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ninjasmudge · 9 months

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What are your thoughts on the two other monkeys? Idk if you ever heard of them, but it's the Red Bottom Ape and Long Armed Gibbon.

i actaually had some pretty lore heavy origin story hcs for those guys a couple of years ago, but i dont think i ever posted them. ill put some of the old art here and paste the lore under a cut cause its LONG (replaced the old swk and maq in the last pic with some more recent ones bc my hcs for them changed so much lmao)

their lore was well researched i spent days on it but it was a couple years ago lmao, its based on the principals they represent plus which of yin/yang they represent

long armed gibbon- can seize the sun and the moon, distinguish the auspicious from the inauspicious, and manipulate planets and stars

gibbon was born when a seed from a fir tree fell from heaven to earth. it landed on top of an eroded mountian and a tree started growing. after several hundred years, when the tree stretched high enough and was wise enough and the pine cones had gone from dark purple to blue, the trunk split one day at sunrise on a blue misty morning and gibbon walked into the world

red-buttocked horse monkey- who has knowledge of yin and yang, understands human affairs, is adept in its daily life and able to avoid death and lengthen its life

horse was born from a drop of water flung from a trough in heavens stables (part of the reason swk was so pleased to guard the horses when he went)

when she fell to earth she became a river that people often visited and talked around and played in. from this she came to understand human affairs. she also found she could help creatures avoid death or prolong their life by feeding their crops. when she knew enough, she climbed out of the river at sundown and walked into the world

sun wukong, the wise stone monkey- who knows transformations, recognizes the seasons, discerns the advantages of earth, and is able to alter the course of planets and stars

stealing from nezha reborn where the myth goes that when nüwe patched the sky, the leftover stone was where swk came from, but im changing it to one of the tiles that was used to create the furnace was dropped, leaving a monkey sized gap where he could later on slot into to keep himself alive in there. the tile was knocked out of the basket by the wind and fell to earth and this was the only one that landed on ffm. you know the story here, he absorbed chi from heaven AND earth which is why hes so powerful

six eared macaque- who has a sensitive ear, discernment of fundamental principles, knowledge of past and future, and comprehension of all things

macaque was born very suddenly when a piece of moon rock broke off and fell to earth on a new moon. the resulting meteor created a huge and sudden flash of light in a forest which created hundreds of stark shadows at once. the shadows condensed and the resulting being wouldnt have lived if it hadnt been a new moon because he needed the next hours of darkness to collect himself into a full being. but before the night was done, a new monkey was born who was able to hear everything in the radius he had collected shadows from, which if youve ever seen a meteor flash, is a long way

somethin interesting abt the things that created them- swks tile was actually heavenly, which is why he represents primarily yang (heaven). his was the only one that was CRAFTED BY heaven. gibbon and horse are both from something that fell from heaven and then the earth changed its form (the tree grew on earth from a heavenly seed, and the drop of water became a river) whereas macaque, representing the yin is fully of earth, the meteor that created him was from heaven but he didnt directly come from the meteor, he came from the shadows it created on earth. his only connection is to the earth

#yeah i just never posted any of it for some reason #i think there was more lore but idk where it is #mk #ask #ig ill put it in the tag since its a bunch of art #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mk art #my art #also idk why this post is fucking breaking tumblr the two middle pictures show up side by side on mobile and above on desktop #i cant edit it from here either i tried to move the readmore so that it cut off gibbons part #and i just cant do ANYTHING

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k-n0-x · 2 months

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༺ ♱✮♱ ¨:·Something Stupid-Chapter 4·:¨ ♱✮♱ ༻

A/N: Hey guys! I managed to get this chapter out early coz I am so hot and amazing at everything my social life is at an all time low and we have Easter break. Some foreshadowing if you guys can guess, but keep it to yourselves for now. Mommy issues y/n? That’s a first 😨😨😨😨. This chapter is also Lucifer basically being: “No, you’re so sexy haha don’t cry”

Also, the slow burn is burning now! YAYYA 🎉

Playlist:

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Enjoy! <3

꧁🥀☽💫✶♛🦢♕✶💫☾🥀꧂

You sit on the patio of your home, feeling as though you’re rotting away.

It’s been 5 days since Adam’s full blown out tantrum, but it feels like it’s been 5 lifetimes.

A cockatiel lands on your table, its bulging inky eyes staring at you, vying for your attention.

You laugh, and give it some crumbs of your leftover toast from breakfast that you couldn’t bear to finish.

The bird eats them graciously, and flies away, you watching enviously.

Oh, how you wished you were that bird. Carefree, and not trapped in the gilded cage that you are in.

If only…

Bzz bzz

Your phone rings. The contact Mom glows on your screen.

Unwillingly, you swipe right.

“Hey mom, what's up?” This woman never calls you, unless there are three instances; she needs you to get her something of monetary worth, wishing you a happy birthday/any other significant holiday, or-

“Darling, there's something I need to talk to you about. A little birdie told me that you've been stepping out of line recently~”

Ah yes. The third instance. The times when your actual fucking personality shows, even for a sliver of a moment, and how it could potentially hurt your ‘relationship’ with Adam.

“Mom, it's not that big of a deal. I just was feeling rough recently, and-”

“Well it doesn't matter what you feel does it? What matters is that you honour our family. Being married to Adam is what's best for you. You acting outwardly is seriously jeaprodising your relationship, and I am just trying to help you stop before it's too late,” Your maternal figure’s sing-song-like voice turns sharp in an instant, like it could cut through butter.

“You were always a wild child, a disappointment, I am trying to help you-”

You interrupt.

“How are you helping?! Belittling me, treating me as some sort of– some do Ill?! I have tried, given my whole entire fucking life, trying to please you in every way, but somehow, it's never enough! And when I do fuck up, suddenly I'm a failure in your eyes?!”

Silence.

“You better mind your language young lady,”

“NO! I will NOT mind my FUCKING LANGUAGE. I will swear when I want to, and I will do whatever I FUCKING WANT! I AM DONE WITH YOU AND YOU- YOUR WAY OF THINGS!”

You press the end button, calmly.

You storm up to your bedroom and closed the door. Calmly.

You look at the bookshelf, always so perfectly clean, scarce of dust.

Perfectly clean, no imperfections.

You let out a cry of irritation and just start throwing out books, ripping the pages of each, crumpling sheets of paper, sobbing hot angry tears while doing so.

When that was done, you just bring the entire bookshelf down with a bang, and you stomp on it until you feel a sharp pain in your foot, surely that's a splinter right there.

You stumble over into your bed and scream and cry in your pillow, amongst the mess.

You submerge yourself in your pillow even more, until your anger numbs away, leaving you with a throbbing pain in your head.

Absolutely drained from your outburst, you drift off.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

Everywhere is foggy.

You look around, looking for anything of use, when your attention is turned to a glowing light, placed on a rusted pedestal.

Since it's the only thing that piques interest, you touch the fluorescent ball and yelp when it scorches your hand.

“Ow,” you pull your hand away and decide to look for anything else.

As you trek through the nothingness, you feel like you're being tugged down by an anchor, or treading through quicksand.

Suddenly, the ground gives way under your feet.

You’re falling.

The cold air whistles through your ears.

You try to fly with your wings, but nothing; it feels like they have been ruthlessly ripped from your body.

You feel as though you're being stretched, squished and deformed like play dough, until you hear and feel something cracking. As you fall, you look towards the light.

At the entrance of the hole, there are many, unidentifiable figures, just, staring at your downfall.

You want to scream and cry for help, but it feels like your mouth has been cemented shut.

A faint noise calls your name, which sounds closer and closer each time as you fall helplessly.

You make a successful-ish attempt to turn on your stomach.

In your horror, you see a halo, cracked and muted of its previous glow. Your halo.

Not that far below you, there are hot red coals.

Oh God.

The voice becomes louder and closer and you hit the ground with a scream.

You jump up, to find yourself back in the dump that is your bedroom, slicked with sweat.

“Oh my God, Y/N! Are you alright?” Emily, who was tentatively paving the way to get to your pathetic self.

“Emi, hi… Yeah, just eh, rough day,” you smile weakly at the Seraphim, who’s concerned expression shows that she doesn't believe you, but she doesn’t want to put you under pressure.

“What’s all of this?” Emily motions to the wrecked room.

“Adam pulled a tantrum again?”

“Huh? Oh that, nono, sorry uhm,” you pause to clean the room as it was with the snap of your fingers.

“Why are you here Emi? Do you need something?” You wipe your eyes, but your bloodshot eyes are still apparent.

“No, I just wanted to hang out with you, but I can come back if it's a bad time,” The Seraphim stumbles over her words as she looks up at you, slightly flushing.

“No, no you can stay. I’m just a little bit shaken up, but yep you can stay. Uhm….” you trail off.

This place is feels really constraining

You need an escape.

“Hey Emily, wanna go on an adventure?” You put on a face of newfound enthusiasm. The Seraphim just had that effect on people.

“Of course! But er, where?”

“Shh, it's a surprise, now let's go!” You push Emily into the portal you made and go in yourself.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

“Woah, this is what it's like?” Emily says as she looks around the hellish landscape like a lost puppy.

She snaps out of it when you drag her out of the way of a thrown carcass headed towards the both of you.

“Yeah, let's head inside,” You manoeuvre her into the hotel.

The lobby is more populated than your last visits to the establishment, though all faces are familiar.

