#life is not what it could b. idk it just feels all empty which is y i became a fucking workaholic

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#ugh. the fucking struggle of a thing i will not talk about. its just an off shoot of one of my many #obessive compulsive tendencies. it just makes me think of my dad. like hes also a fucking anxious person but hes like. i have the thoughts #but then i dont let them control me so its not an issue. and he knos i get caught up on the structure and identification of problems so #hes always like. its only an issue if its like ruining ur life. and hes right and i definitely meet the standards of both of those things #bc im fucking thinking abt these things constantly. its in my head literally all the time. every second of the day #and i mean i guess this specific thing isnt ruining my life but it certainly isnt helpful and in combo with everything else my quality of #life is not what it could b. idk it just feels all empty which is y i became a fucking workaholic #bc i just get so fucking bored stuck in these stupid patterns that at least i can make myseld useful as i drive myself nuts #it also doesnt help that im still trying to unfuck my leg and not being very successful bc theres this fucking voice in my head like #keep moving. u cant sit down. walk around. dont stop. dont stop. dont stop. i can feel the muscles getting irritated again #its unbearable bc it doesn't really even hurt. i just kno im fucking it up for myself and i have all this excess energy that i cant get rid #of bc i cant run. anyway its just irritating #i probably triggered myself by watching the bear all day lol. its so good but it reminds me of working in a shitty banquet hall when my #brain was on fire. and theyve got that toxic workahoism that i so desperately cling to. and in a weird way i can relate tho their fucked #up mom when everyones just trying to help but shes so fixated on this thing that's clearly causing her distress but shes just screaming at #them. like i mean i have insight into my issues and i try not to let them affect anyone but me but its so hard when its like. i have to do #this thing. i have to do it. i kno its bad. i kno its fucked up but shut the fuck up and let me do this. u dont fucking understand #but i wouldn't say that bc i kno its irrational. ugh. i also have to go to a lab dinner tomorrow. maybe #no time has been listed so idk. its for my leaving so im technically the focus. hate that for me. whatever. itll b fine #at least the place is within walking distance and its like less than 3 weeks until i leave #unrelated

[owlespresso]

the red fruit which ripens

alpha!blade/beta!reader you are a beta courier. one of your clients is getting too close. tags: blackmail, mind games, nonconsensual touching, blade and luocha are just weirdos idk pt 2 of my part in @lorelune's a/b/o collab. the first part can be read here.

You have never known peace. You doubt any emanator ever has. The Mother of Harmony, of peace, bestowed upon you a fraction of her immortal grace. She cored herself, tore out a seed—jewel like and glistening, and beckoned you to feast. The taste went down so smooth and sweet.

That was the first and last time you held your blessing in awe. Xipe sentenced you, that day, to never know the peace she covets. You could catch glimpses of it, inhale the scent of it deep, but it would fade like morning mist, chased away by the winds of chaos and whatever awful business you were to tend to next.

When you strayed from The Family, tore yourself free of their clutches and hid where their millions of bulging eyes could not find you; you believed it possible to know peace. Perhaps not immediately. There was so much to take care of during your first days on the Luofu, paperwork and apartment hunting. It was all jarringly normal. You were mystified by the mundanity, delighted by it even. The world suddenly closed in for the better. There were no enemy factions to worry about corralling, no petty politics, no attempts to usurp you or take your life.

The world became the Luofu. It became your apartment. It became your favorite food stalls and your neighbors and the little birds fluttering about in the trees.

But it was not peace. Soon, you came to realize that even the average Luofu citizen did not know the concept as intimate as you hoped. They live in fear of Mara, of the Abundance, which they are so intimately intertwined with. Every pain is a life threatening risk, a potential trigger to a deadly malady. Outside of the Abundance, so many run themselves ragged, weighted by long work hours and petty squabbles with loved ones. The kindly folk by the docks find themselves cornered by the IPC.

No mortal knows peace, you have come to realize. Perfect tranquility is a ripe and red lie, birthed gold and glistening from the Goddess’s many lips, spread carelessly and listlessly across the universe. Unattainable by the emanator’s closest to her.

You believed once, and it hurt you. Not again. You will heed no honeyed words. You can only believe in what is cold, concrete, and solid.

—

“I feel like—” you begin, pushing through the rusted metal paneling of the dilapidated fence. “—you could have gotten here by yourself.” You usually don’t talk this much, but Blade’s habitual silence combined with your burgeoning irritation leaves you uncharacteristically eager to complain aloud.

The abandoned warehouse looms an eerie, empty monument of crumbling sheet metal and shattered glass. Long columns of broken machinery are gutted in pieces across the concrete yard. You make note to return later, just to make sure you’re not leaving valuable goods out to waste.

“I have never been here before. Kafka thought it wise to come with a guide.” 

“And what do you think?” you pause, shoulder buried in the outside paneling of the building itself.

“What I think… does not matter.” Blade says cooly. “A blade is meant to be wielded. It does not choose who it cuts down or where it goes.”

“Hm,” you don’t have much to say to that. You shouldn’t have opened your yap in the first place. The less you know about the bizarre relations of the Stellaron Hunters, the better. You squeeze into the building through the gap. Blade hardly two paces behind. The metal groans and squeaks as he forces his way in. It feels like the loudest sound you’ve ever fucking heard, an offensive and high pitched screech that probably rings through the yard and neighboring alleyways.

“At least try to be a little quieter,” you grumble, squinting into the dark. The main room is made a maze by haphazardly laid out storage containers, many cracked open and already emptied. Wires hang from the ceiling, which has become an amalgamation of mechanical matter and rotting parts. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

Black grunts his assent.

“Well. You’re here, safe and sound.” you waste no time, doubling back towards the Blade-shaped hole in the wall. Did he just walk straight through!? What are they feeding this guy? “So I—”

The sound of thundering footsteps and approaching shouts freezes you mid-step. Momentary panic jars you still. The Cloud Knights? Here? Now?

Your pulse thrums in your ears as you turn tail, ready to haul ass in the opposite direction, only to collide face-first with Blade’s firm chest. He jostles you to the side with his shoulder, ignoring your grunt of complaint. His hand rests on the hilt of his blade. Your stomach jumps into your throat.

“Where are you going!?” you hiss.

“To take care of the vermin,” Blade replies drolly, looking down his nose at you. His lips twitch into the beginnings of a puzzled frown.

“Absolutely not!” you say, and his frown pulls deeper. “Where there’s ten, there’s bound to be twenty waiting to back them up.”

It is unlike you to be so bold, but you seize him by the wrist, pulling him further into the jagged steel labyrinth. He allows himself to be led, surprisingly docile as you round corners and scuttle down corridors. Pale moonlight covers the room in a silvery sheen, providing just enough light for you to make out a door embedded into the outermost wall. Footsteps echo around you, calling voices made cacophonous by the echo. Blade’s grip on your hand tightens, likely annoyed and sorely tempted to begin the slaughter, but you yank open the door and jam yourself inside what seems to be a cramped server room.

A few circuit towers stand side-by-side, dark and dusty with disuse. Blade shuts the door behind you, opening his mouth to speak, but you’re already wedging yourself into the lone aisle between the wall and the towers, pulling him behind you.

A few moments later sees you crammed in the narrow space. The back wall and server towers rise on either side of you, caging you up against your troublesome accomplice. One of Blade’s thighs presses tight to your own. Warm and firm. The proximity betrays what you’ve expected since your first meeting. Blade is an alpha. Only now, brought so obscenely close, are you fully able to realize that. It’s a footnote in comparison to your agitation, which swims and simmers just beneath the surface of your skin.

“How long were they following us for?” you grumble aloud. “Tell Kafka she owes an extra 20% when you see her, and that I’m not doing this ever again.”

Blade sighs out of his nose. You can’t see his face well enough to make out his expression.

“You’re wearing a mask. Your identity is safe.” he says.

“The threat of being arrested still remains,” you grumble, listening to the clamorous noise outside. Trained troops rush back and forth, kicking up dust and old grease. You can’t quite make out what they’re saying, beyond a few paltry words, but no one has yet knocked on the door. Surely a good sign.

Blade squeezes your hand, and subsequently reminds you that you are holding it.

“That won’t happen. Destiny’s Slave would not risk your safety over something so simple. No harm will come to you, tonight.”

Well, isn’t that comforting. You wrest your hand away with a scowl, and clamp down on the pressing urge to let him know what you really think about his boss. He stares down at the place where your hands were once joined.

The next half-hour passes in relative silence. His eyes are all that is visible in the empty dark of the room, candlewick embers extinguished when he shuts them and leans back against the wall.

Eventually, the outside noise quiets. No more thudding boots or searching shouts, the warehouse silent as it had been when you arrived. Shimmying out from the pitch dark crevice is much more awkward without the frantic adrenaline, but you manage it, emerging in a new layer of dust.

“Alright. I’m heading out. Be careful.”

“They won’t return anytime soon,” Blade remains inside, arms crossed and impassive. Your frown deepens. You clamber through a hole in the wall. No Knights have remained behind. You feared a few would have stayed just in case, but none leap out from behind the rubble. Which means that the horrible feeling prickling up the back of your neck is just Blade’s cold, empty gaze trained on your retreating form.

Strange beast, you think to yourself, scuttling into the nearest alleyway.

—

One of your favorite things about Luocha’s home is that he is hardly ever in it. The first time you met him after helping him with his pre-heat, he pressed a silver house key into your palms, before turning and leaving. Not even allowing you to splutter a single, indignant protest. Back then, you mentally swore that you wouldn’t use it.

Now, you use it almost everyday. His neighborhood, smack dab in the middle of the Luofu, intersects with several of your regular routes. It’s just too easy so slide in between deliveries for a quick rest. It helps that he’s hardly ever home, leaving you to pilfer snacks from his fridge and take brief naps on the couch. You haven’t been bold enough to stay overnight. You’ve become far, far too intimate with the man.

No more, you decide, and stay firm to that decision even when he beseeches your company not a week later. It’s rude, but you can’t risk getting anymore attached than you already are. He’s become a bothersome burr stuck to your side, a looming presence in your thoughts even when he’s far across the stars, doing Xipe knows what.

There’s a knock at the door. You startle, because this has never happened before. You remain stock still on the couch. If you remain still, surely whoever is out there will get the message and bugger off. Another knock. You should have known that any solicitor determined to walk through the forest of a front yard would be too stubborn to give up after only seven knocks.

At the eleventh, you get up and stomp to the door. It’s mostly to preserve your own sanity. 

You throw open the door, prepared to give the nosy bastard on the other side an earful. 

It’s Blade. Blade is stood there. He blots out the afternoon sun, leaving you in the shadow he casts. It’s like seeing your clothes in the fridge. You blink several times.

“Ah. It’s you.”

“It is,” He’s holding a bouquet of flowers in his left hand. 

“What… why are you here?” 

“Kafka’s orders. She wanted you to have these,” he hands you the bouquet. You receive it. Fresh petunias and sprigs of rosemary curl next to daisies and tulips. It’s a nonsensical thing. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Nothing particularly artful about the presentation besides the pretty colors. 

“I see… Is this your home?” He looks like he already knows the answer.

You decide not to humor him. You tuck the bouquet underneath your arm and lean up against the doorframe. “What’s it to you?” 

He blinks, looks confused, and then responds after a moment of silent thought. “I… there is someone else who lives here. I remember it clearly, now.”

“You two know each other, huh? What a coincidence. But… how did you know where I was?”

“I asked the woman next door. She directed me here. I’ve been searching for you since the early morning.” 

“All morning?” you tut, somewhat sympathetic. “That’s a lot of walking.”

“It is nothing compared to other pains I have endured.” Blade says, solemnly. “And I have traveled far greater distances on foot. You shouldn’t worry.”

“...Well,” you stare down at the bouquet for a moment. “I’d feel bad if I didn’t give you anything for the effort. You know that big, red maple by the pond? Go sit there. I’ll get you something to drink.”

Two minutes later sees you outside, cradling two crystalline glasses filled with lemonade. You didn’t get him the fancy stuff—the strawberry-kiwi-whatever fruit stuff that you hand mixed. But it’s something.

He’s hunched beneath the red canopy. There’s a dark, inky type of handsomeness he possesses. Dark hair tumbles down his back, shaggy bangs frame that wolfish face. He looks dour almost all the time. Like the frown lines and cold apathy have permanently creased it. He’s hunched beneath the shade. Like it sits on his shoulders as a physical weight. He looks up at you as you settle next to him, accepts his glass without fuss or thanks. Which is just fine, with you. You probably shouldn’t be doing this, anyways. He’s an intergalactic criminal. The less time you spend together, the better.

But at the same time… you can’t help but be curious. Curious about the mara which buzzes underneath his skin, yet somehow never breaches it. Curious about what manner of creature he must be to withstand the final stages of Yaoshi’s curse. Curious if there’s any real, lingering emotion beyond the stoicism he treats… well, everything with. 

The two of you sit in silence and sip. You don’t feel any need for artificial conversation. It’s easy to sit down and simply exist next to him. No impulsive need for niceties. 

“This house isn’t yours,” he says.

“No. The owner is a client of mine. He lets me stop by here, in between deliveries. It’s convenient.”

A few beats of silence. “How well do you know the man that lives here?”

“As well as I know any other client,” he looks at you expectantly, as though waiting for you to finish that statement. “Which isn’t very well. He’s not here most of the time.”

