#in light of the [REDACTED] Rose is up to

[jojotier]

It has come to my attention that "lusus" is actually Latin and the first half of "lusus naturae", roughly translating into "sport of nature" or "playing nature". A lusus is Literally A Simulcarum Of A Real Natural Animal and implied to not actually be a real animal that evolved from the land, meaning: Where Did They Come From And What Did Alternia Do To The Real Animals

#homestuck #hs^2 #also #in light of the [REDACTED] Rose is up to #thank you parasol protectorate your victorian steampunk wiles assist me daily #lusus #homestuck lusus #lusii

[nighttimescribbles]

📍Horny Gulag, Undisclosed Black Site near the Mariana Trench

*It was hot. So hot and sticky that Scribbles didn’t notice that familiar sound of expensive loafers coming down the poorly lit hallway. She was used to her cells ambience. The buzz of the lights. The dripping of the taps. The smell of rust and iron. The brown noise of the rickety air conditioner that was barely functioning . The faint intermittent buzz of cell doors outside her door, locking and unlocking. But everything else was heightened by the sweltering heat, she didn’t notice the familiar gait that also set her heart racing. Her eyes were closed as she so desperately tried to focus on her breathing. The fly-aways of her hair bound to her forehead by sweat, as the discomfort settled in. Scribbles heart ached when her spirit felt her space become occupied by another. Someone so familiar yet so distant to her. It ached a little more when she heard the scrape of the metal chair being put into position at the edge of her prison. Opening her eyes she could see, ‘him’ as he placed a ice cold bottle of water and an oscillating fan directly besides her on her night stand.*

AG Jaeger: It’s very hot today, Kitten. Don’t you think?

*Scribbles didn’t respond her throat aching as she swallowed to try and lubricate her throat and use her voice. Her emotions, unprovoked, became almost overwhelming. It had been a long time since Zeke put her back in prison and even longer still since he last spoke to her so privately. His face was unreadable, almost bored, eyes dull as his fury laid dormant.*

AG Jaeger: It’s been a forever Kitten, I know. I had to temper myself properly before coming to see you. I did want to hurt you.

AG Jaeger: I was angry at First. Furious even. But then I realised that it wasn’t really anger I felt, it was disappointment. I abhor disobedience; especially from my favourite girl and yet nothing brings me more joy than seeing her pretty face.

AG Jaeger: How can something so beautiful cause me so much pain? Even when I offered her the world, she still disrespected me?

AG Jaeger: I will not lie to you, kitten; it’s been hard staying away. I’ve been… frustrated. Nothing seemed to sate this ‘need’, these ‘cravings’. Abstinence worked for a while, until one night, I stumbled upon this:

*Scribbles’ guts dropped as her eyes blew out in shock. She shot up from her bed and tried to snatch it out of his hands.*

AG Jaeger: *swiftly pulling his hand back to keep the book out of reach* No, no, pet. I’ll read it to you. I want to see your reaction in full living colour. You write so well, no need to be… ashamed.

*Zeke cleared his throat mockingly and crossed his legs over, sipped on a iced tea before reading like pastor reading scripture.*

“Suckling the silky head, you moaned appreciation and dug your fingers into his hips.

Zeke Jaeger paused to glance down at you.

Holding his eyes, you opened your mouth wide and made a whole show of wrapping demurely pink lips around him and bobbing down to swallow his flaccid length.

He snorted, unimpressed, but heat rushed to the cock on your tongue as it nestled contentedly inside your drooling mouth.

Fluttering your lashes at him, you slurped audibly, dipping your head a few times before pulling back far enough to fit a fist around the base of his cock. 

Its shaft, newly bathed with your spit, glistened under the weak light.”

*Zeke folded the page. Mischievous smile plastered on his face, before a condescending smirk left his lips. He clicked his tongue and shook his head, before cocking it to the side, resting his temple on his knuckles. He paused for a minute and just looked at Scribbles. It could of been the light. Scribbles swore it must been the light that made his stare more leering than he intended. It felt like he was committing her to memory or better yet undressing her with his eyes. What was only a minute, felt like an eternity and the bugs that erupted in her stomach became more incessantly unbearable. Any longer she would’ve screamed at him to cast his eyes elsewhere for fear of melting under his gaze.*

AG Jaeger: Kitten?

AG Jaeger: Do you always think of me like this? So… salaciously? Is that the reason why you get a rise out of deliberately winding me up, just so that you could be here, in this hell regardless of how decrepit it is? Is that why my Scribbles is always so disobedient?

Does my little kitten need some attention?

YES I WANT NEED BREATHE LIVE YOUR ATTENTION GIVE IT ALL TO ME DON'T TAKE YOUR EYES OFF ME AND I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO GAWK AT

goodness, Beast. i never imagined you to become so desperate you'd stoop as low as rummaging in my private journals like a dirty badger. that's not something good boys do, is it?

it's so bloody hot in here. aren't you sweltering underneath that suit? with me, there are no pretenses. you can rid yourself of the weight of the false face you present to the world. you can rid yourself of the weight of your...official clothes, to begin with. kick off those shoes, shrug off that jacket. come be my good boy. i'll let you crawl into this decrepit prison bed with me and together we'll turn this gulag into paradise. if you're shy, i can start. i can demonstrate. like this

look at you. already beginning to sweat when i've only just begun. those trousers are beginning to look a little tight. you weren't spreading your knees like that earlier.

what do you want, Beast? you're not one to make idle visits. do you come bearing gifts? an improved offer? i refuse to believe that my smart. dashing. biiiiiig mean Zeke has come begging for handouts. you're not a puppy. pick up your pride, show me what you've got for me and i'll show you what inspired me to write that manual of sin you can't seem to let go of. a live demonstration, if you may, where all you have to do is sit back, relax, and let your purring kitty devour you.

*zeke sweating bullets. glasses are clouding over. booklet of sin thuds to the concrete. against his better sense, he sits still as he is undressed. the buttons of his shirt pop open halfway. his chest is heaving. his eyes are shuttering and he pants with desire. the heat of the gulag is getting to his head. a jungle cat is crawling onto his lap and sucking at his earlobe and whispering temptations into his ear. he is powerless. all resolve, that clear thinking, has rushed to his groin, there to join together in a muddled mess.*

make up your mind, Beast. if you say the right thing, this could be yours

i will disobey you and i will rile you up and then i will gobble you down and keep you for myself till kingdom come. obedient kittens simply don't exist.

but say only one wrong thing, and what you thought was yours will fade into the arms of another. perhaps multiple anothers.

do you intend to be left wanting for the rest of your life? resigned to doling out cruel sentences because you've been blue-balled by your own stubborness? do you intend to be, as Mayor Gojo put it so eloquently, underfucked for the rest of eternity?

*zeke's eye twitches like it never twitched before*

What's your offer, AG Jaeger "Beast", sir?

#kabalians #kabal chronicles #kabal multiverse of madness #FINALLYYYYY #i couldn't for the life of me think of a good enough way to answer this!!! #seriously the hottest thing ever #thank you Clare #thank you a thousand times #obviously [redacted] is going to ensue #but i want to hear AG Jaeger's offer first #esp in light of the Rose fiasco #and his upcoming fitness hearing #i don't wanna mess up your drafts! hahaha

[amethystasra]

14DWY is an 18+ game, minors DNI !

Ren/ AFAB Reader

2.4k words

Ren belongs to @14dayswithyou 🌟

You spent the day with Leon and Ren gets jealous. Based off a post that said Ren would only take his own pleasure into account if you manage to make him jealous enough, though this ended up being a lot softer than intended. Written with [REDACTED] in mind.

jealousy, reverse comfort and all that stuff:)

-

Five hours. Five hours, fifty-two minutes and thirteen seconds. That's how long you've been gone today. Ren looked at the time on his laptop, as he counted the seconds you were away. A painful emptiness in his heart, as he stared at the pictures of you and him that hung on your shared walls. He missed you so much. Even a minute without you is enough to turn him into a sobbing mess.  

He heard your laugh coming from his laptop -That he had been using to listen in on your conversations through your phone- followed up by someone else's that made his fists curl up in anger. Leon.  

"I haven't seen Leon in weeks Ren. We're just catching up. It'll only be for a little while; I'll be right back." You had told him, after he had desperately tried to keep you home using numerous excuses as to why you shouldn't go.  

Ren's possessive tendencies are already intense enough as it is, but oh your childhood friend, the piece of shit who had ruined his proposal to you all those years ago, made him feel a type of jealousy like no other. His jaw clenched as he forced out a –somewhat unsettling- smile. “Sorry angel. I just worry about you.” He pulled you closer to him, placing a kiss atop your forehead. “Call me if you need anything, alright?” He had no choice but to let you go, not wanting to risk a fight, and end up with you potentially viewing him in a bad light.  

Ren felt his stomach churning, a mixture of jealousy and anger, hearing the two of you talk and laugh, while you ignored him. You had responded to the first couple of his texts, picked up the first few times he called, until you decided to put your phone on do not disturb.  

"Is everything alright between you and that lanky fella, sunfish?" Leon’s voice was laced with concern. "You know all I want is for you to be happy, and I'll support you no matter what,” He paused for a second. “But, if I'm being honest, something about him just feels off. He’s called you, like what? Five times already?" 

Ren felt his blood boil, his brain already coming up with ways to remove this pest that keeps on trying to separate him from his angel.  

You were quick to dismiss Leon’s concerns. "He's just a bit clingy, that's all. It's actually kind of sweet. He just worries a lot." Ren's anger melted away, as you came to his defense, replaced by the utter love and devotion he feels for you. A literal angel.  

Six hours and 20 minutes had passed when you finally returned home. Ren already stood waiting right in front of the door. Before you could even step inside you felt a pair of arms wrap around you tightly. "Woah, hello to you too." You giggled; a bit startled. Ren didn't respond as he pulled you inside, rested his head on top of yours and inhaled your scent. You embraced him back and smiled. "I missed you too Ren."  

Ren finally pulled back enough to look at you.  

"Did you?" He sounded sad, but there was also a certain sharpness in his voice. "Then why were you ignoring me?" The jealousy in his voice now becoming clear.  

You frowned, feeling a twinge of guilt rise in you. "I'm sorry Ren. It's just, you were calling almost every 10 minutes and Leon-" Ren cut you off before you could finish your sentence. "Do you like him more than me?" His voice was intense, not mad, you knew he could never get mad at you. He sounded possessive, and if you didn’t know him as well as you did, you would’ve almost missed the desperation his words were laced with. "No- no of course not." Heat rose to your cheeks as butterflies began to form in your stomach. 

He stared at you intensely, putting his hand on your face and bringing his lips to yours, kissing you passionately. You kiss him back immediately. His hands grabbing your waist firmly, fingers digging into the plush skin. After what felt like forever, he finally pulled back.  

"Then show me that you belong to me. That you're mine."  He breathes, eyes half lidded. You nodded your head with a desperate gleam in your eyes, letting him know how much you want this too. "I'm yours Ren." You tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear.  "Only yours." 

Ren's lips were back on yours in an instant, moaning into your mouth as his hands roamed all over your body. One was placed behind your head, as the other found its way to your breast, massaging it. After a while his hands settled around your thighs, and suddenly you were being lifted up and carried to the bedroom.  

Ren gently set you down on the bed before stepping back and looking down at you with complete infatuation. "Strip for me." He ordered.  

You stared at him for a second, unsure of where to start. When you took a little too long for his liking, he quirked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to get started. You slowly pulled up your shirt, exposing your bare chest. Ren looked at you intently, watching you undress for him, his hand slowly rubbing the bulge in his pants. Once you were done with the rest of your clothes, you sat back down on your knees, waiting obediently for your next order.  

Ren stepped closer to the bed and put his hand on top of your hair and started petting it softly. "So obedient f'me. Such a good girl. Now open up." He put his free hand on your chin, and gently pried open your lips with his finger before shoving it in.  

"Ah- fuck." Ren moaned as you immediately started sucking. He took a few seconds to relish in the way you seemed so eager to obey his every whim, before pulling his hand back and ordering you to lay down on the bed. He slowly started making his way over to the bedside table, never taking his eyes off you. He opened the drawer, pulling out a rope. "Hands above your head. Wrists together."  

All you could do was silently obey as you felt your arousal dripping down your thighs. Ren bound your wrists to the headboard and stepped back for a second, admiring his handiwork.  

"Mine." He whispered to himself quietly. A shameful thought crossed his mind, at the sight of you tied up beneath him. What if he kept you here permanently? tied up like this, in his bed. You sure seem to be enjoying yourself. Maybe you'd like this too. 

 Ren's heart raced at the thought of having you all to himself. Being the only one who gets to see you like this, the only one who gets to speak to you, the only one who gets to touch you, the only one who gets to receive your attention forever and ever and ever-  

"Ren?" The sound of your voice softly calling out his name made him snap back to reality.   

No. He’d never do that -except as a last resort of course, but he wouldn't let it come to that- he wants to share every single second of his life with you. He wants to watch the stars reflect in your eyes every night, he wants to take you on expensive dinners and shopping trips, give you everything you ask for, visit new places together, and make every single dream of yours come true. Because just as much as you were his, he was also yours. And if others tried to get in the way of that, he would simply have to get rid of them. It's going to be just the two of you for eternity, no matter what. He will make sure of that.  

He smiled at the sound of your voice, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Patience, angel.” 

He undressed himself, stroking his cock a few times before sitting down on the bed next to you. He softly cupped your face in the palms of his hands and kissed you. His hands slowly made their way down your body, making sure to not leave a single inch untouched. His hands came to an eventual halt a few inches from your soaking entrance. You bucked your hips against his fingers in an attempt for him to continue. He chuckled at your desperation, before sliding two fingers inside of you. 

"God, you're soaked for me already. I don't even think you need any prep." He pumped his fingers in and out a few times before retracting them completely, and slowly licking them clean with a moan. He straddled your hips placing his cock at your entrance and gripping your waist firmly.  

"Tell me how badly y'want it, angel. Tell me how badly you want me." The words escape your mouth before you can even think about it. "Please Ren. I need you."  A sly smirk appeared on his face. "Please what? What do you need? Use your words baby."  

"I need you to fuck me Ren plea-" before you could even finish your sentence Ren was already thrusting himself inside you, groaning loudly at the way your soft walls hugged his member. He waited a few seconds for you to adjust and started moving –at a pace a bit rougher than his usual- after you gave a confirming nod.  

His fingers dig into the plush of your hips, as Ren continues fucking into you roughly like his life depends on it. He whimpers every time your walls clench around his cock.  

Ren shamelessly moans out your name, while moving one hand to cup your face, and the other towards your clit, using his skilled fingers to rub it in circles. He's being so rough, yet so gentle at the same time.  

"Keep making those pretty sounds for me f'me baby. Fuck you feel so good." He moans into the crook of your neck before gently biting into the skin there, leaving marks all over you.  

He continues thrusting into you, searching your eyes after he decides he's left enough marks on your throat. His eyes glisten with something so utterly intense and passionate it leaves you speechless.  

You close your eyes for a while, getting lost in way his cock slams in and out of you, and the way his slender fingers work on your clit, until you hear Ren calling out your name again. "Look at me baby, you're close, aren't you?" You try to answer him, but all you can manage is a nod and more jumbled moans. "Then cum for me angel." 

The knot in your stomach tightens, and before you can even think about it you can feel yourself falling over the edge.  