“Emily, meet Angel, Husk Alastor, Charlie, who you know already, and-” Your voice dies down in your throat at the sight of the Demon King, with his strapping jacket and top hat.

What is going on with you today?

“And Lucifer,” You motion to the King, who gives you both an acknowledging nod.

Your heart misses a beat.

“Well uh, there's one more but I don't know where she is… WOAH NIFFTY!”

The little scamp runs towards the Seraphim with a knife about to stab her with malicious intent.

“Niffty, no. No stabbing any more angels we talked about this,” Angel grabs the knife from the housemaid and throws it in the trash can.

“Ugh, not a bad boy,” Nifty grumbles and begrudgingly rushes off to god knows where.

“Well everyone, this is Emily, not sure if Charlie has told you about her but-”

“Is she your kid?” Angel asks.

“I’m sorry, what? Oh no, no she is not my kid pff,” you say.

“Huh,”

“Well as I was trying to say, Emily here is another person on our side,” You give Emi an encouraging squeeze of the shoulders.

“Well this is quite the improvement. Salutations! Pleasure to meet you,” The radio demon greets himself, extending his hand to shake Emily's.

She takes it, though cautious.

She turns to Charlie and warms up to the amicable face.

“Hi, Emily, er obviously you know who I am,” The princess of Hell welcomes her, as some of the other Hotel residents go off doing their own thing.

“Oh yes. Y/N told me about you, obviously we've met before, but under less casual circumstances,” Emily scrambles for conversation.

Obviously, they need a little push to loosen up with each other.

“Charlie, maybe show Emily the garden? Or maybe the entire hotel for that matter. Emi here has been dying to have a look around,”

“Oh yes! Let me show you some of the suites, I decorated them myself,” Filled with giddiness, Charlie beckons the Seraphim upstairs.

Emily turns to you, unsure.

“Go on, don't worry, I'll be waiting here!” You give her a persuasive smile and shoo the pair upstairs.

Now you had some time to kill…

“Hey!”

“Agh!” You jump at the voice of Lucifer.

“Geez, am I that scary?” He laughs and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Pff as if-” You snicker and give him a playful shove back.

“Anyway, how've you been? How's the old rusted machine been?”

“Are you always going to make digs and remarks at my husband in an attempt to get all three of his wives in your pants?” You raise an eyebrow sarcastically.

He sighs, feigning sorrow. “You know me too well. I thought it was the perfect plan, but clearly I'll have to tune it a bit,” The demon rattles on, but your brain fixates on the one word he said.

Perfect.

Something you try so, so hard to be, but apparently isn't enough for your mom.

If your mom doesn't love you as you are.

Well, what's to say anyone can?

“Well, what do you say, Butter-Duck? You have to find a nickname for me, but I'll call you that regardless, hmm?”

His question brings you back to the conversation.

Which, leads you to ugly, fat tears.

Lucifer’s face contorts into panic.

“Wait, I'm sorry, it's was a rubbish nickname, sorry I thought it was funny-” He puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“No, no it's not that,” You rub your eyes, your voice croaky.

“The reason is quite silly, really, it's fine, I'm just being stupid hahha,”

Lucifer is not convinced.

“Listen, you helped me out the other day, and even though I'm not good at this comforting stuff, please, at least let me listen,” He gives you a weak, gorgeous smile, one that is enough to make you stop crying about.

Okay, it's really becoming an issue of you being distracted by…

Him.

“Well, just an argument with my mom; basically just her saying how much of a disappointment I am and-” your voice creaks.

“And?”

“And I suddenly just don’t feel like her daughter,just a burden she has to put up with, and then what’s the point of all of this if you're not perfect,”

And breathe.

You put your face in your hands.

“I’ll never find love,”

“Hang on, but isn't Adam your husband? Don't you love him?”

“No, I don't. It was a marriage purely organised by my parents. Completely transactional,” you mutter dejectedly.

“Shit, that really sucks. Listen, I know it's hard to hear, but you need to hear it. Nobody is perfect. No one. That's what makes people interesting. And your mom wanting you to be that is far from perfect of her. Not sure if you're aware, but we're in Hell, right now, amongst many people who are basically morality rejects. But you, you're a Winner. Not in the physical sense, but also metaphorically. And for what it's worth…” Lucifer takes a moment to mull over his next words.

“Many people love you, like Charlie and, that Seraphim, Emilia?”

“Emily” You amend.

“Anyway, that's besides the point. The point is that you have many people that adore you, and that's what matters most,” Lucifer comes closer and stiffly puts his arms around you, which you return.

“Thank you, Lucifer,” You sniffle into his shoulder.

“No problem, anytime. You are my friend after all,” He gently smiles.

Your heart flutters. Friend? As in, person he considers more than an acquaintance?

“So, what's this about a Butter-Duck?” You tease.

“What? I thought it'd be a cool nickname for you,” He huffs.

“Alright, alright… Let me think of a nickname for you then… Lulu!”

He grimaces. “Ugh, that sounds like a name for a baby products brand!”

“Oddly specific, but if it annoys you more, all the better!”

“Ugh, you're like worst than some sinners here I swear,”

“Who said Angel’s can't be jokesters too?” You give him a wink.

He coughs, a rosy red complexion appearing on his face.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

Emily and Charlie come back into the lobby, to you and Lucifer making small talk on the couch.

“Ready to go?”

Emily nods. She goes to hugs Charlie, which is reciprocated.

“Well, I’ll see you around?” You squeeze the demon’s king hand.

He looks at you, and nods, hesitant to return the gesture, as if you were glass.

“Yes, I will,”

As you and Emily leave to make your way back to Heaven, you could've sworn you heard Lucifer whisper three words.

“I love you,”

You turn back with a questioning expression, but all that was on his face was nonchalance.

꧁🥀☽💫✶♛🐣♕✶💫☾🥀꧂

Word count- 2,194~

Taglist:

@dionysusismypatrongod

@glowymxxn

@froggybich

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soothinglee · 5 months

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even if my heart stops beating⏤✰

seungmin x reader | 1.6k✔︎

my notes⎯ hello everyone ! I know it's been a while since I've actually wrote something ! I actually got hit by a bus! yeah I had to sue this company called "writers block" and I finally got a settlement! (also happy new year!) I recently (like a week ago) got into Kpop, specifically Stray Kids ! I've read some fan fictions (shameless) about some of my favorites and got inspo to write one! thank you @soobnny . also I haven't wrote anything in a while so i'm a little rusty, i'll be as good as new soon!

warning⎯ mentions of vomit (used as word vomit) and crying.

genre⎯ angst to comfort.✔︎

songs⎯ six feet under; billie eilish | pretty boy; the neighborhood

the old rusted clock that came with the condo you and seungmin bought sits perched on the top of the fridge. Its old, wooden frame slowly caves in on itself as time goes on.

not even an hour or two ago you had happily entered your home to start cooking dinner, not even worrying about showering first because you were so excited to have dinner with your boyfriend.

even going out of your way to spend a hundred dollars over the amount you usually spend to give seungmin the greatest 'welcome home' feast. he and the rest of stray kids had been on tour for the last couple months, traveling all over the world to perform at concerts and do collaborations with other idols to promote their new albums.

sure, it had been lonely, being by yourself all of the time, the only glimpse of your boyfriend you could get is when he could facetime you for 2 minutes or when he responded back to a text 4 hours later. but you understood, you knew what you were getting yourself into even when you started becoming friends with him.

if anything, you were strong, understanding, and flexible to when he couldn't make it to something like a movie night or date when his plane arrives later or practice runs over.

the only thing now, is that he had promised you that he could make it on time to dinner. sending countless 'I swear ill be there' texts and swift calls ensuring his presences at the dinner table during his dance rehearsals.

but now you were sitting at the table alone. a cold jajangmyeon sits in the platter in front of you, a similar on across the table from you. looking up at that old clock the hour turns to 10 and he's officially 2 hours late. it wasn't unknown for him to run a little over his time but this was unbelievable. you curse yourself for being naive and truly thinking he would keep to his word.

as you get up and clean the meal that you created you feel a little piece inside of you break, watching your hard work spill into the leftover containers like your tears. this was embarrassing, waiting around like a puppy in hopes your owner comes home. you were loyal and hopeful to a fault but wasting time and money like this was just unacceptable.

by the time seungmin walked through the front door it was half pass midnight and you had situated yourself infront of the t.v watching a new drama a colleague from work recommended.

"(name)." he calls out, you hear his shoes hit the wall as he takes them off, and then theres a shuffle as he organizes them on the shoe rack. you hear him leave his keys in the bowl on the desk that was by the front door, his footsteps growing louder as he nears the living room.

"(name)." he calls out again, seeing you lay in a cocoon of blankets in the dark, he think maybe you're sleeping so he quietly discards his winter coat on the back of the couch. he flicks on the lamp on the other side of the couch to bring in some light. though when he comes around to sit down he finds your eyes wide open, "why didn't you answer me when I called?"

"why didn't you come on time like you promised?" you quipped back quietly, suddenly too exhausted to have any conversation with him. you try and sink further into the thick blanket as you watch the Netflix symbol load and the next episodes intro plays.

you can't see his face but when he sighs and shifts in his spot you can hear the hesitance, "you already know why, practice ran late, like always."

"whatever."

"'whatever?' what's going on with you?"

