#OR do high contrast and throw in a forth color. get some yellow in there you can make it a reference. something something coins money idk

[risingsunresistance]

im gonna be real techno's merch is ugly as hell. sorry

[dokidokey]

when you drag sakusa out to a very early morning / very late night meteor shower watching, he thinks how it would end up if he confessed the feelings he’s been harboring for a long time now.

pairings: sakusa kiyoomi x reader

prompt: “you woke me up at 3 am for this?”

genre: fluff

warnings: platonic relationship, pining

word count: 1,700

notes: my 2nd hqhq server collab yay! THIS is the masterlist consisting of other writers who participated, check it out!

Apart from Sakusa’s love for cleaning products, especially green apple-flavored sanitizers, he also loves his sleep. He cherishes it as much as he does his hand sanitizers. So when he hears his phone ring in the middle of the night, he’s already thinking about how he’s going to make you pay for disturbing his sleep.

You aren’t calling though. It’s an alarm he knows he never set up. 2:50 AM glares right back at him from his phone screen, and much to his dismay, he hears his bedroom door open and in walks you, in all your grinning glory.

“Hi!” You greet him, giving a little wave of your hand before you tuck it back behind you. “So. . . you’re awake.”

“You think?”

A sheepish smile graces your face as you rock back and forth on your heels. Sakusa trusts you enough to let you inside his room, being that you’re his roommate and, dare he say it, best friend. He takes it as an achievement that his cleanliness rubbed off on you. Whenever Bokuto or anyone from his team would come over, he didn’t have to stress himself over how much of their germs would get transferred inside his  things and yours because you do it for him. Sometimes he thinks you’re more extreme than he ever was.

“I told you I was going to wake you up but you didn’t say anything? So I just set up an alarm for you, just in case,” you shrug nonchalantly. Then you add, “besides, I don’t do this often so don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” he asks, pushing his comforter off him and sliding on his slippers.

“That look!” You accuse, pointing a finger at his face. You follow Sakusa as he makes his way to his bathroom, leaning on the doorway and watching him as he opens the faucet. “Like you’re so bored.”

Kiyoomi meets your gaze on your reflection in the mirror. “Maybe I am.”

You groan, crossing your arms and frowning at him. Sakusa ducks his head down as he gathers a handful of water on his palms and splashes it onto his face. Honestly speaking, he really doesn’t mind that you woke him up at this hour. Bokuto has long bled his ears off about his obvious crush on you and it came off as a surprise to Sakusa that it was Bokuto that noticed first. The rest of MSBY knew it some time after when they overheard Bo blackmailing him to attend one of their parties.

The only person that still doesn’t know is you.

And he prefers it this way. This way, where he doesn’t have to tiptoe around you. You’ve been friends for a long, long time now and Kiyoomi knows you like the back of his hand. He can tell anyone that asks that he knows how you use your handkerchiefs in a color-coordinated way － starting from red to black, like a rainbow of some sorts. Kiyoomi knows that you wake up at 6:15 in the morning. That is after you snooze your other alarms that have a 5-minute interval.

He’s fine like this, with you frowning at him from the doorway of his bathroom at this ungodly hour in the morning rather than getting rejected. Because if you liked him back, you would pay attention to him, right? You’d notice things the way he notices things about you. You’d see him in another light than everybody else. You’d be hyperaware because that’s how Kiyoomi is with you.

But you aren’t, so he turns around and reaches over to grab his face towel to dry his skin. “What do you want, anyway?”

“You really weren’t paying attention to me!” You cry, throwing your hands in the air as you step away and plops yourself on his bed, facedown.

Now that he thinks about it, Sakusa has no recollection of you telling him about waking up this early, so it must have been one of those rare instances he was preoccupied with something else. “So?” He prods as he steps out of the bathroom and grabs his phone, “what?”

“I’m not telling you,” you shout but it’s muffled against the covers of the bed. You stand up, grab his wrist, and push his door open. He says nothing as you lead him out of your shared apartment and inside the elevator, pushing the button to the highest floor. Once you reach the top, you both trudge up the metal stairs that leads to the rooftop.