He works you through your orgasm, making sure you get to ride it out entirely. Once you start to shake from overstimulation, his hands move back down to grab your hips again on the same spot where marks are already beginning to show from his previous hold and 

Ren's movements become frantic. "That's it baby, fuck." Ren lets out a mixture of whimpers and mumbled "I love You's" as he reaches his own peak and fills you up. 

Ren pants into the crook of your neck while you both come down from your high. He doesn't back up. He clings to you, as if he fears you might disappear the moment he lets go, pushing his face a little further into your hair, his fingers tightening around your waist. After a few seconds, he takes a moment to quickly undo the bindings around your wrists. He massages the area that was bound, placing the softest kisses onto it before settling his head back in its prior spot. 

Everything seemed peaceful, but you could tell something was off. He was somehow holding you even tighter than usual and the soft exhales of breath gliding down the side of your neck held something unspoken. 

You reach up, one hand softly stroking through his hair, as you put your other on his face in an attempt to get him to look up to you. His face remained buried deep into the crook of your neck, a few quick sobs escaping his lips. You kiss him temple, waiting a few moments, knowing he usually doesn't like to show this more emotional side of himself, let alone talk about it. "Ren, what's wrong?" You ask him in the softest, most angelic voice.  

He tries to choke back a response but ends up a stuttering mess. You place both your hands on his face now, making him look up at you with teary eyes. "It's okay, I'm here Ren, can you take some deep breaths for me?"  

Ren does as he's asked, and eventually his breathing steadies. You wipe a few stray tears that still lingered on his rosy cheeks. "What's wrong?" You whisper again, so quiet he almost missed it.  

"I- I just-" he begins slowly. "I missed you so much." He hesitates for a second, but a quick encouraging nod of your head makes him continue. "When you're not here with me, when you're with someone else, it feels as if all the air is ripped out of my lungs. It's like the moon and all the stars have disappeared from the sky and I'm left in complete darkness. I-” He looks up at you. “I just need you angel. I love you so much.”  

Your eyes start to tear up at his words, you pull his face to yours and kiss him. “I love you too Ren, more than anything. Please don’t ever doubt that.” You wipe away the tears that fall from his eyes. “I’m not going to just disappear if I'm away for a few yours. I'll always come home to you. Please just let me know whenever you feel like this, okay?” Ren nods and kisses you again, before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his chest. 

There are some more kisses and quiet words exchanged between the two of you before you both drift to sleep, dangled in each other's arms.

#14 days with you #14 days with you redacted #14dwy #14 days with you ren #ren x reader #yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere visual novel #yandere x you #obsessive love #yandere drabble

[raidergamerspice]

So a while ago, I made a post inciting a discussion about Twilight's age (I'm still in the "31/32 years old" boat btw). But of course, probably the thing we all want to know the most is what Twilight's real name is.

I'm still interested in seeing if it actually gets revealed in the future. Naturally, many fans have their own ideas as to what it could be, though some opt for simply referring to him as [REDACTED] for fanfics.

But I did think of something recently.

Since there are a few allusions to James Bond already (I mean, Bondman?), it's no surprise that some fans are theorizing that Twilight's name could be James (I'm partial to this as well; I even had an idea that he and Yor could name their son James if they had bio children). But after looking up some names - particularly German names - on one of my favorite name sites 20000 Names, I stumbled across Lukas, which means "from Lucania", which itself possibly derives from "lux", meaning "light". I thought it'd be funny if his real name had a meaning related to "light", since he becomes Twilight.

And then I did some more digging to find a suitable last name for him. I stumbled across the German surname "Rosenfeld", which means "field of roses" (at least according to where I found it). And because I'm Twiyor trash, I thought it'd be very fitting for him to have a last name related to the woman he marries ('cause Yor's Thorn Princess; aka, roses have thorns, in case you couldn't figure it out).

So in short, one idea I have for Twilight's real name is Lukas Rosenfeld.

But once again, I'm merely thought rambling lmao. What do you think? What ideas did you have for what Twilight's real name could be?

My next Spy x Family ramble post could be about Twiyor having twins, so watch out for that, maybe 💀

(EDIT: I forgot to mention this, but the reason I made Twilight's initials LR is because it's very notable that most of his fake names began with either an L or an R, so I figured the reason for that is because they'd derive from the initials of his real name. That's just one idea, of course 🤷‍♀️)

#spy x family #twiyor #I'm usually all about theming when it comes to names #so can you blame me for my choices? #any excuse to make it seem as though Twiyor meeting is fate

[defectivefanboy]

Hello, hello my dear!

I really would like to request something, since you asked for it and hell yes the last episode was a banger. I love your Crimson HCs and I think you captured him really well. But I would like to read some nice HCs about the loveliest Prince of Hell, Stolas himself maybe got a little love interest in a Singer Succubus he met at Ozzies? Maybe she got something alluring to caught his eyes. (I don't mind if there are some nsfw parts)

Best regards

Ciel ♡

yall got me fucked up for saying this again, but still making me want to write the story (especially this request, it's like holding a carrot in front of the horse rn) but I will say my piece. I hope it was just a slip of the mind BUT I DO NOT WRITE FEMALE READER fuck I care if you read my writing, but the more it happens the more I'm pushed to write a cock onto the reader. I did ask for request so im not gonna complain anymore.

I would like to read some nice HCs about the loveliest Prince of Hell, Stolas himself maybe got a little love interest in a Singer Succubus he met at Ozzies? Maybe [REDACTED] got something alluring to caught his eyes. (I don't mind if there are some nsfw parts)

Overall Notes: Stories written on this blog are GN until specified. While this story uses they/them pronouns, and I don't mind female readers on my blog, I do not write for y'all, and if you are a fetishizer fuck off????????????????? ew.

C/W: SFW - NSFW(suggested/mentioned), Lots of song quotes, Suggestive behavior, mentions of alcohol/smoking, platonic flirting from Ozzie/Fizz, reader serves cunt /positive, low-key himbo reader, special guests Ozzie's other faces, I love them,

Notes: All music used and referenced too will be noted at the bottom. I realize I take so long on writing its like bad. I can either do it for hours on end or I have to split it up. Never in-between. Also tell me why I found myself at 1 in the morning listening to bird sounds to try and be accurate.

Sip the Gossip...

Giggles

Hoot hoot boy

my dear beloved

My dear Icarus

Anyways...

Ahem...

He never saw himself coming back to the lust ring after the first time.

Truth be told he hoped it was the last time as well.

But alas he found himself wondering around the ring once more

Stolas wasn't looking for anything when he came to the Lust Ring

Well,,. he was looking for something, more so someone

And that was a meeting with Prince Asmodeus himself

Truth be told, it's not too hard to find the bright and extravagant circus tent like building.

Flashing lights drawing a demon in like a moth to a flame.

Matched with the loud music that reverberated across the ring

Yet, it was a hassle to find the damned three faced demon prince, an even bigger challenge to get a moment with him alone.

And the moment he finally got to talk to him. Just as he was about to ask him to take this somewhere private. Just as he was about to get the words out. Just as he was about to ask for a crysta-

A voice rang out behind him, taking Asmodeus's attention away from a now annoyed owl.

Stolas turned around with a huff, his tail feathers ruffling in irritation, as his entire body puffed up in anger and mock intimidation.

Only to be stopped in his tracks once again as soon as he peered down below.

The soft flick of a heart shaped tail and pointed blacks horns with soft cracks of red running through them entered his view.

A mischievous succubus made their way past him and stood in front of Asmodeus.

The cheeky smile on their face caught Stolas by the tongue as they interacted with the prince of lust.

"Quite popular tonight huh, Oz? It's not too often you work the floor." A snicker came from the succubus as they passed by the goetia without a second glance. Stolas watched as they did a little handshake with the other, before Asmodeus softly placed a hand on their back. "My, my, you're here early~ Looking for some private time with your favorite prince~?" Asmodeus said, his two other faces cooing at the succubus.

A soft blush rose to Stolas's face at the lewd comment as he looked between the two. "You need to pay the dancers before you touch them, big guy." They said with emphasis on their words as they gently pushed his hand off them before turning and looking up to Stolas with a mischievous smile.

"Right, Feathers?"

They left right after their jest

And Stolas was left lapping at his tongue

Asmodeus continued on with their conversation as if nothing happened

Like he didn't just forget what he came here for.

But god. did he know what was gonna make him keep coming back.

And it certainly didn't go unnoticed by Ozzie, who swiftly invited him to tonights show.

Gotta be a good host at the end of the night right?

Residing in a balcony seat, Stolas was left on his own while Asmodeus went backstage to settle some issues.

Stolas fiddled with his phone as he watched the countless tables of couples from up above.

Maybe it was stupid to accept the offer to stay. Maybe he should just go home-

"Bartender~ I really did it the time! Need a couple shots for a good time!"

Oh. He remembers why he's here now.

Soft curious hoots came form him as he peered over the railing watching you talk to guest and other dancers.

You wore a simple black outfit as you leaned against the bar.

He had to stop himself from taking a photo of you covering your face when you laughed at a patron's comment.

The playful smile on your face as you took the drinks brought a small one to his face as well.

It soon took a full on blush when you peered up at him, raising your glass in a cheers to him.

Poor thing didn't know what to do with himself as his brain became a literal bird brain.

Shooting back in his seat he raised a hand raised to cover his face as he broke out into a soft fit of giggles and coo's

you gave a soft smile before walking back behind stage, waving bye to others as you passed by.

Maybe he really did have a thing for red~

Sitting up in his seat he fixed his clothing and feathers as the lights dimmed

"Hello perverts, pervettes, and the freaks who like everything in between~ I hope you are all ready for the show tonight! We have something very special for everyone, me included~"

Stolas remembered him from the last time he was here

The clown's vibrant color scheme and loud persona was hard to forget

As he pranced around the stage announcing tonights agenda, a figure emerged from the curtain behind him

Gaining a bit of courage back he straightened his back and cleared his throat

"Asmodeus, I wanted to ask about that succubus from before if that was alright?"

"I hope it's not to make a formal complaint now. I was just starting to like ya' feathers." A playful voice rang out form behind him

His eyes widened as he softly gulped and turned around in his chair

Stolas was met with a familiar smile that held the same playful tone as their comment.

Instead of the black outfit you had on earlier it looked as if you were there to hang out with him

A pair of comfy pants and oversized hoodie to match, he had to restrain himself from squeezing your face in his hands

With a soft ruffle of his feathers he softly leaned into you with an awkward smile

Making himself smaller, he peered down at the figure before him as he stuttered over his words

"Satans No! No nothing like that. I- uh, I, wanted to ask if you were a worker here?"

"Ooh! You wanted to buy a dance? Well~ you'll have to wait until after the show, but I'll find you after, yeah?"

With the flash of a smile they left as quick as they came and Stolas is left with one thought...

"Oh, I have got to fuck them"

Not too long after they left, the curtains behind him pushed over once again. This time revealing Asmodeus, who had a cheeky grin on his face as he pulled his seat out.

"I hope I didnt keep you waiting too long, now. I had to deal with a few things out back stage." He said as he made himself comfortable next to Stolas. Quick to shake his head Stolas sat up in his chair, dusting himself off a bit as the lights faded to black around them. Spotlights circled around the stage as music slowly built up around them.

The lights slowed and focused on the middle of the curtains that hung at the back of the stage. The curtains flung open and revealed the succubus in a black and red outfit that didn't leave much for Imagination, not that Stolas was complaining. A chorus of la's came from their lips as the lights dimmed around them to a single spotlight.

"Oh baby, baby, have you seen Amy tonight? Is she in the bathroom, is she smoking up outside?" The slowly made their way down the stage, looking at the crowd as they sang the song and made small gestures with their hands.

They made their way to the end the stage, leaning down closer to the guest in the front row. "Oh, baby, baby, does she take a piece of lime for the drink that I'mma buy her? Do you know just what he likes?" Before they said their last line they gave a sly look up to the balcony with a quick wink for walking back down.

"Oh, tell me, have you seen her? 'Cause I'm so, oh I can't get her off of my brain." Each note was staccato at the end, they're danced following along with the words. "I just wanna go to the party she gon' go. Can somebody take me home? Ha, ha, he, he, ha, ha, ho" With a mischievous glint in their eyes they looked at Stolas once more with their words. Whether it be just in jest or in all seriousness, his feathers ruffled at the shiver that made its way down to each of his nerve endings, if demons have them.

"Love me, hate me, say what you want about me But all of the boys and all of the girls are begging to if you seek Amy" More lights faded in as dancers in cages lowered from the ceiling. More dancers filed through the sea of tables and patrons as the succubus sang the along with the chorus. Each one performing their own dance with another as guest threw money their way.

The extra dancers disappeared once the second verse began, a few male succubus remaining on stage. The ones that remained interacted and touched the succubus as they danced along the stage, pushing them out of their way. Which was a little very enjoyed by Stolas as small hoots of laughter escaped him. "They seem to be livelier tonight, I wonder why~" Asmodeus commented slyly to the another prince while not looking his way. Though his other faces gave him dead away as they stared Stolas dead on, giggling.

With a choked hoot Stolas looked at Asmodeus as he tried to catch his breath. "Oh! Is that so? Well they are quite the... performer?" Stolas said questioning himself at the end, all while Asmodeus laughed at his confusion. "They are, aren't they? Seems they've taken a liking to you. Someones lucky tonight or better yet, getting lucky~" Asmodeus cooed softly leaning towards stolas playfully nudging him with his elbow. Only to laugh when he turned his head and was greeted with stammering and very flustered owl.

Safe to say Ozzie just found the story of the night for Fizzy when he finds him. Such gossip queens.

The song only continued on for a few more moments before the lights fully turned off and the crowd applauded as the dancers exited the stage.

Giving just enough time for Stolas to regain his composure

Or well at least a bit of it

Because the remaining minutes Asmodeus was there

He made it a mission to tease the prince before he had to return to his duties behind stage.

But thank satans Ozzie was called back stage quickly

Stolas didn't think he could take anymore of it

His feathers puffed up and face beat red he was pulled out o this thoughts by a knock

"Hope I didn't make you wait long. Wanted to wash up a bit before I came~."

Stolas let out a high pitched chirp his face flushed once again as he lapped his tongue for words

With a soft laugh you waved him off with your hand as you tried to form words through your giggles.

"I'm kidding! Ozzie said it's fun teasing you, but I think he's probably done enough already."

Before he could say anything you gestured for him to follow you

With a prominent blush on his face Stolas straightened his clothes and quickly got into step with you.

Walking down the hall Stolas thought of what to say as he followed behind you

'Would casual conversation be good? Or maybe a talk over a drink?'

Poor boy was a bit nervous

And it didn't help with each moment you got stopped by a worker or a fan.

Though most were quick small talk, some fans had gained enough courage to ask for a date.

Better yet, they would hop to the point and ask of your number.

Each time they got the same response, each given the same number.

"XXX - 867 - 5309"

With a smile and a wink, you waved them off each time.

'Maybe this was a bad idea' He thought to himself as he watched each demon walk away feeling giddier then the last

With only a few more twist and turns he found himself back stage passing by the other performers dressing rooms.

He took one glance away from you and the moment he turned back you were gone

Stolas only found you when you grabbed his hand and pulled him into a dressing room.

The room seemed still as the bass of the music became dulled behind the walls.

Clothing racks and dressers were scattered around the room as a vanity sat on one end of the room while a couch, a few chairs, and a table sat on the other end.

Knickknacks where randomly placed along the room, making it feel a bit less like the work place and a bit more cozy.

"Sooo, uhm- Was that really your number?" Even Stolas winced at himself for asking.

