodor noticed the expression on your faces and hummed, brushing his fingers through your hair before standing up and helping you stand along with him. Your legs felt jello but Fyodor rested a hand on both your forearms and hip, keeping you from falling. Once you caught your balance he let go, letting you stand on your own. He walked forward, towards the door in the room and unlocked it with a key in his coat pocket. He glanced over his shoulder at Gaston and you. “Don’t try using your gifts to escape, призрак and мышь. I think you’ll find your abilities have left you.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, concern coming across your face. Fyodor only smiled.

“You’ll see in due time. I’m sure my collaborators would be happy to explain when you meet them, but for now there are preparations to be made.” Fyodor said as he stepped out into the hall and you heard the click of the lock behind him.

Gaston fell onto his bed with a heavy sigh and you came and curled up next to him. “I’m sorry (Name), I have failed you. I let him get to you.”

“We didn’t expect it, Gaston. He took us by surprise.” You yawned in between words and so did he. “We’ll just have to be our own knights in shining armor, get ourselves out of here, escape the dragon.”

Gaston gave a weak smile and took off his glasses once more. “Yes, but I suppose for now we should get some more rest.”

“Agreed.”

You cuddled up next to him and just as you were slipping into sleep’s hold you heard his voice sing, beautiful, gentle, and careful…

“Think of me fondly

When we've said goodbye

remember me once in awhile

promise me you'll try

on that day that not so distant day when you are far away and free

if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me.”

[yikesitskennawrites]

Transitions- Chapter Twenty-Five: Coffee From Lauren

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

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Pairings: Steven Grant x (platonic) Reader, Marc Spector x (platonic) Reader, Jake Lockley x (platonic) Reader, Layla El-Faouly x (platonic) Reader  

---

“Thank you so much for the coffee,” You tell Lauren. She sat on the metal cart next to the counter top that you were currently sitting on. Her legs swung back and forth as she adjusted her bun on top of her head. It was a slow morning so far, one that you were grateful for due to your exhaustion, yet, you also hated it because sitting still made you more aware of how tired you were. 

“You rarely ask for these types of things, the least I could do is buy you a coffee as a thanks for picking up my shift this Friday.” She smiles, her own coffee cup filled with lemon tea sat on the counter you perched on. You sip on your warm beverage as she speaks. Right, you have a double shift in a couple of days from now. Seven in the morning to six in the evening, fun. You roll your eyes at that. It was a day you would make a lot of money though, hopefully you’ll be well rested enough to not be too tired throughout that day. You already knew what you were doing tonight after work, eat dinner with Steven and Marc and go right to bed. You had to get a new laptop this weekend too, school was on Monday and that was less than a week away. 

You were stressed about that. You really needed that laptop for your senior year otherwise you would have to drop out and re-enroll next year or try and get your GED. It would be difficult trying to apply once more since they would try to contact you for your whereabouts and why you weren’t doing any school work within the first two weeks of the term. So, you would have to create a new identity and that would be even harder this time around since the American government has finally got most of their shit together. It was pure chaos when everyone came back, the government was backed up on files since the sudden appearance of everyone who was gone for five years came back. It took awhile for them to get ninety percent of the blipped back on file and confirm their status of life. 

The cheapest option for you to buy a laptop is if you could find one at a yard sale like you did for your previous one, but that might not happen. You haven’t seen any flyers for a garage or yard sale. You know for a fact you don’t have five hundred euros saved to buy a brand new computer, you had enough for small items like the strawberry waffles you keep internally promising to buy for Marc and Steven, and maybe the pyramid paperweight you saw at that glass shop a couple of months ago.

“What are you thinking about?” Lauren asks as she sips her tea. You could see the lemon flavored tea paper attached to the tea bag string in her cup from where you sat. You blink tiredly at her and smile. 

“Just the amount of sleep I didn’t have last night.”

“You haven’t slept?”

“I’ve been up for-” You pause and place your coffee next to you before you count off the amount of hours you have been up since. You worked yesterday and didn’t get any shut eye last night. Your shift yesterday was at eight am, but you woke up at six thirty and right now it's nearing ten, so you’ve been up for almost twenty-eight hours and you don’t get off until three. 

“I’ve been up for almost twenty eight hours.” You tell her and her mouth drops open. 

“Are you serious?”

“Deadass.” You say as you pick up your coffee and sip on it. You didn’t want to drink it too quickly and have a caffeine crash mid-shift or on the bus ride back to the apartments and miss your stop. You were falling asleep on your feet this morning, the passenger you almost fell asleep on moved several feet away from where you stood so you couldn’t drool on their backpack. 

“That’s not healthy.” Lauren says with a frown. “Is there something keeping you up?” You let the caffeinated liquid sit in your mouth as you think of what to say. You couldn’t tell her the whole truth. It would sound insane if you did. You can’t tell her about Khonshu and his declaration of not being the god that held you out a window Saturday. You also have to keep quiet about your neighbor who you began to trust and his lies that made you take a couple steps back and think of who he is. Could you trust him completely? You don’t know and that thought alone hurts you. You can’t tell her about your friend, Layla, and her weird absence on Saturday, what was up with that? Maybe she was doing some black market shit? That would be a huge can of worms to open with Lauren. And finally, you can’t talk to her about Jake and how he threatened to kill you and yet, he saved your ass and made sure you were breathing for a month and a half; and now his absence and zero want to communicate with anyone, including you, kind of, surprisingly, hurts.  

You don’t like that he threatened to kill you, but for a while, he was the only person you had. You can’t tell Lauren that because she would absolutely call the police.

“I’m just anxious,” You tell her a slice of the truth. Saying that this weekend was terrible would be an understatement. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asks. You knew that she truly meant her promise about how you could talk to her about anything. But, you can’t take her up on this. Maybe in the future you can tell her about any normal problem such as how you mixed colors in your wash and now all your white shirts are pink and the amount of frustration you feel for yourself for that mistake. But, this anxiety issue needs to be kept away from her. You don’t know what you will do if Lauren ever finds out the truth about what you know. You will admit that you would feel relieved that you had someone normal to talk to about the existence of deities, your neighbors and how one works for a god and took down a cult, and also your friend's occupation as an illegal seller for the black market. You can’t let her in on the truth about yourself, though. If Lauren ever finds out about your real age and your fraud, she will never trust you again. Straight to the police station you go. 

“I don’t know why I’m anxious,” You lie and shrug to make it more believable as you bore your tired gaze onto her. “I need to start taking melatonin if this becomes a habit.” 

“You’ll need to go to the doctor if this becomes a habit.” She corrects. “When was the last time you went to the doctor?”

“When I lived in New York, I think I was…” You squint in thought. “Thirteen.” It was true that the last time you visited the healthcare clinic was for a bone you thought you broke but turned out you sprained it. That was- for you- nearly four years ago. But as far as Lauren knew that was-

“Five years ago?” She says. “Ten years actually! The healthcare here is free, you need to go get some check-ups done.” 

“I know, I know.” You groan. “It’s just that it costs so much in America without the insurance and even if you did have insurance it would cost like five hundred dollars for it.”

“Well, it’s free here.”

“I know.” You repeat. “It was a habit to not go to the doctor or the hospital unless you absolutely needed it.”

“A habit that is free to break.” She says. You nod in agreement. “Molly needs to go to the doctors soon for her yearly check up.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She needs to go on the scale and the measurement scale and get her knees tapped at with those hammers.”

“Any shots?”

“I don’t think so.” She says. “Jamie needs to get his four year shots next year. He needs to get his polio and mumps and measles. When Molly got hers, she was crying and we had to reward her with ice cream for being so brave.” You smile at the thought of little Molly crying as she ate her ice cream. It was a comedic sight to imagine. The last time you received any vaccinations was for your annual flu shots in your local pharmacy, you were fifteen and still underneath your parents insurance plan. You should make an appointment for the flu shots this year so it wouldn’t hit you as hard as it did last year, but you weren’t sure if you needed to be insurance to receive the vaccinations.

“Well, it’s Jamie's turn to get ice cream for his reward.” You smile. “Are you packed for your trip?”

“No,” She groans. “We’re doing that tomorrow. We still have to pack the kids bags since they’re staying at Kris’s parents house this weekend.” 

“Are they excited to be staying at their grandparents house?”

“They are! They don’t seem to realize that it’s more than one night though.”

“It’s going to be a surprise when they realize that you aren’t picking them up until Sunday night.” You laugh. “They’re going to miss their mom’s.” 

“Every time I think about that I almost begin to cry.” She says. You glance at her and sure enough there were tears forming in her eyes. 

“It’s just for the weekend, they’ll be fine.” 

“Their grandfather is going to feed them a lot of sugar and send them home with us.” She says, you laugh. 

“That’s the rules though.” You say. “They’ll eat the sugar and be hyperactive before inevitably crashing.” “Just like you are?” She asks and gestures to the coffee next to you. 

“You’re the one who ordered it to be sugary.”

“Well, having pure black coffee is a crime.” 

“My dad used to drink it straight from the pot without adding any milk or sugar to it. He should have gone to jail for it.” You joke and she grins at that. “I don’t know how he did it, but he drank it every morning.” A ping of sadness hits you as you finish the statement. Your dad will never drink coffee again and you will never have the opportunity to make fun of him for it with him standing next to you. 

“What’s your favorite coffee so I know what to order for you the next time around.” She asks and you swallow around the lump forming in your throat.

“You don’t have to-” “I know I don’t,” She cuts you off. “So spill, what is it?” 

“Caramel Frappuccino.”

“You basic bitch.”

“You can’t just ask me for my favorite drink and bully me for it.”

“I just did.”

“You have no room to speak because you are drinking lemon tea.” You gesture to her paper cup. 

“At least I have taste.”

“Yeah, weak ass taste.” You scoff. “You didn’t even get raspberry and mint or some other tea with more than one flavor. You paid a coffee shop to make you tea, something you could have made at your own place.”

“I could say the same for your coffee.”

“Actually you can’t because I don’t have a Keurig.” You say before you pick up your cup and sip on the liquid. 

“This is why us English people don’t like you Americans.”

“We don’t even like ourselves.” You laugh and she chimes in with you. The noise hurts your ears in the small space but the sound was melodic. A light feeling spreads through your chest as you both giggle at your teasing of each other. You missed this, the feeling of being relaxed and carefree enough to crack some jokes. It’s been awhile since you haven’t been obsessed with whatever new drama was happening in your life. It was nice to have a normal friend who wasn’t tied to deities or cults. Once the laughter dies out, a comfortable silence settles between you. The bell above the entrance rings and Lauren pushes herself off of the cart and briefly pats your thigh as she passes you. 

You could hear her greet the customer from where you sat on the counter. You listen to her talk about the specials of the day and if there were any coupons underneath the desk that the customer could use for their meal. You only tuned out when you began staring blankly at the box of spices on the shelf across from you. Saying you were ready for bed would be an understatement. The caffeinated beverage was helping a little but not as much as you wish that it would. The word of the black pepper on the side of the cardboard box you burn your gaze into became indistinct the longer you stared at it. You knew what the word was and what it meant, but there was an odd disconnect from it. Your brain was not quite clicking it together in your mind. 

This only happened one other time when you were at your lowest a couple of weeks after moving to London. Everything that was words whether it was on the back of a granola box or sentences of articles on your phone became a blur of unknown words and phrases that you could not comprehend for the life of you. Staring at the two bolded words in front of you now, an odd feeling settles in your chest. You couldn’t describe the feeling, it was hard to put a finger on what it felt like. You force yourself to blink and look away from the box. You could hear Lauren tell the customer to have a good day before you hear her footsteps on the tile floor and see her near you out of the corner of your eye. 