The air is biting as it touches Kiyoomi’s skin, sweeping his hair back like a black veil. The city below is alive with the constant honks of the cars and the lights that almost rival the stars, giving the horizon a yellow haze.

“What are we doing here?” He asks, walking closer to the edge but not touching the railing.

“We wait,” he hears you reply.

“So you woke me up at 3 AM for this?” Sakusa is confused. “For real?”

You hum enthusiastically, head bobbing up and down as you smile at him. Your eyes form crescents, contrasting the real one that’s hanging quite full above. You turn away from him, giving him the chance to study your side profile. You really are beautiful. A light chuckle escapes his lips when he notices the slight bump on the bridge of your nose. Sakusa has woken up to countless mornings of you complaining about how much you don’t like it.

“It’s cold out here,” he mumbles, pocketing his hands to keep them warm. He wonders how you can stand the cold breeze in a tank top, a part of your chest and your arms exposed.

You huff and roll your eyes, scrunching your nose. “I know but who cares?”

“I do.”

You huff again, crossing your arms and leaning slightly on him. Sakusa is aware of the way your hair bites against his skin, of the feel of your arms against his. It feels warm, enough so that a shiver crawls up his spine.

“Oh, there they are!”

His thoughts are disrupted with a pointed finger aimed at the sky. He squints as he looks to where you’re pointing and there it goes, streaks of white painting the darkness. He watches as they fall collectively, highly aware of your grip on his arms now. An arm is wrapped around his bicep, both palms laid flat on his skin. It burns and it hurts to have you close like this, dangling at the very ends of his fingertips without any chance of having you fully.

Your giddiness is adorable though. You’re practically bouncing on the tips of your toes, eyes wide and alert for more coming comets as they rain down the atmosphere. A small squeak of surprise and wonder alike would fall from your lips every time, and comes with it is the gentle feeling of your grip on him getting a little tighter.

“Oh, that one’s so bright, Omi!” You gasp. Sakusa follows your finger to a bright falling meteor, streaking the sky brightly. You both watch as it falls and gradually gets swallowed by the dark.

“Do you know Halley’s comet?” You inquire suddenly. Your eyes are the brightest of all the lights and stars tonight as you look at him with a pout. “Do you?” You softly prod.

Kiyoomi shakes his head with a hum. He lied. He does know what it was. How could he forget when it was the very first topic you talked to him about when you got partnered for a science project way back in high school.

“It’s like the most famous comet of all, how can you not know?” You look at him dramatically, face scrunched up. “It shows up around every. . . sixty eight. . . ? No, around seventy five years, I think. God, I’d be so damn old. I don’t even know if I’ll live long enough to see that,” you exasperate. Kiyoomi barely absorbs the words you’re enthusiastically discussing. He knows he should be paying attention to your words but how can he when you’re right there? You’re distracting enough and the fact that you’re now latched onto his arm is making his head spin.

You sigh as you put a foot forward, toeing the concrete. “People who can see it twice are so lucky. Yeah, sure, I’d see it but I’m so old then? I don’t even know if my eyes can still see clearly when that happens.”

Sakusa flicks your forehead. “You talk like you aren’t always squinting today,” he says. “I told you many times to get your eye checked.”

“My eyes are totally fine!”

“You can’t even read the text on the menu last week! I don’t even know how you saw those meteors.”

A pinch is delivered to the skin above Sakusa’s wrist and he flinches. He pinches you right back and contemplates the thoughts that are running through his head right this moment. Tonight is a great opportunity to confess his feelings or ruin your friendship. If it goes well, then good for him. If it doesn’t, at least it ended quite decently. Right?

His mouth is moving before he fully processes the words he’s saying.

“I could wait for that comet with you,” he says and he almost throws up. It sounded so disgusting and cheesy and so unlike him that he is sure Atsumu would never let him live that down if he heard.

“Omi.” You choke out a laugh, patting the back of his hand, “Atsumu is never going to let you live that down.