But it was quickly wiped away with a light laugh from you

you quickly made your way to radio and shuffled through the songs and pressed play

When the music started playing you made your way over to Stolas and quickly grabbed his hands. Pulling him into the middle of the room you danced with him to the music as you started singing along.

"Jenny Jenny who can I turn to? You give me something I can hold on to. I know you'll think I'm like the others before. Who saw your name and number on the wall" Letting go of his hand you twirled around before pointing at him and pretending to sing into a microphone.

"Jenny I've got your number. I need to make you mine. Jenny don't change your number. 867 - 5 3 0 9" As you continued to sing and dance around the room it finally clicked for him. It's a song. You've been quoting a song. A smile broke out on his face when he finally realized.

"You've been giving them a fake number! Won't they notice? They might even know the song-" His rambling was cut off by a hand waving in his face. With a gentle pull of his hand you lead him to the couch in the room. "Are you a cop? Or do you always ask these many questions, feathers?"

"What! Heaven's no I would never-" He was cut off once again, but this time, by a hand cupping his face and leaning closer to him. Enough to ghost your mouth against his as you spoke.

"Good, because I might not be able to justify my next actions~"

Then he never came back after that (im fucking wit yall)

While he doesn't make it to every show and performance.

He CAN be found in your dressing room right after each one.

Well you can honestly find him there most nights your on or in the building.

It' what a good boyfriend does <3

Yes, he was the one to ask what you two 'were' relationship wise

Bby didn't want another game of cat and mouse :(

But that was quickly cleared up with your answer

"Wait, are we not? dating? right now? Would you? like too? date?"

Be glad you're cute. He was ready to make a new ring in hell.

He was very possessive at the start of the relationship.

"Fizzie baby, when did we start ordering stone statues?"

They make wonderful coat and drying racks for the dancers though, so Ozzie doesn't have much to say about it.

"Just don't do it to any high bidders okay~"

stolas did apologize though, hes too much of a good boy not too

But there's always one thing he's glad about.

Stolas's day is filled with tedious and idiotic duties and task he has to complete.

But as soon as night begins to set in Hell, a new energy fills him as he runs around his room getting ready.

The one thing he is glad about is that he can always find you in the same place every night.

Be it the fact you're a dancer within the prestigious club, it was basically your job in a sense, you were always able to catch his eye off first glance.

Never more then a few glances away, soon only a few steps as he was the one now to pull you back stage.

What? Asmodeus said he was allowed too, as long as he put money in his pockets.

Make his pockets hurt, and make them hurt good - Ozzie, 2023

Your biggest supporter ever. It started off with simple five, tens, and twenties. Then it escalated to fifties and one hundreds. Soon he was throwing hand fulls of diamonds on the stage.

Which he was promptly yelled at for by Ozzie.

But after each set he's right back stage giving you hugs and kisses.

Not that your complaining much

Having your demon prince waiting for you, watching over you, and only you was an amazing gift after each performance.

He also helps ward off creeps from interacting with you often.

Were you a bit surprised when you saw his true form? Yes. Did you also fuck him in it after? Also yes, a few times. Never knew how much tension that form has. No worries his pretty little succubus is there to help him through it all~

But to be honest, I think he's always more soft than horny.

He's always bundled up in your dressing room, all cozied up on the couch as he has a movie or show paused.

Such a cuddle bug he is <3

And for the fact he comes here so often. bro might as well just work there

That the balcony seat he first sat in with Asmodeus was now a personal booth for him whenever he came

Nothing but the best for his beloved~

Only the best for his canary <3

･::｡ ･: ･ﾟ･: :｡･: ･:: ･ :･ﾟ･::｡ ::･ﾟ･:: ｡･ :｡:･ﾟ : ･ :｡･ﾟ･::｡･: :･ﾟ･

Songs used in the story ╮

Bartender song (Sittin' at a Bar) - You favorite martian covee | If U seek Amy - Brittany Spears | 867 - 5309 (Jenny's number) - Tommy Tutone

#foolish writing #request open #helluva boss #helluva boss stolas #stolas #stolas goetia #helluva boss x reader #stolas x reader #stolas x male reader #stolas x gn reader #helluva boss stolas x reader #request

[sctir]

out of nothing more then curiosity, thoughts on jinjae?

i would like to preface this with a disclaimer that i do actually, despite what it might seem, have non-shitpost thoughts about jinjae (touched briefly on their respective relationships with personhood & how their evolving partnership reflects that here, not enough imo but id only been reading for a couple of months at that point so i couldn't speak about shj with an appropriate level of confidence and we only have so much time on this forsaken earth anyways). especially since shj exists as a foil of sorts to yoojin (re:self-love vs "externalized" love, learning to love oneself through the "other", so on and so forth), with their character developments complimenting the other's in return, jinjae occupies a uhhh. lot of my brain all the time and i need to scream and possibly cry about them. unfortunately it is funnier to post about gay divorce.

second disclaimer: i am both 100% joking in the following post and, at the same time, so incredibly dead serious.

jinjae is a lot of things to me. first and foremost jinjae is a guy that hates the other guy so bad they made it everyone else's problem. jinjae is also a guy that likes the other guy so bad they made it everyone else's problem. jinjae is ALSO two guys that are so obsessed with each other it should be in the dsm-v somewhere. jinjae is a yaoi (early canon). jinjae is a yuri (late canon). jinjae has at least one scum gong. jinjae is brat4brat. jinjae is also brat tamer4tamer. jinjae is ALSO brat tamer4brat. yes that is how it works. jinjae is two single fathers meeting and falling in love except they have the same child and are actively getting divorced with plans to be married again in the spring. jinjae is that trope of some guy's kid liking a teacher/other adult authority or caretaker figure in their life so much they try to set their single father up with said caretaker figure, except the caretaker figure is the biological parent of the child and also the child hates the single father so much. jinjae is a sun/moon couple except SIKE. NO IT IS NOT. jinjae are married. jinjae have been divorced 7 times. jinjae are soulmates (pink thread of fate). jinjae is a threesome. jinjae are on a date at the aquarium right now. jin is poisoning jae's dinner and jae is kicking his feet giggling and twirling his hair with hearts in his eyes. okay i need to stop referring to them as jin and jae. jinjae are constantly embroiled in psychological warfare except one side thinks losing will mean forfeiting his life and the other side thinks losing will mean that he won't get to pay for lunch. jinjae have shared a bed and neither of them talk about it. jinjae is deeply homoerotic. like 'lighting your cigarettes with the same flame' homoerotic but even more (there were roses involved). jinjae is doomed. they're perpetuating the cycle. they're [REDACTED, SOUND OF CRYING, CAR CRASHING]. jinjae are making each other worse. jinjae are getting better together. and most importantly jinjae are in love.

i could say more but this ask has been sitting in my mailbox long enough im sorry. i don't actually have any thoughts on jinjae because as soon as i try to think about them The Horrors get me. and also The Love.

edit: i didn't even talk about the "you ghosted me so im going to blow up your house". not much more context is required. insane gay people.

#sctir #the s-classes that i raised #han yoojin #sung hyunjae #tsctir #im.. sorry for this one #sctirposting #wei.post

[starlitangels]

Last Night of Tour

Literally everyone and their mom has done a rockstar/band AU for Redacted characters... but it's my turn now 4.0k words

—

Lovely

The house lights dimmed. From our spots right up against the stage, Tank passed me a pair of earplugs. I twisted them up and put them in my ears. Tank did the same.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and assorted honorable persons, please welcome to our stage here tonight:

“The House of Solaire!” the announcer’s voice boomed over the excessive amount of loudspeakers and the crowd went absolutely wild.

With the earplugs in, everything was tolerably loud, but not earsplittingly so.

The band ran out onto the stage. Vincent at the front, as always. And the screaming and cheering rose to an absolute breaking point. I was more grateful than ever for my earplugs. I cheered and whooped along with everyone else.

Vincent took his place at the front center of the stage. Lead vocalist. Keyboard. Front man.

Tank shouted beside me as Sam followed, going to the back center and carefully sitting on his stool behind his drum set with the band logo on the large bass drum. He picked up his drumsticks and twirled one in the fingers of each hand.

Alexis jogged out next to only slightly-less uproarious applause. She went the farthest across the stage and scooped up her electric guitar, slinging its leather strap with an embroidered red rose over her head and under one arm. She hit a test power chord and everyone in the crowd went nuts.

Frederick slipped out after her, walking instead of running or jogging. The crowd was still going wild even though he wasn’t looking them in the eye. His partner stood on Tank’s other side, earplugs in and staring at him intently, but not screaming or anything. He carefully slid his bass guitar strap on and took up his position.

Vincent yanked his microphone off its stand. Solid rose-gold. “Gooooood evening Dahliaaaaa!” He beamed broadly while the screaming got even higher pitched. “We are The House of Solaire and we thank you for such a big—warm—welcooome!”

More screaming.

Tank nudged me with their elbow. “Your man knows how to put on a show!” Their shout was nearly drowned out but I could see most of it on their lips. We were used to this by now.

I smiled wide and nodded.

Vincent snapped his fingers to a rhythm while looking over his shoulder at Sam. Sam clacked his drumsticks together, matching it.

He hit his drums, getting started. Alexis struck her first chord.

The crowd lost it with recognition. You Mentioned a Blackout was the single that really put them on the map, as it were, and was still one of their most popular songs ever.

Vincent had written it not long before we officially got together, but he wrote it because of me. He’d written it while I was unconscious and asked sheepishly if he could play it for me when I woke up. The sheet music was covered in the frenzied work of inspiration desperately trying not to be lost—and a few water stains of tears. No matter how many times I told him it wasn’t his fault, he never listened.

He held eye contact with me the entire time he swapped between working the crowd and playing the keyboard. Smiling and giving me a dramatic wink.

"I told you once and I meant it— "If you touch what's mine again— "You won't have time to regret it—"

The crowd sang along to the chorus, bouncing to the beat Sam was hammering out. Tank, Frederick's partner, and myself included.

Vincent strode out from the main stage and onto the jetty that jutted into the crowd, high-fiving reaching fans as he passed them, bent low and still singing.

On his strut back to the main stage, he paused during Alexis' solo long enough to fall to his knees, reach down for me, pull me up enough to plant a kiss on my face—to a swell of screaming cheers—and get back to the main stage.

When the song came to a nearly-explosive close, the crowd cheered.

Vincent whipped his glossy blue-black curls off his forehead, beaming. "Man, it is good to be home!" he said into his mic. Everyone whooped. "How's everybody doin' tonight?" More raucous cheering. Vincent raked a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. His white V-neck T-shirt was almost obscenely thin and would get replaced by a tank top at intermission. It was loose around his torso but clung tight across his shoulders.

Damn it looked good on him.

"I'd introduce that last song, but I think you folks already know it," he remarked. "Y'know. That song gets a good reaction everywhere else, but nowhere near as excited as it gets here in Dahlia." He chuckled as several excited whoops went over the crowd. "We've got a pretty special show for you all tonight. It's the last night of our Surge album tour and—" He paused while the crowd screamed. "—and we've got some very special guests tonight. But before we get into that, how about Fangs After Dark?"

The crowd lost their minds.

Sam clacked his drumsticks together again, looking at Frederick, before hitting the bass drum with his pedal. Vincent pounded his long, slender fingers into the keys of his keyboard.

Several songs came and went. The three of us knew them all by heart. We heard them all the time. So did the crowd, apparently. A local band making it big on the rock-and-roll scene was certainly something to celebrate in a college town like Dahlia.

Toward the intermission, Vincent picked up a little hand-towel from his keyboard stand and wiped the sweat off his forehead and neck. "Alright, alright, alright!" he said into his microphone. "Before we do our last song before the break, how 'bout a little intro for the band that needs—no—introduction?"

Screaming again.

Vincent chuckled. "House of Solaire. A little diddy, if you will."

Sam started gently tapping out a beat on his bass and snare drum, adding little cymbal flourishes. Alexis and Frederick kept rhythm on their instruments, Alexis improvising a melody.

"Over here on bass guitar, we have Frederick Collins! Give it up for Freddie!" Vincent announced.

Cheering went up across the stadium.

"And back in the back doin' his thing, we've got the best damn drummer in the world—Sam Collins!"

The audience went absolutely nuts. Sam actually smiled. Tank put their fingers in their mouth and let off several earsplitting whistles. Sam glanced at them and rolled his eyes affectionately, but we were close enough for me to catch his wink, so Tank definitely did too.

"And on my left we have my big sister. The most talented electric guitarist in Dahlia—no, in all of California itself—Alexis Solaire!"

The reaction wasn't quite as loud as Sam's reception, but Sam had always been one of the fanbase's favorite band members. Tank knew it too, and tended to be a little defensive of him.

Vincent let the screaming die down. "And last but not least, we have myself on lead vocals and the keys. My name is Vincent Solaire and I am proud to present The House of Solaire and our new album Surge to y'all tonight!" Even with all the loudspeakers, the end of his sentence was barely audible over the absolute bedlam of noise that erupted from the audience.

Vincent smiled. "Before we go to intermission, I give you a song I wrote for the love of my life." He glanced down at me and grinned. "Everybody give it up for Electric Soul!"

Another popular one that they'd released about a year ago.

The crowd went wild.

—

When the band came back on stage after the intermission, T-shirts and flannels had been exchanged for tank tops. They'd cleaned up and dried some of the sweat off a bit. The audience cheered.

Vincent didn't say anything to whip the crowd into a frenzy. Just looked back at Sam and smiled.

Sam clacked his rhythm signal and Alexis hit a power chord right in beat. A song Sam had written for Tank. Vincent still sang and led it but the lyrics had been a bit of a love letter. A very rock-and-roll love letter. Which I thought suited the two of them perfectly.

"Hold me tight and kiss me— "Before we damn near bleed out— "Darlin', don't you dare miss me— "I love you too much to see you pout—"

I watched Sam keep his gaze steadily on Tank the whole song. He always did when they performed this song and Tank was in the audience.

When the song ended, Vincent clapped along with everyone. "That, uh, that one was Before We Bleed," he said. He let the cheering swell and die down. He had a good instinct for it and always seemed smooth, not awkward while waiting for the crowd to calm. "So. Who here are fans of Milo and the Wolves?"

A fair portion of cheers rose over the crowd. Not as loud as the rest of the night had been, but still loud, even through the earplugs.

Vincent nodded, pacing back and forth across the main stage. "Oh good. I'd hoped so. Very good friends of ours. Yup. Very good friends." He smirked. The jumbotron behind us caught it, and so did the screens on either side of the stage. "We have one of their former members here tonight. And they're gonna do a song with us," he continued.

More cheers.

Tank was unbuttoning the flannel they'd stolen from Sam.

"You didn't tell me!" I shouted.

They gave me a cheeky wink.

"Everybody give it up for Tankerrrrr!" Vincent called into his mic.

Tank shoved the flannel into my hands and leapt up onto the stage with a single bound in just their tank top, skinny jeans, and combat boots. They gave Vincent a side-arm hug as they passed him, ran off stage, and came back a single second later carrying their guitar, extended above their head in victory while the crowd cheered.

They slung the guitar strap on, took up a mark right next to Vincent, and flicked a guitar pick into their fingers from seemingly nowhere—but I knew it came from a special little pocket in the thick leather cuff bracelet they wore on their left wrist. They twiddled a knob on their guitar. One I knew meant they were turning up the gain for the real hard rock sound, compared to the more alternative style of The House of Solaire.

Not even waiting for Sam to count them off or Vincent to introduce what song they were doing, Tank slammed into an intro.