"nothing." your tone is snipped but honestly you couldn't care less. somewhere in your soul you feel as though this might be a little extreme of an reaction but there is only so much patience you can give one person. you constantly make time for him and this relationship, so why couldn't he move things around and do the same for you? your eyes remain on the television.

seungmins eyes dart quickly to the t.v and then back to you, noticing that your full attention isn't on him, so he leans over you and goes to grab the remote from your hands. at the sudden loss of contact you make a move to try and get the remote back from him but he effectively powers down the t.v and discards in on the coffee table.

"I'll only repeat myself so many times, what's going on?"

it was like a newfound energy fizzled at your toes and pushed itself up and towards your head, your body springs up from its sideways position and you angle yourself to face seungmin.

though the light was somewhat dim due to only the lamp being on, he could see the red-rim of your eyes and the dried streaks of tears sticking to your cheeks. obviously, it had been evident that you had been crying.

seungmins eyes soften for a moment, he reaches out to try and smooth out the puffiness of your cheeks but as soon as you see his hand coming you push it away, "you were crying?" it comes out more of a statement than a concerned question, but the worry was still evident in his tone.

"duh," you start, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in the tense space, you find comfort in the carpet on the ground. you were feeling...nervous. you didn't want to cause anymore problems but things won't get solved unless they are discussed, which in all honesty, the thought of confrontation in the first place is feared.

you need to get it out, you can't stop living like this. deep down you know he cares but you have to stop going off of assumptions. either he's going to show up or not, it was clear already that you showed up no matter how busy you were.

"do you even still love me?"

the question tumbles from your lips before you could even process what you were saying. maybe it wasn't what you wanted to convey exactly but it was definitely a start.

"what?" his airy voice sounds dumbfounded which makes sense. the intense look you're giving him plus the profound, out-of-the-blue question throws him off guard.

of course he loves you, why would you ever think anything different? "where is this coming from?"

"well it's just that every time we have something planned your work gets in the way. I spend hours and hours getting ready, trying to look my best, just to waste the day sitting on the couch waiting for you to come home. sometimes I'm waiting so long I fall asleep! I put so much effort into being a good girlfriend! hell, I even spent over 100 dollars on dinner tonight because I knew you had a hectic day, it took me two hours to make it just for it to go cold and put into a container,"

your voice chokes up, full of exhaustion and disappointment. you feel the tears pooling in your eyes but have no energy to stop them. you really want to quit the word vomit but there's no point, theres more to be said.

"I try so hard to not get disheartened but it gets so hard when you don't even try. sometimes I feel like you don't even care about this relationship anymore, like you don't care about m-"

just as you were about to finish your words were muffled by hands on your face, and lips on yours. seungmin had kissed you to stop your rambling. you couldn't help but to feel relieved and somewhat offended.

"stop." he whispers as he takes a breath, his hands still on your face, foreheads connecting, "please stop." his voice crack under pressure, its subtle but at the lack of distance between you two you can hear it so well. your eyes are closed, trying to get your own tears at bay but hearing how emotional he's becoming breaks you. a sob teeters at your bottom lip but you force it still.

"don't you ever think that I don't care. I always have." he pauses and wipes the stray tears on your face with his thumbs, "I'm so sorry I've made you feel like this. god I'm such a bad boyfriend, this is my fault."

you try to move away to comfort him but he holds you in place gently, you sniffle and reach up to brush the bangs from his face.

"I promise you I'll be more attentive, ill take you out everyday, spend as much time with you, cook for you, miss practices all the time just to make sure you know I care about you."

"you promised earlier but you didn't come!" you cry, recounting how long you waited.

"I know!" his voice quivers as his hands tremble, lightly shaking your head, "I know...and i'll never forgive myself. you don't know how much you've shaped me into the person I am now and I- I have no clue what I would do without you. I just have a poor way of showing it."

you grip on his wrists, mimicking him with your eyes squeezed shut, you stopped trying to keep the tears in awhile ago, letting them fall freely into your covered lap. "how do I know I can trust you? I'm so sick of feeling like this."

"I promise you I will prioritize you more than anything, Idol life, dancing, singing- whatever, does not come before you. I won't leave you hanging like this anymore, i'm sorry I didn't pay more close attention to your feelings," his bottom lips shakes as he takes another deep breath, he opens his eyes and you can see pass the tears and sorrow a new found determination.

"even if my heart stops beating, you're the only one I need."

past your wary judgement...you believe him...

#seungmin x reader #x reader #seungmin fluff #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #soothinglee #seungmin angst #kim seungmin #skz x you #skz x y/n #idol au #established relationship

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spoopydooblr · 2 months

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Demons | Chapter 1

Pairing: Billy Butcher (The Boys) x Supe!OC

Summary: Over a year ago, Lilith Murphy escaped the experiments and torture of the Sage Grove Center. After laying low and stripping at Super Girlz, she’s found by Billy and The Boys.

Warnings: descriptions of sex work, sexual violence, sexual themes, mental illness, eventual smut (!)

AN: omggggggggg so anyways….here’s ch 1! get excited y’all!!! please do let me know what you think! comments and likes keep me writing lol

Lilith Murphy was running late. So late that her boss at Super Girlz even noticed.

“You’re on in ten, Murph.” He grumbled, barely looking up at her as she entered the back office.

“Sorry, won’t happen again.” She breathed, pushing past him. They both knew it would definitely happen again.

Her manager grunted in response, staring down at his nude magazine.

Lili made her way to the dressing room, smiling curtly to the other girls as she made her way to a chair. She wasn’t really close with any of them—Lili preferred to stay on the outside. It was safest there.

The reflection in the mirror was a sore sight—her red hair was a mess and she still had last night’s makeup on. Smudges of black lined her eyes while leftover glitter stuck to her cheeks. She took a makeup wipe from her bag and wiped her face, preparing it for another night of heavy makeup and sparkles.

The routine was the same every night now. Lili was basically nocturnal at this point, her sleep schedule a mess and social life nonexistent. But she had to be there, it was the only way to survive after escaping Sage Grove.

It was hard for Lili to believe it had been over a year since the facility got broken into by some randos. She had been stuck there for years, enduring endless pain and torture because of the abilities she possessed.

Now wasn’t much different, though. The endless pain and torture didn’t stop, even now that she was free.

She was so used to pain she felt numb.

——————————

“Are you sure this is it?” Hughie asked as Billy pulled the car up to a dark alleyway.

“This the address Mallory gave me.” He grumbled, done with Hughie’s shit.

Hughie felt a shiver down his spine. They were in the middle of a bad neighborhood, about to walk down an alleyway.

“And you’re sure she’s here?”

“What I just tell ya? She’s here.”

Hughie gulped as Butcher led the way into the alley. Black clouds looked over the city. They reached a locked metal door, to which Billy banged on.

A disgruntled man swung the door open.

“Password?”

Hughie looked expectantly to Billy.

“Sixty-nine.” He said.

The man nodded and led them inside a dark room.

“The girls start in five.” He told them, pressing a button and opening another, more heavy door.

Inside, pink and purple lights filled the dark space. Supes were all over, sitting at the bar and on luxurious couches.

“What is this place?” Hughie whispered to Butcher.

“You never been to a supe club before, kid?”

He shook his head. Billy chuckled, looking around. “You ever been to a regular club?”

Hughie laughed nervously. “Um, no.”

“Well, maybe if yer lucky, one of these broads will give ya a wank.”

“I don’t know if I—“ Hughie started, hesitating when the lights started to go down.

“Stay close.” Billy said, walking towards a stage in the middle of the room. It was crowded, but they were able to find room towards the front.

“Butcher, I don’t know if we have time to watch the dancers—“

“Would ya fucking shut it, Hughie?”

“But where’s…uh…where is she?”

Billy didn’t have time to answer as music erupted from the speakers.

————————

“Are you ready?” A voice boomed from the stage. A twinky-looking EmCee had appeared.

The crowd erupted, the men almost feral for the girls that were about to come out.

“Introducing…the Super Girlz!”

The crowd once again went nuts, hooting and hollering.

Hughie looked at Billy, who kept his eyes on the stage, smirking. Work could sometimes have a little play, right?

The lights went off and everything was black. Hughie wondered if they had stumbled into the wrong place.

Pink lights flooded the stage as three girls stepped into view. They were all clad in lingerie, barely covering their asses. The men around them were practically frothing at the mouth.

Rap music started to play and the three girls began their routine, but something was missing. It was almost like they were waiting for someone. They shook their asses in a line, staring seductively into the crowd.

From the behind the stage curtain, a long, pink tongue appeared, snaking around the girls. The tongue licked one of the dancers on the cheek and she grinned.

A man next to Hughie hollered at the girls. It was all so, so weird. Who was the owner of this tongue?

Suddenly, the tongue snapped back into the curtain. The purple fabric was pushed to the side and a new girl appeared.

“Is that…” Hughie whispered.

Billy just smiled, keeping his eyes on the girl with the tongue. He had never seen her in person—just her mugshot in the file Mallory had given him. She was beautiful, of course, but he wasn’t expecting her to be that beautiful. And that body…

————————

Lili stepped out of the curtains, her heart audibly beating. All of the Supes around her could probably hear it.

It was so embarrassing to be nervous every show, but she couldn’t help it. One, she was on the run, and two, it was scary to be naked in front of randos.