“You should remain cautious while in his presence,” he says, and you nearly raise a brow at the unsolicited advice. He levels you with his dull, candlewick gaze, as impassive as ever. A leaf flutters from the lowest branches onto his head. “That man draws his power from the source of the mara. He wields it under the guise of a blessing, and yet…” Blade frowns, almost a grimace, and doesn’t say anything else. 

“I know.”

“Yet you take shelter under his roof and exist willingly in his space.” Blade stares at you. There’s a faint bristling in the air. A shuddering of the atmosphere that emerges from him. Thorny tendrils of bitter gold crackle beneath his pale skin. You don’t know exactly what aggrieves him so, but you get the feeling that you should say something to appease him, quickly.

“Well. I don’t know any other rich diplomats willing to offer me a free, mostly empty house to take a break in for… around twenty minutes a day,” you shrug. “It’s convenient.”

That seems to settle him.

“Do you… not like him? The merchant?” Does he even know Luocha’s name? What kind of relationship do these two weirdos have?

“In the strange purgatory of my existence, he acts as both poison and cure.” Blade informs you, as if it tells you really anything. As if sensing your befuddlement, he deflates a little, nose scrunching. He looks like a dour cat, stuck out in the rain. “He wants something from me. I can’t tell what it is. His unseemly fascination means it can be nothing good.” His attempt at elaboration gives you somewhat of a clearer picture, but it’s still some insanity that you’ll have to unpack later.

“I see. I’ll make sure to remember that,” you’re not sure if it’s possible to forget a conversation with Blade. Especially one that lasts more than a few moments. What prompted this? Genuine concern for your well-being? You have a hard time believing that. There are many things that are better off left unsaid, in your experience, so you don’t ask. 

The rest of the visit passes in relative quiet. Blade finishes his lemonade.

You reach over. His gaze snaps to you immediately, a beaten dog evaluating a potential threat.

“You have something in your hair,” you inform him helpfully, plucking the leaf from his sable locks. You curl the stem around your fingers. 

He doesn’t say anything after that. The two of you stand. He murmurs a brief farewell, and is off through the yard, slipping through the ferns to become one with the cast shadows. You’re not sure how long you remain after he leaves. The pond water ripples with each gentle breeze. Glimmering koi bob to the surface, in search of mid-afternoon snacks. When they find none, they dive beneath, water droplets flickering off their lashing tail fins.

Well, you think after another moment, at least you learned something.

Now, it is high time that you tend to the bouquet so generously sent your way. You dump the glasses in the sink, halfheartedly vowing to deal with them later, before taking a closer look at the arrangement of flowers. As you expected, it’s more than a paltry, sentimental gift. Tucked into the plastic wrapping is a small card.

Bladie said you got in quite the mess, the other day. You have my deepest gratitude for handling it so cleanly. He’s not that good at talking things out. He seems to like you, though! I wonder what makes you so special?

P.S. Next Tuesday, please escort Bladie to the address written on the back of this note. Please? Do it for me. :)

—

You hate working with criminals. Criminals other than yourself.

Though, you don’t fancy yourself much a criminal.  Deliveries are an entirely different beast, simple points of contact which last at most for five minutes. Escorting a known, intergalactic criminal through multiple layers of the Luofu is completely different—something you would never do if anyone besides Kafka asked. You’ll dance to her tune, run her errands if it keeps you off her shitlist. But is there even a point if keeping off of hers just puts you onto someone else’s?

You’ll have some fierce thinking to do after you shake off the six Cloud Knights currently on your tail. You dive between market stalls. You leap over a counter, sending an array of fruits and vegetables tumbling onto the pavement. You ignore the enraged shout of the peddler behind you, pulse thundering in your ears as you weave between the passerby, narrowly avoiding a stack of crates.

The air stings at the corners of your eyes. The marketplace blends together to the point of featurelessness. You don’t know who you pass or what else you know over, too focused on what’s ahead to care about the wreckage left behind. At the very least, it may hamper the Knights as they shout and stomp and rush after you—and Blade, whose fault all this is.

You slide around a corner and into a red-bricked alleyway, lanterns strung between the two rooftops, gold and glittering against that fake, blue sky.

“Dead end.” Blade grunts. You hear the telltale click of his sword being unsheathed.

“No! Just follow me!” you snap, seizing his wrist and pulling him forward, all the way to the end. As you trudge forward, you tap a sequence into the walls on either side. The worn clay surfaces are coarse under your fingertips. None move after you touch them, but you feel a subtle shift in the energy as it rushes down to the focal point. The pattern ends at the back of the alley. You tap a chipped, ragged brick embedded into the dead-end wall. The slabs unfold, layer-by-layer, to form an opening.

You pull him through.

It folds shut behind you, the quiet sound of grinding stone following you through the passage. The hollering and thudding of the pursuit have been silenced. Their chaos of the market sealed away behind the otherwise impenetrable seal. You doubt the low-ranking footmen who chased you will know the way.

Yellow-green vines crawl up the pulsing walls. Luminous particles bob and float in the air like fireflies. The place is silent, leaving you with only the sound of your own panting and Blade—Blade’s rasping, spluttering wheezes.

You stop, right where you are, because you have never heard him make such a sound before. Even after a chase, or a fight. 

The passage opens to a wider tunnel up ahead. You drop Blade’s hand, and turn to look at him. The adrenaline is fading, now leaving room for fresh, common sense. 

Blades hunches up against the wall. The air enters and leaves his lungs in winded, rushed wheezes. His eyes are wide and unseeing. Those candlewick irises dart from the floor, to the place where your hands had been joined, and finally, then, to you. 

A scent, like firewood charred too long, blistering into crumbled charcoal, blooms in and clouds the thin space. It’s like nothing you’ve ever smelled before, the vicious pheromones of an alpha at the very end of their tether. Something more, too, something earthen and ancient and charged. A flavor which has graced your palate only once or twice before.

Encroaching mara. You don’t know what he’s like, when his symptoms flare. You’re not eager to find out. The capricious nature of his mara has not once posed a threat to you. But his composure is slipping, his hands curling like claws and flexing. Like he’s getting a feel for his own body. Like the joints are sore and need stretching.

“Blade,” you stumble forward, pressing your palm to the cold, pale pane of his cheek. “Blade, look at me.”

His shaky irises hover awkwardly over your shoulder, before at last meeting your gaze. 

“It approaches,” he rasps, looking as haunted as you have ever seen him.

“Blade, do not let the mara take you.” you take in a deep, steadying breath. The violent pulsing in your ears returns in full force, the unhinged mass of his disease gnawing at your physical form.

Bracing yourself, you reach within. You touch the very bottom of your long neglected wellspring. Harmonic Essence leaps to the surface, warm and loving and so eager to be put to use. It feels like an old coat slipped around your shoulders, a familiarity you wouldn’t dare indulge in under ordinary circumstances. It is a power long wasted on you, but useful this very once. It pulses from underneath your fingertips, washes underneath his pallid skin.

The acrid taste of his mara brashes against the tip of your tongue for a single, fleeting moment. It then skitters backwards. Retreats into the dark, churning void of what you assume to be his subconsciousness. It’s a temporary balancing of the scales, but his wild pulse settles.

You sigh, shoulder slumping in relief. The tension winds out of your body, hand dropping back to your side.

He still looms above you, jet black hair curtaining you in. When did he get so close? Or had it been you in your haste to soothe him? He runs hot as a hearth, the warmth which radiates from him thick enough to feel. This close, you can see his every breath, soft mounds of his chest straining the fastenings which hold his shirt together. Slender stripes of pale skin peek through his chest wrappings. You swallow and look away, up at the strong column of his neck.

“Are you with me?” you murmur. You don’t dare move, lest your retreat trigger the chase instinct which some alphas are known to possess. You don’t like making assumptions. You feel like Blade would be among that number anyways.

“Yes,” Blade’s voice is sandpaper rough. He moves before you do, shouldering past you into the wider tunnel. “You make use of these often, I take it.”

As though nothing had ever happened. Something bitter churns in your gut, but you don’t bring it up. There’s no reason to. He probably wants to distance himself from this episode as quickly as possible. You don’t blame him. The mara must be a humiliating affliction to live and cope with. 

“It’s the fastest way to get around,” you break into a brisk walk, overtaking him. You’re the one who knows your way around, here.

“The mara would rend asunder the minds of anyone not wearing the correct protective gear,” Blade observes. There’s nothing pointed in his voice, but the weight of his gaze makes your skin crawl. Its keen focus is that of an apex predator’s, a beast somehow sated enough to keep his teeth from your throat. How long will that last? Fifteen minutes? An hour? The air here swelters with abundance. His mara must sup on it like a starved prisoner, far stronger and fuller than it could ever be on the surface. 

He could easily match your pace, but he chooses to walk behind you.

“I could say the same for you.”

“I am an abomination of Yaoshi. The abundance has already taken hold of me.” Blade says, grimacing. You toy with the fraying edge of your sleeve between your forefinger and thumb. “All the saturation here does is spur on the symptoms.”

You make a face. He must sense your unease.

“I should be able to resist the pull until we surface. Provided we do not linger overlong.” Blade replies. It does remarkably little to reassure you. 

A predator stalks at your back, one whose sanity may pop like an overfilled balloon at really any moment. Against your better sense, you feel anxiety lash at the bottom of your stomach, guts churning with that primal fear.

“Reassuring.” you bite out thoughtlessly. 

“It would be in your best interest to focus on finding a way out, rather than back-talking me.” Blade says, and you swallow. 

“Back-talking? I think my frustration is quite justified. You’re the reason we’re in this mess, after all.” you pointedly remind him. The words roll bitter off your tongue. Prickling discomfort coalesces with the saturation of abundance in the air, becoming a consistent buzz against the back of your skull.

Blade makes a ragged little noise, wedged between a wheeze and a laugh.

“Another do I make pay the price. I was not always like this. deathless beast borne of blind ambition and hubris…” he trails off. “I was once a man. Death walked with me as it walked with every other. It was never meant to—to become—”

A distorted warble slowly creeps into his voice. Shit, you just shouldn’t have said anything. The hovering energy coalesces, thin whispers congealing into thick, mist-like mass around him. It’s drawn to him. 

“What’s your favorite food?” you turn on your heel and ask, crossing your arms. He looks down at you, brows furrowing as he roots around for an answer. “You haven’t thought about it, have you?” Do the mara-struck even have to eat? Blade is a particularly unique case among them, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he even remembers to eat. He is a blade, according to his own words. And a blade doesn’t need to eat. How desolate an existence he must have lived. Must still be living if his own preferences evade him.

“Well. Try to find an answer while I get us out of here.” you command. He’s quiet for the remainder of the trek. You emerge topside and immediately feel several pounds lighter. The air is fresh and sweet, the skies blue and open. You’re two blocks from your apartment in a dark, neglected alleyway. 

“You can find your way back from here,” you sigh, chancing a glance at your companion as you stretch your arms above your head. “Right?”

He’s still quiet. You don’t sense the acrid tang of the illness. He looks thoughtful. You wish he would just give you an answer already. You’re not eager to be chanced upon again by a patrol, or by any other witnesses for that matter. 

“Your question. I don’t have an answer.” Blade says. He sounds almost regretful. 

Over your few interactions, you’ve come to realize that not much bothers him. Very little manages to budge that glacial mien. His demeanor, as you have come to understand, either sits as stoney neutrality or maniacal, giddy rage. The shades between are so very visited.

“It’s no big deal. You can just tell me next time, if you want.” If he even remembers. The idea of turning your back to him still riddles you with unease, but you do it anyway. Your steps are slow and measured. He stares you down until you disappear around the corner, meld into the crowds like just another thread in a blanket.

—

The sky above hangs a pale grey. It’s the threat of a light drizzle rather than a raging storm. You slip through the abundant foliage of Luocha’s front yard, unable but to notice that the shrubs and vibrant blooms have somehow grown in size since your last visit. The greens are hearty, fresh dewdrops glimmering off grass and unfurled leaves.

It’s not difficult to spot him. He’s lounged beneath the sole scarlet maple of the yard. He’s a spot of red himself, swathed in a richly-colored, likely richly-made, robe of it. The fabric pools on the lawn chair he lounges atop of. His eyes are shut, blonde lashes fanning against his perfect cheeks. Those eyes open as you skirt along the jagged stone edge of the pond, manilla envelope clutched in your left hand. He smiles, but does not lift his head. Sumptuous locks of golden blonde fan out behind his head like a halo. The very picture of serenity. 

“Well, well. To what do I owe this visit?” he tilts his head, smiling like a contented cat. You huff, and avoid looking below his neck, where the plush robe parts to reveal the pale soft of his chest. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but any sliver of intimacy you may have granted him has long passed. The moment you look down, he’ll notice and impose upon you another outlandish favor.

“Don’t get excited.” You hand him the package, and begin to pull back, but he’s faster. He darts for you like a viper. Long fingers curl around your wrist to hold you in place. The look in his eyes is beseeching. He gently deposits the envelope on the side table next to his seat. He doesn’t look away from you for even a moment. 

“Always so busy… doesn’t it exhaust you?” he murmurs, a sympathetic coo. He’s putting just enough strain on your arm to make standing uncomfortable, in hopes that you’ll sit down beside him. 

“No. I’m used to it. I like being busy,” you bear the ache in your arm with unyielding ease. It is so small and insignificant in comparison to every other you have endured.

“Do you… like being busy, or is it that you’ve never known anything else?” Luocha tilts his head to the side, smiling. Your skin prickles. You resist the urge to swallow. 