Frederick's partner and I screamed in support for our friend while the crowd joined in with us.

The song Tank played was a Milo and the Wolves song that Tank had written years ago called Tougher Than You, and their original band had been more than happy to give The House of Solaire permission to play a cover for a concert.

Vincent's voice was fundamentally much different from Milo's—the lead vocalist, obviously—but Vincent delivered a sincere cover that showed he'd put work into nailing the spirit of the song.

"If you hit me down, I'll hit you too— "Try to put me down— "But I don't lose— "Baby, don't you know— "I'm tougher than you!"

Tank sang the harmony with Vincent into the black mic on a stand that had been placed there over intermission, lifting their strumming hand off their guitar for just a moment to grab at the mic and hold it close to their mouth, letting their rich, sultry voice fill the loudspeakers.

I craned my neck to see Sam past his drum set.

Gazing, as I expected, with absolute, utter desire at Tank. Probably only keeping the rhythm on muscle memory alone. The tattoos covering both his arms shone with sweat.

I snickered, the sound completely drowned out by the stadium. Sam was entirely taken with Tank and he deserved it. I always thought they were cute together.

Tank struck back against their strings hard, backing a step away from the mic so when they bent in half in a headbang as they resumed their solo, they wouldn't smack their head on it. The crowd was jumping along hard, too.

When they ended, they gave Vincent a side-arm hug, ran their guitar off-stage, and gave Sam a long, dramatic kiss before rushing back toward me and leaping off the stage. Sam's ears were bright red as I handed Tank back the flannel and they put it back on. I threw my arms around them. "That was amazing!" I shouted.

They smiled. "Thanks," they said loudly. "Been a long time since I played in front of a crowd this big! Felt good! Felt... normal."

"Everybody give it up for Tanker!" Vincent called again.

The crowd cheered.

—

Darlin'

The stadium was finally cleared. The house lights had come on a long time ago and the stadium staff was cleaning up. Mopping up sticky, spilled soda and alcohol from the concrete floor, sweeping popcorn and discarded wrappers.

Vincent had taken his keyboard into his dressing room. I heard him singing Faithfully by Journey to his partner as I walked past. "O-oh you stand... byyy me—I'm forever yooouuurs—faithfully..."

Sap.

Just off-stage, my electric guitar was sitting up on a stand, its gig bag case haphazardly discarded not far away. I scooped up the gig bag and sat cross-legged in front of the guitar. "Hey beautiful," I said softly to it, digging into the gig bag's front pocket for an old cloth with some polisher stains on it. I pulled the guitar off the stand and into my lap, wiping at its amber-gold body and polished wooden head, including the tuning pegs. Giving it a little bit of a shine and clean-up.

"You take better care-a that thing than you do yourself, darlin'," a voice remarked. With a familiar Southern drawl.

I smiled and looked up.

Sam stood there, leaning slightly on a pair of enormous stacked amps, a set of drumsticks poking out of his back pocket, arms folded over his chest. In the light from the house and the regular lights of the stage, the tattoos all down both of his arms glistened just slightly where his tank top left them exposed. His hair was still a little disheveled from the performance.

It was a very hot look on him.

"People always tell us to take better care of our babies than we do ourselves, right?" I asked, finishing the last bit of wiping up and gently tucking my guitar into the gig bag, zipping it up.

A member of the tech crew that had been moving equipment backstage approached, holding her hands out for the guitar bag. I hesitated for just a moment before passing it over. I trusted The House of Solaire's usual crew. I was just protective of my guitar.

The tech shuffled off with it.

I spun to face Sam again. "So. Last night of tour. How's it feel to be done and free for the next couple months?"

Sam shrugged. "Ready to take some time to relax—but you know me. I'll get restless fast."

I approached him and hooked my fingers around the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him close to me. "I can help with that," I whispered, leaning close to his ear.

He chuckled low in his throat. "Well, I look forward to that," he said, voice low and soft, turning his head to kiss behind my ear. Goosebumps rose all the way down my spine. I shuddered a little bit. His hands wrapped around me and he held me close. I held onto him too.

Vincent still singing Journey to his partner was barely audible over the sounds of the stage and house crews packing and cleaning.

Sam rested his chin on my shoulder and looked around. "How'd you ever give this life up, darlin'?" he asked. "I don't think I can."

I smiled and sighed out my nose. "I needed a break, at least. After the break-up and Nomadic's PR people doing their damnedest to throw me under the bus and try to ruin my image... stepping off the stage was the easiest choice I'd made in a long time. David, Milo, and Ash all understood, and Ash had been wanting to try to take up lead guitar for a while anyway. So after they found Christian to take up bass guitar, Iii... left."

"Ever think you'll rejoin?"

I snorted. "I'd love to, on one hand. On the other... it'd mean even less time with you. Being back on tour at different times... or even the same time... I wouldn't be able to take a weekend and fly to wherever you're playing to see you."

Sam massaged his fingers into my hips. "Guess you have a point," he said.

I hummed, letting go of his hips to run my hands up his arms, tracing the lines of his tattoos as I passed them. "You know, I swore off dating rockstars after things with Quinn fell apart," I remarked.

Sam kissed my neck. "What changed?"

I sucked in a shuddering breath. "I met you," I replied.

He smiled against my skin. "That a good thing?"

I snickered. "A very good thing, smart mouth."

"Mm... then why don't you do somethin' about this smart mouth of mine, darlin'?"

I kissed his neck, feeling the way he relaxed under the contact. "Oh I plan to," I replied.

—

Lovely

"Y'know, it's kinda funny to me," I began, watching Vincent lean over the counter of the vanity station in the dressing room.

"What is?"

"You take off all those piercings and put on a nerdy T-shirt and normal jeans and no one recognizes you out in public," I said.

Vincent removed the earring from the helix of his left ear. The only one he ever left in between shows was the industrial on his right. He spun around to face me, leaning back against the counter. "That's part of cultivating a public persona. People expect the tight, plain T-shirt with the V-neck and the black skinny jeans and big boots. The dozen piercings. The rockstar eyeliner. No one recognizes... just some guy in a T-shirt with I Am Groot plastered across the chest. Put me in a grocery store and I'm just a taller-than-average nerd. No rockstar to be seen."

I scoffed. "No. You're not just some guy. You'd still be waaay hotter than everyone else in that grocery store."

Vincent laughed and held his arms out for me. I hugged him. "I think you're a little biased, lovely," he whispered.

"Oh definitely," I said.

His hands slipped under my shirt. And hesitated, as always, over the scar across my back.

He wrote You Mentioned a Blackout after a former lighting tech of the band's had been making jokes about The House of Solaire's lighting rig being enough to cause power outages in the smaller cities they played in. That lighting tech—Adam—had been making more of those jokes while Vincent was showing me around a venue before we were officially together. Just flirting. Adam had, apparently, been watching me intently while working. Tried to flirt with me after. When I turned him down, he had "accidentally" dropped a small light fixture he'd been setting up over the stage. It glanced off my shoulder on its way down and knocked me forward. It had already been attached to live wiring and the electrocution and strike knocked me out.

Needless to say Adam got fired after the incident. But the scar of the electricity and the light fixture remained—and Vincent was always hesitant to touch them. He'd been wracked with guilt when I woke up in the hospital. Made it his personal mission to take care of me while I recovered. Put a tour on hold before it even really started—their tours always started and ended in Dahlia—to make sure I got better.

And along the way, our feelings deepened and we fell properly in love. We'd been together ever since.

I knew Vincent still felt guilty about the "accident" but I tried not to let him dwell on it much. Including pushing him past his hesitance to touch the scar it left behind, almost three years later.

I kissed him. "Excited for the after party tomorrow?"

"I will be if I get enough sleep," he replied. "I love touring but, God, it leaves me exhausted."

"I know, baby. But you get a couple months off now. To rest and relax and recharge. Then you can get started on your new album."

He snorted. "Lovely, you know I wrote nine songs while on this last tour, right?"

"Wait, really?"

"Hours upon hours on a bus between cities? Yeah. Plenty of time."

"What'd you write?"

"Mostly yearning for you. A few love letters to the places we visited. None of them are at a stage that they actually fit our usual style but I just... I don't know. I can't not write new songs. Taking a couple months off just means I'll keep writing more songs. Alexis and Sam probably will too. Just not as many as me. But it'll be a passion project at that point. Then maybe later get to be an album."

"You're adorable," I said.

Vincent smiled. "I'll play them all for your while we're home."

"You'd better." I pressed another kiss to his mouth.

He deepened it immediately. "Oh God, I missed you baby," he whispered. "Doesn't matter how many weekend shows you flew out to see. I miss just being with you all the time."

"Me too."

—

Darlin'

I really had to hand it to Sam on his foresight. The stool of his drum set was sturdy and steady. Able to bear the weight of two people.

The crew usually saved the stage itself for last to clear, so we had plenty of time to sit on his drum stool—me straddling his lap—and make out. His hands, warm and callused, were just barely under the hem of my shirt on my bare skin. We were passionate, sure, but not exhibitionists. And the house staff was still cleaning the stadium seating area. We were mostly blocked from sight by the drum set, but better not to go too hard while there were still eyes on us.

Still, he was warm beneath me and his hands on me were heaven. I ran my hands down his back and slowly extracted his drumsticks from his back pocket. The muscles in his back relaxed more immediately.

"How's this for doing something about your smart mouth?" I whispered.

He chuckled. "Ohhh... I think it's just right, darlin'." He kissed me harder. "So. Next tour, gonna play with us at more concerts?"

"Mmm... maybe. Vincent and William haven't officially offered yet." I ran my hands over his hair. "But if you're just asking me to go on your tour with you... I can probably arrange that."

Sam dug his fingers into the skin on either side of my spine. "We've got a while before that happens. But I'd love it if you could join us. Hell, maybe Vincent and Fred can bring their partners too. Maybe it would make the band less sick-a each other by the time we're done."

I snickered. "Maybe," I agreed. I kissed him deeply again. "We'll see, cowboy." I pressed more kisses to his cheeks and forehead. "Now kiss me like you mean it and let's celebrate the end of this tour, yeah?"

"Hell yeah, darlin'." He rocked against me and met me in a kiss that I returned enthusiastically. I threaded my fingers into his hair and tugged on it, making him moan into my mouth while I stuck my tongue in his. His body was so much more relaxed when we were like this. Loose, wild, carefree.

I loved every second of it.

And, judging by how he was moving, he did too.

—

Tag list: @zozo-01 @shellssstuff @thegoldenlittlerose @darlin-collins

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Vincent #Redacted Lovely #Redacted Sam #Redacted Darlin' #Redacted Alexis #Starlit Fic #Redacted Audio #I don't see Sam with tattoos or Vincent with excessive piercings normally #but c'mon #they're rockstars here

[penrose-quinn]

Green Light | Part Eleven

"You look like you're about to drown," you reasoned as if the closeness needed one, straddling your legs on his lap.

Shinichiro hooked a hand behind your knee, uncertain if he's cradling you to him or if you're lifting him up because he felt as if he's already flung himself from the bridge, six feet deep into rushing water, and you're diving down the river to go after him but somehow, nothing was agonizing when your hand brushed the hairs on his arm, then the vein stretched out like a branch on the bone of his wrist.

He mulled over how you could think that you'd only ever destroyed what you touched. His little finger nudged your knuckle a bit and you curled on him like you're making a promise to be careful with his heart.

pairing: shinichiro sano/gn!reader

content tags: they/them pronounces for reader, but ‘their’ is only used once. childhood friends. angst and hurt/comfort. slice of life ft. gangs. idiots to lovers. old friends trying to reconnect but are being dumbasses about it. they don't deserve the friends to lovers tag because they're stupid and pining. the second part of my sad attempt at writing shinichiro’s backstory but he isn’t a [redacted] here. dysfunctional relationship (for shinichiro and izana). underage smoking and mentions of gang violence. non-explicit sexual content at the end (no gendered terms). tokrev manga spoilers.

a/n: this backstory wouldn’t make a lot of sense if you hadn’t read the first part :’) he isn’t a [redacted] here lol, but i’m still tackling on whatever went on between shinichiro and izana (and everyone else). i won’t accept that he missed out on his adult years in this timeline and simply had to suffer on the other. i’m putting the best of what i could make up and write in this version of his backstory so i very much appreciate every like/reblog/comment this receives!  

m.list ❁ read on ao3 ❁ part 12

There was a time you asked him what he wanted to do someday when he was at the peak of attaining everything.

You were still at the edge of eighteen. Still entangled in each other from the riverbank.

Shinichiro felt a nudge from your socked foot against his leg. Your boot was safeguarded close to his armpit for keeping it away from you. His hair was even mussed-up for it, but he couldn’t recall what the both of you were fighting about earlier ago.

You claimed that you were serious and he shrugged because he had the Black Dragons.

“You’re still planning to be in the gang after high school?”

During that time, it didn’t occur to him that you wouldn’t. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Be real. You can’t keep punching guys and meddling in their unresolved issues forever! It’s unsustainable. You’re more than that, Shin.”

You shook your head in disapproval like Takeomi though he would’ve probably enthused him to keep ruling over Tokyo, be the King.

Takeomi basked in their era like a man who found immortality and you just denounced him for letting the shameless power-trip rot his brain. Shinichiro chuckled, even though you accused him of it too. Called them losers.

You told him you wanted to go to college.

Everyone’s expected to, was what he wanted to say because that’s the least thing any good, grateful child should do for all their parents’ hard-earned labor. He hadn’t visited their grave in awhile. Mused over what flowers to bring them while you meandered on how you’re going to get a job, save up a lot of money to have a place of your own: high-rise studio, spacious room, and a balcony with a nice view of the city. 

Shinichiro didn’t appear like he was listening though his lips fondly tilted up throughout because the sun rose with your voice and he never doubted you.

“You will,” he said finally. He knew because you could see the future.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t know what’s gonna happen to you without me.”

You sounded a little vulnerable. Shinichiro attempted to reach for your wrist but his fingers fiddled around the cold button of your cuff sleeve instead. He didn't want to think about what you actually meant, digressing with a remark that you looked good in the gang uniform, and you just rummaged for his pack and lighter in his pocket with a scoff.

He's lying down on the ground, one leg bent to the other and arms behind his head in the lackadaisical manner where he’s looking forward to a weekend of nothing because he hadn’t really crossed that point where he could have a life untethered to where he was now.

The both of you were still covered in wet grass stains till daybreak, and the world moved on.

How could age stack up like bills, pilling high until it left one bankrupt?

Shinichiro used to count how many stitches he had in a bad scar from a fight. Now, he counted his gains and losses over the years. Learned to budget the good left for himself. The best he could do was work. He had to make this work.

S•S MOTORS used to be a small, forgotten building wedged in the bustling landscape of Shibuya.

There’s the skeleton of an exposed ceiling, water stains on the walls, and a smashed window at the backroom. Shinichiro constantly mulled over if this was worth the loans while toiling himself over wet plaster on cracks. He’s starting from scraps again, though he figured he could be the architect of his future from here and he had a vision unveil itself in the ruins of a building, of the aspirations of a new generation.

Kanda went to see him yesterday. He was with the current president of the Black Dragons.

I want to bring back that place where everyone can belong, Shinichiro-san.

A family, a place to belong; Shinichiro reminisced how much he dreamed to build a home.

Company was divided into strays, regulars, and new customers.

Shinichiro still thought of you, walking in here one of these days.