“I was joking about your taste,” She says as she hops back onto the cart and grins at you. “If that wasn’t clear and you feel insulted about your terrible choice in coffee.” She adds. You don’t say anything for a moment as you muddle your way to form a proper sentence in your mind and make it roll off of your tongue so she wouldn’t get concerned and send you back to your apartment early. 

“I know and I was joking about your poor taste in tea.” You say, it doesn’t sound like it came from you despite the vibration in your throat. You rapidly blink as she parts her mouth in fake irritation. You breathe in through your mouth and hold your breath for a moment before letting go. 

“It’s decent taste actually.” She defends herself. The words on the box in front of you made much more better sense in your mind as you forced out a laugh. This time the noise sounded like it belonged to you. 

You trail your tired gaze back to her as you say, “Hmm. Sure.” Whatever has just happened to you scared you a little. Maybe it was caused by the lack of sleep you had, whatever it was you didn’t want to experience again. 

Lauren didn’t seem to notice you as she says, “That customer wanted me to put crisps on their sandwich.”

“Did you?”

“No! That would be cross contamination if I did.”

“Good.” You say. “Emily told me that someone asked her if she could put cookies on their sandwich.” She wrinkles her nose at that.

“Cookies?” She says, “Like the ones in the cookie cabinet?”

“Those exact ones. Chocolate chip onto of their ham sandwich.” You reply. You watch as a look of disgust forms on her face and you agree with her. When you first heard the story, you had the same expression as she has now. You pick up your coffee and sip on it. 

“That's disgusting.”

“I can get potato chips on top of a sandwich, but cookies?” You shake your head. “That's a crime in itself. They need to be jailed.”

“Agreed.” She says. The bell above the entrance rings and you both share a look before looking at the monitor. It was just a single customer, you couldn’t tell who they were from the glare of the lighting but that didn’t matter. You trail your gaze away from the monitor and to Lauren.

“Your turn.” She says before she picks up her own cup and sips on her tea. It was only fair if you were to take turns until lunch rush came. You blink tiredly and yawn as you place your cup onto the counter and hop off of it. You raise your arms above your head to stretch your muscles as you begin to walk to the front. Another yawn escapes you as you greet your first customer of the day.

You don’t care how many orders you messed up today, you were just glad to be ten minutes away from your neighbors apartment. Usually, you would be beating yourself up for putting ranch on a customer's sandwich when they clearly asked for mayonnaise; but you were way past the point of caring by the end of your shift. Your coffee was long gone and your bladder was empty from the endless amount of peeing you seemed to go through today. Caffeine makes you pee more often and you weren’t used to having so much caffeine in a day. You could feel yourself crashing with every step you took towards your apartment complex. Your feet ache and your back hurts a little. 

Maybe you’ll change the plans of you passing out after dinner to taking a nap on Stevens couch before eating instead. You don’t know if that would make you more cranky if Steven or Marc wake you for the meal, but you don’t care enough about it. If you’re lucky, maybe Steven has some snacks you could eat instead of waiting for dinner. Or you could just go to your own apartment and sleep on the couch, you could put your phone on silent and shoot Steven a text message stating that you won’t make it to dinner. Perhaps you’ll pop into his apartment and show him that you’re alive and breathing before heading over to your own and passing out for the remainder of the afternoon and night. 

You would like to sleep in his bed since it wouldn’t hurt your back as badly as your couch does, and his place brings you comfort, but you just want to sleep in peace more than anything. Marc or Steven might make too much noise for you to fall asleep and you weren’t going to ask them to be quiet in their own flat. If Khonshu or whatever deity decides to fuck with you when you’re trying to sleep in your apartment, damn them. You’re tired and cranky enough to beat a bitches ass if they decide to pull some shit like that. Maybe they’ll be willing to show their face and you can pop them in their jaws. You’ll like to think that you’re pissed off enough to throw hands with them. Either way, sleep was your main priority and nothing was going to-

Suddenly, the feeling of something or someone grabbing the back of your shirt and dragging you into the open end of the alley you were just passing causes you to lose your train of thought. You yelp as you get slammed into the brick wall, knocking your head against it and you let out a groan at the contact. Holy fucking shit. You snap your eyes in the direction of the open end of the alley and see someone standing there. They wore a cloth mask on the lower half of their face and a beanie covering their hair. The jacket they wore was zipped up to their neck and a turtle neck shirt hid any identification on their body, the black pants were baggy on their legs. The only visible thing was their brown eyes and the white skin surrounding it. They held onto a knife with glove-covered hands and you can feel their eyes glaring onto your body. You can not catch a fucking break this week, can you?

“Give me all your money,” They said, their voice deep and gruff. Your stance tenses as you stare at him. Just three months ago you were in almost the exact same situation, why does this bullshit seem to only happen to you? Well, you don’t want it to happen to anyone but it was weird that it happened twice to you. 

“I’m flattered that you think I have any.” You say. You know that you shouldn’t be rude to this man and you should hand over any cash you have on you, which you don’t since tips were terrible today. You were more awake than you have been all day thanks to the adrenaline rushing through you. The heaviness in your limbs and the baggy feeling around your eyes was gone. You were slowly planning on how to escape this situation. You could pretend to give him some cash or punch him in his dumb face and run for it; or you could throw your apron at him as a distraction and run- wait where the fuck is your apron? You rack your brain for where you left it and your heart nearly drops to your stomach as you realize that you left it in your locker after you grabbed your phone, keys and the Eye of Horus paper. 

Fucking fuck. Okay, scratch that, go with plan number one and if you get shanked, you have to leave the knife in and go get help. God, you just wanted to go nap and this fucker decides to choose you to mug. Life really just stopped holding back their punches, huh? What did you do to upset the universe?

“I know you.” He says after a long pause. You squint at him. Maybe he was a customer you served today and that’s why he says that he knows you? You sure as hell don’t know anybody that would rob teenagers for their tip money. Well, maybe Jake would though? Where the fuck is he when you need him anyways? Man, it would be the perfect time for him to swoop down from the buildings and do his Moon Knight thing. Kick some ass, take some names. Beat the absolute shit out of this guy so you could go take a nap. Do you have to call for him to come appear and save you or does Khonshus job only happen at night? You doubt that Khonshu would warn Jake about the situation that you’re in. The little bird-bitch. 

“I don’t know you.” You say. Man, you really should have brought your taser. What’s the point of having a taser if you don’t carry it around on you? You just didn’t want to get arrested for having one on you because it’s illegal in the United Kingdom. But, it would be really fucking handy to have it now. You could feel your phone pressing against your thigh. The emergency number for the U.K is 999, all you have to do is be able to call them if you need to. You should actually dial them and report a mugging but you don’t want to get involved with the police because of what you did to move countries. You only need to call them if you get a stab wound or any other major injuries. 

You tuck your fingers inward to make a fist as you prepare yourself to throw hands. You did this last time and you only got away because of your neighbors. They aren’t here now, so you’re on your own. Maybe you’ll call Marc's number if you get stabbed, he was in the marines and a mercenary, he has to have knowledge on stab wounds. He told you not to call his number unless it was a emergency and if this isn’t one than you don’t know what the fuck is.

“You don’t remember me?” He says. You almost snort at how pretentious he sounds. 

“Yeah, I don’t remember every brown eyed bitch that is willing to rob a kid.” You say. Why is he so surprised that you don’t know who the fuck he is?

“We met before.” He supplies and you stare blankly at him. You obviously were familiar to him unless he was mistaking you for another person.

“June.” He hints and your mouth parts open in surprise. This man is the same god damn mugger from before! Holy fucking shit. You almost laugh at that. Even after Marc beat his ass, he still is working the same nine to five job and he’s boasting about it. You stare at the eye slits across his face, any bruises that he might have had were healed. He sure as hell didn’t learn his lesson. What were you supposed to say to him now that he confirmed who he is? Hey man, how have you been? Still mugging teens huh? Or: How’s the kids and partner? Are y’all still a family or married? Going through a divorce huh? Yeah, I would divorce you too if I found out you were mugging children.

“Oh,” You say instead. “I thought you were dead for a while.” His eyes narrow at you. You did hope that he wasn’t dead because it would have meant you were a acquaintance to murder; but if he did kick the bucket, it means that you would be safe from this and you would be going up the stairwell and napping sooner than later.

“Still alive and well.” He snarls at you. You glance at the knife he held. It was the size of a bodice dagger, the blade was about five inches long. If you get stabbed, that’s going to cause some damage. Of course, it depends how bad it will be for where he aims and lands on. You just need to throw a punch and push past him. You need to run for your apartment. Wait, should you lead him to where you live? That sounds like a terrible idea. Okay, well, maybe you should book it for the bus stop? There has to be people there. There’s no fucking way that this man would be willing to stab a kid in front of a group of bystanders. 

“I still don’t have any-” You start but get cut off by his fist connecting with your face. Your head whips to your right as all your breath seems to stop and freeze in your chest. The pounding in your head covers any noise that could have warned you that he was taking a step forward before you feel his hand wrap the cloth of your shirt into his fist. He smelled like cigarettes and axe body spray. The left side of your face stung from the impact and you knew that a bruise would be forming on your face by tomorrow if you make it out of this situation alive.

You reach up and grasp his wrist, your fingernails digging into the cloth of his gloves. If you’re going to die at the hands of this fucker, you’re going to get his DNA underneath your damn nails for the police. He pulls you forward and slams your back into the wall, whatever breath you had is gone as soon as you felt the impact. Your head stung and your chest aches. You let go of his wrist and form your hand into a fist before swinging. His head whips to the side and he groans at the impact of your fist against his cheek. Slowly, he turns his head and glares angrily at you. Did he seriously not expect you to fight back? 

He lets go of your shirt and steps back a little before his fist makes contact with your stomach. You wheeze at the feeling and bend forward, clutching your torso with both hands before he grabs you by the back of your collar and throws you down to the ground. You roll a couple of feet, your skin gets torn apart due to the road burn. You slow to a complete stop and groan as you lay on your side. The gravel of the alley digs into your skin and crunches underneath his feet as he walks towards you. Fucking hell your body hurts. Your palms sting as you roll onto your back and try to catch your breath from being punched in the gut. You need to get up before he kicks the ever-loving shit out of you and gives you a concussion or breaks your ribs or arms.

You need to get up before he makes sure that this is the last bit of daylight you’ll ever see. Through half lidded eyes, you stare at the bright blue sky above you, and watch a bird fly over you with its wings spread wide. You couldn’t tell what type it was and you didn’t care much at the moment to think about it. You just need to get up. You need to get the fuck up. Your palms press into the gravel as you bend your torso to sit up. The muscles in your torso ache in protest as a shadow blocks your view of the sky above you. You bend your neck back and glare at the man before you. You could feel trickles of blood run down your forehead and you saw the drip of blood drop from the arch of your right brow and hit your cheek before continuing on trailing a path down your face.

He swipes the knife across your cheek and narrowly misses your eye. You jerk backwards from him as a sting of pain spikes across the fresh wound and warm blood runs down your face. A gasp leaves you and a scream begins to build up in your throat. This is the moment that you understood that he wanted more than money or any belongings that he could pawn, he wanted revenge; and even though you weren’t the one who beat his ass until he was unconscious, you were there as your neighbor did so and you didn’t stop him. 

You saw his leg swing back before you felt his foot make contact with your ribs. You fall back, your head hitting against the ground and once again, all air gets knocked out of your lungs. He steps forward, placing his foot on your chest and putting all his body weight onto the joint as he leans downward a bit and stares at you. The sunlight glints off of the blade he grasps in his hand and momentarily blinds you. This was going to be difficult to run away from since he’s already beating your ass. You need to scream for help, surely there’s someone nearby and willing to check in on you or call the police. Your hands wrap around his calf as you try to push him off of you so you could inhale some air but alas your attempts are futile.