Sakusa groans internally, his jaw clenching as his stance goes rigid. Is that your way of rejecting him?

“But sure,” you muse and his heart rate picks up, “I just hope you won’t drop me when I’m old and wrinkly.”

And there goes his unplanned attempt at confession that went by way smoother than he expected, excluding the fact that he lowkey got rejected. It’s pretty evident you don’t return his feelings. He’s more stressed now about how he will break this news to Bokuto tomorrow at practice.

“As long as you’re clean,” Kiyoomi replies, “I think we’ll go a long way.”

[iotona]

Love

Hey again, I wrote something! And don’t ask why I keep coming up with ideas that include pets bc idk either. It’s Arthur x reader, 1500+ words, and fluff/romance? You won’t cry that’s all I know, I think? Thanks for giving it a look!

Love; a word that Arthur had almost forgotten. A one syllable sound that warmed the hearts of many and for others, indescribable pain. Long were the nights Arthur spent at the pub, downing as much alcohol as his body would allow, and entertaining any pretty skirt that so much as flashed him a darling smile. If he wasn’t out on the streets, then he would recluse to his room at the mansion living off of only bitter coffee and the sting in his back that reminded him of all the guilt and shame he carried over the years.

Recently, Arthur tossed in bed for entirely different reasons, obsessing over the tingling in his belly every time he thought of you. When you walked through the door, love came with. It certainly didn’t make itself prevalent right away, oh no. He didn’t feel it when he had the privilege of meeting you, and he surely didn’t see it when he tried to scare you off. But a slow burning feeling that first took his heart by surprise when you had flashed him a smile. It was a small grin like any other pretty lady he took to bed, why would this be any different? Maybe it was the context of his joke, maybe it was the dim lighting of the mansion at night, or the smell of the food you made just for him after his days of writing in solitude. Arthur couldn’t put his finger on why his chest suddenly felt lukewarm and his stomach tingled, nor did he really try, but soon found himself finding love everywhere he went. 

Affection oozed out of every cup of coffee you brought him, seeped into the smell of his clothes that you left folded on his bed, and blinded him with every outburst of laughter you blessed him after each cheeky jest. Time spent in his room became less with each day, the dark demons of his past quickly suppressing under the weight of his newfound feelings. Chasing this high, Arthur spent endless nights awake in bed rethinking every interaction between you two. He often planned his days to conveniently intercept yours and you gladly obliged to have his company. And when you agreed to be his little assistant in your free time, ohh did his heart do a million flips. 

Arthur’s interest in you soon became adoration. Reverence ruled his thoughts when he watched you work. Your intelligence to solve puzzles, your empathy to communicate and relate, your drive, persistence, your intuition to know what was fishy and what was not impressed him. With all his playfulness, some days Arthur wasn’t sure he’d get through a case without your point of view, but he’d never tell you that. In fact, the one instance you made a small comment about the look of frustration on his brow, he fixed himself with a handsome smile and teased about something or another to deter your focus.

Eventually, your own fondness began to show. Small blushes at Arthur’s praises and nicknames. The way you leaned into even the smallest of touches. How you went out of your way to ensure Arthur had hot coffee and a fresh snack while he wrote. Lending an ear to his stories and giving ample feedback. 

Arthur was positive this couldn’t last forever, nothing good and pure ever does. So when the darkness latched onto his legs and held him there, he was sure you wouldn’t come calling, even as it enveloped him once again. He no longer made an effort to leave his room, to eat, to drink, to socialize, or to find you, the precious woman from the future. He was confident that was it, you’d return to through the door soon and he would continue the torturous life he was meant to endure. 

Little did the sad man sitting on his overly worn writing chair realize how stubborn you actually were. He had underestimated you, entirely, until the day you came knocking his door down. It was sudden, he didn’t have an ounce of mental energy to understand the earful you were giving him over his astonishment. Something about how cold his coffee must be, and how he couldn’t possibly feel any better in a room so dark. You threw open his curtains and glared at him with a look that had him ashamed and shaking in his Oxford’s simultaneously. And very much like a lost puppy, Arthur agreed to accompany you to the town for bread, something so simple yet so domestic. You swore his wide bewildered eyes never left you that day and ever since then you constantly use that ammunition to your own device.