It felt odd when everyone began to come to terms with your absence – his friends didn't have much to say about you anymore but they hoped you're faring well – and then, perhaps without being deliberate, passed his sentiments over to Seishu to the point the boy had probably ceased to guess what kind of presence you would be in his motor shop.

Seishu stayed in longer than he should, this hovel of scattered hopes and broken machine parts though he liked to watch him work in earnest, digging a hand wrist-deep into an engine as if he could find a damaged, beating heart inside.

He never spoke of that aloud, most of the time he didn’t speak at all, though he never had to tell him what happened to his face or how he's used to people seeing the burn scar before him. Shinichiro just saw a lost boy with raw, torn knuckles.

His thoughts went to Izana, and then back to Seishu, if he had somewhere to return.

He’d wander back in here the next morning.

Seishu opened up that he had a childhood friend who was smarter than him.  

It’s a brief, trusting exchange, though what seemed like one of passing felt more momentous than what it was.

Shinichiro grinned, claiming that it's nice they had something in common. Seishu tilted his head at that before perusing the dead husk of a Suzuki Intruder, eyes frosted over in latent thought. He didn't question him about it like how he would on calmer days, sharing about scuffles and stories rekindled over a freely offered soft drink to soothe the bruises.

There's an irony to Wakasa punctuating on how he shouldn't be feeding the kid with too much sugar. Benkei stepped in the room with him, brandishing a paper bag of meat buns. No one hesitated to bring back the old man misunderstanding to get a rise out of the big guy. Crates shifted together, grating against floorboards, unserious threats, more jeering.

Shinichiro sighed expectantly on how his startup business was diving down into a rowdy one.

There were little, amused blips in Seishu's unaffected expression every time.

Shinichiro asked Seishu if he liked motorcycles.

He shrugged, handing him a torque wrench from the set laid beside him. He’s already familiar of the tools and quick on the uptake with a reserved attentiveness that should’ve been pored more on his studies, though he’s at that rebellious age where he felt like he should be elsewhere than losing himself in the monotony of real life.

Shinichiro understood, remembering a time when his youth had been overbearing, not taken seriously, and full of pent-up, adolescent anger.

Seishu didn’t believe he held that kind of rage, and Shinichiro smiled because you’d probably say otherwise.

Even so, he’d tell him that it’s liberating being true to himself in the same breath he kept bringing up that school was a bit better than his motor shop because he didn’t want the kid to screw himself over a lifetime of stinking in gasoline and grueling manual labor in the future. There’s a lot of options for him, just give it a shot.

Shinichiro had gotten better at enthusing that without being intrusive about it. Or at least that’s his assumption when Ken seemed more motivated attending his classes after having a similar conversation some time ago. He wondered if Seishu might get along with him more than Manjiro. His brother was rather selective on his clique of friends and Haruchiyo devoted being by his side till now.

In the end, Seishu chose the path of a delinquent in the Black Dragons.

Perhaps, that’s better than being alone on the beat-up couch in his shop.

Shinichiro wanted to be one with static, to be pointless for a moment, even when no one’s going to come looking for him at 3 a.m.

All the lights were down, spilling in the syncopations of the city and the tired wheeze of his heater, though he turned it off a minute ago because he’s saving up for this month's electric bill. His bones creaked from his neck, oily with sweat and Tiger Balm, but somehow, it felt like his spine splintered in half. He’s already fatigued from figuring his shit out and he’s not even in his forties yet.

Was it weird he couldn’t imagine what you’d look like at twenty? He’d been losing inspiration lately. He didn’t want to dump it on you, though sometimes, he hated thinking of you like that to the point he wished he choked on his beer and let it all fizzle away.

Manjiro called him out for moping. Shinichiro threw back that he’s a brat. His brother recognized your tone in him and the question withered inside his mouth. Benkei and Wakasa only shared a pensive glance after he recounted it at the bar. He's out of the loop between them and they didn't make him feel better for it unlike Takeomi, who slurred out that he wouldn't be so miserable if he just got over you, tactlessly well-intentioned and unafraid of speaking out his mind in all the ways asshole friends did to show they cared.

Benkei excused it as one of his drunken tirades again because they were aware how Takeomi had been spiraling from his life, and although Benkei was looking out for them, the reassurance was painfully needless. Shinichiro could see it in Wakasa's quiet, apologetic gaze.

They formed a gang. Had skipped school to smoke his first joint in the garage, swore that they had each other’s back since the hot blaze of their teenage years. So Shinichiro pondered how long Wakasa had eyes like that, or perhaps he just hadn't noticed them in awhile because he hadn't hung out with everyone as much when time became scarce and life kept getting in the way.

Then his hand clenched into a fist as he reached for his phone. The shape wasn't right and there's a coldness to the cell on his palm. Right, he lost his old one weeks ago. What's your number again? Didn't you change your email a year after you moved?

Regret twinged in his chest when Shinichiro couldn't greet you on your birthday today, reminiscing on waking to your message last August when you asked him what it felt like to finally be an adult, tagged after a found your soulmate yet?

He’s still sad and single. Instead of a retort, you responded back that it's okay when the both of you could just be sad and single together.

It sucked that he couldn't ask how you were though buried at the farthest place of his mind, he wondered if you'd even reply.

Shinichiro wanted to tell you that he fell in love again though the one who already got sick of his heartbreak was Izana.

He wasn’t sure how to confide about their sister having a crush with that attitude. He figured that out when she began to reinvent herself in small, subtle ways: a new hairstyle, a song she never liked or listened to before. There were the long, fawning looks, but they lingered more in the after-school daydreams, tucked like a lock of hair behind the ear for her earring to twinkle and catch someone’s eye.

Nothing’s working to her favor yet. He could tell from the way her fingers played with her hair a lot more nowadays because she'd rather braid her feelings than confess, whoever it was.

A symptom of unrequited love, or at least that’s what he assumed it was for needing to fill the hunger with the shy hope of tying wishes on a bamboo branch on Tanabata. Manjiro would rather drag Ken to the food booths than dress in a summer yukata with her and Shinichiro had to rummage his in the old closet.

It’s patterned with waves but his mother had described how the seigaiha looked more like dragon scales against a sea of stormy, black cotton. It’s the same one with two holes at the bottom hem; the one that riveted a woman with two moles under her lip, meeting in line of a takoyaki stall. Because Manjiro wanted a bit of everything, Shinichiro ordered the one with assorted flavors and she had hers with mozzarella. A greasy smear of it on the corner of her mouth made her smile more charming, remarking how endearing it was that he’d accompany his sister in a yukata.

Shinichiro offered to buy her a candied strawberry for making his brother pull a face once she drizzled a packet of hot sauce all over her food, though really, he’s stalling for time so he could talk to her some more.

Hoshiko took a sweet bite of his sincerity and told him that she’s got all night. They would surprise themselves for having a mutual friend from Gareji Yago. She loved his sense of humor. He blurted out that her laugh sounded like magic, which had his siblings stupidly reenacting the exchange over the dining table for a month.

They swapped numbers anyway. It’s almost like a call for destiny until it wasn’t.

Shinichiro supposed the retrospection might be worth passing along in his letters.

It'd been the only consistent thing between him and Izana when he wasn't allowed to visit and his sentence was further extended for misconduct. He had to ask Benkei the other day what his experience in juvie had been like, and with a dark somberness in his gaze, he never forgot how no one really came out of there being the same person.

Shinichiro would let Izana be who he wanted to be, but he was still his little brother.

There’s nothing in the world that could change that.

Shinichiro was eleven when his father asked him if he’d like to have another sibling.

It was one of those countless nights his father missed out on dinner, though Shinichiro would pull out his food from the fridge and reheat it for him in the microwave. Leftovers always made his mother sad.  

He didn't quite comprehend the implication of his father's words yet, and one day he’d grow to harbor the sorrow, unwantedness, and pained resentment he never had in him, bursting from his fists like all boys did. Conflict had never been forgiving to his mother, but she would end up loving Emma and his father, regardless.

Shinichiro would ask a similar question to Manjiro years later, and a vestige of their mother lifted up his lips, sticky with the red bean paste of his taiyaki. His heart found ease from the sweet acceptance of his smile.

“Yeah, I'll definitely love him.”

Once Izana was out of juvie, they rode to a harbor in Shinisogocho.

He liked the sea best; a kingdom of star-studded waves, city lights. The vastness enthralled him, a kind of true calling to potential.

Shinichiro believed Izana was capable of many things so he filled the boy with dreams that couldn’t be bound in the legacy of a house. Manjiro had birthright, but Izana would always have freedom.

Either way, his siblings were meant to flourish. They’re his pride. That’s all Shinichiro could ever ask for.

There’s so much salt in the air that he lit a cigarette, blowing smoke like the distant beacon of a lighthouse – a warning.

No one ever told him that nicotine shouldn’t be something he was supposed to crave – he didn’t mean to poison you the way he did – though he would to his brother back then and it spared him a few more years until he could flicker one by himself on the same harbor, the same shade of night. Someday, the Black Dragon embroidered on his back.

Manjiro graduated from elementary around the time Izana was released though he remained disinclined to ask anything about Manjiro succeeding him in the gang.

In the silence between them, Shinichiro mentioned their sister instead. “Emma’s doing well. She got into fortune telling pretty recently, can you believe that? I still don’t get what’s all the fuss about horoscopes.” Shinichiro chuckled but it wasn’t shared. His brother almost looked dazed, out of touch. Out of reach.

“Her cooking is way better than mine. Maybe, you should try it sometime . . .”

The murmur of waves, ashes dropping. Izana languished on a long drag of his cigarette.

“Come have dinner with us,” Shinichiro tried.

His plea was lost to Izana, a shiny bottle adrift in the ocean, as he let another second pass and told him no.

By the time midsummer ended, Izana had turned fourteen; jarringly, grown into his limbs, about his shoulder blade’s height now, grown impatient when he made the major life decision to run away from the orphanage, screw the system.

All the risk-taking only brought tremendous frustration on Shinichiro because Izana didn’t even consult him about it. Contended with him on his questionable choices. That he’s secure with his underground connections, that he already managed to get himself a contract to an apartment somewhere within the realm of Black Dragons territory, not too far from the motor shop so he could visit him. Why can’t you just see that I’m taking responsibility for myself when you won’t—

Shinichiro wasn’t sure what kind of face he was making that broke off the conversation there. The silence stagnated further, and Izana must’ve been more shattered over their argument than he was. It left them irreparable for a night.

The first to make amends was Shinichiro, laying down his pride to atone, truly atone, and perhaps, the act was disarming to Izana.

Shinichiro had never seen him so distressed, and Izana believed him when his big brother said that he’s just worried for him, addressing that he’s right because he should’ve done something sooner.

Yet they didn’t live under one roof.

The implicitness of their bond had become complicated with the self-awareness. They still drank their weight on soda while rock songs hovered over them for the nostalgia trip, the ballad of their routine in the late, sun-glazed afternoon. They even liked their curry the same way. Medium spicy, the kind of heat Manjiro wouldn't appreciate in his mouth. There’s an eyeroll to every joke that didn’t land, the sneaking upturn of lips, the silver lining.

Some of his customers greeted Izana when he entered the shop. They didn’t refer to him when they spoke to Shinichiro about his brother. Izana stopped styling his hair up like Shinichiro one day, and everyone would look out for the autumn moon swaying beneath his ears, the sharp, wicked wit.

Shinichiro would gladly tune-up his motorcycle for free, asking him how’s he been doing lately. Izana wouldn’t bring up school or Emma, though he would about the gang and his ambitions for it. Shinichiro nodded to his every word, as if they’re talking about music or their latest excursion. He reminisced of their stroll at Tsukuda Bridge months ago, the river underneath evening-black and murky like the waves in Manila Bay.

There’s always an urge to drown somewhere in those depths, secrets and more secrets.

For the longest time, Shinichiro lacked the awareness that people puzzled over him until you'd say so someday, and in his reflections, being seen by you felt as if he'd been transparent enough.

Though perhaps, it hadn't always been like that because in needing to be closer, Izana fiercely searched for something in Shinichiro, imploring in the way he only knew how, and then return every other day, looking harsher than last time, hurting more than last time. He blamed himself for it too – everything’s wrong ‘cause of me – and Shinichiro wished he didn’t punish himself for existing, gently dressing the wounds with words and antiseptic.

“You’re my little brother. Nothing about you is wrong to me.”     

Izana came to him with the storm on his back.

Shinichiro had never been scared of lightning but he was from the truth in Izana's eyes. He knew the question before it could be asked and he didn't deny it.

Retribution had never felt so fast and unrepentant by his fist. It's all what he's taught him and more, self-defense.

On the ground, his head throbbed and Shinichiro still had a full set of teeth, a rasp to remind him that blood-related or not, nothing will change between us, all right? Izana held back on his punch and Shinichiro wasn't pretending to be tough by staying still for another.

He's just resigned in all the ways guilt could cripple a man, seeing his little brother bleed for the wrong, wretched reasons. It's not your fault, he wanted to say, but to reach out meant ruining him and he couldn't bring him the happiness that could take him away from that hell.

There's a despondence on the bite of Izana’s voice, a wavering, anguished sound.

"I never want to see you again."

Shinichiro thought he saw you.

“What happened to you?”

“. . . I had a fight with my little brother.”

Sympathy made Akemi’s gaze softer when she brought him at her place to tend to his wounds at a tragic time.

Shinichiro wondered if sisters were just always like that. They would glare at you like you were a nuisance but would help you clean up after your mess anyway.

Emma never outgrew it. She did a lot of the housework nowadays and she knew exactly where to find the medical box, hauling it out from the bathroom cupboard under the sink with a sigh. She’s careful with the antiseptic because she knew how it stung and she didn’t understand why boys were the way they were, railing on how useless her brothers were. Can’t even cook their eggs how they want it made, or something like that.

Then he mulled over your sister, the way she swabbed the graze on his chin, and from this proximity, he traced out the part of her hair, her cheekbones, and then so clearly this time, her eyes in both shape and sentiment, how she looked more like you.

Sometimes, it’s staggering how he didn't know Akemi as much as he knew you.

He grew up trying to impress her by balancing himself atop the jungle gym, admiring her as an adult when she was hardly one herself who was just learning how to apply makeup to conceal the deeper insecurities at fifteen, to become more feminine to appeal to guys who weren’t worth all the emotional damage. She still wore mascara, the drugstore kind that clumped around her eyelashes, but he realized the mature lines under them suited her more.

His shoulders ached in understanding, about what it felt like to be heaped with all this responsibility you never asked for.   

Perhaps, there’s a special kinship they could seek out in each other but he felt really stupid for seeing her now.

“I was so busy with everything else that I can’t help but feel like I neglected their feelings, what’s really hurting inside . . .”

Akemi serenely watched her daughter from the window. Keiko was in her yellow raincoat and sneakers, splashing on puddles from her dash to the maid café with a friend, and Akemi reminisced of you and her, muddy with youth and growing pains. Yours was so quiet and violent that it almost scared her. Shinichiro remembered that part too, raw like the scabs on your knuckles; remembered the threats and slurs they called her just to get a rise out of you; remembered most of them where from rival gangs that went against Seisaku.

You told him that all you ever saw was red and he didn't stop you for lashing out to her defense. He even fought alongside you.

Though having witnessed that side of you, Akemi recounted that she wound up yelling that you were acting like your brother. Her regret settled deep in her womb and you felt a little farther from her ever since. It wasn't like the both of you never reconciled and you would even claim now that she was just a teenager at the time.