You kick your feet against the ground, scrambling for some leverage. Maybe if you use the force of your torso against him he will stumble away from you. Your shoes slide against the gravel as you struggle to plant your feet onto the ground and force your torso into the yoga bridge pose. He presses his foot down harder and you swore that you felt your sternum crack under the pressure. You let your legs slide down and lay flat against the ground as you stare with anger at the man. You could feel panic begin to settle in your bones as you open and close your mouth like a fish out of water. You need to scream for help but you had no air in your lungs to do so. You try to force away the panic so you would have a clear brain to think with. 

Okay, you need to get him off. How do you get this fucking man off of you? Your eyes land on the one sight that all of your male classmates would protect the most during a game of dodgeball at recess in middle-school. He’s a man with a weak spot that happens to be right at arm's length. You should have realized it before, you would have gotten him off of you sooner. You let go of his calf and ball your hand into a fist before harshly slamming it against the area where the sun doesn’t shine. He lets out a gasp of air and stumbles back a few steps. You take a deep breath of air as you waste zero time to push yourself off of the ground. 

You spare a glance down at your palms and frown at the sight of blood seeping from the wounds that were made from when you scraped along the pavement when he threw you down. You pat your pockets for your belongings as you walk towards him. He was bent over and clutching his privates as he blocked the only exit to the alley. You need to run past him and book it for either your apartment or the bus stop. You pick up your pace into a jog before pushing your legs to move faster past him. He reaches out on his right side and grabs onto the cloth of your shirt and tugs you towards him. He stands up straight as you call for help, screaming it like you were a getting murdered and it was your last chance of survival, and it sure as hell felt exactly like that. Your back hits his chest as his left arm wraps around your throat and his knife pokes into your throat.

“Call for fucking help one more time and I’ll slit your god damn throat.” He threatens. Huh, this sounds awfully familiar. Your nose began to sting from the tears forming in your eyes. You could only hope that anyone that was nearby would be willing to check on your pleas. Maybe you’ll get really lucky and someone would pass the alleyway and see this. He kicks at the back of your knees, letting go of you temporarily as your knees give out underneath you and hit the gravel. He bends down, wrapping his arm once more around your throat and digging the tip of his blade back into your skin. You feel the blade digging into your throat as he bends down and begins to pat your torso for anything to take from you. 

With each hard pat, you know that the spots will be red from his hits. His hands trail down to your jean pockets and he pulls out the Ziploc bag that contains the Eye of Horus paper, your lanyard falls out of the same pocket and lands on the ground. 

“What is this?” He says behind your ear. His breath was hot on your ear and you wince at how close he is to you. He keeps your head tucked to his body as he removes the knife from your throat so both of his hands are available to open the baggy. You know that the piece of paper was just that: a piece of paper. But you don’t want him to damage it. It brought you comfort like it was a teddy bear and you don’t want to lose that. He takes out the paper and drops the bag as he unfolds the parchment. You swallow as you look down your nose and at the eye that stares back at you. Your blood drips off of your jawline and onto the paper, a small splat could be heard as it hits the parchment.

“Horus.” He grumbles, “What is that? An anime character or some shit?” You don’t answer, you weren’t going to explain to this prick what this symbol means. He doesn’t add anything but scoffs, you think the sound meant that he finished skimming through the description of the god and the protection symbol. He grips the edge of the paper and you nearly cry out when he tears it in half. Your wide eyes watch as he layers the paper over each other and he tears it once again. He lets the paper drop to the gravel, you swallow around the lump forming in your throat and try to ignore the sting of your nose and tears begin to make your eyesight blurry. 

More of your blood soaks the torn paper as his hand travels to your other pocket and pulls out your phone, the lock-screen picture of your parents lighting up on the device with the movement before he clicks the button on the side and the screen goes black. In the reflection, you could see your injured face and the desperation behind your eyes.

“Please don’t take that.” You plead. “That’s the only thing I have left of my parents.” Every photo of the life you had before was on that phone since you don’t visit your old social media accounts in fear of it stating that you were active online. The SD card was still in the phone and any image saved to the device was more valuable than gold to you. You don’t see him pocket the phone but you can hear him do so. This time the tears roll down your cheeks and the sob you were holding back leaves your throat. His grip tightens around your windpipe, making you choke on your own sob and quiet down from anyone who might be nearby. All of this for zero money and just to get some revenge on a teenager for being in the wrong place and at the wrong time. Fuck this dude. You felt the tip of the blade poking into your neck before you saw his right arm was up and pointing the knife at your throat. The tip drags from the right side of your neck and to the back of your neck. Another choked sob escapes you as tears blur your vision and mix with the trail of blood and sting the cut on your cheek. 

You felt his boot hit your back before you registered that you were face down on the pavement. The smell of metal, dirt, and paper fill your nostrils before you roll over onto your back with a groan and a half moan for help. He marches a couple of steps to your left and he pulls back his leg, the toe of his boot hitting the side of your head, once, twice, three times before he directs his kicks to your side. He had what he wanted, your phone. He could wipe the memory off of it and reset the device before trading it into a pawn shop for some cash. But, this was the cherry on top of the cake for him. He’s getting his revenge nearly three months later and you were nothing to him but a punching bag. 

You don’t know when your eyes closed and darkness took you from the beating you were receiving. But you do know that when your eyes peel open, your lashes stick to your cheeks from the dried blood on your skin, that the world is spinning and it isn't going to stop any time soon. You lay still, your body past the point of it aching and hurting and more into the territory of it feeling like you got hit by a bus and you were in absolute pain. You could feel a puddle of blood surrounding your head and the damp collar of your work shirt didn’t help the suffocating feeling you were experiencing by how it clung to your skin and around your bruising neck. 

The sky above you was covered in gray and white clouds that were slowly darkening with patches of blue poking through. It was going to rain soon and you didn’t want to risk walking back to your apartment injured and bloody on wet pavement. You need to get up; and still, despite that realization, you lay there and watch as the clouds roll by and cover the patches of blue. You don’t know what time it is, but you do know that there’s a chance that Steven may knock on your apartment door or call your phone if the bitch hasn’t shut it off yet. He’ll figure something went wrong and he might look for you if you don’t head over for dinner. A selfish part of you didn’t want him to find you bleeding out in an alley and save you from whatever potential internal bleeding you have. Not because it would cause him trauma and self blame for not looking for you sooner; But because, you hope that you will die in this alley due to everything you lost.

Your old life was on that phone. You lost the memories of the life you had before you were blipped. You lost the pictures and videos of your parents and friends; of homecoming dance pictures, trips to Coney Island, and bookstores. You lost the audio of you and your best friend laughing together over some dumb joke and how both of your eyes shined in the video with wrinkled corners and wide smiles. You lost the video of your mother and father speaking your name as they urged you to cut the video and to set it up to a timer for a photo instead. You will never get to look back on how they sounded and spoke your name with love and affection. Your parents lay six feet underground in the same Earth that you walk on every day; and you laying in your own pool of blood was the closest that you have ever been to them since. 

Everything was gone simply because a man chose you as his victim and you couldn’t defend yourself well. You don’t notice that it began to rain until you felt the first few drops land on your face. You need to get up and go take care of your injuries so Steven and Marc won’t find you dead in an alley. They will blame themselves for your death and you know that they will also do so for how beaten up you are. You need to get up and you don’t want to. You want to die. You want to give up and go to whatever or wherever it is that you’ll go to after you pass. You want to just call it quits and leave this Earth or roam this planet like a ghost. You just don’t want to exist anymore. 

Everything about existence hurts. You hurt; and it’s more than just the physical pain that you were currently going through. You have wounds that you have yet to heal after years of neglect. You want to die. You want to die. You want to die. You want to die, but you still painstakingly push yourself up into a sitting position. 

Your sides scream in protest and your breath gets caught in your throat. The buildings around you sway as if you were on a boat and blood mixed with rain ran down your forehead and made you close your right eye to prevent any blinding you. Your palms are wet and sticky with blood, your jeans and shirt cling to your skin with the liquid of the body fluid and rain. Saying that you are uncomfortable would be an understatement. You slowly inhale a breath of air through your mouth, the taste of metal was gross on your tongue. Your sides expands slowly and you only hiss out in pain when a shock floods your torso. You bend forward a bit, the movement causing you to cry out and clutch your bruising side as you squeeze your eyes shut. 

Dying is an easy choice, getting up is going to be a bitch. A mumble of string together curse words leaves your lips as you wait for the pain to die out enough that you could focus on opening your eyes and taking in how bad your injuries are. You sure as hell felt like your ribs on your left side were cracked and perhaps broken. You had to have a concussion and the blood loss was making you woozy. The cut on your hands and cheek probably had to have some form of infection beginning to fester in the wounds from the dirty ground; and they definitely will get infected if you don’t clean them properly in a couple of hours. Slowly, you open your eyes and tilt your head down to your damp shirt. You carefully pull back your shirt from your torso and lift it enough just see some of the damage below your belly button on your side. 

Blood and rain ran down the visible patch of your torso as you stared at the darkening of your skin, it was slowly turning purple and black. You lower your shirt, you don’t need to raise it up any higher to know that it was matching the bit that you saw. You glance at your right hand, your knuckles are a little swollen and the sight of it makes you a tad bit more numb inside. You did fight back, you did punch him, it just wasn’t enough. You look away from it and to the entrance of the alley way, cars pass with their windshield wipers sliding back and forth across the glass. The windows were rolled up and people were tucked warmly inside with the heater blasting on high. You wonder if anyone saw you knocked out in an alley and thought that you were just a knocked over trash bag with your work uniform being a black shirt and black pants. Did they not notice? Were they too busy paying attention to the road or listening to whatever was happening on the radio? Or did they see you and just not care to check on you? 

There were a lot of people like that in New York. Some of the people who were homeless were often doing drugs or drinking their problems away with alcohol. There were several stories of people pushing others onto the subway tracks when the train was visible and about to make its stop. New York was not kind and maybe you thought London would more likely be kind enough to check on a person who was injured. You don’t know if you're grateful or not that nobody seemed to notice you. Your gaze trails to the ground in front of you. There lay the damp and shredded pieces of paper of the Eye of Horus, the ink was running from the rain and your blood; and not far from it was the wet plastic bag you carried it in and the orange lanyard that holds your keys. You bend forward, reaching for the plastic baggy and crying in pain and despair as your fingers wrap around it. 

Carefully, you pick up the pieces of paper, most of it falls apart as you pinch the parchment between your fingers and place it into the baggy. You don’t know if the liquid running down your cheeks was the rain, tears, or your blood, but either way you try to collect and save as much as the paper as you could, just so one less thing could get taken away from you. Sobs begin to build up in your chest and you try to hold them in as you focus on picking up the paper Steven gave to you. Your shoulders start to shake as you pick up the final piece and pinch the baggy shut. You hold the bag to your chest as a sob escapes you and soon another one follows. You try to hold in your cries but all that causes is more pain in your body. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fucking fair. Why does this bullshit happen to you? 

A choked out sob leaves you and just like that, the water-gates were open and you were completely crying. Nothing was fair, why do you have to have a shitty week? Why did you have to be the one chosen to be this asshole's victim? Why did your parents have to die and why weren’t you in their shoes? You let everything out in your cries and sharp pains of breath. You just wanted a damn nap and you sure as hell got one because you went unconscious for who-knows-how-long. Everything hurts and sucks and here you are: crying in an alley during a rain storm while shivering and drenched in blood and rain water. This was a terrible Tuesday, the worst one you think you ever had. By the time that you calm down enough to think rather than to feel, the rain seemed to become heavier and you were sure that you were getting hyperthermia. You were cold, especially your hands and nose. Your teeth clatter together and your face aches. You need to get up. You let the emotional numbness take over, you feel drained and exhausted.