Her outfit tonight was an all black bikini, contrasting her fellow dancers’ pink sets. The bottoms were definitely too small and the top barely covered her nipples, but Lili didn’t mind. Less clothes was equal to more tips.

The men in front of the stage cheered for her, sticking out their tongues. It was something her regulars did, thinking she would appreciate the solidarity. She didn’t.

Lili started her routine, dancing along with the other girls and showing off her twisty tongue. She had told her boss that elastic tongue was her only ability, which he was fine with. The other girls barely had powers in the first place. If only they knew who she really was.

Each girl took their turn doing a small solo for the men, grabby hands pushing dollars into their underwear.

Lili stretched her tongue in her mouth, moving her hips to the beat.

When it was her turn, she let her tongue fly, the pink thing seemingly having a mind of its own. The men yelled, begging for it to touch them. She smirked, letting her tongue lick at her own thighs as she knelt, ass out.

Her hands went up to cup her tits, swinging her head around, letting her bright hair flow.

The crowd was getting crazier, as they usually did, but she didn’t mind. It was easy money.

Hands reached out to her, stuffing one’s into her bra. Lili smiled seductively, her tongue also grabbing dollars out of the air.

She was almost done with her routine when she saw a large, strong hand reaching with a twenty.

Lili looked up, mostly expecting some old, rich creep. Instead, her blood ran cold.

————————

Sage Grove, 1 year ago

Lili sat in a damp, cold room. They had just done one of their “sessions”, which was basically just legal torture. The doctors at Sage Grove had specific instructions for her, because of her background. She was apparently too powerful for V experiments. Instead, the doctors at the facility did the opposite, pumping her full of V Inhibitor to control her powers. She felt weak and tired all the time, her once great powers pouring out of her like blood.

She sat on the icy floor, wishing that tomorrow would be the day that the V finally killed her.

Suddenly, sirens wailed from outside. The door to her room opened, but no one was there. Carefully, she got up and walked to the doorway, eyes widening at what she saw.

Patients ran through the halls, their various powers surging. Lili smiled, she was finally free.

She sprinted down the hallway, unsure if her powers would even work. The V Inhibitor was still in her system, slowing her down.

The front of the facility was open, with patients causing chaos all over. She could’ve probably beat the shit out of anyone there, but that would make her more of a target than she already was.

————————

The minute the grass touched her feet, Lili felt like she was home already. Not that she had a home, but if she did. She pondered her next move, the idea of a home on her mind as she ran through the forest.

Then gunshots rang in her ears. Lili ran to the nearest tree, hiding behind it as she searched for the origin of the sound. Fifty feet away, one of her friends lay on the ground, bullet holes in his chest. She gasped, looking to the assailant. A man in a Hawaiian shirt held a smoking AK. Next to him was a blonde woman who kind of looked like Starlight.

No, no. That was Starlight.

What was she doing at Sage Grove with a mysterious gunman?

————————

Lili couldn’t forget a face.

Like literally. Her brain was so powerful she remembered most things.

The face of the man in front of her was the same as the gunman from Sage Grove. Sure, he was hot, but he murdered a kid. Why was he, and the twink next to him, at Super Girlz?

Lili took the money from him, shoving it in her bra and backing up.

He stared her down like she was some kind of prey.

Lili turned, her nerves almost ruining the other dancer’s routine. She had to go. Now.

The dance was almost over and sure, her boss would be mad she left, but Lili was in danger. Even if the guy didn’t want to kill her, he was surely being followed. The Seven had their ways.

Lili left the stage, her stilettos clicking on the floor as she ran to the dressing room.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” she mumbled, trying to grab her clothes and bag. She couldn’t be on the run in lingerie.

“Well, well, well, look what we have ‘ere.” A British accent perked her ears. Lili turned, heart dropping.

“Who are you?” She pushed. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

Billy looked her up and down, eyes lingering a little too much on her tits.

“Just a little chat, right Hughie?” He motioned to the skinny man next to him.

“Uh, uh yeah.”

“Whatever you want from me, I don’t have it.”

Butcher took a step closer. “We don’t want nothing from ya, love. Just a little help, that’s all.”

“Help?”

Billy smirked. “I got a tip that a little lassie gave Homelander a run for his money few years ago.”

Fuck. Lili’s body went rigid. Her mouth dried. “Well then you got the wrong girl.”

Butcher laughed. He got even closer.

“Nah. I think we got ‘er right here.” He stared into her eyes. If she wasn’t on the run, she’d consider it a tender moment.

Billy paused. “Eh, Demoness?”

The nickname stung her like a fucking wasp.

“Don’t call me that.” She spat.

“Ah, there’s the spunk!” Billy turned to Hughie.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“M’ sorry love, how rude of me.” He stepped forward, again. “I’m Billy Butcher, and this here,” he clapped the twink on the shoulder. “This is Hughie Campbell.”

“Okay, and?” Lili looked past the men and to the door. “How the fuck did you find me?”

“Not hard when ya stripping around in ya knickers and using that tongue of yours.”

Rude, but true. Lili shivered, crossing her arms in front of her breasts. She was still practically naked. Again, Butcher’s gaze lingered a bit too long.

“You two enjoy the show?” She spit back, turning to grab her clothes.

“Eh, seen better.” Butcher replied. Hughie looked uncomfortable.

Lili scoffed. “Sure.” She rummaged through her bag, desperate to cover up. “Doesn’t matter anymore, though, does it?”

Butcher was silent. Lili took a step towards him, almost as tall as him with her heels. “When The Seven finds me, which they will, no thanks to you, they will kill me.”

“That’s why we’re here first, love.”

Lili almost pressed her thighs together at the nickname. “And what makes you think I’ll come with you?”

Billy laughed. “You got anotha option?”

Lili thought for a second. She really didn’t have another option, but Billy and Hughie were still suspicious to her. How did they find out about her in the first place?

“I—“ she started, but before she could get the words out, the door to the dressing room burst open.

For the second time that night, Lili’s blood ran cold. In the doorway stood The Deep.

“Lilith!” He said, seemingly relieved to see her.

Frankly, Lili was too stunned to speak.

“Ah, how nice of you to join us!” Billy said, standing in front of Lili. She didn’t expect him to try and protect her. “Looks like you were searchin’ for the little lady here too.”

He looked past Billy. “I’ve been worried sick about you!”

Lili rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Kevin.”

Billy looked back to Lili, giving her a questioning look.

“N-no you’re not! Look at you, Lil!” He motioned to her bra and panties. “Why didn’t you find me when you escaped?”

Something inside of her snapped. After the years and years of torture, she was finally free. There was nothing holding her back from finally showing The Deep what she was made of. No Homelander watching over her or power inhibitors.

“You don’t fucking own me.” She spat.

“But, but I thought—“

“You fucking raped me, Kevin!”

Billy turned to Lili, then to The Deep.

Lili could hear his heartbeat pick up.

“The fuck ‘e talking about, Lili?”

She ignored him. Fight now, traumatic backstory later.

“I did not!” The Deep wined. “Why does everyone say that?”

“Maybe because yer a fuckin serial rapist bastard, ever think about tha?”

Lili felt her hands get hot. Oh no. She hadn’t felt her powers in a long time. The energy surged through her body, lighting her nerves up. Her heartbeat rang in her ears. There was no doubt The Deep could hear it, too.

“Lili, please.” He begged her. “Come back with me.”

“Never.”

“Please?” He pouted.

“The lady said no, Kevin.” Billy smirked, stepping towards The Deep.

They stared each other down. Lili didn’t know if Billy or Hughie were Supes. If they weren’t, it was going to be up to her to defeat The Deep. Her hands heated up more.

“Kevin.” She said, pushing past Billy. “You need to go.”

“Lilith—“

“Now!” She yelled, hands lighting on fire. Long, pointed fingernails grew from her fingers. Her eyelids flickered, revealing blood red irises, contrasting to her usual ocean blue.

Billy lunged back, but was unsurprised by her power. He must’ve read her file.

She spoke through new, pointed teeth, with a deeper, more ominous voice.

“If you don’t leave, I’m going to have to fucking kill you.” She couldn’t help the way she was feeling. After years and years of repressing her powers and taking the V Inhibitor, Demoness was back.

“Lili, baby—“ The Deep had only seen her powers once, ten years ago.

Lili opened her mouth, half expecting her tongue to slide out like a big joke. Instead, she breathed fire, flames shooting out of her mouth.

The Deep barely got out of the way before the fire scorched him. He fell to the ground.

“Fuck! What the fuck!”

“Get out!” She yelled.

The Deep scrambled up, grabbing the door handle.

“And Kevin,” Lili smiled with her fangs. “Do tell Homelander I’m back,” she looked to Billy, then back to The Deep. “Tell him I’m coming for him.”

Billy smiled to Hughie, who looked terrified. Lili forgot he was even there.

“Y-you can’t defeat him. He’s too powerful.”

Lili laughed, entire body in flames now. “Well a girl can try, right?”

“Lili—“

“No. Fuck you. Get out!” She shot fire from her hands, burning his skin.

The Deep crawled away, leaving an ablaze Lili with Billy and Hughie.

“Fuck.” She whispered, the fire on her body dying out. It was exhausting being a supe. Lili felt her body relax, but the relief was too much and she faltered, barely able to catch herself.

“Haven’t used those powers in a minute, huh?” Butcher grabbed her shoulder.