“You know what they say about assumptions.”

“Which is why I’m glad I’m not making one. You go to awfully desperate lengths to not be known, Courier.”

The corners of your lips twitch downwards, and his eyes gleam. “Don’t be coy with me. Did you talk to them?” You ask. The question has lingered on your mind for weeks, leaving you restless and more unkind than usual. The persistent threat of him is always at the back of your mind, represented in the throbbing between your temples, in the harshness of your voice as you snap at someone who might not deserve it. There’s no sense in beating around the bush, anymore. Not if you want to preserve your sanity.

“How very vague, for someone who just accused me of being coy. Be at ease, I haven’t had any contact with The Family. Merely some… particularly useful informants who have heard a thing or two. Hunches based on speculation that you’ve proven by being cagey.” Luocha assures you.

“...So, what do you want from me?”

“Merely conversation. I do find our interactions so compelling, however short they may be.”

“Being blackmailed doesn’t put me in the mood for conversation. There’s not much for us to talk about.”

“I beg to differ. I know so very little about you, despite all we’ve shared. I’m curious—what set you on the path of Harmony?” 

“...” You look away, internally evaluating the pros and cons of going along with his little game. “Peace. She promised us peace. Because that’s what Harmony was supposed to be.” His eyes soften. The indignation sizzling inside of you sparks into a raw flame (he has no right to look at you like that), but you smother it. 

“Did it live up to your expectations?” he asks. His thumb rubs circles against the hollow of your wrist. His gaze sweeps from your face, down your arm, to where he’s still got you. He’s waiting for you to be vulnerable, you just know it. A shark that smells blood in the water, circling and searching for tender flesh to lay its rows of teeth into. How does he imagine it will taste? Soft and meaty, melting underneath teeth and tongue? Layers of skin peeled back and pried open, made thin by older slices?

“It didn’t work out.” you reply. sagacious enough to play along only minimally. When you elaborate no further, he releases you with a smile.

“How interesting,” he hums. He reclines further, eyes fluttering shut. You could pounce on him so easily, like this. You could fix your teeth into his jugular and make it so he never threatens you again. The blood would be so warm in your mouth. His skin would be so sweet.

Don’t be gross. You grimace.

He drums his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

The fluttering of wings erupts in the canopy above you, a flock of songbirds taking an afternoon flight. He cracks open his eyes, then. He tracks some sort of movement (you aren’t looking up), idle, like you aren’t even there. He tilts his head to the side, the slender column of his neck completely exposed. The robe slips off of his shoulders, curvature of his collarbones and soft expanse of his chest open for your viewing pleasure. You’re annoyed.

 “I’ve held you long enough,” he sighs. “Thank you for sharing. Though, I do hope we can manage a longer conversation next time.”

“We’ll see,” you just barely keep a sigh out of your voice as you turn to leave, speed-walking up the grassy slope.

—

“That old man’s damn cat has been coming into the yard and bothering all the birds,” you grumble, squinting into the aforementioned patch of forest. 

Blade makes a noncommittal noise, indicating that he’s heard you.

“It pisses me off.”

“You care about the birds in someone else’s yard.” Blade observes. You frown deeper.

“It’s annoying. Cats are an invasive species, here. They slaughter all of the native wildlife—and sometimes they don’t even eat what they kill,” you sigh, tampering down your rising agitation. If you’ve learned one thing in your short and storied life, it’s that being impassioned isn’t good for you. 

“So, how would you suggest the problem be solved? If the owner insists on letting it out…”

“I don’t really live here, so it’s not like I have any right to get involved,” you shrug, “It’s just… if you’re gonna be that irresponsible with an animal, you don’t deserve to have it. You know?”

Blade makes another noise. Closer to a hum, this time. You don’t know if he knows or not. But you do know that he’s listening. You stare into the yard, and in your periphery you can see him staring at you.

—

You see Blade more in the coming days. Despite your best attempts, a routine slips into being, like weeds through cracks in the cement. Silver Wolf doesn’t show up to accept her own packages nearly as much, anymore. It’s almost always Blade. You see him so often that you question if he even has a job anymore.

He glowers. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He says, low voice almost lost amongst the bustle of the crowd. The markets are especially full today. Nestled in the crook of your elbow is a plastic shopping basket, loaded with some bread, some spices, and some vegetables. The stall you’re at rests beneath a red tarp, casts warm shadows onto his pale, bone-weary skin. “There are currently no tasks which command my presence at the moment.”

“Well. It’s good to have time off, but you don’t need to follow me around.”

“...” he doesn’t reply, but he does follow you all the way up to the counter. You can’t tell if he doesn’t understand the nuance, or if he’s just being bizarre and stubborn. Regardless, tailing you like a lost puppy seems to alleviate his boredom. To each their own.

“If you’re just going to walk behind me, can you—” you shift the basket from the crook of your arm, preparing to offer it. He snatches it from you before you can even finish speaking. 

“...Thanks.” 

He takes his newfound job as the basket carrier very seriously. His dour face doesn't budge an inch as you peruse the rest of the wares, plucking a few items from open crates and wooden shelves to add to the bundle. 

“So, see anything that piques your interest?” you’re not sure what prompts you to speak up. You should get through this as silently and as quickly as possible. The less time you spend in public with this man, the better. The presence of the Cloud Knights isn’t nearly as felt on this level, making it as safe a haven for criminals as can be. You suspect, sometimes, that it’s purposeful. In your many travels, you have come to realize that the criminal class is a valuable part of any economy, no matter how much those at the top may protest it. Those who disavow it the most fervently are usually the most involved, under the table.

Blade doesn’t respond, at first. His crimson gaze glances over the nearby shelves. He grabs a bottle of cloves and presents it to you, completely straight-faced.

You get the overwhelming sense he’s appeasing you more than anything.

“...Yeah,” you pluck it from his hand and halfheartedly eye the label. It’s hard to muster the energy to argue with him, especially when he looks so resolute. The fact that he’s continuing to tail you through the market is cause enough to ignore him. You drop the bottle into your basket and move on.

Thankfully, the rest of the trip passes in peaceful silence. You can feel Blade’s gaze, unreadable, lingering on your form as you pull your wallet out of one of your many pockets. The shopkeep, a sprightly young man with a head of bouncy, brown hair beams at the sight of you. You don’t remember his name, but you’re familiar with him. He opens his mouth to speak, but shuts his mouth tight before he can get a word out.

He glances over your shoulder. You swivel just barely to look at your stubborn shadow. Blade looms closer than you remember him being, leaving you with an up close and personal view of his chest. You tsk and look up at his face. 

“Can you get a bottle of white cardamom for me? It should be with the rest of the spices.”

Blade looks at you, and looks at the shopkeep. He is silent. The lines of his face are harsher than usual, burdened with deeper shadow. For a few, agonizing moments, you fear he may object, but he turns almost robotically and walks off. You’re not sure what’s upset him this time. You don’t particularly care. If you troubled yourself with the qualms of every pouting client, you’d be just as miserable as you were with The Family.

“Thanks. I could hardly get a word out while he was giving me those evil eyes,” the shopkeep says, shuddering.

“I guess his manners still need work,” Not that men in his line of work really needed any. 

“Alphas that smell that strong and don’t even try to put a lid on it are the worst,” he gripes, bagging your produce with nimble hands, before pausing and looking back up at you. He wrings his hands, contrite and sheepish. “—er, no offense.” 

“He smells strong?” you tilt your head to the side.

“Well, yeah. He’s all over you,” the man blinks. Some of his bangs fall over his big, brown eyes. He swipes them behind his ear thoughtlessly. “You guys just get together? He’s probably trying to flaunt it. Stake his ‘claim’, y’know?” he says with a sympathetic roll of the eyes.

You don’t particularly care what he says about Blade. A man able to lift a three-thousand pound sword doesn’t need defending.  It’s his misconceptions about your relationship that irks you, for some reason. You don’t care about the opinions of others (you try not to care about the opinions of others) but you can’t resist the sudden urge to correct him.

“We’re not together.”

“Oh,” he blinks at you. “Does he know that?”

“Ugh. Enough. It’s none of your business.” your lips twist, a sliver of teeth exposed in your displeasure.

The shopkeep nods and beams at you, all previous curiosity wiped clean off his face. “Heard loud and clear!”

He finishes ringing you up and sees you off with a “have a nice day~!”. Blade follows you to your next stop, a stall that sells fresh fruits. 

The frustration builds within you slowly. It’s a candlewick of a thing, at first. Blade is following you around. Irritating, but you can cope with it. He would leave if he was asked. Maybe Kafka told him to stick around for a while. She’s gotten into a bad habit of pawning him off on you, like he’s a child that needs watching rather than one of the universe’s most efficient killing machines. That’s fine. You’re not keen to get on her bad side.

Blade is scenting you. He’s sticking to you tight as a cobweb and giving dirty looks to people you talk to. That, you cannot abide by. It takes you at least five minutes to simmer, from the crate of apples to the lefternmost all of the stall to the bundle of leeks close to its middle. You’re not really looking at anything. Lost in thought.

“I am not an omega for you to covet. I don’t need your protection,” you tell him, letting your gaze idly roam over the prices. They’re written on fancy little labels with red accents, each one neatly stickered just below the lip of each crate. 

“I never said you did,” Blade replies after a moment of deliberating. You look over a crate of cantaloupe. Selecting a ripe one is a practiced art.

“You didn’t have to,” you pause, melon held in your hands as you give him a scathing look. “Control your pheromones. You’re not an animal.”

“No. Worse, I am a blade.” he sighs, suddenly sounding unusually surly. Your lips twitch in the barest beginnings of a frown. 

“Not an excuse,” you helpfully remind him. A shadow is cast over his face, then, dark and brooding. The space between his brows wrinkles, an uncertainty you haven’t quite seen from him before. There’s so little need to deliberate in a life like his own, so what troubles him now? It nettles something in you, makes you feel in a way that you don’t care to name and don’t want to look into. You deliberate asking, but he makes the choice for you.

“I will leave you, now.” When you turn to look at him, he’s already walked away from your side, strides longer than usual. He dissolves into the crowd like a sunset shadow, naught left in his wake but the scent you know still clings to your clothes. 

—

“My, my. You rarely ever visit at this hour,” Luocha says, giving you one of those mirthful smiles where his eyes scrunch, unabashedly delighted (and undeniably smug) to see you. He lounges on the ottoman, slender fingers parting the pages of a furniture catalogue. “To what do I owe the honor?”’ He’s already deduced that you want something from him. You take no excessive pride in your poker face but it still pains you to be so easily read. Luocha stands apart from the crowd with his soft hands and feigned delicacy, but he smells blood in the water just as easily as any other follower of the Hunt.

“I just wanted to talk,” you see no reason to dance around it.

“You came all this way for a conversation?” He rests his chin on the palm of his hand in a haughty way that pisses you off.

“Isn’t that what you’ve wanted this whole time?” you grouse, and he laughs.

“I’m flattered, regardless. Come, sit and tell me all that is on your mind.” he beckons to a seat at his side, which you stiffly sink into, unable to relax beneath his hunter’s gaze.

“You’re an omega—”

“Yes, quite,” his smile is now coquettish. You feel your face wrinkle in annoyance, line of your brows dipping low. 

“I wasn’t done. You know more about secondary genders than I do—and I don’t have anyone else to talk about it with, so…”

“I appreciate you confiding in me like this,” Luocha says, sweet as honey, timbre smooth as silk. There’s an ease about him here, in his own domain, that soothes and disarms you despite your best efforts. “It couldn’t have been easy for you to ask, so unused to relying on anyone else. I’m no professional, but I will answer your questions as best as I am able.”

He steeples his fingers with a smile, way too delighted for you to feel good about his generosity. He just likes knowing something you don’t, doesn’t he?

“Well. I’ve been spending time with an alpha, lately. It’s a work thing, but he keeps hovering around. Even after I tell him he can leave.”

“Ah.” Luocha says. The corners of his smile grow taut with something you don’t quite recognize. 

And it’s a question you suddenly have to wonder for yourself. Is Blade bothering you? You can count on one hand the amount of times you have been genuinely upset with him. He’s quiet, most of the time. He answers your questions and attempts to appease you whenever possible. He carries your bags whenever you happen to be at the markets, together. Even if you really wish he wouldn’t, you can tell he’s trying to be kind. 

“He hardly speaks. And when I does, I don’t really mind. But he hovers and keeps grabbing my shopping bags whenever we’re at the markets. I don’t get it. Is it some sort of courting gesture?”

“He certainly sounds like a character,” Luocha muses, sounding far off for a moment. “You have the right idea. He’s carrying your things to both lessen your burden and to prove himself capable, even if he himself does not realize it.”

You grimace, face twisting up, The truth has an acerbic tang to it. Luocha laughs unabashedly at your dismay, the sound melodic and trilling. The longer you spend in his presence, the more convinced you become that the Aeons crafted him specifically to vex you. You give him a scathing look.

“Come, now,” Luocha wheedles. “My humblest apologies, Courier—it’s simply so rare for you to be so expressive. I was caught off guard. Shall I get you something to drink? Come, please, sit back down. Surely you have more to ask of me?”

Reluctantly, you drop into the armchair closest to the door, leaning back as far as you have the space for, You fold your fingers together, elbows perched on an arm rest each.

“I don’t envy you. It must be difficult to bear the attentions of such a peculiar alpha,” Luocha says.