With the state that you’re in, you’re going to need support on getting up, there is no way that you would be able to push yourself off of the ground without help. You look around the alley, trying to focus enough that you could clearly see your surroundings through the rocking of the world. There wasn’t anything but trash cans and bags of garbage that you could use. Through your hazy thoughts, you consider that you could knock them over and injure yourself more if you did try to use them. Your eyes trail away from the bins and to the brick wall next to you. There was about an inch between each brick that you could use as a ledge to help pull yourself up. It might damage your fingers some but it’s your only chance to get up. You didn’t move to London after committing fraud, get scared by a deity multiple times, and have a knife held to your throat twice just to die in an alley.

You stuff the plastic baggy into your jean pockets and scoop up your lanyard off of the ground and place it into your other front pocket. You cry out as you rotate your body so you’re on your hands and knees before crawling slowly over to the wall. Your body screams as you lift your upper body and grasp the wall with your hands. It took what felt like forever to stand and lean against the brick to help stabilize yourself. The world seems to spin faster as you’re standing and you close your eyes and try to calmly take a breath and do some breathing exercises. Inhale slowly, try to ignore the sharp fucking pain in your side, hold for five, four, three, two, one; and slowly exhale and repeat. You go through the cycle several times until you feel nauseous. Your stomach churns and you don’t have a chance to hold back your vomit. You throw up directly onto your shoes, almost in the same spot you did all those months ago. The taste of bile was gross and your throat burns a bit from it. You keep your eyes closed as you wait for your stomach to settle. 

You let out a shuddered breath, the smell of vomit, rain, and metal floods your nostrils as you inhale and prepare yourself to continue to fight. Your eyes flutter open and you stand up straight. With every exhausting step you take, you lean your hand against the wall and move; and you keep moving despite the stumbling of your feet and spinning of the environment around you. You keep moving despite your head pounding and the brightness of the world becoming too much for you; and when you fall due to slipping on a mixture of your blood and rain water on the sidewalk's pavement, you get up and continue. You push forward and persevere just like you always have.

—

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[ne0ngenisis]

Let's talk about my BABIES

(in order of acquisition)

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Number One! ThinkPad T440p! (Not actually named)

This was a bit of an impulse purchase, as all of my laptops have been in the last threeish months. I knew of the trans girl stereotype of ThinkPads and Linux, and I wanted that. Especially because my laptop at the time was a crappy HP Stream (pictured underneath the ThinkPad) that couldn't run Windows without crashing constantly.

So I did some research and found out that this was the last model with socketed processors, and just kinda went for it! It arrived in much better condition than the pics suggested so I imagine the seller picked the wrong laptop out of the pile, but I'm not complaining.

It truly was nothing special when it was new, but I've upgraded it quite a bit since then! A 2C/4T 2.4GHz i3-4000M to a 4c/8t 3.7GHz i7-4800MQ, 16GB of RAM, and a 1TB SSD! It took me about five hours to install and configure Arch Linux on here, and that was with the guidance of friends who are a lot nerdier than me and I actually cried like, twice, out of frustration... BUT, it's been a solid performer ever since.

It cost me about $170 after everything I've done to it, but I still need to replace the screen on it with a 1080p IPS model, because the 768p TN panel is now literally the worst laptop screen I own. Apple seriously had better ones 12 years before this.

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Number two! 12" iBook G3/500, "Baby"

Baby features in my current profile banner, as it's the laptop I carry around with me all the time to write on the go. The battery life is still pretty fantastic for its age, and it's super cute and small (the same depth as my ThinkPad not including the thicc battery, but about 2" narrower due to 4:3 aspect ratio).

I also picked this one up on a whim, because I was taken by an Apple hyperfixation, and also the image of a coffee shop hipster writing on an iBook. This one isn't a clamshell, love it or hate it, but I love it.

It's the very earliest model from 2001, with a 500MHz G3, 64MB of built-in RAM, and a CD-ROM drive. The original 10GB hard drive was missing so I went through the painstaking process of digging down to where it belongs and installing a 40GB IDE laptop drive I LITERALLY found in the trash.

I also spent $17 on a pair of working batteries and ended up with one that lasts for a good 4.5 hours when all you're doing is word processing, which I was and generally still do. Very close to factory battery life. I also spent about $16 on a charger because I didn't have one yet.

At first, I put Mac OS 9.2.2 on here, because it didn't have enough RAM for OS X as far as I could tell. Once I got the RAM upgrade (now 576MB, 64MB built-in + 512MB module), I installed OSX Tiger on here as well.

It's got some old OS9 games like Diablo II, Quake, Warcraft II, and I actually still own a physical copy of Riven on CD, so those all work on there. And I'm also using it to write, of course. However! It could not run Halo: Combat Evolved. Which led me to more purchases, lmao. I have considered doing a logic board swap to a faster CPU but that would be a daunting task...

It ended up costing me about $90, after the laptop, ram upgrade, charger, and working batteries.

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Number three! 14" iBook G4/1.07, "Ghost"

Ghost is a funny one. Also driven by impulse, in this case, to have an old Mac laptop that could play Halo. I actually received it on the same day as the next one on this list. This is a 2004 1.07GHz 14" iBook G4 with 256MB of built-in RAM and a 256MB module for a total of 512MB, and a combo drive, I believe. This one actually came with a 1GB module in it, and an Airport card, but I swapped some parts around to make my G4 PowerBook more usable.

It was incredibly cursed, including weird freezing and crashes, refusing to install updates and to mount USB devices, and then it just stopped seeing the hard drive all together. I took it apart twice, once to take the hard drive out to discover it was the original 40GB Apple branded hard drive, and another to put it back in once it started booting in my PowerBook G4 (number 4 on the list), and all the cursedness went away somehow!

I still named it Ghost in honor of the cursedness.

I don't have a good battery for it at this time. Right now the only working 14" iBook battery I have (which I paid like $35 for) lasts about an hour, and the 12" battery I have in there now dies at a seemingly random percentage around 60% because the battery isn't reporting its capacity correctly. I did design and order a 3D printed adapter bracket thing so maybe I can stop using fucking masking tape to hold the battery in. It may become more used than my 12" once I get the battery, entirely due to the larger screen and faster processor.

I did have to replace the F12 key, because the original one was missing. This was made a lot easier by having the PowerBook G4 which we'll go over next. Now it's like an accent escape key for a fancy mechanical keyboard, or a gold tooth!

This one actually cost me the least out of all of them, at $69, including the battery I'm not even using, and it came with a second charger, which is good! Though, I guess with the 3D printed battery adapter you can up that price to $80. Or lower it to $44 if the battery doesn't count!

---

Number four! 15" PowerBook G4/1.33G, "Alice"

Alice was purchased just days later than my iBook G4, but showed up on the same day. And boy, she was a basket case. I have named her Alice because of "Al" being the elemental symbol for Aluminum, as she's a 2004 Aluminum PowerBook G4, with a 1.33GHz processor and 1.5GB of RAM. It originally came with 512MB of RAM in two modules, but I put in a 512MB stick I found in the trash, plus the 1GB module and the Airport card from the iBook G4 to make it a more usable laptop in the modern day.

The problems were immediate when I got it plugged in for the first time, as there was seemingly no display, until I noticed the dark screen started to change colors. There was a picture... there was just no backlight. To my surprise, the sketchy looking aftermarket battery actually worked fine still, and it was good for about 3.5 hours of use.

Getting it hooked up to an external display, I started to notice that the trackpad button didn't work either. It's a good thing these parts were cheap.

I actually tried fixing the backlight inverter myself, as the issue was there was a coil that had detached itself from the board. My jank soldering work lasted about 15 minutes before it made a buzzing sound and one of the little wire stubs came detached from the side of the coil. RIP.

A week or so later, the backlight inverter and trackpad cable show up, and me being able to actually use the laptop properly shows even more problems. It won't sleep when it's plugged in. But only when it's plugged in. I can't get into the boot picker. Five of the keys on the keyboard also don't work. As it turns out, all of these problems are keyboard problems, and that fixed all of them.

Basket case-ness is different from cursedness. I knew what parts needed replacing on the PowerBook. The iBook just misbehaved until it suddenly stopped misbehaving.

It cost me about $95, including the laptop itself, the backlight inverter board, trackpad ribbon cable, and a glorious (pure sex to type on) new-old stock keyboard.

---

Number Five! Late 06 15" MacBook Pro, 2.16GHz C2D, "Dolores"

My MacBook Pro. As with the others, it was an impulse purchase, though it's required the most extreme repairs of any of these laptops so far. It's a Late 2006 15" model, with a Core 2 Duo T7400, and pre-upgraded to the maximum of 3GB of RAM and a 120GB SSD. It came with all sorts of goodies, including an 85-watt MagSafe charger, copies of iWork and iLife 2009, the original recovery DVDs for 10.4.8 Tiger, and a hard copy of OSX 10.6 Snow Leopard. What it did not include was a battery.

Initially I tried booting it up from nothing, and it would get stuck on a white or blue screen sometime after the Apple logo disappeared, and the same would happen when I put the Snow Leopard DVD into the drive. When I put the Tiger DVDs in, it would install the OS fine, but the resulting install wouldn't boot either. And then I noticed the artifacting.

I knew that this was a possibility with basically any model of pre-unibody MacBook Pro. All of them have graphics issues, though the '07 and '08 models have it a lot worse than the '06 models. I end up complaining about this on a Discord server, and another queer nerd tells me that the boot failure is probably because of the GPU being marginal, and since it's an ATI Radeon GPU instead of an Nvidia GPU, a reflow might help it.

So... I take it apart for the second time that day, after the first time to repaste the CPU, Northbridge, and GPU, and I bathe the GPU in 350°C air from my rework station for about 6 minutes, letting the board rest for 20 minutes before I reapply thermal paste again and reassemble it. Now it boots into MacOS fine. I installed Snow Leopard and updated to Lion, and it's been fine since, though the 32-bit EFI firmware has caused some issues with attempts to get Linux working on the damn thing, though I'm told the GPU could just be playing nice with MacOS but still not good enough to work in Linux.

I tried getting a battery off of eBay, a cheap replacement battery, but it only half works. It powers the laptop, but it won't show up in the OS to show any percentage or capacity, and it won't charge either. So I bought a single-use battery. I'm trying to message the seller and get my money back right now.

It has cost me about $74 including the cost of the crappy essentially single use battery. I'll probably get an actually good one from OWC eventually, because I want to be able to use this laptop as a daily at some point.

---

Well, that's it! For now. I also have my eyes set on a mid 2009 white MacBook but that will be a later kind of thing. Not right now, while there's still work to be done on my other laptops.

[laneelliot12]

I love the way you draw cats! How did you adopt a style like that? Who/What were your inspirations?

Thank you!!! I'm so glad people have been liking them!! I'd say I get a lot of style elements from popular cartoons, like pokemon, but I also take a lot of care in my references, and learned to breakdown their shapes over years of trial and error. I'd say a majority of the inspo I got was from random warrior cats speed paints on youtube- I'd pause the frames and pay attention to all the different steps they did! I don't think any one youtuber stood out to me as someone I got my style from, but It's def an amalgamation of a bunch of creators from the early 2010's! I'd love to post something, or even a video one day, of how I do each of the steps I do to get where I get! [Below is a retelling of my art journey if anyone is interested!]