Lili’s eyelids fluttered. She was not going to pass out in front of a sexy older man.

“Uhh—“

“Here.” Butcher shrugged off his long black coat. “Don’t want ya lookin like a whore when ya meet the boys.”

He said that, though she could tell he would rather have her in her underwear (or nothing at all).

The boys?

#billy butcher x oc #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys

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seoksgrl · 4 months

Text

happier than ever, 2. : knj namjoon x reader friends to strangers to lovers

tws: alcohol addiction, vomiting, grief, mention of death and terminal illness

m.list prev | next

Waking up is the same as it always is these days, head weighed down with the fogginess of the night before, the withdrawal kicking in after hours of unconsciousness. You call it that, nowadays, because what you experience doesn’t really constitute sleep anymore. You used to have dreams, wake up in the middle of the night needing to pee or simply waking from the sunlight beginning its slow descent across the scope of your room.

Nowadays, you pass out and stay in the same position for hours on end, no dreaming and, usually, no waking up until the light in your room forces you to. You’ve had more than a few occasions where your body has been so sedated by the alcohol in your system that you haven’t even woken up to pee. Simply relieving yourself in your sleep just like you did when you were a three year old. It would humiliate you if you allowed yourself to dwell on anything in the last few years; now you have the luxury of blocking it all out.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you fight the initial dizziness that comes with your hangover, though it’s always worse than anything you experienced when alcohol was just a treat on the weekends. Now, you drink not only to escape the hurricane of emotions that threaten to drown you when you think too long, but also to get rid of the mind-numbing, persistent symptoms of alcohol withdrawal. One foot in front of the other, you stumble to your old armoire, tugging open the door and ignoring the bundled up clothes that fall out, forgotten and unwashed. At the bottom is your stash, not that you really need to hide the glass bottles of clear liquor anymore. Now you’re all alone in the world, you don’t have the risk of anyone snatching away your vodka before you can remedy your headache with some good, old hair of the dog.

The liquor burns as it glides down your throat, hitting the pit of your empty stomach before it blooms in warmth. After a few seconds, you almost start to feel numb again - perfection.

Wiping the sleep and leftover makeup from your eyes, you finally glance around the room you have slept in since you were five years old. There’s a bolt of something akin to panic that rushes through you when you spot the space where your empty liquor bottles used to take residence on your bedside table, vacant. You, of course, don’t remember much of the night before, or really the last few weeks or months, but you can’t imagine you would do something so out of character as to use your drunken stupor to do some spring cleaning.

It’s after the second swig of vodka that the smell drifts into the room, toast and eggs it seems like. It’s so familiar, so warm and sunny that you screw your eyes closed, swallowing a few more burning gulps of the liquor to shoo away this awful hallucination. It’s cruel, that the universe would do this to you, remind you of the lightness of your old life. But it doesn’t go away, the scent of food continues to waft from downstairs, along with the sounds of someone moving plates and cutlery around, and you almost freeze, wondering if you brought home a guy last night, an unexpected gentleman willing to cook you breakfast after a night of what you can only assume was lacklustre, drunken sex as you peer down at your outfit - a large, ratty t-shirt and underwear.

You even managed to get changed last night? Nothing seems to be adding up. But your stomach is growling, and after a drink, you’re sure you’ll be able to suffer through a stilted conversation with your friendly one-night-stand before you unceremoniously kick him out. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The old stairs creak as you pad down, barefoot and still pantless. The liquor bottle abandoned on your nightstand where you can go back to it later if you run out of the whiskey you keep in the kitchen. You’re feeling like an irish coffee might be the ideal accompaniment to this awkward breakfast.

When you get to the bottom step, your stomach is growling, but your mind is beginning to cloud over with that familiar haze you’ve grown comfortable in, the vodka finally doing its job as your headache fades just a little. You shuffle quietly into the kitchen, eyes flitting up to see what kind of guy you dragged home with you last night before you stop in your tracks, your body icing over as the man in question glances up, eyes flicking to your legs for no less than a heartbeat before he’s looking right at you.

“Oh, good,” Namjoon says, “you’re up. I got you some painkillers,”

The universe is clearly playing some kind of cruel joke on you, to conjure up this image of this man standing in your kitchen, cooking breakfast on a frying pan you can only assume he must have washed. God knows you haven’t cleaned in months.

Kim Namjoon can’t possibly be standing in the kitchen of your childhood home right now, filling up the space with a body that is far thicker and more sculpted than you remember. He looks older, but in a good way, faint crinkles at the corner of his eyes as he squints over to you, quirking a brow as if he can't understand why you’re still standing there.

“Wh - “

“Why are you here, Namjoon?” You wish your voice sounded a little stronger, slurriness coating your words accompanying the breathless in which you ask the question. You are supposed to be angry, you’ve pictured a moment similar to this thousands of times, and each time you tore into him, inspiring even an ounce of the hurt and pain you’ve endured over the last few years would be enough to satisfy you. You hate him, and you hate that you don’t hate him nearly as much as you want to.

He dusts off his hands, wiping them on the back of his jeans, “I figured you might not remember,”

“Remember what?” You ask, a sharp spike of something spearing your stomach, making you hot all over. God, you didn’t sleep together did you?

“I brought you home last night, Y/N,” He says, voice low and steady, the exact opposite of how you’re feeling right now, swaying where you stand when his brows narrow and his lips part, “Are you still drunk?”

You can’t do this right now, you can’t have this conversation with him. Especially not him.

Namjoon always had a knack for seeing right through your bullshit, though back then, that meant calling you out when you tried to lie about whether you were in a mood or not, or calling you a liar when you hid your face in the sleeves of your sweater and told him you were yawning and not watching the slasher movie through the gaps in your fingers. You absolutely cannot talk to him about the clusterfuck that your life has turned into, not when you glance down at his wrist, spotting the rolex that does all it needs to remind you of the different paths your lives have taken.

He walks around the small kitchen island, his frame towering over you even as you try to appear unfazed. It’s impossible though, you’re swimming in that sweet, warm pool of numbness, and you are already uncoordinated, stumbling back a step when he reaches out to grab your elbow. His nostrils flare a little, a concerned notch forming between his brows.

“Have you had a drink already?”

Tugging from his hold, you step away, thankful that the wall stops you from falling flat on your ass. You duck around him, moving to the sink where you rinse your hands for no reason under the cool water, perhaps to soothe your overheated skin. You’re angry, and sad, and fucking drunk already, and you cannot do this with him right now.

“You should go. You don’t need to babysit me,”

Namjoon, you note with relief, doesn't follow you. He stays where he is, your positions in the kitchen swapped now as you wander over to the pan where the cooked eggs sit. Your mouth waters, but the second you’re reminded of Namjoon’s presence, your mouth fills with saliva as the nausea washes over you.

“Are you alone here?” Namjoon asks, as if he already knows the answer but wants to hear you confirm it, “Where is your mom?”

A scoff bursts free from your lips as you brace yourself on the counter, your back to Namjoon because you can’t possibly look at him right now. He makes you feel too much, always has, and the alcohol flooding your blood only makes it all the more unbearable.

“Dead,” You answer simply, relieved at the continued wave of numbness that swallows your chest. You haven't felt anything in years now, but your mother’s death a year ago certainly solidified the fucked up state of your life. Your post-break up binge drinking turned into constant drinking, and now looking back, you can’t remember the last time you went without. You feel sick all over again, already aware this is more than you can take. You’re not about to stand here reminiscing, “She died a year ago, some dumbass doctor didn’t find the tumour until it was too late. Now, it’s just me,”

Just you. Utterly, suffocatingly alone.

The nausea bubbles up your throat once more and you swallow it down, taking deep, shaky breaths to stave off the urge to vomit. The scent of the breakfast Namjoon made suddenly has your stomach rolling instead of growling, and the longer you sit in this deafening silence with him, the more you feel your control slipping. You need a drink, more vodka. Maybe you can find the whiskey somewhere in the mess of the kitchen, you just need -

Throat clenching, you stagger to the now empty sink, emptying your guts of the pitiful amount of food lingering in your stomach. When was the last time you ate anything? You don’t know - it’s not like you eat often nowadays, preferring to drink until your stomach sloshes, full and bloated, forgotten as you skip into unconsciousness.

Your bleary, watery gaze stares into the sink which is now filled with the contents of your stomach, your shoulders curling as you dry heave, bile burning your throat. The warmth of a hand rubbing your back is what you notice next, gasping against each empty gag. It feels too familiar, too good. It reminds you of your mother, and of Namjoon, and his warm, masculine scent drifts over you, overwhelming and a searingly painful reminder. His hands barely manage to smooth your unwashed hair from the nape of your neck before you push him away, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Leave me alone,” Your voice is hoarse, tears you can no longer shed clogging your throat, and you swallow down the acrid taste in your mouth, glaring at your former best friend, “I want you to go. I don’t want you here,”

He stares at you, unblinking, eerily silent as if he doesn’t know who he is looking at right now. Well, that’s his issue, his fault, you think. He left, you didn’t. You stayed here, waiting, foolishly hoping that he might come back. Come home, to you.

You learned the hard way from a young age that everyone leaves. Your father abandoning you and your mother before you were even born, it set the tone for your future. You’re just not the kind of person someone wants to stick around to watch, kind of like a car crash happening in slow motion. It's been that way forever, it feels like, and through it all, Namjoon had seemed like the only tether holding you above the waves, stopping you from going under. Your lighthouse in a storm.