Then you did something so beyond his comprehension that even now, as he sits in the parlor of the mansion playing a game of chess with Theo, his mind keeps wandering to the night before instead of the bet that lay before him. Like many times before you had accompanied Arthur and Theo to the pub. The night was full of laughs and jokes, drinks to go around, as was per usual. You thought your heart would explode when Arthur suggested a dance and without waiting for your response, tugging on your hand. The music was upbeat, jovial and one too many spins mixed with liquor had you melting into his form when he pulled you close for a slow careen back and forth. You thought, in your inebriated state, how your legs would have probably given out if it wasn’t for Arthur’s hold on your waist and the other holding your hand close to his heart. Buzzing with not only drink but by how captivated you were with the man standing in front of you, you giggled and babbled about how his nose tickled you from brushing so close to your ear. You were so tipsy that when Arthur looked at you with a faint blush and the intent to apologize that you rose to your tip toes and pulled on the lapels of his jacket into a sweet kiss. A kiss that didn’t last long, but enough to deepen the red on his cheeks when you finally pulled away. The rest of the night muddled together, and you hadn’t seen each other since retiring to bed for the night. 

Arthur wasn’t afraid of what lay before him now, but his anxiety was evident by the way he bounced his leg up and down during the match, eyebrows furrowed in thought, and eyes boring into the table. Theo thought maybe it was due to the way he was severely losing this game, but when did Arthur ever lose? That itself was incredibly strange, but Theo being the man to not pry did not ask. And thus they continued moving the pieces until Arthur’s inevitable loss. 

Again the tiny statues were placed on small white and black squares, to their start. A pawn here, a knight there, Arthur’s gaze was caught by the flash of a bright green skirt out the nearby window. Abruptly standing up, he was completely enamored by the sight before him. Fresh, white, sparkling snow lazily fluttered through the air, remnants of this morning’s storm, adorning every surface outside. The serene and peaceful scene contrasted the way you were running through the mansion’s lower cut bushes and abruptly crouching behind one. If it wasn’t for the spirited look in your face as you peaked around the corner he would’ve thought you were in danger. But who exactly were you running from? Arthur received his answer when two furry four legged dogs came barreling around one side of the building and stopping to smell the air. 

Vic was the first to get a scent, and most importantly following your footsteps in the snow. You realized your failure in not being able to cover your tracks and slowly crouched behind another layer of bushes in hopes to throw off the pooch. The crunch of your boots over the fresh snow alerted the bi-colored dog, his small legs immediately running in the direction of the noise, tongue out and ears flapping in joy of the game, just like a certain owner. In an attempt to flee you stood to try and run back, only to find a yellow haired lab blocking your path, foiling your plans. Accepting defeat as both animals ran towards you in glee, you dropped to your knees to deliver many pets and kisses. Little did you know the amount of force King accumulated running towards you, he tried to stop but slipping across the fresh snow until his body collided with yours. If you had learned anything from Isaac’s Laws of Physics it was that a large dog using you as a cement block was not going to end well. You both tumbled into the white fluff, each dog wasting no time in pressing their little wet noses onto your face and neck. The sniffling and small licks had you elated, tickling your sensitive skin, and filling the air with your loud shrieks and giggles. 

“Oi, are you going to take your turn?” A particularly annoyed voice sounded from behind Arthur, to which he could only hum in response, give a smooth smile, and hustle out the door to you. 

Arthur knew then that any trace of doubt slowly dissolved. He was utterly, completely, and wholly infatuated with you. Every fiber, every bone, every time his heart beat, it was all vibrating with yearning for you. He finally knew and understood the meaning of love. All from you.

If you made it this far, thank you! Feedback is always welcome. :)

tagging: @kisara-16 (thank you for proof reading <3), @nad-zeta

[oppoison-art]

Ok, question, have you considered a Steven Universe AU for JoJo? If so I would love to know your take on it!