I'd like to think I've got two styles of drawing: art for ocs, and canonized fan art. For both I use a great deal of references, either chosen from stock/free use image sites or from pictures of my three irl cats (who are very photogenic <3)! I am self taught, which means I've gone through a LOT of trial and error over the good decade I've been into the WC fandom. About a year or two ago, my laptop (that I've had since childhood) crashed so hard it deleted everything from my hard drive, losing YEARS of progress/artwork that I hadn't posted anywhere. Foolishly, months before that, I'd deleted my DeviantArt where all my cringe emo ocs were posted, something I was embarrassed of at the time, and now deeply regret doing (fr keep and date ALL of your art it is so important for your growth). I wish more than anything that I could post some of it here to show how my style has grown and changed, but sadly, I'll just have to describe it to ya.

[^^^ Above: the only bit of art I have saved from that time!]

I started drawing wc art in the 4th grade with some friends at my school- a very close friend of mine had started doing it, and I had never really drawn before, so I just followed along with what she did; the meme-y 'firestar doesn't like waffles/derp' fad of the time had be in a VICE GRIP and a lot of my work looked like that. I drew almost exclusively on paper, until my parents let me use the trackpad/mouse on the family computer in mspaint, where my passion for it really started to take off.

From there I got into deviantart, and started out like a lot of young kids did- thick, uniform lineart, coloring in the flats manually, tons of airbrushes and clip images of sparkles, the GOOD STUFF. I would hold paper up to the computer screen and trace the emo mspaint scourge pmvs frame by frame, I was obsessed. Then, for my 13th birthday, my uncle gifted me my very first wacom tablet; a tiny, 6x6 plastic plate that came with a pen and a too short chord. I drew constantly, watching speed paints and reading riverspirit comics until my eyes melted out of my skull, rp'd and posted little comics about my day to day. This went on and I very slowly started improving the more naturally drawing came to me; I held my pen different, downloaded a pirated version of firealpaca, learned about lineweight, obtained LAYERS. Almost seven years ago now, that friend I started drawing with passed away while she was very young. I couldn't stomach drawing warrior cats art for a long time after that; and, my parents had been urging me to give it up for a while too (in their opinions, if I was going to waste my time drawing, it should be something I could do to make money. If only they could see my commission having ass now!!). I still made art, but I did it formally; still life, paintings, figure sketches. When I got to highschool, I went to a specialized program for gifted students (burnout king right here) and took a TON of formal art classes, studying it as my main field. I learned about shapes and color and the natural flow of a piece; but I never really get over my love of cartoons, or my love of warrior cats art. There was just something so special about it, so unique to any fandom I've ever been in, that eventually, I was called back to it. My life was very difficult during that time, when I decided to redraw some of my old digital art for a class warmup. I hadn't touched a laptop in years, and it was ROUGH, but I reconnected with it instantly, and it was the first bit of serotonin I'd had in a WHILE. I got back into roleplays, got back into tumblr, got back into all the old stuff that made me happy.

I graduated highschool in 2020 and started drawing a lot of warrior cats content in between shifts- which leads to where I am now! I was deeply insecure about it and would hide the fact I did it from people I knew irl because I was afraid they'd think im cringe (I am cringe and I love that about myself now, thank u therapy)- and now, I pay for our internet bill off warrior cats commission money, which felt like a pretty big leap!! I still like doing 'formal traditional art', and it has influenced my art and it's shapes a ton- but I still cling to the anime eyes I loved to draw as the kid who wanted to make cartoons for all the world to see.

[ravenstakeflight]

wings take flight

[AO3]

Three months of sneaky measurements and spending less and less time with Levi had culminated on his birthday.

Walls, Eren hopes he likes it.

December twenty-fifth.

Christmas Day to a lot of people.

To Eren, though, that's secondary to the more important title for this day:

It's Heichou's - Levi, Levi - birthday today.

They all sit around in a circle, Levi's (and Eren's, too, if he's being honest, but they aren't) living room just barely big enough for the people who'd decided to participate in their friend group's Secret Santa exchange.

Hanji, Jean, Mikasa, Erwin, Levi, and Armin. Fuck. Eren's missing.

Levi sits there with a smirk on his face and a gift for Erwin under the tree. A tiny Captain America shield, wrapped in enough wrapping paper to make it look like a laptop. Ha.

He gets an exasperated look from Erwin when his Commander friend - they're just friends this time - unwraps it.

"Really, Levi?" A sigh. "Come on. You could've done a little bit better, at least?"

He just smirks.

"Ha. No. You got exactly what you deserv-"

A crash as the door opens.

"I'm not lat- aw man, I'm late." Eren grumbles. Levi snorts, patting the empty space next to him and gracefully accepting the kiss Eren presses to his cheek as something tense in him unwinds. Thank the Walls, and something must be evident in his gaze because Eren softens more, if that was ever possible, and kisses him again. "I'm here, Levi."

"I know, Eren. Shut up." He'd given up on trying to hide what he's thought from Eren around the tenth time the man had peeled back his every layer and held his heart in his hands with a smile that said I'll keep this safe. It takes just around twenty minutes for Hanji to leap up and grab Eren's gift.

Eren stares down at his gift with a raised eyebrow. A few pokes later, he deigns it safe to unwrap and it reveals a pretty little journal. It had thin gold filigree embedded in it, creating some kind of dreamy effect with the tree the filigree created. Levi approves. Eren deserves all of the pretty, beautiful things for himself.

"Dream journal with locks so that you can write out whatever you need, Eren!" They say cheerfully. "Who'd you get?"

"Levi, this is for you." Eren says quietly. "I, uh. I hope you like it?" He holds out the package he’s been holding onto to Levi, who takes it with a raised eyebrow.

He opens it quickly, the smooth cardboard box taking him off guard, and when he lifts the lid-

Levi can't breathe.

He picks the paper up, finding familiar symbols written in it. A note written just for him, in a world that had forgotten the language the two of them grew up with the first time. A note for the one person who would understand what was written, maybe more so than anyone else that knew what it said.

For the one person who always, always took care of me.

Thank you, heichou.

I wanted to give you something in return.

(And happy birthday.)

"... Eren?" Levi's voice is nearly a breath when he looks over at the love of his lives. "What did you do-"

"Look down, Heichou." Eren murmurs. The way his title - belonging to a man long dead, but a man alive again - still seems to drip from his lips would scare Levi if he was still startled by anything more. "I made you something."

He looks down.

And has his breath stolen away once more.

Inside the box is a dark green jacket, the shade still familiar to Levi's eyes even though the first time he saw it is a lifetime away. Green, like the short cloaks the Scouts had worn, like the trees they'd flown through, green like Eren's eyes when he looks into the grassy fields.

Green like Levi hasn't seen for years, and it has taken his breath away just like the man who apparently created it.

He picks it up slowly, and it unfurls to reveal a jacket-

It sways in the air, and his eyes catch on something before he realizes.

No way.

No fucking way.

"Eren, did you-" His voice is choked up, and he can tell that the rest of the idiots have finally caught on to the fact that there's something more significant about this. "Did you really-"

The glint of a shield that the world itself has forgotten takes Levi's attention once again.

"My mother taught me to sew when I was little," Eren admits. "I'd nearly forgotten, but I just thought it would be nice." He takes a deep breath, staring at Levi nervously. "I know we can't fly the same way we used to, Levi, and I realized that neither of us have anything to remember it by, so-"

"You moron-" Levi tries not to curse as he hauls Eren forward, into him for a long, deep kiss. "I can't believe you thought I'd ever dislike this-"

"It's just part one, Levi-" Eren giggles a little. Levi freezes. Part one? "... Part two is- maybe, one day- if you want, I used to help assemble the 3DMG on the days we weren;t going out, and-"

Levi cuts him off again, pulling him in for another wet, open kiss. When he pulls back, it's to the sight of a ruffled, rumpled, and grinning Eren.

"I'll take that as a yes, it was well-received?"

"... Eren." His voice breaks. To his horror, there's tears stinging at his eyes. "Eren, for the love of the Walls, please tell me you're not lying to me about-"

"Look at the jacket, Levi." Eren soothes softly. "Look at it."

The Wings of Freedom still glitter on the back of the jacket, so terrifyingly, hauntingly familiar to their cloaks.

"I wouldn't lie. Not to you, not about this. If you want it, it's yours."

(Days, weeks, months later, they're ready. The two of them sneak off with the gear they've made and put it back on. The callouses and muscle they need, they've tried to build back up, and it hurts to no end when they go home, but it feels so good. It's good to fly, it's good to jump through the trees like the two of them did millennia ago.

And on the back of Levi's jacket, the Wings of Freedom shine once again.)

[secret-time-is-here]

An Error's Journey

Chapter 80 - Terrible Secret

Previous - First - Next - We know

Does the 5.1K+ words excuse a three week wait? Also I threw in a lot of old details/questions in this chapter and I love the whole thing.

TW: Implied Dreammare

His soul felt like it was racing with excitement. The thrill of this secret, being able to surprise everyone, made him want to burst. It took a lot of careful planning but he made time for himself away from the castle. He missed the little plots he had. The scheming that went into being Lapse, coming up with something new and big every now and again just to throw Omega or even his friends off his trail.

Firstly, he tested the waters, asking Death to join him in Omega, just a small at-home date in the penthouse still under Lapse’s name. To say the other was surprised would be an understatement. To his credit, Reaper was careful on the subject. Poking gently, making sure he was ready for this new step, even if it was something so small. However, it was nice to feel the loving intent behind everything, and he sorely needed the reminder that this was a bigger step than anything he had done in the past weeks.

They sat contently, tangled in each other's arms as nighttime air and noise drifted in. They kept all the lights off, basking in each other's presence as the glow of neon lights crept into the open room. It was a little unnerving, finally being back in Omega, but it also brought him joy. The initial fear had been worth it. It was a step in the right direction. Moving steadily toward being able to visit Sydney in person, see his workers, and be able to be back as well as be hands-on in both his businesses.

The next step was a little harder since he wanted it to be a complete surprise to Sydney when he came back. So, he warned all his workers but her, giving them all a good scare. Of course, they still don’t know he’s Error, but they were surprised to hear from him at all. And while some were on the fence about keeping his return from Sydney, the surprise of it convinced them.

Then, he did the last preparation of visiting the Outsider and asked Chronic to follow him to the VIP loft. 

He wanted to spend some time there and reacquaint with the bustle and buzz of people at a safe distance, take the small steps and take his time to readjust. And, through his listing of the pros and cons, this gave the most bonuses. He got to spread out all the paperwork he had without fear of eavesdroppers, as well as being able to spend more one on one time with Chronic.

It was difficult to talk with them–at first and still days later, as they seemed to seclude themselves more and more, but Error managed.

The small talk was stale but better than nothing. He was starting to understand the trouble his lovers had when he was lost in his own mind. But, that makes sense, they are one and the same after all.

“‘Ey, Chronic?”

The other hummed softly, unfocused eyes staring out at the cafe, blindly watching people come in and out. It was painfully obvious the other was lost in their own mind, although they may just be talking amongst themself.

Their shadows were more chaotic than ever, almost like his glitches when he was crashing. The room was covered in darkness, even with the overhead lights turned on. The shadows stretch unnaturally, beckoning yet pushing away.

With a sigh, he closed the laptop, setting it down next to himself on the couch. Slowly, he stood up and moved to sit next to Chronic, but as he did, he saw the physical proof of what he already knew. The shadows of the room suddenly sharpened, and the darkness that was crawling its way into the light faded. Chronic’s form became the image of perfection, an identical match to when they first met. 

Green eyes glanced at him before staring blankly at the cafe again. Barely adjusting on the couch, leaning more of their torso over the back, and resting their head on top of their arms.

Error leaned into the spot next to them, looking out at the cafe with them. Customers coming in and out, trading seats, laughing and talking. It was a normal life that had long since passed him.