“You know him, then.” You can’t keep the accusation from your voice, something frenetic and ugly kicking up your pulse, making your stomach go sour. How deeply do they know each other? Enough for Luocha to consider spilling your secrets? Enough for them to conspire against your purposes unknown?

No, don't be ridiculous. You're not important enough a figure to be the center of any such elaborate scheme. Weak, as far as emanators go. Painfully average, even as far as betas go. Unremarkable in status and career. All that threatens you is what you have long left behind.

“I do know him. Quite well, in fact.” Luocha muses, undisputed fondness in his voice. How close are they? The question lingers bitter on the tip of your tongue. It vibrates underneath your skin, wild and desperate and gods, you want to know so badly.  “Though he may deny it, he can be shy. You’re alike, in that way.”

“I am not shy,” you bristle. It’s your curiosity alone that keeps you in his company. 

“An argument best saved for another day. Let’s not get off track—Blade is an alpha, but he bears few of the typical mannerisms associated with his secondary gender, which makes this newfound attachment to you all the more significant.”

Progressively, throughout your conversation, you’ve been able to feel the wrinkles on your face multiplying and darkening.

“It makes sense, if you ask me. You’re quite the extraordinary individual,” Luocha says, drumming his fingers idly against the armrest.

“So how do I get him to stop?” you brush past his superfluous flattery with practiced indifference. He wants to fluster you, to see you squirm. It’s one of the ugly truths behind the chivalrous front he wears in polite company.

“Are you sure you want him to stop?” he inquires.

“What are you getting at?”

“If you truly wanted to no longer be the object of these behaviors, you would have no problem telling him yourself.”

You laugh, and it’s a cold and bitter thing. “Not all men take rejection well.”

“As I well know,” Luocha reminds you. He’s so haughty, so utterly confident that sometimes you forget he’s an omega, a demographic as subject to unwanted advances as any you are a part of. He stands up, empty glass cradled in hand. The sheer material of his robe billows around him like fine mist, treating you to the outline of his smooth, toned legs. Blade is more built, the thought comes to you unbidden. You squish it like the raspberries you juiced only a week ago on Luocha's kitchen counter. You wonder if the stains ever came out.

“Objectively speaking, you have more of a reason to hold your tongue around me than you do him. Yet, you hardly hesitate to make your displeasure known in my company,” he points out. “It’s not because of my secondary sex. You hardly ever remember that I’m an omega, unless my heat is soon.”

“And your point is?”

He seizes your chin, then tilts your head up until you’re forced to look into those grass green eyes. Cradled between his forefinger and thumb, you are left with nowhere else to go. You wonder briefly if it thrills him to do this because he is an omega. If he finds some kind of perverse pleasure in subverting the roles society espouses about his kind.

“You could have told him off on your own. Instead, you went out of your way to consult someone you deeply dislike, looking for another, less direct way of handling it. All of that implies some degree of care, whether you want to admit it or not.”

He’s right, and you hate nothing more than when he’s right.

“Thank you for your time,” you dip back into your customer service with a placid and empty drone, because you know how much he hates it. You say it to his chest, refusing to give him the eye contact. Unwilling to expend the effort. For plausible deniability, because you don’t know what you’ll find on his face. The air has grown balmy and cloying and fragrant. You stand up, and he steps backwards. “But I must be going, now.”

“How unfortunate,” Luocha coos as you awkwardly find your way around him, having been sandwiched between his body and the coffee table. “I was going to put the kettle on…”

—

The shroud of night has settled over the Luofu. A crescent moon winks down at you from the artificial sky, peering between the treetops. You’re laid on your back, on the concrete patio near the shed. 

Footsteps head in your direction. You already know who it is. There’s no one else that has that blistering, writhing aura. Blade comes to stand over you. His brows wrinkle in displeasure. You don’t know why. It’s not his patio that you’ve gotten your blood all over.

“You’re injured,” he says, frowning. He crouches over you. A pale thumb smears the drying crimson on your upper lip. Your entire face scrunches up, gnarled like a gargoyle, recoiling from the unexpected touch.

“Nosebleed,” you mutter. The space behind your eyes throbs in protest, accompanied by a fierce pressure at the bridge of your nose. All typical symptoms. The gifts bestowed upon you as Emanator unfortunately do not shield you from your allergies. To think, an Emanator could still be laid low by something as mundane as allergies. 

“Who gave it to you?” Blade looms a little closer, gaze steely.

“No one. Sometimes my allergies act up. That’s all.” you assure him, squinting irritably. You hope your judgmental flower will shame him out of your personal space, but he lingers.

“You should remain indoors, then.” he draws. He lifts his bloodied hand and looks at it, too contemplative for your liking. 

“I take medication for it. Just forgot today,” it feels wrong to justify yourself. He isn't owed an answer, but this is a rare moment. Blade showing such outright concern over something so novel is interesting (a more sentimental person might call it touching). Has his immortality rendered him incapable of distinguishing a few pesky allergies from a deadly ammonia? You can’t imagine someone so riddled with regeneration to register the difference between a gaping gash and a papercut. 

“Then remember to take them.” he advises coolly. 

“I will.”

You lay there, then, in silence unperturbed for a few moments. The hard ground is cool against your back. It’ll fix your aching spine, you’re sure. 

“Are you not going to get up?” Blade asks.

“No. It feels nice to be on the floor, sometimes.” you assure him quickly, lest he assume your nosebleed has robbed you of all mobility. He stares at you, blank-faced, but you somehow can tell he is skeptical. You pat the space next to you, a silent offering.

You don’t expect him to take you up on it. This rare creature, crackling with the energy of his divine “gift”. You don’t indulge in typical sentiments, and you spurn love and limerence for your own sanity, due to the madness you have seen both inspire. To adore is to give of yourself, to exhaust what limited energy you have left. Yet, there is no arguing the fact of his beauty. His hair pools like fresh slick pitch. Faint moonlight catches on the sable strands. His jaw cuts a sharp and handsome shape, eyelashes long and thick. He stares up at the sky, unreadable. 

“Kafka has no need of me in the coming days.” “It is… strange. The Stellaron Hunters are few in number, so our hands are always full. To be bereft of any responsibility… is rare.”

“You don’t sound thrilled about that.”

“No. It will leave me restless. And the silence will only give the mara room to spread. It’s better—more manageable when there is a task at hand.” Blade admits, a shiver in his voice.

“I do. I believe you are familiar with the place,” he says. That catches your attention. And makes you just a little nervous. 

“Do you even have anywhere to stay?” The Stellaron Hunters surely have a vessel of their own where he can lodge. You’re ultimately not too concerned. You shut your eyes and listen to the midnight breeze, feel the black of the night against your skin.

You turn to look at him, almost afraid to ask. “Familiar?”

“The merchant has opened his home to me. I will remain there for the duration of my… off time.”

Again, you are sorely tempted to question the exact nature and origin of their relationship, but it’s truly none of your business. You’ve long espoused a policy of isolation, but there’s no denying how thoroughly entangled you have become in them. Elbows deep. You’re not quite sure how it happened. They’re infiltrated your monotonous life, moved in so slowly that you didn’t even notice until this very moment. 

“Well. He’s not there most of the time, so it’ll be like having your own place,” You can’t imagine Blade as a homeowner, for some reason. It just invokes the image of him mowing a lawn in khaki shorts with that same, placid face he always wears. He’s too ethereal and strange to trim the hedges or fix a leaky faucet. Sometimes, you think he’d look more in-place if he levitated instead of just walking everywhere.

“I had lemonade the other day,” he says, and this fascinates you, because it is so very rare for him to initiate conversation about something so little.

“...And? Did you like it?” Perhaps it’s petty, but you already have a feeling that he didn’t. You hate to presume, but you think you have similar palettes. 

“...It was too sweet, and burdened by a lingering, chemical taste,” he confirms your vague conjecture and you very nearly laugh. Or make some sort of short, wry noise like a horse’s snort.

“Yeah. Ones that aren’t made from scratch tend to be like that.”

“And that is why you make your own.” 

“Exactly,” you lift your gaze from him and return it to the sky. “When you make something from scratch, you can make however you like. Ones you buy pre-bottled have too much sugar.” He hums in acknowledgement, but says nothing else.

The twinkling stars are no more authentic than the clouds which hover during the day. But you wonder how many far off stars he has visited across the span of his long un-life. How many civilizations he has seen toppled, how many lives have ended at his hands. What a terrifying beast Yaoshi has created. Yet, here he lay beneath a sky he has likely long tired of, humoring your purposeless requests for reasons unknown.

—

You’re tucked on the steps off the side door, head leaned back and eyes shut, drinking in the warmth of the artificial midday sun. Blade leans up against the wall next to you, arms crossed. You don’t blame him for staying in the shade, not when he’s always dressed so darkly.

You shouldn’t show your stomach to a known apex predator. Your instincts are tampered down, but you still curl your spine and lift your knees to your chest when you usually it on the stoop. You haven’t done it, today. Anxiety thrums in the space right behind your eyes. The scared animal inside of you writhes in his presence. You look at him, gaze by happenstance falling on the profile of his chest.

Breasts, you think stupidly, and laugh aloud. The noise is so sudden that you almost don’t realize it came from you. Blade looks down at you like you’ve grown a second head, and you're still too caught up in your own disbelief. Spending so much time with him has softened your skill, started to fry your remaining brain cells. He’s always been handsome. But you’ve started to too keenly note the bow curve of his lips, the narrowness of his waist.

And you hate, hate, hate proving Luocha right.

“What is it that you find so amusing?” Blade speaks slowly, like he’s talking to a scared dog or a lost child.

“Nothing,” you shut your eyes and tilt your head back, letting it thump against the top step. Blade inhales sharply. “Just remembered a stupid joke I heard a few days ago.” When you open your eyes, Blade has turned away, inspecting a row of gladiolus planted next to the nearby shed. The line of his shoulders has gone tense.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” you muse.

“Did you plant them?”

“No. I delivered the seeds. Only a week ago, I think. They wouldn’t have been able to sprout this fast.”

“Under normal circumstances, perhaps,” Blade skates a finger over a bright orange petal. “That merchant utilizes his gift so shamelessly. Even while at the heart of his natural born enemy.”

“And it’ll all be for nothing if that damn cat comes and eats them,” you grunt. You’ev stumbled upon torn up patches of grass and bitten through flower patches, stems snapped and petals crushed. You briefly, in one of your pettiest and cruelest moments, nearly suggested Luocha plant lilies next. The callousness of your own thought had startled you into silence, so gladiolus it was.

“Ah. About the cat,” Blade begins. You blink, wide-eyed. A cold pit forms in your stomach, because—

“You didn’t,” you gape.

“I did not kill it,” Blade says sourly, clearly affronted by the assumption. “I brought it to Kafka. They seem to get along.”

The tension melts out of you at once. Your petty grudge isn’t worth the blood of an innocent animal. You let yourself fall back against the stoop. The edges of the stairs dig into your spine. 

“That makes sense,” you say, a touch wry.

Blade grimaces. “They send me images of the little beast every day I am not there. If Silver Wolf is to be believed, it ‘eats better’ than she does.”

Does Silver Wolf eat well to begin with? “That was kind of you,” you say instead. 

“Was it? Or was it cruel to the man who will wonder where his pet has gone?” Blade inquires. He doesn’t sound particularly bothered by the possibility. 

You scoff. “I doubt he’ll even notice.”

—

You are natant in the dull haze of half-sleep. The soft scent of camelias and fabric softener and linens. A cloying warmth cocoons you, keeps you mired in a state of partial sleep. Burrowed beneath the comfort exists a nagging feeling of wrongness, like a pebble in your boot. You cling to the sensation, let it pull you from the inky, peaceful depths. You’re not sure how long it takes for you to breach the surface. It feels like ages by the time you pry your weary eyes open.

There’s a body crushed into you. An unyielding, solid mass of muscle. The scent of something charred wreathes around you. Your cheek is pressed up against a heartbeat, steady and strong. It would be comforting if you knew where you were, or who you were with.

Alarm, molten hot, jots down your spine. Shaken from your stupor, you begin to writhe. Your palms slap against the chest of the man beneath you. You brace yourself against him in an effort to pry yourself free.

An arm around your midriff tightens, and the panic grows. You lash out, snarl, a hand reaching behind you to grab onto the assailant’s wrist.

The room blurs, then. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you’re reoriented and pinned with minimal effort. Your eyes blow wide, gaze caught by those candlewick eyes. Blade’s hair is mussed from both sleep and the struggle. His lips are pulled into a snarl. Your gut squirms at the flash of those deadly canines—sharper than you’d imagined (he’s never bared his teeth at you).

“Stop,” he commands, low and throaty. You shudder, foolish hindbrain moved to obey the order. This, you realize, is what an alpha’s command must sound like.

As you lay beneath him, chest to heaving chest, the pieces of the previous night return to you in fragments and shades.

Blade came to your door at dusk’s end. The shuttles had shut down for the night. You let him in, quickly, before anyone could witness a known fucking criminal at your door. You fed him dinner, anyways. Spoke late into the night—about what you cannot truly recall. Somewhere around three in the morning, you must have nodded off. 

“Have you calmed down?” Blade asks.

“Yes,” you grumble, feeling thoroughly chastised despite his flat and empty tone. You attempt to dislodge yourself a second time, but Blade stops you fast. “Blade—” The beginning of a feeling you cannot quite name crawls up your spine, up the back of your skull. It’s a creeping, white hot sensation. A sudden deprivation of air. His eyes have closed. You feel your pulse spike. “Blade.” You try again. “Let me up.”