But then he let go, left to move onto better things. And seeing him now, seeing him be just as successful as you always knew he would be doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Everyone leaves, it was foolish of you to believe he would be any different. That fact that he’s here now, thirteen years too late, staring at you with a bleak look of guilt proves your point. He made his choice back then, and you stopped waiting for him a long time ago.

“Y/N,” Is all he says, and the sound of your name in his voice, so much deeper, aged than when he left, it has a shiver running up your spine, “what happened?”

“I just told you. I’m an orphan now, and I can take care of myself,”

Debatable, even to you as you try to block out the reality of your pitiful existence, but you aren’t about to fall into Namjoon just for him to turn and walk out the door again. Maybe he stayed overnight, but that doesn’t mean much where you’re concerned. Men have done the same after a drunken fuck, but they always leave in the cold light of day, when they wake up and realise where they are, when they see what a mess you are. And you know Namjoon will too.

He doesn’t argue, slipping his hand into his jean pocket and placing a small scrap of paper on the kitchen counter. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of looking at it, even as you wonder, but he nods, stepping away as he keeps his eyes on you for a beat longer.

“I’m staying at Lunar Hotel, room four. You know where I am if you change your mind,”

“Don’t stick around on my account,” You say, watching as Namjoon winces at the venom in your words, “you can run back to Seoul for all I care,”

He doesn’t stick around for much longer, his jaw tight as he turns, doing exactly what you predicted and walking out the door. Watching his frame exit the house, closing the dusty glass door behind him, your eyes shift towards the threadbare couch big enough to sit two people at a push. Atop the cushions is a blanket and a couple of throw pillows.

You shake your head, reaching into the nearest cupboard and breathing a sigh of relief when you find the half-drunk bottle of whiskey. Namjoon’s reappearance makes you want to drain the bottle, but you settle on a quick sip before making an irish coffee. When you’re done, your hands tremble a little, but you shake it off, eyes snagging on the slip of paper on the counter.

Without Namjoon’s watchful gaze, you step towards it, scanning the quickly scrawled letters reading Primrose Rehab Centre. There’s a skip in your throat, your hand crumpling up the paper and throwing it at the wall where it falls to join two full rubbish bags. The threat of having your coping mechanism taken away has your heart beating fast, even as a voice in your head tempts you to wonder for a moment what life would be like if you weren’t so fucked up.

The reminder that Namjoon wouldn’t have deigned to stick around has your lips lifting in a sneer, and you grab the whiskey bottle by the neck, forgoing your coffee in favour of something stronger.

The burn of the liquor down your throat almost distracts you from the emptiness in your chest.

Namjoon can barely register his own name being called as he stares out the window at the road, only coming back to himself when a heavy hand rests on his shoulder.

“Hey, man, you good?” Jooheon asks, his face open, warm and welcoming. It seems aside from a few others, Jooheon is the only person actually happy to see him back in town.

Namjoon forces a smile on his face, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. It doesn’t feel real. How can it after the morning he’s had, watching you stagger into the kitchen, reeking of booze with a glaze in your eye that reminds him of how you were last night.

He thought you were having a bad night, the reunion and everything with Seokjin causing you to get a little drunk by the lake. When he managed to all but carry you into the home you grew up in, he could hardly believe what he was seeing, even in the dark. The house was dirty, a layer of dust on almost every surface, and he could barely breathe for the scent of stale booze and must. He knew as he settled you into bed, taking his place on the old sofa, that something was deeply wrong. He’d seen the bottles in your room, but perhaps there was still a part of him hoping for some explanation. One that didn’t take the ground from his feet and have his stomach plummeting when you confessed in that cold, empty voice that your mother died.

Namjoon remembers your mom, a sweet woman, fiercely protective of her daughter and endlessly supportive. Like his own mom, she raised you alone, and he couldn’t deny she did an amazing job. At least looking at the girl he left behind thirteen years ago - now, you’re lost. Empty, soulless eyes and the absence of the smile he always loved.

It makes him feel ill, and he is solely responsible. If he had been here, if he had known - he clenched his fist against the porcelain handle of his coffee cup.

Jooheon waits for his reply, and Namjoon clears his throat, “I went to see Y/N,”

Instantly Jooheon’s smile falters, his feet carrying him to the empty chair opposite Namjoon in the tiny eating area of the bed and breakfast. The decor is dated, a little worn, but Namjoon feels oddly at peace as he tries to come to terms with the reality of your situation.

“She’s had it rough, the last couple years,” Jooheon says, and Namjoon nods, now well aware of how bad you’ve had it, “When Juwon got sick, we tried to rally round, but you remember how Y/N’s mom was. She was a fighter, never wanted to accept help off anyone,”

Almost a mirror image of you, it seems, Namjoon thinks, swallowing hard. He looks to his former classmate, eager for any and all information.

“How long did it…”

He smiled sadly, “They found the cancer too late to really do anything. With Y/N losing the studio, as far as I’m aware they couldn’t cope with the hospital bills. Seokjin offered to help but Y/N refused,”

Namjoon can’t blame you. He’s sure if he was harbouring a broken heart, he wouldn’t accept help from the person who broke it either. He just wishes he’d known. But that’s his own damn fault, he reminds himself with a shake of his head.

He gets stuck on one piece of new info that Jooheon has given him.

“When did Y/N lose the studio? How did all this happen?” It seems like you had one tragedy after another, and all over again, the guilt eats at Namjoon like a virus.

Jooheon’s jaw clenches, his head shaking softly as he speaks, “Y/N was planning to move to a bigger city, to open an art studio there. Hold classes and stuff. Seokjin didn’t wanna leave town and so after he proposed, they stayed here. But, Namjoon,” his classmate speaks low, as if he doesn’t want to be overheard, despite the lack of people in the B&B, “this town is desolate. Barely anyone passes through here nowadays, not like when we were kids. The council in this town don’t appreciate change, and so everyone’s businesses have suffered, including Y/N’s,”

Seokjin’s selfish ass, Namjoon thinks, his lip curling. He would buy you any studio you want, in any city, but his rational mind knows throwing money at the problem isn’t gonna fix it. He pauses, dwelling on the events of last night, the anxiety he had listening out for even a hint that you might be choking on your own vomit. The thought makes him shiver, the idea of you alone in that house, rotting away and drinking until you pass out.

He can’t leave, even as his phone pings with the reminder to set off to the airport. He just can’t - he hasn’t even packed, almost like he knew the second he got back to the bed and breakfast that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Do you want me to check you out of your room?” Jooheon asks, but there’s a look in his eye that tells Namjoon he knows the answer he will give him.

“No,” He replies, “I’m gonna stick around for a while longer,”

please let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist!

#namjoon angst #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon fic #namjoon scenario #purplearmynet

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welcome-to-alfea · 27 days

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Planets: Solaria!

Current Ruler: King Radius Sonizige of the Sol and Queen Selene Liamane of the moon

Heirs: Princess Stella Liamane-Sonizige of the Sun and Prince Atlas Liamane of the Moon

Climate: Desert

Political System: Dual Monarchy

Solaria is known as the planet where the sun never sets. A popular tourist destination, the planet is mostly desert, with almost all of the towns existing alongside rivers and on the coasts. Its biggest exports are sand, glassware, and cosmetics.

Solarians are made up of two distinct groups: Heliar-Solarians and Lunar-Solarians. Heliars are known for having darker skin, a resistance to heat, and are traditionally diurnal. Lunars are known for having paler skin, a resistance to cold, eyes that glow in the dark, and are traditionally nocturnal.

Solaria is ruled under a dual monarchy, with both Heliars and Lunars having their own respected rulers. Each monarchy has its own ruler and a council that guides them. Both sets of rulers and councils meet 2 a year to discuss planetary laws. Cities that are mostly one group tend to be run by that respective group, while larger cities with an even mix of both are run by mini councils, constiting of an equal amount of both members.

The Heliar capital is Angotas. A beautiful city on the coast made of marble and a popular tourist destination. It is the home of the Heliar ruler, King Radius Sonizige. He's known as a stern but fair ruler and an absolute softie when it comes to his daughter Stella.

Further North is Krolis, the Lunar capital. The city quite literally lights up at night: both from its inhabitants who are nocturnal and from the buildings, which are made of luminous stones that glow in the dark. It is the home of the Lunar Ruler, Queen Selene Liamane, Fairy of the Full Moon. In her hayday, Selene was a force to be reckoned with. But now she is ill, and her son Prince Atlas, Fairy of Twilight, has taken over as Prince Regent with the help of his Aunt Luna.

Much of Solarian culture revolves around the Second Sun of Solaria, a magical source that is used to keep the planet habitable. Without its magic, Solaria would grow far too hot, and disaster would strike. There's multiple holidays dedicated to it.

Solarian cuisine is dictated by its climate. Kitchens are outdoors as it is too hot to cook indoors. Meals typically consist of a cold soup made of stock and leftover vegetables, a main dish, a large platter of fruit, and a citrus sorbet.