“...why are you pulling away?” He eventually spoke, just getting straight to the point. Chronic tensed, and for the first time, he watched as they stuttered through their thoughts.

“I- we… stars. Dear, we…” Chronic seemed to practically deflate. Their eye sockets fluttered, barely keeping open as that perfect image fell apart to something more normal. Someone who was just trying to keep it together. Someone like Error.

A shadowy wing stretched out, and there was a long moment of silence.

“We can’t.”

“Chronic, love ya but missed out on a lot of that. I doubt you're saying ‘I can’t pull away’.”

“Dear… you know we can not fuse back together… we can not let ourselves fall to that temptation. It is simply better to pull away.” Chronic moved, staring back at him. Green solid eyes slightly wavering, as were the shadows flickering, threatening. However, this threat was merely the sway of a cat's tail.

Chronic’s eyes were their weirdest trait, but he was finally beginning to understand them. The colors showed who was in control of the fusion and whom he was talking to, although context clues carried most of his theories. Despite centuries apart, they all hadn’t changed much between timelines. 

Purple was for Nightmare, often given away by the subtle change of how Chronic held themself. Posture tighter, and their grace more elegant and noticeable. Yellow was for Dream, although telling they were there was more based on speech than anything else. The little “Dears” and older way of speaking, no “can’t” or “it’s”.

Grim didn’t show himself by color, although it’d be fair to bet it would be blue. The God showed himself through form and speech, wings appearing or a soothing and even alluring talk drifting from the fusion. Then Ink was a little more obvious, form shifting shorter and a much more pronounced talk. Exclaiming and bouncing around with brown or black eyes. Their freckles seemed to be more clear when they were out and about as well.

The Error of Chronic? That was far more difficult. For the moment, he just assumed they had the same speech. Although, this left out the color combinations. For now, Magenta meant all of them, and green showed Dream and Nightmare together. A small tribute to Nim it seemed.

Truthfully, it was painfully obvious now that the two were talking to him. It didn’t help Chronic’s case that Error had borne witness to Nightmare’s masking before, and Dream seemed to not be much better. He really needs to work with Nightmare and Dream then, help them be more selfish. Stray thoughts of times when Nightmare has pushed down his needs for “what has to be done” drifted in and he could only imagine how bad Dream could be.

Keeping gentle eye contact with Chronic, he moved to have one arm hold onto the wing around him, and the other reach out to Chronic. Not touching, simply offering his hand, palm up, and sincere expression on his features.

It’s slow-moving, but trusting as Chronic eases a hand into Error’s. Green eyes continue to stare back at him.

“What do the others think? Since it’s just you two talking to me… and Reaps I guess.” Error cracks a smirk, jerking his head to the wing wrapped around him.

Chronic sighs and their eyes go fuzzy before splitting apart into pixels. All the colors merge in the red background to an odd shade of magenta.

“They’re idiots.” Was all he got for a moment, before a new voice came along, “I, shit- We don’t want to lose you again! We just got all of you back!” Chronic’s other hand moved, clutching tight to Error’s. “Agreed, it was agonizing torture without you all. I think we’d be just as uncoordinated and difficult as when we first fused if we left you again.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and Chronic seems to fall more and more. Expression exasperated, but nothing more is said.

“...What about other me?” Chronic blinked a few times but eventually bowed their head before rising tall, sapphire eyes gazing back at him tiredly.

“What of it, glitch?” There goes the red theory he had. Maybe Hearts was onto something with that nickname.

“Don’t you have an opinion on all this? I… I don’t know how different we are.”

“...I know ya don’t.”

He would, wouldn’t he? Maybe he was the one saying that all this time? Stars was he oblivious, Chronic never spoke in I’s…

“Heh, you were the one saying that all this time?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I was.” Chronic’s tenseness seemed to slowly slip away, and they moved their gaze to the cafe, their head following, but hands still in his. “In the beginning, we were similar… down to the detail, but after ya n’ Hearts separated, we did too.” What little Error could see of their eyes were fuzzy, but there was a slightly sad smile on their face, barely made out underneath the shadows and freckles.

Chronic continued: “Ya met Core far before I did… Core answered your questions… ya met Grim faster than I had… spent time with him as Sans… Even dated ‘im quicker than me. Ya met Life, met Mercy, and met Magic when I only met ‘em all after I was sane again.” 

It was near mind-shattering to realize how little Chronic had in his past life, all the support and companionship that kept Error going just wasn't there at all for them.

Chronic tilted their head, eyeing Error from the corner of their socket. 

“...I dealt more with that asshole Gaster than you, but Ink made it worthwhile…” Their eyes glitched for a moment before maintaining their blue hue. “I spent my time remembering with Ccino… He n’ I were extremely close in my multiverse… he’s the one that convinced me to open The Outsider…” there’s a waver in their voice, but he moves on, “I didn’t hide away in a realm, my multiverse didn’t have them. I hid away in the antivoid–but got caught, so I moved to the save screen–to get caught again, and everyone found me in the ruins of my timeline…”

Chronic shrugged, breaking eye contact: “After that, to put it briefly, it was awkward… I didn’t have the connection to Dream and Ink like ya, or even Grim. We hung out at Life’s but that was pretty much it. Nightmare and I got close at some point though… What other differences will there be? I don’t know. None of us do. There are countless across all of you.”

The silence stretched once more, but it wasn’t one of tension, it was a sort of quiet relief. To think of the centuries that they had to keep that to themself, maybe even from the rest of the fusion.

“Oh? Error?” Chronic spoke up, barely turning to Error, calming eyes washing an embracing aura of tranquility over him. “Don’t think wrong about this and do not take in our mistakes. I told you of this so you would not be in the dark any longer. No. Other. Reason.” They glare, crowding him in before leaning back, moving their hands to rest in their lap, “I’ve come to terms with the differences over the centuries, and if anything, the only thing you should take from this is to be grateful for what you have…”

Chronic smirked, gentle and wise eyes peering down, “It can always be better, and it can always be worse. We gotta live with what we got and make the most out of it. Take that lesson to soul, alright?”

Chronic didn’t give him a moment to speak, getting up from the couch, the wing wrapped around Error’s shoulders moving to scoop him up and pull him to Chronic’s side. A portal sprung before them, and the ever playful fucker just continued to smirk.

“It’s about time we get heading back, ain’t it?”

“Pft, could’a given me more of a warnin’, you jerk.” He smiled in return before walking through.

The bustling warm cafe turned into the static castle. Dust drifting in the sunlight of the windows and floorboards creaking. The runner carpet scuffled as he made room for Chronic to step through, and he chuckled to himself at the distant noise of steps and voices. A welcomed signal that their return wasn’t unnoticed.

The change was always a little startling, but it had grown to be a comfort. It was nice to have people to return home to, so many that cared so much about him and he returned it likewise.

His lovers rounded the corner, and Ink bolted into his arms.

“You’re back!” They both take a moment to just hold tight as Ink nuzzles close into his neck, and he can feel his soul preening at the loving intent cascading from the shorter.

“Oh, ya missed me, Inky?”

“Obviously!” Ink pulled back, “Where were you two anyway?”

Dream and Nightmare finally caught up, Death likely out on a job and the gang who knew where. It seemed Nightmare was getting more comfortable as of late, happily uncorrupted with a sly smile and a blushing Dream’s arm around his waist.

“I’d bet you were out on those errands of yours again, never did find out what you did on those…” Nightmare’s smile grew wide and innocent.

“Eh, nothing much.” Error shrugged with an innocent smile of his own. “Just a lil’ secret I like to keep up to date on.”

“Oh? And Chronic is allowed to go with you?” Nightmare spoke playfully, turning his attention to Chronic.

“A secret is a secret our dear night.” Chronic playfully spoke, shrugging as they turned and walked away. “We’ll leave ya to deal with that.”

“Well then,” Nightmare pouted, before turning back to Error, “May I ask what it’ll take to learn of this little secret of yours?”

Little was an understatement. At times it took far too much work to keep things under wraps.

He tapped his chin, looking around and about as if thinking. Honestly, he had thought about telling them a couple of times, especially more so now than ever. He wants them to be able to meet Sydney and give Nightmare the chance to see the cafe, and to bring Ccino up there too–but not as Lapse, as Error.

There was still the lingering problem, while Lapse was largely loved, Error was equal parts hated if not entirely despised. He’s not a welcome face and outright telling Dream and Ink would likely hurt them as well as disrupt Omega. Having to choose between keeping Omega safe and him is never a decision he wants to have to make, and he never wants them to come anywhere close to it.

However… there was one way it could work.

“A peace treaty.” Nightmare blinked, and Dream seemed shocked, as did Ink. “An official one, not the truce that you set up while searchin’ for me.”

“Wait- wait. You need a peace treaty to tell us why you’re going out on… errands?” Ink explained, “Isn’t that a little much– I mean, yeah, peace treaties and all, but…” they gestured with their hands vaguely.

“Ta be honest, ’s a little more than errands.” 

Ink looked as if they wanted to speak more, however, Nightmare spoke first.

“That should be reasonably easy.” The God pulled himself from Dream’s side, “Before the truce I was thinking of going straight-” Ink chuckled, catching Nightmare off guard, who huffed a laugh before continuing, “-straight to making a peace treaty, and I may still have the draft.”

“Why didn’t we just do a peace treaty then?” Dream questioned

“It’s got a lot more legal hurdles than a truce, clearing names then working with telling the public and scheduling that and so forth…” Nightmare rolled his eyes, “But I’ve waited for ages to sate this curiosity. Another week or so won’t hurt.”

—--

When he agreed to the peace treaty, he didn’t expect to see this.

All things considered, the peace treaty went well. The Star council was completely on board with the idea, as were the main politicians of Omega. The issues came with planning the announcement ceremony.

The first issue came with the anxiety of it all. While the gang and council had been able to smooth things over, it doesn’t change the fact that for a good decade, the gang was hated and attacked on site–which multiplies into centuries for Nightmare. For Error, it wasn’t as difficult. 

He knows Omega like the back of his hand, and he knows of all the issues the place has. The folk of the city were backless and when push comes to shove, yes they are survivors but they also live off the drama of the council and what few celebrities and politicians there are.

If you make it to the edges of town, as long as you can hold your own, there can be nicer people. Ones that want to live their lives peacefully and truly build a community. He trusts that in the end, Sydney would trust him–Error or Lapse–and would happily help hide Error, Nightmare, and the gang until they could properly get out of Omega.

Who he worried over the most though--Nightmare aside--was Cross.

For all of the trips so far into Omega, xey would go rigid and guard-like. Still as a statue until talked to and always by either Killer’s or Error’s side. He knew they had been alone for a long time before ending up with Nightmare but had never seen how bad it affected them. He had a small hunch, judging by when he came back–since they didn’t seem to make any friends–but this just all-out confirmed things.

Even now, standing behind the curtains as the crowd gathered outside, xey stood still and vigilant.

For the announcement of the truce, they took up most of the park. A stage was built as well as a curtain made room behind with tents for people to gather. He knew Nightmare and Dream had taken one of them to reread through the treaty one more time before the ceremony and Core and Chronic had stolen another. The gang was scattered with the friends they had made in the council, and per Cross’ pushing, Killer had split off as well.

For the time, Error mostly stood off in a corner, an arm wrapped over Cross’ shoulders as they watched whatever people were hired for the event run around and others mingle.

“Hey, kiddo?” Cross stiffened, before relaxing a tad, looking up at Error but glancing at the small crowd every few seconds, “I can tell ya ain’t doing the best.”

Cross winced, hunching in on themself and looking away.