He draws a shaky breath.

“You don’t understand, do you?”

“What is there for me to understand?” you ask, voice a tepid little thing. He laughs. The sound is manic and bitter. When he opens his eyes, they’re hot enough to burn a hole in you.

“I… remember you,” he begins slowly. There’s a creeping breathiness there, you feel it under your palms, writhing inside of his ribcage. “When you are not there. I remember how warm your hands are, the smell of your sweat—the taste of when we are… together. And I crave it every moment we are apart. It’s—maddening.”

“What.” you’re taken back, all the sudden, to the sixth time Sunday called you to his office. A servant of the Harmony, you were, still protected by your naivete, still convinced by the smiling faces and open arms which surrounded you. A child. A seed, among the older and wiser trees in Xipe’s forests. 

You remember the exact shape of his lips when he said it—you remember how it felt. You feel the same way now, pinned like a little butterfly. Lost in the reeds.

“I remember you,” Blade continues, slower and calmer, now. Burning wood to dead charcoal. “When we are apart, you are all I remember, and the emptiness that exists in your shape is too much to bear. I need—” he licks his lips, his empty pupils blown so very wide.

“The mara becomes quiet, when we are together,” he whispers, like he’s sharing a secret. His eyes close. His forehead is a wide rash of heat, pressed against yours. He takes a single, shuddering inhale, breathing your air. 

And you—you’re still frozen there, caught up in the vice of his body and the couch. You stare emptily beyond him. His face settles into the crook of your neck. 

The lamplight flickers on and off. 

#oz write #hungering for hsr #blade/reader #hsr/reader

[dinomite2]

Male Neo Agent 3 x Male Human reader (Platonic)

(I Made this gif !)

( idk why I'm doing this I'd just kinda liked this Idea I had)

■ Humanity civilization was starting to grow along with its technology and at a surprising rate and everything looked like it was starting to flourish

■ and at start of your life everything was simple and everything was nice and peaceful you lived a nice young teenager life and had great buddies and friends and had great parents and everything felt like it was a all good

Until Everything was Gone....

■ a war sprung out a massive one, bombs were being dropped, bullets were flying it was brutal for all of you

■ and during this Gigantic worldwide war a random big missle hit the arctic causing The ice there to melt and The whole world to be covered In a gigantic flood

■ some part of humanity including you rushed to their cryogenic pods to pass the time and hope that this worldwide disaster will end

■ but a sudden disaster hit the location of the cryopods and all seemed to perish except for yourself, you survived the entirety that moment and slept and drifted away for what the future could hold for you....

■ You woke up tired, groggy, feeling a subtle cold sensation all over your body you raised your body up and looked at your surroundings It was all just sand, sun and dust and large foundations made of slightly rusted metal and empty cryopods with survival packs on them.

■ You were worried about of what happened to the entirety of your home planet and to see all to turn into dead wasteland of its former peaceful life

■ But you Decided to not to worry about the now ,your new goal was to find human life and or survivors In this barren sandy wasteland and live to the fullest if you could so that is ,so you took a survival pack and headed off

■ You walked and walked and walked and walked until your legs felt like cooked spaghetti and your feet were like under-frozen jello And just over the far horizon you were about to give up and sit for awhile ....

■ But just right over the sandy horizon you saw ... A Human Head ! It was pure bliss to see another Face in this empty desert you Scream out in pure excitement and curiosity while waving your hands erratically

"HEEEYYY OVER HERE !!!"

*silence*

"Men Uniii!!"

"WHAATT"

"Un-nya-giiii!"

You squinted your eyes but still couldn't see who this lone stranger in the desert thanks to the blowing sand in the horizon, Then you walked up a few steps closer still curious to who's saying these randomized gargled like words

And it was ... wait what is that no seriously WHAT IS THIS PERSON it had two black outlines between their eyes and had yellow tentacles as hair and was wearing ragged white shirt.

"What are you?" You said slightly I fear of what this person is and probably what his intentions are

"Oomi!"

"Um Ok how do i do this? Ummm" you quickly questioning yourself of what to do in this current situation while the octopus person tilted their head in curiosity

" I " you said loudly phrasing and pointing to yourself

"HAPPY" you made an exaggerated smile by using your two fingers

"MEEEEET" waving out your two arms upwards

"YOUUUU" clasping your hands together Slightly causing the cephalopodic like stranger to be taken aback

" IT HAPPY TO SEEEE PERSON HERE YOU?"

"Uh its nice to meet you too?"

"Oh god you speak English too"

■ ok so that was an experience you were so panicked about what was happening around in this dry and sandy place , did you die? , are you in a dream?, is ANY of this real ?!.

■ You talked it out with this ..... Squid? Kid? Whatever this person is About where we're you and what this place and what his name is which was Neo

■But enough about you time to talk about Neo he was marveled about who you were and you pretty much said that you were a Human and he went insane upon you were revealed

■ Turns out that your kind was quite a popular thing around this world in museums and he asked if he could say a few and I mean few as in so much that your brain could explode

■ he asked about what you do , eat sleep or like or watch and anything that would be fun for him to know

"How do you eat? "

"Through my mouth "

"What does your hair feel like"

"fuzzy and .... hairy"

"Can I put my hand in your mouth?"

"No"

"Please?"

"No"

"Please?"

"No thats gross dude"

■ he also kind of have to hide you cause if anyone else knew about this who knows how this new world to you could react to this so he gave you a disguise and by placing a paper bag over your head and weirdly it worked!

■you also got few weird looks by some inklings and octolings by of course the paper bag and you walking normally but upon that you made it to his apartment

■ Now spending time as new permanent roommates would feel like a weird fever dream and you trying to get your bearings that half squid half human people were now the dominant species in your world

■ if you somehow have your phone intact and still powered on and still somehow have downloaded videos Neo will watch the HELL out of them Family guy ,Tmnt , Shaun the sheep he'll watch it all right

■ Please PLEASE NEVER introduce any squid or octopus related foods to this octoling will think that you'll eat him in his sleep someday and have some nightmares weekly if you even mention a certain ingredient in takoyaki balls

■ Neo will also take any simple thing that you do and take a extreme curiosity to what you do even if it was a simple human function of yours

■But overall you and Neo will be a great friends even with weird questions and high body differences he'll be like the Bro you never even had or knew! .

And that's it I hope you enjoy this new fan fic and of course stay cool stay safe and most importantly stay on the cool side.

And also two things sorry for the wait I was kinda occupied mostly by school again and should I make requests? soon ill make a poll about it but lemme know what you guys think about it.

#splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splat3 #splatoon x reader #Neo agent 3

[cvsmixnaya]

love story

pairings: swiftie!armin arlert x fem!swiftie!reader

summary: armin takes y/n for taylor swift’s eras tour and armin uses that as an opportunity to propose to her during love story.

cw: none just lots of fluff🤭

a/n: this is completely based on this reel and it was just so cute🥹 and i headcanon armin also likes taylor swift. change my mf mind. also idk how the order works since i’ve never been to the eras tour so i’m just gonna go with whatever comes to my mind. ok cool

Armin is literally the sweetest guy you’ll ever meet. just a few weeks ago, he managed to buy two tickets for Taylor Swift’s eras tour.

Y/n was more than happy. She was excited even. Her dream was to go for the eras tour had to get her outfit ready.

She knew exactly what to wear and finally got her dress ready.

Armin was also excited cause he’s a proud swiftie himself. But he had something special planned for this night.

He was gonna propose to Y/n.

Those two tickets being available was a sign. A sign for Armin to ask her to spend the rest of their lives together.

And he followed that sign.

It was finally the night. The night of the concert. The couple was so excited cause they get to see their favourite singer on stage.

IN PERSON.

“So, you excited?” Armin asks Y/n and she nods eagerly.

“Of course I am Armin! I mean how could I not be?! We get to see the Taylor Swift in person and oh my god I’m freaking out!”

He chuckles lightly looking at her with such a sweet smile that only Armin can pull off.

They reached the venue and both of them were freaking out so badly. Everyone who was going was to be fair.

They head inside and go to their seats which was pretty close to the stage. Armin wanted to make this night as special as possible for Y/n.

The concert started and there were loud cheers coming from the crowd including the couple.

After sometime, it was time for the fearless album and Armin was freaking out from the inside cause the time was almost here.

He had the ring ready in his pocket but he needed someone to record this moment so they can look back at it years later.

He had a paper and pen and wrote a message saying “please record me in love story im gonna propose”

Tapping the stranger’s shoulder making sure his girlfriend doesn’t see. The stranger was a woman who was probably their age turned to look at him and he handed the note.

The woman smiled and gave him a thumbs up letting him know the job will get done.

He mouthed a thank you smiling back and continued with the show.

Y/n wasn’t even paying attention to her surroundings cause of how much fun she was having.

Finally the song was here.

Y/n turned to Armin with a smile on her face and held out her hand.

He of course took it and pulled her closer. Dancing to the beat together like the rest of the world didn’t exist to them.

It was just the two of them and the music.

Romeo save me I’ll been feeling alone

I keep waiting for you, but you never come

Is this in my head I don’t know what to think

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring a said

Armin knelt to the ground according to the lyrics and pulled out the most beautiful ring in the world.

Y/n was in shock. Her jaw was dropped to the ground with her hand covering her mouth.

Marry me Juliet you never have to be alone

I love you and that’s all I really know

I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress

It’s a love story, baby just says yes

Armin sang along basically asking the love of his life to spend the rest of their lives together.

Everyone who was around them was cheering loudly and Y/n was crying while nodding her head yes.

Armin had the biggest and prettiest smile ever.

He got up and put the ring on the empty ring finger and they gave each other a tight hug before giving a long kiss.

That kiss right there sealed the deal. It was filled with love, happiness and excitement

The question was popped and the answer was yes.

They pulled away and Y/n had never been so happy in her life. She couldn’t stop smiling at all and wanted to savour this moment forever.

“I love you” She said but since it was loud, Armin couldn’t hear her but knew exactly what she said.

“I love you too” He mouthed back and enjoyed the rest of the concert in happiness.

The lovely stranger tapped Armin and she showed the video to him. He felt even happier knowing he will be able to look back at this beautiful moment.

He asked her to send it through airdrop and she did exactly that.

“Thank you so much for doing this” He thanked the woman. A total stranger who didn’t even know each other’s name.

“Your welcome! Don’t worry about it.” She said in return and they went back to enjoying the show.

It’s been a few hours and the concert ended. The newly engaged couple headed to the car to head back home.

They were indeed exhausted. Their wrists were full of bracelets from You’re on your own kid and confetti.

The drove home in peace with some calm music playing.

They got home and the moment they were inside, Y/n gave her now fiancé a long and loving kiss.

“Thank you so much for making this night special Armin. You have no idea how happy you made me and how much I’ll treasure this moment.”

He couldn’t stop smiling. How couldn’t he?

“Of course my love. I would do anything to make you happy. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life you. I love you so much.”

They wash themselves and changed into their night clothes and laid on the bed.

“Hey, I actually got someone to record the proposal.” Armin said and opened his phone to show the video.

Y/n got up in anticipation. “Really? Lemme see it”

He shows the video to her and she was so happy. He explained how he asked a stranger to record this moment and thanked her so many times.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe a total stranger did this for us. That’s so sweet of her” She sighed in adoration.

“I know right. This just shows that there are good people in this world. They’re just sometimes hard to find.”

They decided to call it a night and head to sleep. He give her a quick peck on the forehead before turning off the light.

He held her gently but firmly. Yup, he cannot wait to do this everyday forever.

He secretly thanks Taylor in his mind cause she’s the whole reason for this.

THIS IS FOR @arlertlvr AKA MY FAVOURITE SWIFTIE AND MOOT. MWAH LOVE YOU

#aot #aot imagines #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #armin arlet x reader #armin x you #armin arlert #armin aot #taylor swift #eras tour #armin is a swiftie hehe #Spotify

[glitterock]

I love ur gender, tbh I've always felt like that too (woman to lesbians and nb to everyone else) and it's like !!!!!! I can put it into words instead of just saying half nonbinary lmao. cause tbh the only ppl who make me feel like a woman are other lesbians. in conclusion lesbians are the greatest ppl on earth <3 luv ur blog vibes, and pillow princesses/high femmes deserve the world

also ur poly ? could u make a post bout that like... idk mentioning a lil more bout ur experiences w that, also do u have a free love "relationship anarchy" type thing where everyone gets the same amt of commitment etc, or do u have a main anchor type gf along w other relationships? cause I am in a poly relationship rn and it is going kinda ehhhhhh and most shit online I've tried looking for advice is wayyyyy too unrelatable for my taste. not just struggling w jealousy but it's kinda like there's sm empty feeling and I think the prob is not having an anchor partner but idk

not trying to b TMI or whateverrrrrrrrr and sorry I wrote so much !! not expecting a reply or anything I'm sure u get a lot of messages lol

have a wonderful day!! :)))

hehe thank you ! glad u like my vibes !

and yes i have a handful of experience with being poly and i’ve tried many different poly relationship styles and honestly yeah it’s really just about trying it out and seeing what feels right. The relationship i was in where i had one primary partner and we both got to have casual dates and sex with others probably worked out the best for me and made me feel the most secure and fulfilled out of any relationship i’ve ever had. We were also long distance which is why this worked well for me, and I liked knowing that no matter who we were hooking up with, me and my partner were actively choosing each other to be with (that is until they left me for someone they were hooking up with but that’s not the point haha before that it was all great!)

i also have been in poly relationships/situationships where i’ve been the secondary partner/have been seeing people who were primary partners and i haaaaated that. i think it was also partly the fault of the other people for various reasons, but to me, that kind of poly relationship was extremely unfulfilling and made me feel like i was only being appreciated when i presented myself in a sexual manner. I realized that i myself definitely am more secure when i’m going to be in some sort of relationship with people that want to prioritize me always not just when i’m invited into the bedroom. i think being a priority is where i draw the line with being non-monogamous and i don’t think i would try a polycule/dating primary partners ever again. im sure some polycules exists that are free of favoritism and bias but im not willing to try that again to find it

i use “poly” as an easy umbrella term but i less consider myself polyamorous (which i define as being able to have multiple committed relationships with multiple people at once) and more consider myself non monogamous where i prefer to have a primary or “anchor” partner who is separate from my casual dating/sex life. I also wouldn’t mind trying monogamy again one day, just not in this stage of my life when im young and traveling and just love making connections with the people around me !

idk i think a lot of queer people are poly or some variation of it these days so i think it’s easy for people to feel pressure to be a certain kind of poly or just poly in general when really you shouldn’t be doing anything you don’t feel secure with just to please others. i hope this helps and good luck!