#bellas winx au #winx club #winx redesign #winx stella #winx luna #winx radius #winx solaria

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mccnstruck · 5 months

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THAT LOVE IS LIKE A STAR IT'S GONE WE JUST SEE IT SHINING CUZ IT TRAVELED VERY FAR ILL KEEP A LEFTOVER LIGHT BURNING SO YOU CAN KEEP LOOKING OUT IM YOURS NO MATTER THAT LOVE'S GONE WE JUST SEE IT SHINING WE'VE TRAVELED VERY FAR ILL KEEP A LEFTOVER LIGHT SO YOU CAN KEEP LOLKING OHT ISNT THAT WORTH HOLDING ON

mitski THANK YOU FOR THIS VERSE

ANYWAYS its 3 23 good night

#new_message_!#actually i wanted to stay up to watch ace attorney lore since i cant play it #and after 5 hours of youtube shorts and meme videos i still dont know wtf is going on #sorry to phoenix wright tho he went thro stuff 😭

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satans-helper · 6 months

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Reaching for Stardust - Part XIV

Read Looking for Space here / Playlists / Read RFS on Wattpad

Word Count: ~3000

Warnings: sexy time ;)

---

Indeed Josh was desperate–though thankfully not literally dying–to get home. With the green light from his doctor given that his heart rate improved and the antibiotics were in full swing, I gathered him into my car and we headed back to the apartment where his brothers still were. My tires crunched over salt and leftover snow as we drove into the monochromatic gray of our little world, the heat blasting over both of us but really so high just to keep Josh warm. He looked better–warm color had returned to his face and he actually appeared to be pretty well-rested despite not having slept in his own bed.

“You’re feeling better?” I asked when we hit a red light.

“Yes, mama. Certainly better,” Josh told me, then sniffed a little. “Thanks for doing all of this.”

“Anything for you.” I reached over to squeeze his knee. “I’m so glad you’re on the mend. I don’t want to bring you to the hospital ever again. Not for an illness, anyway.”

“I’ll do my best. What about you? I don’t want you to get sick either.”

“So far, so good.” I hit the gas again. “Maybe the universe knows both of us can’t be sick at the same time. But the boys are gonna stay today and tonight to help out and keep us company. They were coming up Thursday anyway. Might as well stick around now, right?”

“That’s good that they spent the night.”

“It helped. As soon as I got home without you, it felt intolerable.”

Josh let out a dry laugh. “I love you.”

I looked at him for a moment before I had to make a turn. “I love you more.”

In my peripheral vision, I could see Josh stare out the window at the snowy streets and say, “Impossible.”

Back home we were greeted by loud, excited jeers of triumph over Josh’s road to recovery as well as a few bags of sick staples–more soup and broth, more Gatorade, a package of those little boxes of fruit juice, some zinc, cough drops and a big box of Rocket Pops, which Josh immediately tore into. He plopped himself down on the couch with the Rocket Pop in his mouth while Jake sat down next to him, Sam paced the living room while monologuing about how disgusting hospitals were and Danny helped me put everything away.

“You sure you guys wanna crash here again?” I asked him while he shoved the box of popsicles next to our other half-empty box of popsicles. “Don’t get me wrong–I love it. But I bet it feels pretty cramped. You should all be sleeping in beds.”

“We’ve agreed to stay here tonight,” Danny told me, balling up one of the empty plastic bags. “After that we’re gonna go back home.”

“Aw. Sam will miss you.”

“We live like, three blocks away from each other,” Danny replied with a little laugh. “So do you think Josh will be able to go to Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t know. Guess we’ll see.” I lifted a can of chicken noodle soup. “For now, this will have to do.”

Jake ended up playing nurse more than I did–he spent the entire day doting on his twin, making sure he was taking his meds, feeding him, keeping him hydrated and comfortable. That gave me a chance to catch up on work, though Sam and Danny were distracting in their own right no matter what I did to try and carve out my own space. It was nice though, the coming together of everyone again for a prolonged period of time in a home base, even if that had been instigated by Josh getting sick. What mattered was that he was fully on the mend and we were all spending time together, and I found myself no longer thinking about death but rather thinking about how it might be possible to have this all the time. A commune was always sort of a joke idea, but couldn’t it be real? Why couldn’t we be tied together like one big, happy family? The boys had had that for many years. I was a newer addition. I wanted it to stay like that. I was pretty sure they all did too. Being apart made no sense and I got caught up in this fantasy while I tried to stay tied to my computer screen. Ultimately, no other place in the world felt as good as home did.

Things winded down even further after we all watched a movie. Jake, Danny and Sam took their respective couch and sleeping bag beds in the living room while I got some long-awaited alone time with Josh, who seemed absolutely delighted to be back in our bed. He snuggled back against the pillows in a clean set of pajamas–the fleece set patterned with puppies in Santa hats that I’d bought him two Christmases prior–looking cherubic and adorable and more healthy than he had at the hospital.

Then he wiggled ferociously, hips shimmying on the mattress with an abundance of suppressed energy that finally could resurface. I smirked, standing in front of our dresser with my own pair of clean pajama pants waiting in my hands, and asked, “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I feel,” Josh began, bringing one hand down to his crotch. He grabbed himself, groping in a very uncharacteristic way that completely captured my attention. “Pent up.”

“Yeah, I bet,” I said, my attention drifting from changing my clothes to getting Josh out of his. “It’s been days since you…got off. Right?”

Josh nodded, palming himself through those silly fleece pants. It was one of those times where his almost innocent-seeming, unfathomably adorable nature butted up against the more robust biological male sex drive; how fascinating it was to see the mingling of those sides as often as I did.

“Yeah. Days,” he said. “I think I need some help.”

I stepped over to the side of the bed, bending down to pet back the curls that had fallen down past his ears. His hair was growing out just a little bit. I secretly wished he’d let it all grow out completely and return to the wild, messy free set of long, sunkissed curls that I just loved running my fingers through. He looked up at me with the softest eyes, the dark, shiny irises reflecting the dim night table lamp, and I thought back briefly to the bachelorette party.

“I have an idea,” I told him, already retreating to grab one of the gift bags that was still sitting in the corner of our bedroom. One peek inside allowed me to see that bottle of edible body oil–raspberry-vanilla flavored. Questionable, but certainly worth trying. With that now in my hand, I swiveled to face Josh again: “You should get naked.”

Josh gave me his best puppy dog eyes. “No foreplay?”

I shook the bottle, the wet, gloopy sound making him perk up. “This is all foreplay, baby.” Before I got ahead of myself, I paused. “I should get a towel.”

I slipped out of the bedroom to the hall to grab one of our least desirable towels from the linen closet, then peered further down the hall to check on the boys–Danny and Sam were chatting, the TV blinking in front of them, and Jake was lounging beneath one of our extra throw blankets, the book in front of his face illuminated by the end table lamp. We were all basking in different lights tonight, I thought as I crept back to the bedroom, but I thought my Starshine was by far the brightest.

But he could also be the loudest. I grabbed the little fan from our closet and set it up on the dresser next to the humidifier for some extra white noise, pointing it away from the bed, and motioned for Josh to move to the side so I could lay the towel down. He got up entirely and stripped down to nothing, and I watched, soaking him up with my eyes. True aging hadn’t exactly hit either of us yet–sure, a few new, at first odd-looking lines had grown into our faces, our tolerance for certain foods had changed, hair grew differently–more slowly, it seemed–metabolism slowed down just a touch. More than anything, I could see that some of his juvenile, boyish looks had developed. But true aging was far off, I felt, and it was even further away for Josh, who continued to embody such youth and vitality despite getting older that it sometimes felt as though getting old would never touch him.

Again, I thought as I dropped to my knees in front of him while he laid back on the bed, almost like he was immortal. That’s a big part of why him being in the hospital was so scary–because until that moment, Josh had seemed completely, totally untouched and eternal.

I almost asked if he really felt up for a “full release,” but he was already hard and looking very eager, thighs spread and his erection firmly pressed against his belly. But I did remind him of one thing after I squeezed a bit of the oil into my hands: “You’ll need a shower after this. This stuff feels sort of sticky.”

“That’s okay,” he said, voice still a little hoarse but still an improvement from a few days prior. He laid back, propped up on his elbows, watching while I brought my hands to his calves. When my hands slid up to his thighs, he laid back flat, stretching his arms up over his head. “Nice and slow seems right. I’m beat.”

“I bet you are.” I broke contact to get more oil–it smelled okay, like the artificial raspberry I was used to from candy and a touch of sugary-sweet fake vanilla, but I was still a bit apprehensive about the taste. I worked my hands around his thighs, massaging gently and intentionally ignoring his most sensitive part; his quads were strong, perpetually taut, and his inner thighs were delightfully soft, his skin pliable as I worked my hands over them. I leaned forward to lick–mostly to try the taste, really, which ended up being a primarily bitter, fake fruit flavor. It made me pause for a second, which Josh noticed, looking down curiously. I slid my tongue between my teeth, making a sour face, but the after-taste was actually less unpleasant.

“How is it?” he asked, still keeping his hands behind his head. I wasn’t sure everyone got to see it in action, but there were plenty of instances in which Josh could exhibit impressive patience.

“Not terrible?” I replied, then finally wrapped my hand around his cock, hot and hard within my palm, and Josh laid his head back down. The oil did serve as a solid lubricant, I could give it all the credit there–the slide was slick and easy but I went slow, massaging his thigh and up to his hip with my other slippery hand. I ran my thumb over the little slant of bone, fingers splayed over his side, then back down and around to squeeze his ass as best I could. It didn’t take much effort until Josh was whimpering–a little too loudly. I squeezed a little harder in warning and said, “Best to be quiet, babe. They’re not asleep out there.”