“Siblings fight for a lot of reasons,” she said, but she also hurt you. Sometimes, she feared she might not have the opportunity to know you anymore because of it. Her eyes wandered wistfully to the window again. “I miss the both of them . . .”

Then she sighed, looking back at him. “I hope it gets better with your little brother.”

Shinichiro didn’t know what to say but it throbbed where it should, burning on his throat with remorse. I hurt him.

Akemi poured his cup again as if to fill in the silence with consolation and a meek hope that it’s never too late to reach out.

"You're not a bad person, Shinichiro-kun."

He drank his tea, tasting of tears.

"I'm a terrible big brother."

Shinichiro said it a second time to himself.

The world was cleansed by the rain, but his memories never absolved him.

He went home late that time, and they would ask him why he's bleeding. He would tell them he's fine and it would be like that for days. Something always festered in his silence.

The moment Izana stopped coming back to the motor shop so did Seishu.

Perhaps, this was what it’s like to mourn for the living.

Learning to cope with the hollowness in him that haunted the spaces of his room, filled with their shadows that had grown farther in the Black Dragons. Most would say the gang changed for the worse, gradually being embroiled in all criminal dealings, drugs and blood money.  An elderly storekeeper was stabbed from the gang's aggressions. He died before he could reach the hospital and it was all over the headlines that morning.

It's enough to provoke Benkei to demand a reason for letting it happen, and while Wakasa had stood between them, he matched his partner more in his solemn, self-contained fury. There's a glimpse of the legendary gang leaders that divided Kanto in half in the confrontation. When it came to legacy, their outrage was justified for sacrificing it all for him. Takeomi watched them until he felt the need to intervene because Shinichiro wasn't as upset as he should.

This wasn't their generation anymore, and the successors after the eighth weren't any better when they carried the inherent spirit of vindictiveness.

One of Manjiro's friends would be a victim to this, and his little brother would ask him one day to put an end to it with Toman, dressed in black and gold as to honor what Shinichiro and his friends had striven to become a long time ago.

Black Dragons had always been meant to be led by his brothers.

Shinichiro contemplated if Izana could make a home from the ashes of another and Manjiro was there to pick at its bones. He just wished he could do more for Seishu, attempting to save a semblance of it in the scarcity. He understood what all of this meant to him and why he couldn't seem to visit when he was in a coma for two weeks. The motor shop was closed far longer and he was concerned if there's a place out there for him.

The last time Shinichiro had heard of him was when he was still struggling in physical therapy. Seishu was recently released from juvie by then, following a different tyrant in the Black Dragons. He wasn't alone in the gang, and Shinichiro supposed with his old friend beside him, they could figure something out of the madness. Perhaps, there was hope if they remained together.

In the midst of things, Shinichiro couldn't really do much, fearing to cause more damage than what's done and living through the rest of it than just staying dead. 

“Do Mikey and Emma know?” you asked, hauling him back to you.

“After the accident in the shop, I told them everything. Figured I should, knowing it could be my last . . . Emma first, then Manjiro.”

Because it'd taken him surgery and a span of years to tell her the truth about Izana.

“It's unfair.” Emma shed a tear that day, crumpling in distress that made him want to scoop her up like she’s four, cooing softly, no, there are no monsters under your bed and your mother didn’t hate you.

He was petrified as she still sat there, hands clutching the skirt of her school uniform like how Izana would onto impossibly good, hopeful things.

"But you're my big brother too," she said before wiping her face and walking out of the room.

Shinichiro would still apologize to her, even though Emma never really stopped visiting him in the hospital with either Manjiro or Grandpa around.

The only time she did by herself was when they had an actual conversation without Manjiro's presence quelling her into a sense of peace and with a hum, recounted that she didn't know how to react when he reached her a bowl of red rice for breakfast weeks ago.

She panicked and got her first period on the day prior so she mistook it as a disgusting joke. Manjiro didn't even snicker. Shinichiro had little understanding on the tradition, expecting she'd be more knowledgeable about it than him, as he regretfully explained this to her. He forgot himself again with the shadow of a slight stubble, lending him a sad, sleazy look. He looked older too, and Emma chuckled softly at the memory. Old enough to be her father . . .

Because apparently parents cooked red rice for their daughters once they hit puberty, attempted to know what napkin to buy for them even if it's the wrong brand, console them from breakouts when they started flaring up like a disease.

It's the sort of stuff Emma had heard from the girls in class complain about because they didn't realize what they had, what she coveted for herself. No one was ever prepared when she came into their lives. She had two mothers but the both of them couldn't stay like her father, whoever he was.

Shinichiro and Emma ended up sniffling their emotions after that.

“Do you want to see Izana?” Shinichiro asked, but he knew.

Emma carried a certain poignance in her gaze. Abandonment could only mature her in such way.

She couldn’t look at him for the answer. Her lip wobbled. “Does he still want to see me?”

"Did you reach out to him?" 

"I want to," Shinichiro said it as if it’d been unheard for a long time, and all he could do was stare passively at tall, decades-old towers within Marunouchi, the road ahead of him, and nothing. "But I’m not sure what’ll happen if I see him again. The last time was . . ."

He hesitated. Opened his mouth and closed it again, feeling exposed all over even when something locked tight in his throat.

The words wouldn’t come out like they should. He hadn’t spoken about this to anyone for two years, but the rift was almost nonexistent. Regret lingered like it’s just yesterday. He worked his jaw some more, and the ache pulsed where Izana hit him.

Shinichiro often dwelt of a different time when things didn't have to be so broken and he would make the right choices. His siblings never had to be separated and they could just be kids lounging around to watch show reruns on the TV than do homework, sharing a childhood of being ordered around and overfed with greasy kushiage by their grandfather. Maybe, they would measure the other's height against the doorframe with a Pilot marker. Shinichiro would have to scold them for vandalizing though he fondly wouldn't remove their scribbled names over the years until they could work with him in the shop or move out to come into their own. It couldn't be perfect because he couldn’t live up to what a parent could offer but he hoped it'd be enough for him provide them a home where they could laugh and love over the table, throw stupid tantrums, weep loud, grow and make mistakes.

But never like the ones he had committed.

"Izana wasn't a mistake." Shinichiro knew this in his heart. "Everything I did was . . . right?"

He waited for you to challenge him. Tell him where he's wrong and amend. There wasn't a time you hadn't because you loved him enough to tell him about himself so he called out your name and you inhaled, slow and pensive, as your hand reached up to fold a strand of hair behind your ear, the other still entwined with his.

“I feel bad for Izana. He doesn't deserve that,” you told him as your thumb traced his open, trembling palm. His ring on you was warm from your skin. “I feel bad for you too. For agonizing about this for so long.”

The inflections of your voice were pained and conflicted, admitting that to him. “Look, I don’t think I could speak for him. I don’t know him, not like you do. But what you did, keeping something important like that, wouldn’t it have hurt less if you just told him earlier?”

“I figured there was probably a right time to tell him, but then things got out of hand so suddenly,” and he hated it so much; how it brought back the memory of his mother on her deathbed, not knowing when things would get better, not knowing where to place all his despair and indignation to the world but in himself. “He’d been through so much, and I didn’t know what to do . . .”

“I wouldn’t know either.” You gave his hand a firm squeeze. “I know you’re just trying to help, Shin. You care about him. I used to proofread your letters, remember? You wrote to him like you grew up with him. I always thought it was sweet, the way you asked about his day and went on about yours, how you welcomed him in it. Emma would know.”

Shinichiro rubbed his eye. He already sounded congested when he spoke up, feeling even more pathetic.

“I kept her from him too.”

“Why did you?”

“It'd hurt her, if she knew her brothers wouldn’t get along.” Emma was too young to undergo through a lot with the changes and losses in her life. “If they fought . . .”

A pause, then a sigh rolled off your lips. “Wouldn’t have made a difference if she couldn’t see him anymore.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I feel like I should. I'm just," he trailed off, head hanging low because his frustration was spilling from his eyes and—

You gently pulled his chin to you. “You don’t have to, not with me,” you reminded him, catching tears before they fell with the pad of your thumb, "all right?"

Shinichiro nodded. There were wet blotches on your cuff sleeve for brushing it under his nose because none of you brought a handkerchief so you figured this would do. A bit of him stained you and you didn't mind.

You told him to breathe, and he realized what he'd been holding inside for awhile before letting it out.

"I . . . I didn't have the best relationship with my big brother either. Held a grudge for so long that I thought I'd die hating him, but it doesn't matter now. Being upset of your ghosts," you drifted for a moment with a murky emotion he couldn't name.

A bus stopped by; the passengers stepping out in worn, clear umbrellas. You couldn't see them, blinking vacantly, as you went on.

"You’re not a terrible big brother. You got to know Izana. You were with him before he even became a delinquent. You never owed him anything. You weren't even blood-related. It would've been better if you didn't lie, but you loved him anyway . . .”

Then you glanced back at him. There’s something poignant about your eyes.

“That was never a lie, wasn’t it?"

“No,” was his answer. But . . .

“Your big brother,” Shinichiro started, “did he ever come back for you?”

“He can’t,” you sighed, falling back on his shoulder. “He died a year ago.”

Somehow, the two of you were in your house.

You told him it wasn't much of a home without your sister or her family.

Shinichiro contemplated how you would’ve lurked deeper into the emptiness for days had he not asked you to stay at his place.

Sleeves rolled up to your forearms, you ran him a hot bath. He threw back that you should go in first. You insisted that he should after hearing him sneeze awhile ago, despite his efforts to muffle it down his elbow.

The both of you remained stubborn and indecisive about it until you proposed that you join him in the tub instead.

Shinichiro had seen you nude before – perhaps not quite enough the first time – and it wasn't like the thought of your bare skin never crossed his mind. It's just that you're always covered-up, swaddled in layers that it's perplexing to him what it's like to look at you naked.

He remembered how you would cage yourself around your arms because you felt too sensitive out in the open. You didn’t like it when your nipples got hard, when the old scars jagged along your body as mementos of survival and belligerent adolescence. He still chanced on stealing a glance at your tattoo; dark and intricate, coiled around your leg like a tether. It's the part of you that remained unchanged.

He hoped for it. The desire was selfish and ruthless and all-consuming that it could be its own dragon.

You weren't one for bold statements though he couldn't help but contemplate how you carried it with you under your suit after all these years. Contemplated how the needle must've hurt, the social repercussions even more so, stung with blood and loyalty, though you were intrepid through and through.

Warmth bloomed in his chest. It wasn't the sweltering heat from the bathwater, but the realization rippling out of him the moment you dipped into the tub, both of your bare legs rubbing underneath, squeezed into a different brand of intimacy: curated perfectly for couples, couples who were at that awkward, fragile verge of discovering each other without breaking apart from their gazes.

"Can you come closer?" he asked. "You look faraway from the other side of the tub."

Then you came to him like a wave. Everything about you washed over him, sudden and all at once.

"You look like you're about to drown," you reasoned as if the closeness needed one, straddling your legs on his lap.

Shinichiro hooked a hand at the back of your knee, uncertain if he's cradling you to him or if you're lifting him up because he felt as if he's already flung himself from the bridge, six feet deep into rushing water, and you're diving down the river to go after him but somehow, nothing was agonizing when your hand brushed the hairs on his arm, then the vein stretched out like a branch on the bone of his wrist.

He mulled over how you could think that you'd only ever destroyed what you touched. His little finger nudged your knuckle a bit and you curled on him like you're making a promise to be careful with his heart.

You glanced at him under your dewy eyelashes, and when he asked if you hated him, you shook your head and leaned forward to embrace, your hair clinging like arteries on his damp chest, as you let him perch on your shoulder, his lips memorizing a freckle.

Shinichiro thought of the tattoo again, wondering if this was what it's like getting himself etched into your skin.

“How could you ask that, Shin?” you whispered back.

“I guess I’m just afraid.”

Despite his insistence to stay, you asked him to just wait for you in your bedroom, assuring him that it wouldn’t take long for you to collect his clothes from the dryer. He didn't turn on the lights and wearily dove into your covers, wet skin soaking through sheets, though he figured he smelled like you anyway as if that's enough to compensate for sprawling himself out naked and defenseless.

You found him like this later, clothes dumped on the dresser, towel discarded, as you climbed on top of him with the kind of languid grace that bordered to a sweet slowburn but he could tell that it's taking so much from you to not fuck him right there.

His hand was on your cheek, outstretched like he's still reaching for the moon, but it's just you and you're too considerate of him, placing a kiss on his palm. You didn't quite realize how much he felt like a beggar in that moment.

“I'll help you, if you let me.”

What he wanted to say was maybe, you should help yourself, then he'd laugh a little when the aggravation would chip away at you and he'd have to kiss it all better, or worse, didn’t matter which. He nodded. He needed you as your bodies met dripping, somewhere in the rain again, and your hair was akin to something like one and all the tangle of wild, disheveled emotions that hid the both of you from the world. 

"Your big sister wouldn't like you smoking in your room."

"You think I care about what she thinks with what I do in my room?"

"Yeah. A lot." Shinichiro peered at you from your pillow.

"That didn't stop us, though," you said after igniting your cigarette with his lighter.

His eyes watched the tendril of smoke lick up your jaw and the curve of your ear, studded with piercings. You forgot to remove them from the bath so he did it for you when he swept back your hair and you craned your head to him, sheets rustling below your bare waists in the shadow of early twilight.

He left the studs atop the dresser, losing relevance to him once he heard his name and you eclipsed everything, coaxing him to lie down on his back with a hand on his chest. Then a gentle stroke from his brow, a gentler coo, "are you feeling better?"  

Shinichiro closed his eyes and let himself drift from the pads of your fingers. The answer wasn't easy to read. He wanted you to ponder over him in circles. He's a lot needier when you granted him a reason to, but yes, he was feeling a bit better. Perhaps, you made him feel more that he'd draw your lips to him and suck the smoke inside your lungs to taint himself with the taste of your melancholia. Nicotine spared none of you from it.

"She's right, you know. Maybe you should stop smoking," he sighed out, a thread of smoke between breaths, his and yours.

"Stop talking about her," and the truth was he'd rather not talk about her at all, slipping his tongue in your mouth for a deeper conversation, one without words or pretense. Or the comfortable lies he’d tell himself to sleep and burn off with a cigarette in the morning.

The smolder of you turned him into a more honest man, even though his affections for you hadn't been a secret.

"I'll only stop when you do," you whispered.

Like that, you ended a conversation in the way you ended a fight.

You rendered him at a loss for words though he wasn't seeking to win and from a languorous stretch of movement, he reached you the ashtray himself. Then he smiled and remembered how it's so garish with the banana patterns on the dish that it stuck out in your room but you didn't mind purchasing it from the 100 Yen shop the other day, even though you didn't like to smoke here alone.

Something in the ashes would glow when extinguished; both of your fingers touching before you stole the ash tray from him and placed it somewhere on the floor, your outstretched arm shivering out goosebumps from the draft.

There's a small trickle from the windowsill puddling on the floor but you'd rather leave it like that than shut off everything again.

It's so quiet it hurts, so you had opened the window like a wound and the world wept.

A childhood framed in a window. The sole one you’d been gazing on for years, confessing that you didn’t really miss this room after you moved in and he wanted to ask you about it but faltered once your eyes fluttered shut, enjoying each other's presence in the cadence of the rain, awake.

It wasn’t a drowsy spell for you like how it was to him. Shinichiro had learned to adapt to the odd, irregular hours you slept, not quite meeting the other in time, even as it stood still the moment you overlapped him, a wave of warm, urging motion, and he was swimming in lazy endorphins as you spread out the comforter over the both of you, feet covered.