“It’s that obvious?” Error shrugged, he wasn’t going to worry him more.

“Ya worried about people?” Cross didn’t respond, still avoiding his eyes.

He looked back over the crowd, letting his eyes scan through everything and everyone. Most he recognized, few were unknown. He spotted Sydney at the food table laid out as well as some of his workers. Keeping treats and drinks warm or cold as well as making sure everyone was drinking water and not feeling too nervous for the event. A good spider donut always was a great distraction.

He crouched down to nearly Cross’ height, the other snapping xeir attention over and upon seeing each other eye to eye, turned away.

“The curtains are heavy, not easy to move.” He started, to which Cross straightened again, looking out at the impromptu setup they were in, “A sharp bone attack could easily break through it though, looks to only be cotton- but, if you look up…” He saw Cross move to look out of the corner of his socket, “...and to the corner is the connection point. A bone or a blaster could break any of these sections apart for an easy escape.” 

Cross relaxed more. “...I actually got someone here on my side,” Cross turned to look at him, confusion clear on their expression. Understandable since they’d both been standing in the corner since they all first arrived. “One of the workers has my back, and when push comes to shove, she’d hide us and cover our backs.”

With that backup plan in place, Cross finally rested xeir stiff pose, a hesitant smile appearing.

“Thanks, dad.”

“Any time, kid.”

 An employee ran into Core’s tent, before swiftly running back out. “...Think it’s gonna start soon.”

Cross inhaled shakily, before sighing.

“...fun.”

Core stepped out of their tent, Chronic following in toe, and everyone turned to look.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming out and making this possible.” Core began, a brighter smile than he’d ever seen on their face. “From employees and volunteers to the kind workers from The Outsider for coming out to cater,” Sydney nodded with a sly smirk, “to the Star Council and Nightmare and his gang, again, thank you.”

Core clapped their hands together, a hopeful expression overtaking.

“Now! It’s time for us all to get up on stage. They are seats for us all up there, staff will direct which side you are to be on- for the gang, do not fret about what the crowd thinks. They have already been made aware that this is a peaceful event, and just in case security measures have been made.”

One by one, the Stars made their way up the small staircase to the stage, Hearts following Blue with a wink to Error.

Then, with Nightmare in front and Error following, they made their way out from behind the curtain and onto the main stage.

The crowd was loud and bustling but went deadly quiet as they stepped out. Only the smallest of coughs or a few people clearing their throat was heard as they took their seats. Hearts looked oddly out of place, standing behind Blue’s chair, and then an empty chair on Nightmare’s side.

Death, Core, and Chronic all walked out, standing together before the podium.

“Everyone,” Chronic boomed, not even bothering to talk into the mic, their voice easily projecting over the crowd. “Take your seats.”

Somewhat jokingly, Reaper floated in the air, mimicking sitting in a chair. However, what drew everyone’s attention was Hearts.

Leaning down, Hearts gave blue a chaste kiss, before pulling out his ring necklace from under his shirt. Then, he stood back up and walked over to the empty seat on Nightmare’s side.

The crowd erupted in gasps, and Dream and Ink seemed to gawk at Blue who just stared dreamy-eyed after Hearts. The rest of the council looked equally as shocked, while the only reaction on Nightmare’s side was Killer giving Hearts a fist bump.

“Times are changing.” Core spoke clear into the mic, bringing back everyone’s attention. “After centuries of fighting between positivity and negativity; destruction and creation, we can finally have peace. This will bring in a new age, and it’s one I’m excited to see grow and change everything for the better.”

Core moved the mic over to Chronic, who takes it gingerly.

“We have long lived in the background.” Chronic began, speaking carefully into the mic, “It’s safe to say, and there is doubtfully any disagreement, that these sides have torn apart the multiverse.” There are quiet murmurs of agreement across the mass, “At the beginning of the multiverse, and for nearly half of the existence of the Omega Timeline, there were no sides. There were just the gods. Omega was a place for new starts and a hub for the AUs and what few lost their worlds.”

Chronic grew more confident, speaking with purpose.

“Those times were abandoned at some point, and it’s not better. It’s worse. We’ve forgotten that while negativity can be terrible-” Nightmare inhaled, sneakily grabbing Error’s hand, “-it is needed. The powers of the multiverse and its Gods should not be limited to sides, as they work on multiple spectrums. Please, heed this as the peace treaty goes into effect and the multiverse adjusts. It will take time, but it will also be for the better.”

Chronic moved the mic back over to Core, who signaled for Nightmare and Dream to come up.

Together, they started to read out the peace treaty, and he could see them hold their hands together behind the podium.

“I, Nightmare, promise to stop the spread of negativity and let things occur naturally. Negativity can be evil, but it is nature.” He could barely make out Nightmare gripping tighter, and Dream clenching his hand back, “It is the fight or flight I have had to live with for the entirety of my long life, and it’s a force that many of you have likely experienced. It’s the anxiety that manifests in us, it’s the anger we feel for right and wrong reasons. It cannot be defined as one simple thing as we have for so long. It is not the evil that it is presented as. It is the push that gives our lives the greatest highs after we have felt at our lowest.”

Dream nodded, a bright genuine smile stretching from cheek to cheek.

“I, Dream, promise to stop the spread of positivity and let things occur naturally.” There were distraught murmurs amongst the crowd, but Dream held fast. Raising a hand to signal for silence with a high chin, he continued, “Positivity makes us happy, but it can be evil. People can be happy doing cruel, unspeakable things. In addition, too much happiness prevents the process of life. It takes away grieving,” Dream turned to look at Nightmare, “and undermines the loss of loved ones. It takes away the guilt of doing something wrong, the anger at somebody wrong, and it can make us forget to be thankful for what we have, by forgetting what was lost.”

With that final note, together the two raised their joined hands, showing their unity to everyone. The crowd begins to boom as they clap, but the show was not over.

Nightmare slowly bows his head sighing softly, barely heard on the mic, and the negativity covering him drips away. When the negativity is fully gone, Nega reforms next to Nightmare, who raises his head.

Nightmare extends a hand, turning to look at Nega, and the crowd, as well as the star council, go silent in shock. The large gaping hole in the side of Nightmare’s skull settled in their minds. It spoke volumes of how Nightmare's trust for Dream had grown, his entire blind side facing the crowd that had caused him so much anxiety the past days.

Nega takes Nightmare's hand, and the two raise it together.

It’s quiet for a moment, but slowly, hesitant claps start, before it's thundering with applause. Workers start to cue them behind the stage, and they all gather by the snack bar.

Before any conversation can start, even before Hearts can make his way back to Blue, a council member barrels into Nightmare’s arms.

"My boy! Oh- I missed ya!" Nightmare laughs, hugging Sci back. Everyone’s mouths fell to the floor, except for Error.

"So this is what ya meant by saying Sci took ya in. Wow 'mare, can't believe ya hid ya dad from us."

"Well, there's the small problem of-"

"Oh? Night, have ya finally found yourself someone…” Sci looks over at Ink, Death, and Dream, “...Someones? Why didn't you tell me!"

"That problem."

“Wha- Sci??” Dream finally speaks up, “When? When?!” Tone exasperated and surprised.

“Oh, I took Nightmare in ages ago! I think you were in stone at the time…” Sci recounts with a laugh, “We haven’t been able to meet up since all of this craziness started, but I’m glad I can finally see you again!”

“Yes, yes, I’m glad to see you too… but there was an initial reason for this peace treaty.” Nightmare directs his attention to Error. “Can you finally tell us this big secret of yours? All the errands??”

Error huffs a laugh, crossing his arms.

“I’m getting put on the spot now, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are. I spoke in front of that crowd, you blab your secret in front of a few dozen people.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Error shrugged, “In my defense, all of you are more likely to kill me over this than that crowd.”

The gang shifts from side to side, and the star council is even more so confused. All of them–Dream and Ink aside–trying to turn their back on the conversation in favor of the food table, but still looking back for the gossip. The confusion of Hearts and Blue gone for the moment in favor of Error.

“Okay, really. How bad can it be?” Ink speaks up, a little pout on his face.

With a sigh, Error takes off his glasses, pocketing them, and pulls out his second pair and those little cards for the VIP loft of the outsider.

Cross’ eyes go wide and he stares at Error, but no one else quite understands. He can see Sydney peering at him from behind the food table.

“...Cards for the outsider? You know Mode?” Dream began hesitantly.

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he pulls the Omega ID for Lapse from one of his pockets and sets it on the table with the glasses.

No one says anything still, but Ink and Dream seem to be piecing things together.

“I- …I don’t understand.” Dream eventually stutters.

“Oh stars, fine.” And he pulls up the panel for Lapse, letting all of them see it as he clicks the button.

His body glitches, and an unimpressed Lapse Divinity Mode in Error’s clothes stands before them. The room is shocked into silence, and one of his workers pouring a coffee even stops. If everyone keeps dropping their jaws like this they’ll need to tie it to their head. “Ya get it now?”

The room stays in silence, until Sydney walks up.

“Boss?”

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t tell ya… or came back sooner.”

“No, no. Again, don’t worry- don’t even think about it… but, damn.” She folds two of her arms as her third rests on her hip, “Honestly… Nah, this makes sense. Guessing that secret menu of yours has a backstory with these folks?”

The gang finally pulls themselves together, and Killer yells: “You’re Lapse D. Mode?!!”

“I thought you said you didn’t know him!” Dust follows

Error sighs, laughing as everyone recovers. Death just smiles slyly, off to the side, which Dream and Ink begin to notice.

“Ye—eah, it was pretty hard to cover up. I still don’t know how I managed it. I even made Dream’s outfit at the base.” Dream’s eyes go wider, and he just covers his face as some moments start to click in. “Problems over there, pretty boy?”

“...Shut. Up.” Is all Dream musters, but the bright yellow peeking out from behind his hands is enough reward.

-----

THEY FINALLY KNOW ERROR IS LAPSE I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS CHAPTER FOR AGES

Also: I wanted to share the notes I have for this chapter. Not exactly what happened, but still funny.

For the ceremony, Hearts starts off at Blue's side, attached to his arm. But as Dream and Nightmare step up and ask everyone to get to their places, the crowd gasps as Hearts pecks Blue on the cheek and moves to stand with the gang. Blue watches with a lovestruck gaze as Hearts walks away. Ink and Dream gawk at Blue who just shrugs innocently, fiddling with his ring. - There is a celebration afterwards, and before anyone can pester Error with questions, Sci sprints over embracing Nightmare. "My boy! Oh- I missed ya!" Nightmare laughs, hugging Sci back. Everyone is confused, especially Dream. Error is only confused for a moment before speaking up: "So this is what ya meant by saying Sci took ya in. Wow 'mare, can't believe ya hid ya dad from us." "Well there's the small problem of-" "Oh? Night, have ya finally found yourself someone... someones? Why didn't you tell me!" "That problem." - He doesn't really reveal it. Just dramatically sighs and rolls his eyes, before pulling up a panel and clicking a button. Switching his form to a normal Sans, pulling a wallet and his other glasses out of his pocket and shrugging as the Star Sans look aghast at him being Lapse D. Mode. Cobalt is the most shocked by far, and even reboots for a moment. Blue pulls him away carefully and helps him through it, so does Hearts. Cross is stuttering in the background and Error just casually strides up as Lapse and just chuckles, "How's it goin, Chrome?" Mention in notes of post-Because this is too damn funny to keep to just us.

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Just got out of class where we had our group critique; can finally post something I've had done for a couple days now 🎉🎉 project details/commentary/funny(?) story under cut because I don't know how to keep things brief

tl;dr: Made some stickers that show things that interest me in Japan for class :) might try to print them later on, if I do then I'll post that too

This was for Digital Art, it's another "draw concepts of a specific location," but I didn't like, draw where I live this time, so I can actually post this one online haha.