“I’m too pent up!” Josh replied in a frenzied yet hushed huff, thrashing his arms. The whole thing made me laugh but I slid my hand back to his inner thigh, massaging again, and he stilled with a silent nod, pressing his lips together tight. So I carried on, petting his leg and up to his side while I stroked him, studying the slight curves of his body and the heat that was radiating from everywhere. Thankfully, however, it wasn’t a fever anymore. It was pure arousal, all those hormones festering for too long in that beautiful form.

“You’re still the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” I told him with complete intention, my eyes grazing from his tense neck down to the quivering belly. “Even when you have pneumonia.”

“You don’t get to talk if I can’t,” Josh replied, abs tightening while his cock twitched in my hand.

I laughed softly. “Fine, fine.” I brought my face lower while I pushed one of his legs to the side a bit. “Fair’s fair, I guess,” I added before I pressed my mouth to his inner thigh, beginning with a kiss, carrying on with a long lick and ending with a bite. With Josh holding back another whimper that I could see caught in his throat, I decided to go all in, swiping my tongue up his length while I gently squeezed his balls.

It still caught me by surprise how abruptly he came. I pulled back just in time to let Josh’s abdomen catch a bit of the release, the rest caught in my fist while I kept pumping him and, throughout it, he was biting his lip to keep himself as quiet as possible. His fists clenched the sheets until his knuckles were white, every muscle in his body visibly tightening and then contracting. He thrashed a bit to tell me no more, so I released him and wiped my hand on the towel beneath him.

I sat by his side, placing my cleaner hand atop his chest. “You should really breathe, though. For the sake of your lungs.” His heartbeat was strong, though–I could feel it beneath my palm.

Josh let out a long breath through his nose, then covered his mouth with his arm to cough a bit. “Sorry,” he said, sounding more spent than he did earlier, but in a good way. “Wow. Alright, darling, I definitely needed that.” He looked down at himself and groaned. “But now I do need to hop in the shower again and I really don’t feel like moving.”

“If I could carry you, I totally would,” I told him, bending down to give him a long kiss, sickness be damned. “Want me to run you a bath?”

Josh’s hand gently clasped the back of my head, keeping me pinned in front of his face. “Only if you take the bath with me.”

I suddenly remembered the three other people in our apartment. “Maybe we should just make it a quick shower,” I said to Josh, looking behind myself at the bedroom door. “We’re not the only ones here tonight.”

Josh huffed dramatically. “They can hold their piss for a little while.” He rolled out from beneath me and got on his feet, taking the dirty towel and tossing it into our laundry basket, then planted his hands on his hips as he stood in front of the door. “Come on, love.”

I relented and, in the bath, I leaned back against the tub and held Josh between my legs. “I hate to say it, but you might need to skip Thanksgiving this year,” I told him as I rubbed soap beneath his armpits. “Do you think your parents will be really upset?”

“They completely expected me to miss it. My mom cried more than you did.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. It’s gotta be hard to see her baby in the hospital, even if you’ve been there like a hundred times before.”

“Not a hundred.”

“Close enough. Too many times.” I ran one hand up to the back of his neck, massaging a little, and gave him the reminder of, “You’re not allowed to go back to the hospital ever again.”

Josh laughed, turning his head to look over his shoulder at me. “What if I need to?”

“You won’t. This was enough for a lifetime.” I plunged my hands down in front of him before bringing the soapy water up to his chest, running them over his pecs and shoulders; he hummed contently and I moved my touch beneath his arms. The scrubbing motion of my fingers and palms made him start to laugh and wiggle, water splashing around us. I put my chin on his shoulder, turning to nibble at his ear: “Ticklish?”

Through more uncontrollable laughter, Josh said, “Yes, you know this!” He wiggled some more, slippery hands flying to my wrists. “Play nice.”

“But I love hearing you laugh like that,” I told him, although I did, after another second, cease the torment. I nuzzled into his neck, closing my eyes. “Even though I’m sure the boys have a very clear idea of what we’re doing now.”

“Spooning in the bath? They’re imaginations could never,” Josh said, flicking water away from himself to let it splash against the tiled wall. “So, doll–what’s next on our list for the wedding? I have to admit I haven’t been thinking about it much these past few days.”

I resumed rubbing his shoulders and up to the nape of his neck. “Me either. That’s been weirdly kind of nice. But I think we’re settled for a while. We finalized the cake order so that’s good to go. Everything else is set.”

“Except the ‘couple’s shower,’” Josh reminded me, tilting his head back to try and meet my eyes.

“Yes, that. I’m glad we’re not just doing a bridal shower. So lame,” I said with a chuckle, twirling a damp curl between my fingers. “Not everything has to be so separate and weird. I need you there for that for sure.”

A brisk knock on the door made us both turn our heads. “Hey, lovebirds,” Sam called out. “Danny’s gotta piss so can you wrap up whatever it is you’re doing in there?”

“He can’t ask us himself, Sammy?” Josh asked with a laugh.

“He’s shy,” I reminded him, patting his shoulder. “Okay. Let’s get up.”

---

Tagging: @sparrowofrhiannon @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @jjwasneverhere

If you'd like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can go here or DM me :)

#greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #josh kiszka x reader #gvf fan fiction #jake kiszka #jake gvf #sam kiszka #sam gvf #danny wagner #danny gvf #rfs

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blubushie · 7 months

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how did the trip go blu? :3

FUCK FORGOT THE TRIP REPORT. Ta mate. Fun stuff under the cut, cuz this'll be long.

TRIP REPORT: 19/10/23

10:15am: 1.5g dry P. subaeruginosa. Onset ~11am. Peak ~12pm. Offset starts ~3pm. Trip end ~6pm. Enjoy the ride, mate.

10:59am: Come up starting.

11:21am: Head feels heavy and pressured but not in the headache way. Senses heightened and I can hear everything. Whirring of the laptop fan is really getting on my fucking nerves so that's going off. I'm getting on my phone instead. Starting to make a lot of fucking typos but I'm taking the time to fix them while I still care.

11:40am: Brian feels fast as fuck and I've stopepd arign about typos. Fuck typso I love typos woooo. Feel on top of the wolrd liek I can do anthig and come out on top. I fell like god

11:43am: Synthesisia started. Listnign to banjo musica as requested and watcihng thecolorus while i lie on the floor. My body feels veyr very heavy and thissong makesm e sadbut it's a good song ... The song is Arkansas Farmboy by Glen Campbell and it's eally good ... But it makes me mis soUtback NT

12:01pm: Peak is strgn and feeling fuckign great. But occuring mtom e I should'nt have dne this in the dark becaus the hallucinsaitons are storng. Light form laoptop is keeing the entitiesi away but I'nm sitll scared

1pm: The dopamine keeps climbing. It feels like you-know-what. You know the feeling, mate. I'm now typing slowly and checking for typos as I type so that I'm legible because this will be hard to transcribe later otherwise. Feeling very good as the peak's settled in. Eating leftover fried rice and the taste is very good. I chew and I'm getting little flashes of reddish-brown, like Outback mud but a tint or two darker. I'm not sure if the colour is because of the taste or because of the sound of myself chewing. I'm doing very good but my thoughts are going everywhere all at once. I can't focus on any one thought for longer than a few seconds. It feels like ADHD on hyperdrive. I feel very very smart and like I could solve and problem in the world, like my mind is going so fast that no one could ever keep up with me. It feels like all of me is floating. Body and soul and mind.

3:40pm: Coming out of the trip now. Feeling very good. Had a brief cry during a breakthrough peak and felt like I was floating. A lot of sudden guilt came through with introspection on bad decisions I've made. Came out of it ok to folks in VC talking to me and asking if I was alright. It remedied whatever illness I was feeling. ... According to others, I at one point said that I was "melting" and also told VC that I loved them and that we're all very lucky to have met each other now in the present because we all met each other and got along and were having a "daisy chain of bullying" (but in a good friendship way).

6:45pm: Coming down from the trip. Dopamine tingle is still here. Feeling very affectionate and interconnected with the people around me. I love the world and I love humanity. I love everyone. Body feels like it's starting to come back together at the seams. I still feel like I'm melted and can feel everything touching me like when you're underwater and can feel the water all around you everywhere constantly. It feels a little uncomfortable, like too-tight latex, but manageable now. Also I was at some point convinced I was a fish because I kept forgetting how to breathe, and at the behest of friends this then lead to me checking myself for gills and, when I couldn't find the presence of gills, then coming to the conclusion that I was in fact an amphibian who had to return to the water to breathe through my skin. I am not an amphibian.

6:10am: I wake up from an 8hr sleep after finally going to sleep around 10pm last night. I feel well-rested. Part of me still feels high—a faint "floatiness" that's pleasant, and I didn't have nightmares last night—but a check of my pupils confirms that the high itself has fully passed and I'm just in the aftereffects. As always my dreams were weird, mostly geometric patterns and faint whispering and murmuring, but none of it was distressing. I feel very safe and content and slept on my stomach last night and fell asleep quickly. I'm still feeling very interconnected and like I want to hug everyone on the planet and tell them everything will be ok. There's a piece of god inside everyone and we should love each other for it and it's what the universe wants. And I love everyone.

[END OF REPORT]

#blu whos #🍄

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