You didn't quite feel like a dream, achingly real and open like a door to this domicile that had been the size of your bodies.

Maybe you wouldn't believe him if he promised you that things would stay like this for the rest of your lives.

But he told you anyway, "I love you."

Exposition Corner:    

[1] Tanabata: a Japanese festival celebrated in the summertime as to commemorate the story of the two star-crossed lovers Orihime and Hikoboshi, who are only allowed to meet each other once a year as long as the skies are clear. A popular custom in Tanabata is writing wishes in a piece of colored paper (tanzaku) and hanging them on a bamboo branch.

[2] Segaiha: a wave pattern of layered concentric circles creating arches, symbolic of waves or water representing surges of good luck. It can also signify power and resilience. 

[3] Gareji Yago: this was actually the motor shop were Shinichiro worked at in the original timeline, and what I’m assuming before he got his shop (if Mikey’s accident didn’t happen). In here, I’m using this as the shop that’s owned by Yoneda, his boss/mentor I’ve referenced in the Bright Light series. 

[4] “[…] if Izana could make a home from the ashes of another and Manjiro was there to pick at its bones”: a reference to Kotsuage, a Japanese funeral ritual wherein family members gather around and pick up the bones of a deceased loved one together using special long chopsticks after the body is cremated. 

[5] “Because apparently parents cooked red rice for their daughters once they hit puberty […]”: to clarify, O-Sekihan, or red-colored rice cooked with Azuki beans, is usually prepared and eaten during auspicious occasions like New Year’s day or Coming-of-Age day. Regarding cooking red rice when a girl has her first period, it’s to celebrate puberty and there are some regions in Japan that still do it but serving sekihan isn’t as common for that as it is in festive celebrations.

In the context of the scene, please don’t think the red color of the rice is meant to represent period lol. It’s Emma misunderstanding it as a stupid joke and Shinichiro not being very good at explaining himself and being a bit misinformed (but he did what he did with well-meaning intentions!). 

[6] I love you: So Shinichiro actually said the unspeakable aishiteru [ 愛してる ], not to confuse it with daisuki [ 大好き ] which is more commonly used in confessing one's love (romantically) in Japanese. For my Non-Japanese speakers, this is just my tl;dr of these references [1] and [2] so I’ll try my best summarizing them!

Aishiteru does mean “I love you” but literally, it translates to “[I] am loving [you]”. 

“Loving” is written in the present continuous て-form as to emphasize the ongoing (ever-lasting) state of the feelings. It’s an expression to convey a serious and profound love that is only used in long-term relationships with a spouse and in rare, emotional occasions such as getting married or when someone is on their deathbed. It’s also hardly spoken to each other.

For cultural context, the Japanese are more reserved with their feelings. There are also many ways to express love but most of them are nonverbal. Conveying it isn’t usually spoken but rather acted on. The gist of it being the love for one another is mutually understood through actions and attentiveness without explicitly stating it.

Now with that said, I’ll leave how Shinichiro throwing the hard L-bomb at MC to everyone’s interpretation. (I’d actually love to read all of your thoughts on it if you’d like to share them with me! <3).

a/n: god, I really hope the way I write shinichiro's decisions and emotional trauma makes sense. no, nothing is resolved here. shin and izana (as well as inui) are still in non-speaking terms :’((((

part ten ❁ m.list ❁ part twelve 

#shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro sano x you #shinichiro sano x y/n #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #black dragons x reader #black dragons x you #shinichiro sano angst #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers #shinichiro sano #izana kurokawa #emma sano #manjiro sano #inui seishu #takeomi akashi #wakasa imaushi #arashi keizou #green light #pen writes

[barry-j-blupjeans]

2022 TAZ Fic Recs!!

There has been so many bangers I've read this year, oh my goddd. This list is mainly just me going through my bookmarks to share everything that's on them, because other people deserve to see them. I will not be @-ing every author, because honestly, I don't know if all of them have Tumblrs or what their usernames are if they do sldfsdf. But they'll be linked with the story!

Fics with a black heart emoji (🖤) in front of them have content warnings that really need to be adhered. I'm taking warnings from what I remember and what is in the tags of the story already. If I need to add anything else, let me know.

On the Deck of the Starblaster by papergardener - The Starblaster crew takes a well-deserved break in the sun. It's so soft that it makes my heart kinda ache, tbh! Could not recommend more.

parlay, as a gamble by anistarrose - Lucretia doesn't erase the concept of Parley as well as she meant to and Merle reaches out to the Red Robe. This one is beautifully heartbreaking and hilarious, I'm in love with it.

🖤 Symptoms by The_Fanfic_Train - The crew has defeated the Hunger and now they must through the mortifying ordeal of healing. This one got me real good, ngl. It shows so much growth and strength and adds a very realistic side to the characters that I very much enjoyed reading.

Warning for suicidal tendencies, negative thoughts, and self-destructive behaviors, and mentions of blood.

Who Have You Become In The Wake of All That's Happened? by ArtsyRiv - Magnus and his experiences with his hair and the styling of those around him. As someone who has also written an entire fic about hair, this is so beautiful. It captures the feelings connected to hair presentation so, so well and, to top it all off, T4T Magnulia, hell yeah.

🖤 I Tried To Do The Best That I Could by ArtsyRiv - Lucretia's been having nightmares in the wake of the Redaction. She's not coping with it well. This story is so beautifully written and pulls you along with all the feelings and emotions mixed in. It's soul-destroying but in a beautiful way.

Warning for self-harm, EDNOS/Eating disorders, some suicidal ideation, and an emetophobia warning.

Caves and Cypress by crowsong - In the simplest of terms, a character study of Barry between the end of Stolen Century and the beginning of Here There Be Gerblins. It's amazingly complex and so well thought out. It tossed me between angst and yearning so quickly that all my emotions jumbled up and came out as tears. There are some fun Barry and Lucretia interactions in here, as well as some very fun Barry and Kravitz interactions.

it's my party and I'll mope if I want to by Grabbingatpowerandkissingit - Angus and Lucretia make Taako a birthday cake. It's fun and funky and fresh, with a very nice little dash of angst sprinkled in. I adore it in every way.

Someone I Have Loved, But Never Known by anistarrose - A fucking fantastic AU of Barry and Lup also being voidfished and remembering their married but don't remember it's too each other. It's hilarious and so in character, I could not recommend it more.

I Saw Seven Bounties by umbraastaff (jothending) - Kravitz took all seven bounties because things like this usually come as package deals. He soon realizes he's sorely mistaken. This one is so fun. I have so many thoughts about Barry and Kravitz's interactions between Stolen Century and HTBG's and this fulfills like, half of them at least. The writing style is so charming and nice, I very highly suggest you read it.

leaving, as an injustice by anistarrose - Another absolute banger by Rose. Sort of a spiritual successor to "parley, as a gamble" further up the list, this is another fantastic Merle fic. With Mavis as the main character, we get to see Merle in a light that not a lot of people choose to write about. It's fantastic and deep and beautiful, an amazing read.

Some of my best friends are liches by Grabbingatpowerandkissingit - So, so, so good. What if Lup had gotten out of the umbrastaff really early? What if they had to deal with two Red Robes instead of one? Everything Reese writes is delightful and zesty, but I have a special place in my heart for this one.

if the grim reaper takes your professor before class starts then you're legally allowed to leave

if the grim reaper takes your professor before class starts then you're legally allowed to leave by anistarrose - Such a good take on another Barry lives after the Redaction AU. It's so funny and so good.

Scamming me, scamming you by Noodyl - Taako thinks he's flirting with Kravitz. Kravitz thinks he's being scammed (and he's kinda loving it?). This is so hilarious and I love the way Noodyl writes Kravitz, it's so very good. A perfect fun fic to wipe away all your sorrows.

🖤 Immortal Mortality by vacuumfluorescentdisplay - I just discovered this author and I'm going wild about them, just a little. This is such a good take on various deaths throughout the Stolen Century. It's so lived-in and refreshing to read and it brings a lot of humanity to the Starblaster crew, dealing with the most living-being-oriented problem: Death. Fantastic read and fantastic writing.

Warning for character death, including drowning and extreme hypothermia. There are also blood mentions and injury descriptions.

unreliable narrator by owlinaminor - An older fic but such a powerful one. It shares Lucretia's POV throughout her entire life up until just after Story and Song. It has given me a new way to view Lucretia and the way I write her and is such an impactful story. The writing style is fantastic and beautiful, I cannot recommend this more.

but the strange lights in the sky were shining by anistarrose - Barry knows things are off but he can't pinpoint why. This one so perfectly captures the feeling of offness from being in a new world but not being able to remember how or why you got there. It's very quick-paced and really captures you in the moment of it all. So good.

Live Like This by Grabbingatpowerandkissingit - Reese has once again taken an already brilliant AU idea (Tuck Everlasting-based AU, my beloved) and made it amazing. Barry's reoccurring encounters at the Fair and his life in between. It's an amazing story and so lived-in and thought-out. It's so very good.

Offworld by vacuumfluorescentdisplay - Last but certainly not least, this masterpiece. I just finished reading this the day I'm writing this and it's incredible. Barry is trying to escape his (criminal) pass and Taako and Lup are just trying to stay alive. This story follows their trip and their slow fall into trust. Tom is so good at world-building and making the characters feel multi-dimensional. The world(s) here are fantastically built and the storyline is even better. Again, I would very highly recommend it.

And that's it!! This got a little long but I wanted to make sure I didn't miss anyone on my list sldkfsdf. Shout out to all these amazing authors and all the ficlets I've been seeing all over my dash. There's so much life and love in this fandom and I adore reading every single thing I come across.

#taz #taz balance #<- since they're all taz balance sldkfjsdf #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fic recs #save #i am speaking #fr go read all of these they're fantastic

[constant-mason24]

The Android Sent By EarthGov - Chapter 1 - Into Darkness

The repair crew aboard the USG Kellion arrives at their destination. Connor realizes something is wrong before the shuttle even lands.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Systems rebooting…

Model RK800

#313 248 317 activating…

All Systems Online…

Welcome, CONNOR

The android’s eyes fluttered open, LED light flickering on and spinning a bright golden yellow. 

Objectives: 

Speak to Captain Hammond

Speak to Kendra Daniels

Assist in Ishimura Repairs

[REDACTED]

The LED on his temple switched to a softer blue as the machine moved to sit up from his slumber. Taking a quick scan of the area, Connor noted that the USG Kellion was getting close to its destination. He rose from the seat he had powered down in and entered the cockpit of the Kellion. He noted one of the engineers, Isaac Clarke, watching a holovid of his girlfriend. Connor took the empty seat beside him, glancing curiously at the screen the other man watched. Just as he was about to speak to the man, Kendra Daniels entered the cockpit and spoke instead.

Now, Connor knew he wasn't the most… socially adept android. He had been created with specific purposes in mind, and the social behavior of humans wasn’t a priority in his programming. That being said, he had learned many tips and tricks for interacting with humans better, as he had been scolded and reprimanded by his living coworkers many times in the past. Connor was aware that Kendra Daniels was not fond of him; she had already snapped at him once for speaking up in a conversation she apparently did not want him included in. For the sake of preventing unwanted tension between his crewmates, Connor opted not to listen to Daniels’ conversation with Clarke. He turned his hearing sensitivity down, focusing instead on his own tasks and objectives. 

The shaking of the ship alerted Connor to their arrival, and he opened his eyes once again to see the Kellion slowing to a stop in front of Aegis VII. Turning his hearing up to a more suitable level again, Connor glanced at the atmosphere around the ship, the broken-up planet floating in pieces around them.

“Imagine six months staring at that chunk of rock,” Clarke spoke, leaning to get a better look out at the debris. 

“To an independent miner, that’s paradise.” Hammond crossed his arms, moving away from the window. “Aegis VII is one of the richest finds in CEC history. Some prospecting team’s set up for life. Now where is she?”

“I believe the Ishimura is just ahead,” Connor spoke up, drawing most of the crews' eyes to him. “I will attempt to make contact, with your permission.”

“Go ahead,” The captain nodded, and Connor’s eyelids began to flicker as he connected himself to the ship's communications systems. The crew continued to chatter on around him, but his attention was entirely focused on the task at hand.

Establishing connection to USG Ishimura…

Connecting…

Connecting…

Connecting…

Communications Error.

Failure to Establish connection.

“That’s odd.” The android looked to the Captain. “There seems to be an issue with the ship's Comms systems. I can’t connect to the crew.”

“Are there any androids on board you could communicate with instead?” Daniels suggested. “Maybe they could pass a message along.”

“It would seem something is jamming my signals. I can’t get any read on both signs of life or technology aboard.”

“Does this sort of thing happen often?” 

“That ship should be full of people and technology.” Clarke shook his head. “I’ve never heard of anything blocking signals that widespread. If the android can’t connect, something’s really fucked down there.”

“Maybe we’ll have better luck through the Kellion’s comms systems.” Hammond placed a hand on Chen’s shoulder. “See if you can establish a connection.”

While the crew attempted to make contact again, Connor ran a self-diagnosis to check if he was the problem. All of his systems and programs came back perfectly fine. Whatever was causing this had nothing to do with him. 

“Something’s coming through.” Chen’s hands flew across the ship's controls, bringing up the audio recording. 

“Maybe the android is just broken,” Daniels muttered, glancing over at Connor.

“I’ve already checked myself over. All of my functions are fully operational. The problem isn’t me.” 

Before Daniels can retort, the audio from the Ishimura plays over the ship's speakers, a strange low grumbling sound. It doesn't sound like anything in Connor’s database. 

“What the hell is that?”

Clarke answers, “Sounds like their communications array is busted. Maybe a broken encoder? Daniels and I can handle it in forty-eight hours, max. Less if we employ the android.”

“Hey, that gives you plenty of time to catch up with Nicole.” Connor’s LEd flickers yellow at Daniels’ words, but before he can give it any thought, Hammond orders the pilots to bring the Kellion aboard the planetcracker. 

As the shuttle begins to land, the gravity tethers pulling the Kellion aboard begin to go haywire. The shuttle is shaken about, and the humans aboard begin to scuffle over what’s going wrong and how to fix it. As they begin to close in on the Ishimura, Connor feels something inside of him begin to expand, to the point of snapping.

Multiple System Errors.

Unable to Diagnose Errors.

Computing…

Computing…

Software Instability.

System Rebooting…

Before the machine can warn his crewmembers about his impending shutdown, his system logs off, and his eyes slide shut. The last thing he hears before shutting down is the rumbling of the shuttle and the panicked yells of the repair team.

#crossover fic #detroit become human #dead space #connor is aboard the ishimura #the marker causes deviancy #connor anderson #rk800 #connor rk800 #isaac clarke #The Android Sent By EarthGov #USG Ishimura

[denimbex1986]

'Russell T Davies has opened up about the decision to use the deadname of trans character Rose Noble in Doctor Who's The Star Beast.

The first 60th anniversary special introduced Rose, played by Yasmin Finney, as the daughter of Donna Noble (Catherine Tate). The episode includes various references to Rose being transgender, including a conversation about pronouns, and showing her grandmother Sylvia (played by Jacqueline King) attempting to get to grips with how to refer to her.

At one point, Rose is seen being called by her deadname by a group of bullies. Deadnaming is the act of referring to a transgender or non-binary person by the name they used prior to transitioning or coming out and, in this case, is shown to be a malicious attempt to undermine Rose's identity.