#anon

[1ore]

ough. everything happens so much and i barely have the processing power to talk about the men who live in my brain that aren't real. this is unacceptable. how is a woman to work under these conditions.

byuuillggghhh i make an effort anyway.

yuri got his shit rocked in the mists. i still cant believe my dumb throwaway idea is canon. i dont think that man 'came back wrong' so much as he didn't come back at all. instead, an entity who has been transformed to the point of being unrecognizable (but still technically a continuation of the same person) came out of the mists. happy pride.  

i think the sheer need to kick balthazar's ass is what brought him back. not just his own desire, but that of everyone and everything around him. he forms around the collective suffering and vacuous emptiness left behind in his wake, and while he DOES recover some memories on the way up, all of them are of conflict and war. which. has some implications for his sense of self and how he relates with literally everyone around him.  

he is instinctively drawn to people with unresolved grief, righteous anger, or other wounds related to wartime. For a while, he's not really a person but a physical force that strongarms the cruel and powerful into paying their moral debts, whatever that means. (the Norn description of the six gods not as persons but as motive forces is bouncing around in my brain.)  

inevitably this leads him back to his old gang as they converge on Kicking Balthazar's Ass. yuri is drawn to their hurt and remembers most of them from his time with the Pact, but only in broad strokes-- the great victories and terrible losses. he remembers almost nothing of their actual day-to-day relationships. he is vaguely compelled to learn more, but he doesn't know how to be anything but a shambling wraith. so. emotional intimacy doesn't come naturally. that, and everyone else just thinks they're hallucinating him out of grief.  

idk if yuri even GETS to kill balthazar. i think it's fun if he's robbed of the chance to fulfill his purpose, and feels anchored to tyria out of this sense of unfinished business. my man is once again embodying the vacuous emptiness left behind by war.  

right now, in the aftermath, he's kind of just orbiting people and trying to be helpful in his narrow, ominous, vaguely upsetting definition of being helpful. he remembers 'Commander Atropos' and 'Marshal Trahearne' well enough to hold a stilted conversation. The Lastborn is a puzzle to him, definitely knows that guy, definitely has The Long Shadow Of War hanging over him, but cannot for the life of him pin down why or from where. hasn't met his daughter the vinetooth yet, but when he does, she Will force those memories back into his miserable brain like a square cube into a circular hole. biting him and biting him and biting him and b  

(Of all people the Lastborn is probably handling this the best. he's like oh we all have those days where we cannot continue to exist without annihilating everything that we were and everything that we could have been. you're not special. maybe if you eat some soup you'll calm down.)  

       

something something trahearne finally getting to reciprocate the patience and kindness that yuri showed to him while he was in the pits of his psychic mordremoth prison. at first he's being dragged kicking and screaming into this but then he picks himself up and dusts himself off and 180's on it, just like his wild hunt. anyway that's all thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#the problem with video game journaling is journaling ): #yuri six-cants tag #guild wars 2 tag

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Hello!

I've risen from the dead lmfao Life was extremely hectic lately but I'm back!

How have you been? I'll send later my replies to the last replies 💕

In the meantime I would love to hear all of your stories to be honest but to start maybe the story of how you almost lost your virginity twice?

Also option a and b made my blood boil to the max 🙃

-🐇

Baby!! You're back! I'm glad you're doing so well! I hope you're happy and healthy!

I'm doing okay, I finished my last class ever and I graduate from uni in March so I'm just focused on working, resting and getting my health back together.

I wish I could say option a & b happened only that time but they haven't, it's happened more times after haha.

Okay! Story time.

The first time happened when I was 17 and it was with one of my close guy friends at the time.

I was having a sleepover at his house and we were sleeping in the same bed (as we had numerous times before).

He was really upset the day because he had just found out that his girlfriend had been cheating on him and he broke up with her.

While we were in bed, he asked if he could hold me because he just wanted to feel better to which I said yeah, of course.

He started rubbing my back and hips and I turned around and said 'do you want too?' and I told him I was a virgin and he was like 'are you sure you want to do this?' and I trusted him at the time, we were really close and I felt really safe around him because we had been friends for years.

His mum was asleep in the other room so we had to be really quiet and I remember we quickly got our clothes off.

I remember him being really gentle and he was softly kissing my neck and chest and as things were about to move forward.

He couldn't get it up, he just couldn't get hard and I tried to help him and nothing worked because he just was too upset and sad over the break-up.

So I said well let's stop and we got our clothes back on and then we just fell asleep.

I woke up to find that half-way, he had woken up and gone to sleep out on the couch for the rest of the night.

And I remember waking up in the empty bed and thinking:

'This must be what one-night-stands feel like'.

And that was the moment I realised I could never do one-night-stands.

He stopped speaking to me after that and at the time, I thought it was because I wasn't physically attractive enough for him but now that I'm older, I could see he was probably embarrassed.

The Second Time:

The second time happened when I was 21 with a guy I met from uni, we were friends for a couple of months before he asked me out on a date and I said yes.

I remember he took me out to Mexican and we went out for a festival in the city, I'm 24 and I haven't been on an official date since with him.

Anyway, about a month in to us dating, I went over to his house.

I travelled 3 hours to meet him at his house and I remember I dressed up all pretty for him, I wore a navy blue babydoll dress with frangipani flowers on it.

When I went to his house, he had made me a batch of brownies which I thought (and still think) was really cute.

We had the whole entire house to ourselves and we started making out and he took me to his bedroom and we were both virgins at the time, I still am but idk if he is.

This was our 4th date together and at the time, I felt safe with him and I just really wanted to experience what sex was like and I did feel emotionally connected to him and I trusted him in the moment.

And things started to get heated and we were both undressed and as we were about to do the devil's tango.

He couldn't get it up, he was too nervous and again, I tried to help him but nothing was happening.

He kept trying to reassure me that it wasn't me, that he was too nervous, he didn't know why nothing was happening and again, I said it was all fine and we stopped.

I have to say though, he was really giving and gentle with his touches and words (both times were like that) and I think if everything went well, I wouldn't have regretted it both times.

He stopped talking to me after and 7 days later, he ended it.

He had some shitty excuse about how he thought we weren't emotionally compatible and that we could still be friends 🙄.

Now that I have a better perspective, he was also too embarrassed that he couldn't perform and he just found it too awkward to speak for me again.

I haven't spoken to him since and that was 3 years ago.

And that was the last romantic encounter I've had thus far, I haven't kissed anyone else since that moment.

I just hope my technique works and I won't be an awful kisser for the next person, it's been awhile 🤣🤣.

I have asked out guys since that encounter but all have rejected my offer, the last guy I asked out was in January and since then I've completely stopped.

I haven't even developed a crush or an infatuation with anyone since January.

Oh fuck, it was so awkward.

The last time I asked a dude out and got rejected:

He was also a friend I had known for about 3 years and we had a few classes together at uni.

We reunited at a bar with other people in December of last year and we had great banter and a connection and at the end of the night, he hugged me and said that he found me interesting.

So me thinking, okay there's something here, the week after I was like 'Hey, do you want to meet up for lunch, just one on one?' to which he said yes.

So, the day off. I also got dressed up for him, I wore a dress with stockings and boots and wore my expensive perfume.

We had lunch and again, the connection was great.

So, at the end of the lunch, I said 'Oh, do you mind if I grab your number and we could talk more?'

To which he said, 'Ahh. To be honest Ruby, I just don't find you attractive in 'that way'.

And I responded 'Oh, in what way?'

And then he said 'Oh, I think you're pretty, I just don't find you attractive like how partners would feel towards each other'.

To which then I figured out that he was saying he wasn't sexually attracted toward me without saying he was sexually attracted towards me.

And then a month later, I was invited to a party and he was there.

And he was just flirting all over this girl and hugging her and dancing with her.

Which I mean, yeah it kinda hurt but I was talking to other people and having fun.

And I didn't get drunk but this girl got absolutely smashed, like she was slurring her speech and ended up throwing up over the balcony.

And after this happened, I was smoking a cigarette and he walked over to me and I was like 'Oh, how come you're here?' to which he responded,

'Oh the other girl I was talking too got really drunk and I can't speak to her properly and you're not drunk so I thought maybe I just start talking to you.'

And that immediately turned me off him because I just felt like I was a back-up and second-best.

And then a month after that, they started dating.

Idk if they're still dating now, I haven't spoken to him since then. (Bro, I'm watching Bang Chan's live and I'm pretty sure he pretended to kiss our forehead.)

I feel that last encounter just really did it for me, there's only so many rejections that you take before you just give up.

And it's hard because I just don't know why opportunities for romantic relationships haven't entered my life.

Like, men just haven't wanted to be in a relationship with me and you can't even say 'oh, you just need to put yourself out there' because clearly I have.

And I mean, it's been 3 years since that last encounter and I haven't kissed anyone, I haven't received any offers that I've rejected and no one has shown any romantic interest in me.

And I just wish I knew what it is I'm lacking so I can improve myself and grow as a person in that area.

@muselin @cherry-0420 what do you think about this?

#🐇 anon #slumber party with ruby #whatudowhennooneseesyou anon asks #whatudowhennooneseesyou hard hours #pardon for the long length but I like detail #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #stray kids hard hours

[the-acid-pear]

Had an exploration based dream that was very wacky and fun if not a bit... Stressful at times.

Readmore because this was longer than i expected:

Like at some point i was sure i had broke my arm so i was trying to make it to the doctor and i was taking buses and walking around but i ended up in my home where i asked my former step father to take me w his car and he didn't believe my arm was broken but agreed anyway. Unfortunately we had to go buy something at the Chinese store and for some reason JJBA Koichi was working there and his job was literally just to stand in the entrance and sing and i was damn what a boring job poor guy. Anyway i wasted a lot of time there until i remembered my ID (i was looking for it bc i needed it for the doctor) wasn't on this Chinese store, it was on my house, so i sprinted across an avenue before realizing that was the wrong way so i tried to sprint back but the light was already changing and my step father no longer was him nor some guy but my actual father and he ended up interfering and not getting mad when i nearly kill myself running into traffic. It was then, however, that i realized that i was fucking lost. And suddenly my dad was gone and it was some friends (idk who) who were with me trying to aid me as i walked the same 4 blocks trying to make sense of where the FUCK i was (worth noting, the places here had become a mash up of all the houses I've lived in, from my childhood to now, which i think it's cute). At some point we ended up in this big white shopping center running around, where i tried to turn on my phone to see if at least w 1% left i could act fast and find my direction written down in the notes app (I'm sure it's there irl btw) but when i found it i couldn't actually understand it so i remained lost.

A little thing i just remembered now is that in between my long runs trying to find my home i accidentally bumped into this asian milf drag queen/trans woman who was holding a picture of Christian Bale as a woman and she was like "SO WHAT?!" and i just turned around slowly and genuinely said "I'm sorry...", feeling legit devastated she couldn't meet her gender expectations 😭😭

Something i am remembering now that also happened in the first half was that during that trip, that was long as fuck, and i was doing w my only remaining irl friend who i see now and then, we were in this subte (underground train, i forgot the English word) station and they were doing some repairs so there was this hole on the ground and there were cats and i jokingly told my friend "imagine they are throwing the cats into the hole" and with the timing of a streamer it was said and done and i was like What The Fuck. But the cats were okay! There was some other treatment that wasn't as okay and i forgot about so i decided to lure the cats away. Didn't keep em because they were too many and i already had cats plus some looked pretty similar to my already owned cats and i was worried i would get confused.

Also relevant thing i forgot earlier to mention, I'm sure i ended up in my step father's house because in the trip i realized I had neither my ID nor charge left on my phone. I wanted to just... Nail it, maybe ask in the medical's office for a charger, but the force orchestrating my dream said 🫵 No.

As for the last part of the dream, it all happened in the white shopping centre where i just started going in circles as this review of Malcom And The Middle, show that i never in my life watched which was reflected in the lack of any characters except the one Cranston is playing, who was also referred to by the actor's name, by a YouTuber who wasn't taking himself that seriously honestly.

Some scenes i remember the best are one where he was sitting in a throne in this ballroom dancing hall, which was HUGE and did make me wonder if it was the same place as the one we were in, where he was cleaning his teeth with these miniature cartoony but living chickens. The place was simultaneously filled and empty because there was a lot of people but also a lot of empty space, felt like an old PS2 or barbie movie. The YouTuber found this scene kind of out of nowhere and just not that funny.