The actual instructions were: "Create six 3"x3" stickers that represent parts of a city, country, landmark, or attraction you would like to visit/have visited." I, a typical art student, chose to do Japan, but I didn't really wanna lean into the whole anime thing a lot, partly because I just don't watch it as often as I used to. I wanted to stick with architecture and major landmarks, but buildings are hard to draw repeatedly in a shorter time limit so I ended up drawing some food too. Also, I'm a percussionist, so I wanted to include a taiko drum just cause they're really cool

The lineart itself took the longest since I reeeaaaally wanted to emphasize a hand drawn feeling to the stickers. I felt this was the best way to make all of the stickers match stylistically, aside from general color matching. I couldnt entirely rely on colors to make them match because things like the ramen bowl had wayyy more colors than the buildings/mountains, and the onigiri was mostly one color. Matching the stickers was part of the grading criteria, so after a lot of brainstorming, I ended up deciding to put more attention to detail into the linework than to the color scheme (though I did try to weasel in that orangey red into as much as I could)

Illustrator did not like line style I used, 'cause apparently all those textured pens take a lot more to load than the normal ones (never had that problem in the program I normally use to draw, so it caught me off guard). Halfway into the project my laptop's fan would sound like a jet engine every time I opened the file; needless to say, progress was slowed a bit as the program started to get extremely laggy haha.

I wasn't able to start on the coloring until a few days before the project was due but I was still good on time . Ultimately ended up having to pull a near all nighter though, because Illustrator crashed in the middle of the coloring process (guessing bc of the lineart), which got rid of hours worth of work :D so cool, love that

Got it done, walked into class on Monday w/ three hours of sleep ready for critique, but five or so other people didn't finish theirs on time so prof ended up extending the due date anyway :D :D so cool very awesome

Can't really be mad though. I would've been happy if that courtesy was extended to me if I were in that spot, so I just went home and used the extra time to knock out some homework lol.

The extra time was worth it too cause everyone's turned out so cool :D wish I could share those too cause I loved looking at all of them during critique today

I said I just got out of class when I wrote this but I took so long to finish the post that two hours have passed since then,,

[the-royal-blue-network]

The little specs in the night sky sparkled like diamonds.  

Standing in the window, Myles William sipped on the amber-colored liquid surrounding the ice ball.  

Lawrence The Band spilled through the speakers, soothing Myles. He’d had a long and exhausting day at work; filled with his hot-tempered boss barking orders, and making messes, and expecting Myles to clean them up. 

But alas, the day was done, and it was Friday, so Myles wouldn’t have to see that hot-tempered fuck for another three days.  

Taking another sip from his glass, he took in the starry sky until his phone began to ring.  

“Hey, hey. How’s my favorite insomniac?” He said, pressing the phone to his ear. 

Marcus, Myles’s husband, sighed into the phone. 

“This bed is fucking trash.” Marcus huffed into the phone. 

Myles laughed; Marcus could be sleeping on a literal cloud, and he’d still find something wrong with it.  

Marcus was too proud to admit it, but he hated sleeping alone. Even when he was away, Marcus had a whole host of friends who’d gladly occupy the other side of whatever bed Marcus was sleeping in.  

“Oh the woes of being a touring musician. I found a pretty awesome portable mattress on Amazon. If you’d like, I could send it your way.” Myles said with a laugh.  

The problem wasn’t the bed and Myles knew that, but he couldn’t resist an opportunity to fuck with his husband.  

“Unless you are the one delivering that mattress, hard pass.” He said somberly.  

Oh, shit, he really wasn’t having the best of times; now Myles felt like a dick for teasing him.  

“Ahh babe, I just wanted to have some fun busting your balls. How the hell am I supposed to do that when you're so sad?” Myles said. 

Though he couldn’t see Marcus, the pout on his face was practically audible. 

“I hate touring.” He said. 

Now that hurt Myles to hear. Myles knew how much his husband adored selling out shows, meeting his adoring supporters, and seeing the country, but Marcus’ in ability to be on the tour bus for extended periods of time, meant that the husbands had to spend a lot of time a part.  

“That’s not true and you and I both know that.” The other man said matter-of-factly. 

Marcus sighed into the phone, and Myles could literally hear just how much this all was weighing down on his husband. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel bad about not being here.” Marcus said. 

Myles laughed into the phone. 

“If that’s your best attempt at making me feel bad, you’re doing a piss poor job at it.” He said. 

Marcus laughed, and Myles cursed himself for not being on FaceTime right now. Marcus’ face was like the night sky on the fourth of July when he laughed, and Myles loved to see it. 

That gave Myles an idea. It’s been too long; thanks to Marcus’s ‘no FaceTiming’ rule, Myles hadn’t laid eyes on his husband in weeks. According to Marcus, seeing Myles’ face only made him more homesick. 

But what if Marcus came to him? When they first started dating, Marcus used to surprise his husband on the road all the time. Marcus would crash on the bus with Myles and his bandmates, and the men would turn the tour into a little vacation, exploring any cities or towns they were in.  

Pulling out his laptop, Myles pulled up the tour schedule and looked up the next city Marcus and the gang were headed to. 

It took everything for him not to yell ‘baby I’m on my way’ as he booked the flight while he listened to Myles tell him all about his and the band’s latest adventures.  

By the time Marcus had everything booked, Myles reluctantly said a farewell, needing to head off to rehearsal for the next show.  

After hanging up, Marcus laughed to himself before rushing into the bedroom; his flight was mere hours away so he needed to get packing now. 

[spiritgunpickle]

pet death / animal death / alcoholism /disassociation i think tw, it's just a personal thing but i have to write it later and fix it I'm just emotional right now. i'm jjust rambling. I just can't sleep

It's negative

I'm at 1 hour and 45 mins at 24% and I don't have the photos on this

laptop, so I'll have to come back and add them in, but I'm crying a lot right now and I thought I should write it.

I don't know how to start it, so I'm just gonna say.

Today, as I was walking up the pathway to the front door, the black cat from across the street with the little white spot on his chest came towards me from the porch and my heart stuttered for a split second before it came crashing back on me that you're gone bc I rreally thought it was you. I keep feeling like it's going to be a mistake, there's going to be a moment suddenly where you show up meowing at me for breakfast or I'll wake up and you'll be behind my leg

And then the realization hits again that that's never going to happen again.

It's like the feeling I had when I first moved in here and I kept thinking when am I going home, when am I opening the garage or going upstairs, or closing the window in the living room. I haven't lost the feeling, yet, but I don't think of that place as home anymore so eventually I know I won't expect to see you anymore.

I feel so selfish and when I was telling Nahaci about it because I was thinking for a couple minutes that maybe I could adopt the puppy she's trying to get rid of and instead of getting another cat, we would just have three dogs, I could tell she was unimpressed by me. She's feels pity but even if dad would allow the dog and the puppy wasn't going to grow up to be too big for me to handle or it wasn't going to be way too much energy to keep such active dogs mentally/physically stimulated, she wouldn't let me have her especially after hearing about you. I've had some sympathetic responses tell me I can't blame myself, so it was kind of surprising when she asked 'You're going to get another cat?' the way she did and it makes me not want to tell her anything, and makes me feel a little petty.

I really don't want another cat, though, I want to go back to when I was deciding I was going to leave you and Lady at the house with mom and change my mind. I could have said something like it would make the trip easier if I had one animal...... Ultimately it was one animal

But I was thinking of taking Lady because I didn't really trust her not to let her get out into the street if she got drunk one night and the gate didn't latch or something.. but I decided it was going to be 2 days and i would trust her for at least those two days. I left you with mom because she wanted to see you and she wouldn't get the chance for a long while after, but now what is it.

Now she gets the chance too often and it's like making her step on glass, the knowledge that the trip took you away is always going to be there, no matter how much I try to reassure her I dont blame her for it happening

I don't know what she tells you and I don't know what she felt towards you before and after. She had to see you in the worst state because I couldn't look at you and remember you that way. I still wouldn't want to and I couldn't but maybe if I had seen what happened I wouldn't have this strong feeling that you're here or you're going to be sleeping on my car, curled up on the chair, padding across the patio in the backyard. if I hadn't seen you unbroken the last time before she woke me up telling me you were dead, that she thought it must have been instantaneous bc of t he condition of your skull

But I felt like I was unraveling and I deserved it and I had failed the most basic fucking requirement as a pet owner, and I did fail. I got some responses, but the time inbetween what was said and what I was rambling about I was sure that there was no way.

Most of my overly emotional or lonely or broken things aren't important to anyone, I can't share a lot of it with my sisters because they're in the same boat and I don't want to hurt them with my negative feelings but whatever crying I might have done while I was holding you if you were still here, I didn't tell you all this so I don't know why I'm rambling so much

Maybe if I had taken my meds while I was down there I would have reacted more quickly to the idea that I needed to bring you in the house and set you up back upstairs, it really seemed like the balding was coming back so if you had gotten sick it would have been something you should be in the house for anyways

I can think of a lot of maybe scenarios but none of those matter

I took for granted you were going to be okay and this entire post is just a jumple of fucking.. emotional scribbling so I need to redo it because this isn't good enough but I'm writing it so I'll write it and then think of something more polished and heartfelt to remember you by

I'm just emotinal all of a sudden and thinking about you being here and how you first came up to me in the snow and then kept coming by the house and I don't know I don't think that. If we hadn't ultimately brought you into the house I'm sure you would have died sooner. You and that little black and white cat that I thought might be from the same litter as you would have ended up freezing or getting eaten or getting hit by a car... months before it happened. I thought once I got back I would see the little orange cat but the only one I see is the black cat and I wonder if he was a stray and got hurt, too

I think I prolongued your life but I don't know, you had lived months and months before we moved in and you were fed by everyone

I hate that couple that abandoned you to the streets because I think maybe if they had taken you with them you would still be alive and I wouldn't know any of this

Sarah doesn't know still

Neither does her neighbor who knew you as Richard

Your old owner who was so happy you weren't so shy anymore will never know either, but the other two or at least Sarah have to know eventually and I'm scared because I feel like I took a cat that didn't belong to me that was theirs and didn't protect him

I think of all the things I did while I was down there that were so complacent and lackluster and wonder if I even cared until you got hit

I still really want you here. I stillreally want a cat here, I feel like I need a cat, I emotionally need a cat, I love Lady and Hazel, but it's not the same, but I can't get a cat because all I really want is you and I know if I get a cat I will still just think about you, I will see that cat and think 'But where is Fancy' whether it's just the expectation or an actual thought, so I'm not ready for it, but I really do need a cat. I want to wait, I want to make sure I'm not still expecting you or time has helped me a little bit, but

I never failed as badly with any animal as I have with you and I wish you were here with me. Even if all that happened was you ran away and found another family, it would be better. If you vanished and I constantly called mom, even when she was as obnoxiously drunnk as she has been getting, just to see if she might have seen you or you had come back because you ran away when I was in Oregon, it would be fine. Knowing exactly what happend and knowing where you're buried and knowing you're never going to be with me again

Why can't you come back, I'm going to sound like a toddler and ask that

There should be something

I can't even handle this much, I'm pathetic but you never should have been made to suffer such a terrible pet ownere why didn't I just make sure you were in for the night at the very least I don't know when it happene maybe you would have been okay, maybe it was that fucking monster that likes to speed through at 2 in the morning and you would have been okay if you hadn't been outside

mom thinks it was a construction truck and because of that i hate the construction site now. whatever work they do around the area i'm always going to remember it might have been one of their fucking trucks

I'm really floating now so I have to stop because I can'tell my hands are attached to my body