Speaking on the Official Doctor Who Podcast, Russell T Davies explained: "Rose, at one point, is deadnamed in the street by some kids calling her by her deadname, which is Jason.

"The interesting thing about Jason is actually it means 'Healer' or 'Doctor' which means that Donna actually named her child after the Doctor, without realising it, subconsciously, which was a nice fact in there.

"To get that across and to get the prejudice that's being shown towards Rose by those bullies and thugs in the street, we actually have to have a scene of deadnaming."

He then asked Juno Dawson, co-host of the podcast and writer of Doctor Who: Redacted: "Is that a good thing to do? Is that a wise thing to do? Is that a difficult thing to do? I personally think we should stare into difficult stuff like this but equally what a nice easy life I've got and I'm ready to be told otherwise, so what do you think?"

Dawson said: "I feel that it is important to show the lived reality of trans people. Rose is played by an amazing trans actor, Yasmin Finney from Heartstopper, and it happens.

"The important thing here is that the characters who misgender Rose aren't presented as aspirational characters. I think it's important how upset, if stoic, Rose is, how it really upsets Donna, and I think that's important. To my mind, as a trans person and as a writer, there is no point in trying to sugar the pill – trans people face transphobia.

"It felt accurate and honest to me that Rose is misgendered. It felt honest and right that Sylvia sometimes struggles with pronouns because she's learning, because she understood her grandchild was one thing and then Rose chose a different life for herself. For me, I thought that scene was quite important and it felt honest."

Previously speaking about Finney's casting at the premiere of The Star Beast, Davies explained: "It's not just a Doctor Who thing for me, it's something I and a lot of other writers are very keen to do, to be progressive and to just reflect more of society.

"And it's funny, in casting Yasmin, there's very few people we could have cast, and it's like a light came down from heaven and there she was – before Heartstopper, actually.

"It was just so powerfully meant to be, and I think she does the most amazing job and it's an absolute privilege to work with her to get her on screen."'

#Doctor Who #Yasmin Finney #Rose Noble #Russell T. Davies #Juno Dawson #The Star Beast #Donna Noble #Catherine Tate #Heartstopper

[ryu-slayer]

All at Once

[Image description: First frame Zuko and Katara are in the market area of Ember Island in their disguises. Zuko is nervously offering Katara a bouquet of yellow lilies to help them avoid suspicion. Katara is shyly smiling at the bouquet. Second frame Katara and Zuko are in a garden somewhere in the Earth Kingdom. Zuko is putting a cherry blossom in Katara’s hair while she is shyly watching him as she is smiling with a pink peonies near her lips. Cherry blossom petals are falling around the two of them. Third frame Katara and Zuko are adults with Zuko in his Fire Lord Regalia and Katara in her Ambassador robes. They are walking through an archway somewhere in the Fire Palace at sunset. Zuko is looking down lovingly at Katara while she is smiling up at him warmly. The arch way is decorated with blue clematis, Katara is also holding one and is wearing one in her hair by her right ear. Fourth frame Katara and Zuko are dancing at night under the star light and lantern light both looking lovingly at the other. Katara is in lavender shoulder-less dress, with a small bun on the top of her head that is decorated with pearls and a lavender rose. She also has a portion of her hair in a braid around the base of her head that as more purple roses resting in the braid. Zuko is in his more formal Fire Lord Regalia. Lavender rose petals are swirling around the two of them. Fifth frame Zuko and Katara are taking a break from their royal duties in the royal garden next to the turtle duck pond. They are resting against the trunk of a tree with red camellias tucked behind their ears. Zuko his holding Katara closely against him as he kisses her cheek. Katara is blushing and smiling contently as she rests in her husband’s arms. There is a turtle duck with her turtle ducklings napping near the happy couple.]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41460273/chapters/104273832#workskin

Heh heh so I’ll admit I must be slightly crazy because I had the honor of joining this team late for the @zkbigbang and yet I could not stop myself from drawing these five scenes. But Redacted I hope you know I loved working with you on this fic and I hope you’ll always be able to look at these pieces and remember how much you love Zutara! Love ya Redacted and I hope to see you around on Discord! 😁

#zutara #ZUTARA FOREVER #zkbigbang #zkbb 2022 #zkbigbang2022

[wetcatspellcaster]

Not only do I love your writing, with many a snippets living rent free in my head, and now you are spoiling us with these DVD commentary posts! Oh, and here's on:

As her arcane vision opened, and she was greeted by a hexagonal chamber, wrought from white marble. The proportions of the chamber were briefly dizzying, and off-putting enough to require adjustment to - its walls were high, suggesting a tower, with long, thin, arched windows and a mural in the domed ceiling. Everything was deathly still, and quiet.

And at the chamber's centre, a pristine white coffin.

Its lid was carved into an ornate frieze of flowers, foliage, and winged birds. All its fastenings were pale white gold, the clasps inlaid with rubies. Rose felt her consciousness tugged like a boat anchored, as the hairpin focus called her forward.

When Rose approached the coffin, she heard stifled, harried breathing within. This was truly Astarion’s resting place, then - and close enough for him to cross planes in the time it had taken them to make it to their own sanctuary. He was already inside, recovering from the death she’d willed upon him. If she’d been real, in this moment, Rose would’ve laid her hand upon the surface of the casket.

Echoing from within the coffin, came a long, gravelly groan, that ended in a series of stuttered breaths.

Ah, Rose thought, skin burning in the material plane. Not in too much pain, then.

And... definitely Astarion.

She hastily backed herself away from the coffin, rising up through the centre of the strange, pristine room to the nearest window. It seemed the quickest way to find out more information on their current location, and to leave him to whatever… that was. She felt the connection finesse itself and stretch taut, finding the limits of her own concentration as she drifted up-

Rosalie felt the temperature drop drastically as she came up to the arched window. Its glass was rimed with frost, small glittering starbursts of ice lining the edges and patching the view in places with fronds of glimmering crystal. Beyond, a pale, snow-covered landscape with no signs of life, only mountains that were impossible to scale, and a sky that was brutally dark. A night blue as ink with not a single star to light it, only pulses of colour in an aurora of paler blue and deep, bruise purple, fluttering in and out of existence and rippling through the endless, dark sky like a wave.

Rosalie did the disembodied, arcane equivalent of pressing her ear against the glass. The metal of the window frame felt so cold, it burned across her mind like flame. Though the air inside the chamber was still, she thought she heard the high, roaring howl of a merciless wind.

...why did I not realise that when I offered up DVD Commentary the 'is he wanking in his coffin' segment was bound to come back to haunt me :-)

Curse you, anon (affectionate).

I spoke a lot about where I wanted to put the coffin in the endnotes, but there are many spoiler-y reasons why I decided on Cania as the ideal place, to the point where it caused me to ignore the fact that it technically broke Scry. I'm going to try and give teasers here for the fun of it, but unfortunately a lot of my commentary on this section is going to be [REDACTED] bc it's setting up some (I think) very fun and sexy plot-twists later. Maybe I'll just use this space to be really indulgent and point out some instances of foreshadowing just to annoy readers into guessing what they might mean.

I really love the Hells in general in D&D - I'm not just brain poisoned by the House of Hope, I've always been obsessed with the very D&D specific distinction between Lawful Evil and Chaotic Evil and what Hell, as the Lawful Evil plane, looks like as a result.

Cania is Mephistopheles' domain, I based the choice that they would be in contact not just on the fact that the Black Mass is Mephistopheles' plan, but also on that one line in Ascendent!Astarions dialogue with spawn!Tav when he mentions 'Mephistopheles' gifts', as if they're on first name terms and pals now.

The description of Cania was based on what lore I could glean from online searches and also Descent Into Avernus. Cania isn't actually spoken about in great detail to be honest, it's basically lifeless, cold, and barren. Which...was already prime Gothic vampire imagery, tbh, but then I found this line on the wiki: 'Preserved corpses were frequently uncovered after collisions between glaciers.' I see Ascended!Astarion essentially, at this point, as a 'preserved corpse', particularly when contrasted to Rose's aging, so I figured it was fate.

Also idk if people have googled Mephistopheles but based on his wiki description... it seems like him and Ascendent!Astarion would get along :)))))

The flashes/aurora in the sky are meant to be a sign of arcane activity, Cania is characterised by Mephistopheles 'overseeing endless experiments with arcane magic [...] conducted throughout the wastes of the layer.'

The inside of Astarion's infernal palace registers to Rosalie as warm, but the world outside is very, very cold. There. That is my only piece of foreshadowing that I can highlight here. Make of it what you will.

Also.... yes, he was wanking in the coffin :') at least, in my vision as an author. But tbh the responses in comments were so valid, and I now also have a very funny image of it being a combination of a wank and a panic attack, which... you know... if you're an invulnerable, all-powerful vampire who's become alienated from your own humanity and your own emotions, maybe being scared *does* get you off?

Also shout out to the commenters who imagined what she overheard was actually just a Blood of Lathander style temper tantrum. Imagining an alternative version of this scene where Rosalie goes over to the coffin, here's a tea kettle high voice going "Power Word Kill! Power Word Kill!!" and goes "...ah, that's Astarion alright. Just like the old days." and then moves on with her life.

DVD commentary ask

#wip: pieces still stuck in your teeth #asks #anons #dvd commentary ask #ask games #lovely words from lovely people #schrodinger's coffin endures :')

[rickybowensfever]

28. “I should have stayed home”

@sicktember - Day 28

28. “I should have stayed home”

NEW CHARACTERS!!

I'm introducing my new characters in this fic. Meet Jessie and Luke!

Jessica “Jessie” Rose Baker (She/her): Fat; curly long blonde hair; Southern Belle from Alabama currently living in Maryland, bisexual; dental hygienist. She is fresh out of college. Age: 23

Luke Olsen (He/him): Trans guy; light brown hair and green eyes; slender; from Maryland; 2nd grade teacher at a public school. Age: 22

Bio: Jessie and Luke met at John Hopkin’s University in Maryland. They live together in a small apartment complex and have been together for three years. They met during their junior year of college.

OCTOBER 5, 2023

Sitting at their table in the dim light of the venue, Luke could feel his head pounding as the DJ announced Jessie’s sister and her brother-in-law.

“Everybody give it up for the first time as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds!”, the room erupted with applause and cheering as the newlyweds made their grand entrance to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Luke lay his head on the table dressed in a white tablecloth, covering his ears trying to drown out the sound.

What feels like twenty minutes later but is only a few minutes, he feels Jessie’s hand on his back. Her long blonde curls hitting his shoulder and the smell of her rose perfume was strong.

“You okay?” she whispered into his ear. Throughout the last two weeks, Luke had felt something coming on. With the seasons changing and a month into the school year, it was inevitable. Only two years into teaching and his immune system had yet to catch up with his germ-infested students. But he held out hope that the beginning of school sickness would hold out until after the wedding.  

He was very, very wrong.

“I should’ve stayed home” his voice muffled as he kept his head on the table. Jessie sighed at her boyfriend and immediately grabbed her purse from the chair beside him. She sat down and rummaged through it until she found her emergency pack of pain relievers.

Luke knew what Jessie was thinking since they had just had this conversation yesterday. Luke was feeling run down from a long week of rowdy (and snotty) second graders that he skipped the rehearsal dinner that night to rest on the couch and watch [redacted show because the SAG-AFTRA & WGA are on strike!]  for the fifth time.  

Jessie told him repeatedly he didn’t have to go to the wedding sick. But Luke was as stubborn as they came, and he wanted to support her. But now he wanted to kick Past Luke for not listening to her.  

Jessie nudged Luke’s arm trying to get his attention, holding onto the sleeve of his suit jacket. He slowly pulled his head off of the table and looked at her with his big glassy, green eyes. She pouted her lip; she wore rose red lipstick to match her maroon-colored dress.

As the DJ called everyone to watch the father-daughter dance, Jessie handed him the small white container shaped as a cylinder and directed him to take the medication. Luke shook out two pink tablets onto his palm and chase them down with the complementary glass of water he was given when they walked into the reception.

“Why don’t I give you the key to the hotel and you can go lie down?” she suggested, looking at him and back up at the dance floor.

Luke knew she was right. At his job, he was constantly solving childish problems that his seven and eight-year-old students thought were the end of the world so why was it so hard to let someone else solve his easy problems for once?

“I think I’ll be okay” he lied as his head continued to pound to the rhythm of the music.

Jessie had been looking forward to being a bridesmaid in her sister's wedding since the engagement back in Fall of 2019 which happened to be the same time she and Luke met at college. He wanted to be there for her to witness her brother’s big day.

Jessie smiled a thin-lipped smile and put a hand on his back. “If you start feeling bad, let me know and a car can drive you over to the hotel. Seriously,” she said looking into his eyes sternly.

Luke nodded his head in agreement. He would wait at least until dinner and head back to the hotel. He had at least attended the wedding, he told himself trying to convince his anxious thoughts he was doing good by her.

#my ocs #jessie x luke #sicktember 2023 #sickfics #should've stayed home #whump #sick at a wedding #fever whump #whumpee

[signalhill-if]

Signal Hill best tourism locations?

Well my #1 suggestion is don't

Well, I guess it depends on the circumstances. If you are getting isekaied, literally everything in Signal Hill is worse than the place you currently are. If you're already in the apocalypse and rich enough to not have to travel across the wasteland via walking, you'll be able to have a little fun in the city.

First swing by the main square in The Heights to get a room that overlooks the radio tower, and gives you a good view of the blasted wasteland beyond the city's walls. After that, head down towards The Stacks (but not in The Stacks, don't worry about having to encounter poor people!) to visit Signal Hill's only spa. It is very rudimentary, but its warm baths (consisting of water byproducts from the city's electrical plant) are the closest to luxury you'll get in 2055!

Your next stop is gonna be the Red Light District! It used to be populated mostly by punks and queers, but now that the electrical company has been gentrifying it cleaning it up, there's plenty to do there (so long as you don't stray too far from the main drag)! Find some company at the Rose and Thorn, or visit the recently unveiled casino! How recently? Well, it's existed about as long as the political turmoil since the owner of XElectrics was assassinated during the grand opening- so pretty recently!

Unfortunately there's not much else available in the city. Some adventurous thrillseekers have attempted to visit the Silent Quarter, but they've all been [REDACTED], so I'd say avoid that one.

#ask #anonymous #lore bits

[carljackson25]

**Character Name:** Unknown

**Nickname:** Rose

**Species:** Deer Demon

**Age:** 23

**Occupation:** Mini Overlord

**Personality Traits:**

- Quiet

- Tired all the time

- Acts like a teenager sometimes

**Physical Description:**

- Dark complexion

- Pink fading into red eyes

- Black fading into red hair

- Dresses in a 1930s to 1960s outfit with roses on it

- Deer ears, antlers, and tail

**Background:**

- Grew up in a small town in Utah

- Raised by their mom and half-sister

- Took on the role of the older brother, always watching over his sister

- Had a small collection of vintage dresses, never wore them until a fateful night

**Abilities/Powers:**

- Teleportation

- [Redacted]

**Weaknesses:**

- Loud noise

- Bright lights

**Likes:**

- Stuffy's

- Kisses

- Flesh

**Dislikes:**

- Adem (just Adem, only)

**Additional Notes:**

- One night, while driving, encountered a car accident

- After the accident, put on one of the vintage dresses he had collected, which had roses on it

- Removed the deceased driver from the wreck and brought him home

- Placed the deceased in a chair in his room

- Drove aimlessly until unable to continue

#hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel #gacha oc #gacha character #gacha life 2 #hazbin