Another notable scene was when the YouTuber started listing similitudes between Brian and Walter White (the classic) and the first ones where so similar my brain didn't even register them but the last one was actually deep and meaningful explaining that the biggest parallel between these two characters was that Brian too was doing all in his power to not raise his children as his father had raised him, which i guess Walter was doing too in this timeline, and scenes of him being all freaked out and neurotic were shown showing that he was trying hard to be good but failing anyway. There was also this clip of him fucking, annihilating a glass of hot cocoa (although the outside made it look like marshmallows 🧐) that was later shown from the bottom of the glass ending w his fucking. Lil throat bell. I was a bit yuckied by it but oh well old shows do be like that.

Worth mentioning too that parallel to this there was this sort of, subplot about some bullies blackmailing and taking advantage of this little kid who was working at the cinema in this place? Something that also happened twice was me walking into a room and my companion going "Kevins... I don't trust us" and throwing a Molotov cocktail, although not hitting anyone, that later happened again w the little exploited boy who said "Bart Room? I don't trust us" and did the same except this time the room was entirely empty.

Anyway dream ended with me not being able to help this little exploited Bart boy or finding my ID nor my home nor getting my arm fixed. Truly a journey about the ride not the destination!

#luly talks #my dreams #i need to start tagging these

[misttiddies]

📓!!!!!!

thank u wolfy uwu

allow me to introduce you to the Fuck This I’m Your Dad Now au

it starts when hiruzen is in kumo for some reason (kage summit, peace talks idk. it’s been 2-3 years since the hinata incident idk if they’re still talking about that) and he’s talking to killer b. b asks how the nine tails jinchuriki is doing, and hiruzen’s like he’s fine. going to the academy now. he’s spent all his allowance a couple months in a row though which isn’t ideal. b’s like what do you mean? and hiruzen explains how all the orphans under genin age (during peace time when they’re not graduating kids early) get a set amount of money for rent and groceries. he doesn’t have an adult taking care of him? b asks, remembering at the age the jinchuriki must be he himself could barely do two digit math, forget budgeting. no, hiruzen assures him, he’s plenty capable of taking care of himself.

b is skeptical.

so this man runs down to konoha and octopuses over the wall (dw he’ll be back in kumo before they know it!) he follows gyuki’s directions to find naruto, who is seven years old and punching a punching bag in his otherwise empty but very plant-filled apartment. gyuki suggests he goes in through the actual door because if he tried the (wide open) windows the anbu might snipe him. killer b then proceeds to sneak his way into the apartment building and knocks on naruto’s door.

he’s literally so small b can’t handle it. naruto is so excited to have someone to talk to!! does he want some ramen? it’s getting to be dinner time. b tries to turn him down but he insists. he has a coupon for the next time he goes to the store.

b figures out quickly naruto has no idea what a jinchuriki is or that he is one so he tells him, and also tells him about his parents because he thinks it’s messed up he doesn’t know. it’s emotional but he tries to help him process it. he’ll go out and get them ice cream or something, how about that?

they both go out and b sees hinata, who’s going around testing her byakugan by,,kind of like a scavenger hunt, she has to collect a bunch of items that have been hidden for her to find. he gets it in his head that he has to apologize to her for what happened, but before he can do that neji, who���s been tailing hinata, drops off a building and decks him.

naruto yells at him for trying to beat up his new friend but b’s like it’s ok, though neji is skilled he is also little (8!) and can’t do that much damage to him. after figuring out exactly who he is b apologizes to him too, and for once in his life an adult is telling neji that his dad dying was bad and shouldn’t have happened. a few minutes ago neji was ready to do everything in his eight-year-old power to kill this guy, but now he’s feeling extremely conflicted. hinata comes back to figure out where neji went so he gets to talk to her too.

Something happens where b has to flee the village and naruto, hinata and neji come too. at the same time kumo ofc figured out b was gone and sent a team out to get him back, and against anyone’s better judgement yugito sets off on her own to find him first. she does, and they have a reunion in which he couldn’t just leave them there :\ and she’s like yeah i know you couldn’t. 

they can’t go back to kumo right now, but they also can’t leave it undefended against the other nations that still have their jinchuriki. so they decide to just round up all the jinchuriki in the meantime so that nobody can attack anyone else (this isn’t strictly true but it’s fine. it’s fine.)

next up is gaara! baby naruto sweet talks him into joining their little team :) also gyuki comes out and eats rasa. it’s a time. 

they camp in the forest, everyone is concerned about gaara’s relationship to shukaku, and they’re going to go get fu next. meanwhile in the land of water news finally arrives that the kumo jinchuriki are stealing the others from their villages, and zabuza decides he has to get in on that for his own storm kiri and start a revolution plan. haku is there and he’s like ten. also small and adorable.

and that’s what i’ve got. will i ever properly write this? i don’t know. it’s a big project for little ol me :P

#misttiddies posts #misttiddies fic #ask game

[hanarchy]

I’ve kinda been ruminating on what it is abt oddinary and maxident that just didn’t seem to hit as hard for me as previous stray kids albums and i think i’ve finally been able to put my finger on it even though i’m still not saying this applies to every song on every album, just overall.

I think their storytelling has become a lot weaker. Especially through the I am and clé eras there was obviously a through line in terms of story but individual songs also had very distinct central metaphors or motifs (the drug abuse and adolescence parallel of side effects, the central idea of mirrors or voices or a race/competition, the maze, or a specific age, the elevator, the independent territory etc etc) they were specific and evocative for a lot of these albums.

then in the next trilogy (in life, go live, noeasy) there was a loss of directed storyline obviously but i felt that at least the central metaphors of the songs was still very well developed (looking out over the future in the view, the blueprint, the kitchen, the back door party, the sorrikun/pansori tradition of storytelling) there was still a material Thing in the middle of a lot of their songs, a thing that was also somewhat developed and the stories revolved around it. every one of these metaphors could be read in several ways, the kitchen as a noisy and busy, disconcerted place where nevertheless chefs make comforting things, the kitchen as a place that feeds people, the kitchen as the realm of artists and visionaries etc etc secret secret and silent cry which evoke such clear emotions, red lights which is a very very near perfect pop song imo, even ignoring all the horniness, bc it DOES convey the obsession and perfectionism

i find the central idea of maniac very difficult to grasp, very underdeveloped compared to their other releases. the nebulous idea of not conforming to society has been present for them since at least district 9 but it has never been this vague or unspecified, it never felt as empty. I feel similarly about the b-sides of maniac because while i really enjoy the sound of most of them, I can’t find a single one that tells me a coherent and self-contained story in the same way a lot of older songs did? they do still have central motifs but they don’t really go anywhere with them, there’s not a lot of exploration or building on that one idea. muddy water and venom maybe come closest but i can still sum that up in one sentence and be done, which i never could with their older stuff.

case 143 has a similar problem in that i do understand the story being told but it just seems to be told on a superficial level. it also doesn’t seem personal or urgent to them. idk why i feel this way but i just feel like as they got more polished they lost a lot of their personality. a lot of the rough edges and the cramming so many meaningful things into one song that you can’t even catch up that used to define them to me… unfortunately i do feel the same about the b-sides. there’s next to NO real stories here. maybe with the exception of chill. they’re fun songs and great to listen to but they don’t seem to have much in the way of deeper meaning… taste seems especially jarring in that bc hyunjin himself positions it as a successor of red lights and yet it has none of the depth of red lights…

#stray kids

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary5

today was more or less boring compared to yesterday but really that just means it's a nice day inside.

but look at my knees! those are prints from the socks i was wearing yesterday, they were getting ground on the stage kind of so it left those marks on me, which is pretty fun and honestly not too painful, when i showered it only hurt a little, but the soreness everywhere else is kind of insane, my head feels so heavy, it makes me think of how babies can't support their own heads because their necks are so weak, and somehow my forearms have a soreness that i've never felt before, ever, i think.

today's arc is interesting, i woke up in basically extreme pain and very hungry, and during the morning my gf and i got in mild, i dunno ~thing~ which isn't an argument but us being mutually frustrated less at eachother and more because like, we're hungry and sore so we're on edge. it's the kind of thing i could forget about if i didn't already make a point of remembering that stuff so i can make sure it doesn't happen for those exact kind of reasons in the future. after that the whole day was mostly us doing our own thing, she made gyoza and i made ramen, right now there are dishes in the kitchen that i might do, but it's just the blender from a smoothie. i guess the arc is interesting because it's weird how days can have parts that disappear sort of, unless you keep it in the back of your head, and even then, all that really lingers is that it happened and that you don't want it to happen again but it's so not a big deal that it's like, i dunno, not hugely upsetting. maybe this also has to do with waking up pretty late today, it's 1 am now and it barely feels, idk, over, or whatever. i woke up at 1, which is stressful because i need to fix my sleep schedule for doing vocals this week, but i imagine i can.

speaking of music i mixed vocals a little differently on a song, so hopefully they'll come across a little better, and then i can be finished with this song soon enough when i get the levels all right, they do sound better now, just too loud currently in parts and too quiet in others. i also got more lyrics done which is exciting, and then i replaced a synth thing and layered it in another song and i just sounds way better, it was so unsatisfying to me prior that i was thinking i'd just trash the song.

it's weird doing this every day, not that i wanna stop, i guess i wish i were more forthcoming, but idk, i get hung up on writing out my day, so i can at least remember that better or know it better, or something. but idk, what is it about not being forthcoming that gets to me. idk, i wrote more today too, just a little but that's good, it's headway in figuring a relatively small part out anyways. anyways, i want to write faster, i guess i'll try to be faster right now and not think about what i'm saying, and just talk, to myself, about today or anything. anything is so broad, i'm freaked out by how little i have to say, i feel like i'm trying to make myself seem empty at myself a little and i don't know it, but i don't know what proves substance anyways, and i get in my own way because i feel like i have such little energy, which makes sense i guess, right now my girlfriend is staring at her computer writing something and today i took the trash out and didn't like being outside really but i need to go on more walks i think, but i feel so weird, i dunno, it's so hot, maybe that's become an excuse or something. and i need to talk to my mom but honestly i worry about her even wanting to talk to me. she seems short constantly now, i dunno why, i guess just misery of the regular sort, because of my stepdad. he makes her life sort of awful at home, he doesn't listen to anyone and he talks forever, he's basically trapped her there and i can't do anything but i feel like she thinks maybe i could do something, or maybe she wishes i could because i got out, but as far as she can tell i'm not trying and it's not like i'm supposed to but she wants me to so she could be free a little while or something and i think sometimes she really might decide to kill herself, because she did try before so it's not out of the question. that's not something i can even figure out how to help at this point outside of texting her sometimes but i don't want to be annoying. i also feel bad for my stepdad, like maybe he wants to talk to me too, but he goes on forever about the same things always. eventually, he'll end up bringing up how he almost went to the olympics as a swimmer or something. i don't want to be like that, i don't want to have nothing to talk about except everything that happened to me, i want to be alive right now, and in the future, but i don't even know if i am. i'm basically alive because i think i can finally be pretty now, is that all that possesses me or am i just saying that to be dramatic, or is that a stupid way to pose the question or whatever, i dunno, it doesn't matter or it matters a lot but i'm not ready to parse the fact that i'd ask myself if i'm being dramatic over all the other possibilities. but it's on my mind a lot i guess that i think i'm super histrionic and maybe i think i do everything to be looked at, because if you're looking then i'm like, validated in being where i am right now because there's eyes on me, but i always hate the eyes and i hate being looked at especially like that except sometimes i really like it because it's proof i'm x/y/z or anything else, like being pretty is the perfect example because if someone obviously is staring at me in that way and i have my ass out on purpose, it for some reason feels good to have male attention even though i hate them and that i can sort of sense what kind of porn they're putting me in as they stare (it's i guess really obvious or i feel like it is because they have to be able to tell right) and i dunno, whatever, it's dumb, it's so stupid to be tethered to the need to be wanted like i am, since at least one person really does want me all the time at least, it should be enough but it isn't, and there's never an enough, there's an infinite void when you're seeking attention or at least conceiving of yourself as seeking attention. it's so gross, i hate it, i want to be pretty and i want to feel it as true inside myself, so i don't need anyone else, but we always will need everyone else, i don't actually not want to need anyone, i like depending on others.

tumblr made me go to another text thingy. that's weird. i guess that thought can end there because it was making me feel like a hundred million maggots were all over me which is something i wanna learn how to draw cuz i actually feel that way always, in each way you could imagine it, the miserable/disgusting/erotic+sexy ways, which is probably pretty weird but i mean it earnestly, that kind of stuff has always been put together for me which makes me kind of a nightmare i guess but it's all i have had, it's like my special hole i get to live in, it makes me feel nice saying it, asserting it i guess. like yeah i am horrified always and that's found its way into every part of me and i'm so in love with it.

tumblr talking to me while i was writing, i guess talking this whole way with me cuz it always pops up to tell me it saved my fucking draft like thank you tumblr but you can probably do that and not say it right? or can i turn that off. idk i'm ssstupid like it says in my bio. for some reason elongating my s's makes me happy, it's a pleasure i feel in the seat of my chest, where my voice rattles when i sing sometimes, or the junction of my lungs/throat/ribcage and whatever cartilage and muscles there get wrapped up in the vibrating, my own bloody crossroads. anyways tumblr talking at me makes me think about how nerds from everywhere online come up with these weird sapir-whorf adjacent hypotheses about like, how certain website's cultures shape how you see the world and whatever, they give you a particular outlook that follows you everywhere, essentially inventing grounds for various kinds of digital nationalism. this is ugly and evil stuff i think, it's basically missing how these sites actually work and impress methods of engagement onto us all, and though these differ, they do tend towards similar kinds of content and have all been about accelerating towards those kinds of content. typically, it's always about anger/arguments reinforcing where you are but there's more, that's like, the boring thing, i just need to recall how i conceived of this the other day, it was only an inkling then, maybe a few sentences but a few sentences in your head is connected to like everything ever, or everything that birthed that handful of sentences/meaning/observation. i think what i'm thinking of in particular is twitter, twitter does engender a particular way of seeing/instrumentalizing the world around you to whatever ends that it basically deems most valuable. i guess i can leave thoughts have thought in a diary and return later, i just hope i do return, to this, i don't know why i'm feeling blocked off from the thought i had earlier, whatever, i'll think a little more about it, i should just relax more or something, i dunno why this matters so much to me either. or i know exactly why, i've lived online my whole life, none of these places are really actually cut off from one another, they feed eachother, especially now, reposting is necessary for all this stuff to work or for anyone to feel 'actualized' at least as actualized as you are intended to be by these systems which essentially govern our socialization, and so frustrated by whatever methods they're escaping by moving to the next site or whatever, they complain and react, and absorbing whatever drama cluster they're drawn to, which the content of doesn't matter, it's more the shape of the cluster and what it does, like, twitter controversy is the same in whatever circles, and so was tumblr drama last i remember it, it was all about a few people or a broader idea of the awful in the world rearing its head and you'd gawk, and flood to it in interest, it would fade, but i dunno, i don't care about these controversies that much, i think what's more interesting is the everyday use which involves these things as momentary interests you can gawk at, your morality next to naked people next to funny animals, the stream's always been the same it's just been getting refined, basically. there used to be a utopianism about all this access we have to eachother, it's sad to see people who were like that, and compare it to now, where these places we're essentially forced to, if we want to be in the broader world, because if we only go off to closed spaces where everything is curated, it's only that your stream is narrower (also it's important i think to note the supremacy of the image, especially the photo or the photographic ddrawing (of anime or whatever (obviously i know how i guess hypocritical i can come off pointing this supremacy out since i had 3 photos of myself in the last post (but also don't, because what i'm saying is that we're all victim to this and it's really awful how i feel like i need pictures of myself out there that i think look good as proof of prettiness--

-- + sacrifice to whatever/ whoever might see, and to the libidinal economy that governs the internet's image-sludge currents.)))) anyways asides aside (lol) i was talking about your stream growing narrower, it grows narrower and, was there an and, who knows, it does grow narrower and it prevents you from seeing outside your field of view, which is actually the addictive thing i think, about so many of these sites, you can see outside yourself and it will be fed to you in such a way that it seems strange/annoying or, rarely, kind of good so you decide you like it. it enforces an idea of identity that is about accrual, and what you cannot accrue you performatively burn, with great distance, a torch lit and tossed many miles to an unseen firepit.

this isn't the full articulation though, it's not close, it's not why i think these things are so interesting/frustrating. i guess the fact that this is unanswerable is why i've been approaching it for years. it begs you to look, dirty scopophiliac you are, and by looking / knowing, it (anything) becomes less dirty, dirty meaning alive, i think. you look at a horrible thing, and you know it is terrible, and you are excited by the awfulness, excited meaning agitated into some kind of activity, and becoming active, it's purified/sanctified. everything's been reduced into a kind of sanitary work/gesture, all images pass through and passed around lose meaning become less threatening or gain threat (so you know they are to be jettisoned) and all is defanged by what amounts to our complicity in a daily human tide whose goal is to alleviate boredom with structured programming pointed at random targets and developed by less random but nearly as equally numerous heads. it's interesting how much content is always downstream of a few people, too.

that can be talked about later i guess.

[truc0nfessionz]

my heart rate feels elevated today.

for one - i'm starting to feel jealousy over ivy

and for two - i'm starting to see the person i become in relationships, and i don't know if i like that.

on the jealousy thing, it's not like i'm threatened by these people but really (and i'm not even being dramatic here) Ivy gets hit on every day. every single day of her life that she leaves the house without me. by women and men both. this week someone confessed their love to her... multiple times. and honestly, idk how to take any of this. it's super hard to get past because it immediately brings up negative feelings for me - i want to call these people names and wish bad things on them. and i hate that energy for me, i really do. it's not like i think these people have a chance, but when i think about someone else hitting on my girlfriend i'm immediately pissed. and it's hard not to be. it's hard to work past that at the moment. her solution is to not tell me when these things happen but honestly, i don't like that either. i feel like it's inviting really sketchy things to happen and i don't like not knowing that some other girl tried to put the moves on my girlfriend. it doesn't sit well with me.

which brings me to my second point - i'm remembering (and seeing) the worst of who i am in a relationship. i'm jealous - i hate everyone who gets to spend time with you, i'm needy - i want all of your time, attention and recognition, i'm spoiled - i know that someone wants to see me happy and i let myself settle into receiving that adoration, i'm conceited and self-righteous - which doesn't help if my partner also worships the ground i walk on (it only makes my head bigger), i'm pissy - never happy unless everything is exactly my way, i'm bossy - i'll tell you what to do in a heartbeat (and you'll want me to), i'm reliant - i always want you to fix my mood or be the answer to my problems.

and i don't like any of that energy for me, i really don't. i want to be independent, strong, self-sufficient, capable, funny, unbothered. and it's weird how as soon as i'm in a relationship, i'm not that person anymore.

i feel a little sick today. just sick over the idea of the person i'm becoming and the feelings i feel. i'm also still a little sick over B. honestly, i am. it is SO hard not to know how they're doing, SO hard not to reach out, SO hard not to call them and reiterate that i care about their feelings and i never want them to feel like they're at fault for everything. as i watch Ivy fall in love with me, i'm constantly reminded of B who would (to this day) do anything to be mine. and they did everything to be mine. and it makes me feel so selfish and stupid and childish that somehow, we still didn't work out.

i feel like i'm just now processing these emotions because it's been a year of on and off, but mostly on in some ways. they've never really left my presence, they've always been right there. and so to go from that to fully no contact, it actually does hurt. it hurts quite a bit. i feel them in my soul. in the side of my rib. i feel pain but also emptiness. i feel a sharp stab but also a longing. i don't know if that feeling will ever go away. but i feel like i have to give it a shot to try.

my indecision of having them in and out of my life has only hurt us in the end. if a year ago, i had been firmer about my boundaries - firmer about not seeing each other and focusing on our growth, maybe things would be different right now. maybe we would have a clearer vision of who we are individually and who we hope to be.

it also trips me out that i could build all of that with B. five years of memories, of love, of fights and growth - and be wrong. how was i wrong? i'm not sure to this day that i understand...

and sometimes it's hard to conceptualize rebuilding all of that with someone else. like in theory, it would be easy to just plug Ivy into the hole that B left, but it doesn't happen like that. Ivy is amazing in all of her own ways, but she's not B. they're like the ocean and the mountains - massively impactful but vastly different.

and i don't know where my heart is right now. somewhere fractured between the two of them. a few shards in azizas hands, a few in laurens. a tiny fragment in shawns. the truth is, everything i've put myself into in the past year i put my heart into, even when i told myself i wouldn't. and the thing about me is that when i give love i give it for real, even knowing that i will never get it back. i still give because i still believe that life is meant to be good. life is meant to be lived and love should flow abundantly.

for this reason - my current state of affairs, i need to tread lightly with Ivy. build slowly. i am full of love always, but honestly, i don't have every piece of my heart right now. there are still a few pieces i'm waiting to get back.

and i don't want to share that with Ivy, because i fear the "switch" she says she'll see in someone that will shut everything down and off. and i'm terrified of that. truly terrified.

but also, i need to be me. i can't let the fear of being alone or the fear of losing love make me rush into things that need to be built over time.

and i think it's very likely ivy and i will get there. very likely indeed. but it will also be hard, it will be painful, and hopefully it will also be filled with joy.

lord and universe, please help me be gentle with my tender heart. please help me make good decisions and take care of myself. please help me be okay no matter what happens. help me trust myself and honor my needs. amen.

#9.13.22 #self check

[many-gay-magpies]

update on the hair- the initial panic has passed and now i’m really happy with it !! i think the red looks good on me and i’m making sure to follow a good haircare routine to make sure there’s no real damage. my strawberry shortcake era has begun!

OH TO BE THE VILLAGE WITCH THAT LIVES IN A COTTAGE A LITTLE WAYS AWAY THATS MY DREAM. i’ve always been into herbal/home remedies and such so i really think i could sustain a village witch persona. i’ll grow my flowers and bake honey bread and hand out lavender shortbread to anyone brave enough to visit that’s an ideal life

OKAY BUT LETS ADD THE OTHERS TO THE MIX- JINO AND SHION WOULD BE CACKLING AND ENJOYING THE RIDE LIKE KIDS ON THEIR WAY TO MCDONALDS, SOLON WOULD PROBABLY WANT TO ENJOY IT BUT SCOLDS HELI ANYWAY TO KEEP UP HIS COOL IMAGE, NOA AND JAKAH CHILLING LIKE “well we can’t Die” this is a great concept thank you for this

and don’t worry i didn’t think you sounded salty at all!!! i also like talking to people with different styles and tastes because hey music is subjective that’s the point!! fun fact about me i Cannot listen to ballads i get either bored or sad i just can’t do it- but i LOVE a good hard-hitting vocal song (which is probably why i love vrvr so much, they Never do empty choruses they always bring out the energy and vocal power at the chorus. also phobia by stray kids. AMAZING vocal song)

yes maniac DID slap i’ve got that song on LITERAL REPEAT ALL THE TIME maniac my beloved

- vrvr anon

yayyy red hair!! im glad ur happy with it i love red hair (both dyed and natural) i bet it looks so cool :> and yea thats the spirit!! strawberry shortcake era lol absolutely

oh to be a village witch... man u really COULD be a village witch with the red hair like. that would really seal the image i think HSGFJFBFGJF... strawberry shortcake village witch!!

YES LMAO im just picturing shion leaning out of the window or something screaming like "WHOOO HELL YEAH!!" like you would in a car while jaan is pulling him back by the back of his shirt like "jesus fucking cHRIST shion have you no regard for your own life--" and shion just goes "WHAT life?" and keeps on screaming lmao. jaan just groans and goes "if i still had a working heart y'all would give me a fucking heart attack" (also youre welcome i love talking about this kind of stuff, my enha mutuals and i have been long-term masters of the silly au ^^)

hell yea music is subjective!!! i always say (kinda to myself cuz ive never been in the situation to say it to anyone else lol) that music is music. theres nothing thats not "real" music because its ALL real music. the fact that theres so many different styles/genres that cater to so many different people is a wonderful thing!!

i legit feel the same about ballads tho, it takes a LOT for me to actually get into a kpop group ballad and usually they just feel basically the same as every other kpop group's ballads, so it doesnt excite me that much. like they can still be good or sound nice, but a lot of the time it just feels like they made a ballad for the sake of making a ballad yknow? as far as kpop goes, the hard-hitting vocal stuff is where its AT for me, which is why—just like you said!—vrvr is becoming one of my favorites music-wise because all their songs (well title tracks at least) are like that!! youre so right about them never doing empty choruses and bringing out the energy and vocal power in ever song, i love it so much—its why get away enamored me so much when i first heard it, same with thunder, trigger, and undercover! and their title tracks that are less hard-hitting (lay back and O) are some of my favorites as well, theyre just so SMOOTH and SILKY and it makes my brain go BRRRRR

my love of vocals is why a lot of my favorite groups ARE my favorite groups in the first place. like, enha's title tracks are almost completely vocal, and both them and txt are absolute b-side kings. also idk if you know them, but e'last is musically my top favorite kpop group, because not only are their title tracks vocally beautiful, but they also have this really dramatic, orchestral sound i just love <3

funfact: i heard maniac for the first time in my school theater. it was literally the day it came out and they were playing it before a pep rally or something, and my thought process was something along the lines of "huh whatever this is it kinda slaps" "this isnt english" "wait is that chAN!?" it was fun lol

#asks #anon 📝 #vrvr anon

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hello everyone. im having a crisis

#💌📫.txt #dont read this if u dont care lol im just getting it al out u know.. i pile it on my friends all the time and i feel bad #n e ways. im thinking and really im not that good at anything #and im not sure if i want to pursue art as a career anymore #but im not good at anything else!!! im not even that good of an artist!!!!!! #i also like....... dont reallt have any creative ideas anymore and it sucks because like. what am i supposed to do #do you know what ive been doing for the past week. sitting in my room listening to music and daydreaming and daydreaming gets me no where #and makes me sad bc all the stuff that happens in its never gonna happen 🤣🤣🤣 #and a lot of the stuff im daydreaming isnt even that big its just like. dating someone and falling in love which im convinced atthis point #is not going to happen!!!!!!!! #i want to do more creative stuff like make videos and draw more but im not even that funny and my art isnt that good. so tberes that #idk i feel like i just want to make other people smile. if i could make someone else who might be having a bad day. or be in a bad point in #their life can just sit down n look at something ive made. n smile or laugh id b happy #but i just feel... empty. lmao