Don’t get me started on SU AU’s I had a whole blog dedicated to me and my friends gemsona’s and how they fit into the SU world called “The Imperfects”

BUT since you ASKED (and these are based more off personalities rather than appearance/color)

( Also, these are those depicted on my blog! I will attempt to go into more detail if anyone interested but this is all for now and it is L O N G )

Jonathan - Topaz

From what we’ve seen of them they were big hulking gems used more for defense and guarding than offense attack but would also be nothing to scoff at in a battle. Not to mention the ones we did see really didn’t want to hurt anyone. 

Speedwagon - zircon

The persecuting and defensive gems in the diamond court case, I feel like Speedwagon would be a good one. He’s smart, a good judge of character and has a good heart. The zircon on stevens side wanted to do her best to help him even though he was technically an enemy, just like SW wasn’t originally on Jonathan's side but had a change of heart when he really spoke with him and heard of his noble quest to save his father. They also seem to have a bit of an anxious streak and that suites our beloved SW as well.

I imagine they’d escape to the off-color caves after Jonathan refuses to hurt someone and is put on trial only for SW to not agree with the results and choose to save his life putting them both on the lamb with their only option to be to retreat underground.  

Joseph - Tigers Eye

Although we don’t see one in the show it just seems like something that would fit Joseph’s colorful and unique personality as well as it retains some color quality of a Topaz with a twist of it’s own. It’s also said to be a stone meant for clearing out anxiety and fear to bring peace, balance and stimulate action and decision making which I think sums up Josephs character pretty well. 

Caesar - Aquamarine

The aquamarines we met were callous and prideful in their gemstones as well as obviously high-class gems. They’re efficient, ruthless and skilled, just like our favorite bubble blowing baby. Their snotty attitudes seem to match him well, as well as when they decide to go easy on their partner rather than report them to the diamonds which means they do have some reluctant compassion. 

They’d probably end up a Romeo and Juliet situation where they both operate under a different diamond but something draws them together, with Joseph being a little too impulsive and Caesar a little too strict and always lecturing him but never reporting or stopping his behavior. However one of Josephs pranks goes too far and he’s sentenced to be shattered on one of the earth’s spires. Caesar tries to use his status to beg for his life but it proves useless, leaving him no choice, he takes him and jumps. The fall and extra weight damage his wings leaving him with only the ability to conjure water bubbles. Joseph feels guilty be Caesar sees it as a start to their new life. 

Jotaro - Garnet

Cold and calculating but with a surprisingly sweet side and unexpected sense of humor. Garnet seems to suit Jotaro to a T, not to mention being incredibly powerful (however he is not two lesbians in a trenchcoat) He always seems to have a plan and know what’s going to happen next. The rock that everyone relies on, Jotaro as a garnet is both the sword and the shield.

Kakyoin - Pearl

Originally made to bend to everyone’s will but his own Kakyoin is a pearl that fights back. He’s polite, intellectual, and respected among the ranks of the crystal gems. Having escaped from the clutches of homeworld he was originally made on earth, but on a raid to clear a village to make room for a new kindergarten he found himself appalled at homeworlds methods and rebelled from his general and master.

They meet on the battlefield. Jotaro fighting for homeworld and Kakyoin for the earth and crystal gems. Their weapons clash as their fight takes on an unbelievable intensity and at one point Jotaro tears the scarf kakyoin wraps around himself to hide his gem. In that moment of confusion upon seeing it’s a pearl he’s fighting Kakyoin gets the upper hand and Jotaro is poofed. Later he reforms in a destabilization chamber on a broken ship with Kakyoin waiting for him.  The pearl demands why he held back during their fight and Jotaro counters with asking what a pearl is doing on the front lines, if he had some kind of death wish. Their conversation goes back and forth for some time before Kakyoin sits on the floor opposite his captive and end’s up regaling his tale of servitude, horror at the destruction of the diamonds and how he decided to change because he wanted to be something more. For the first time, Jotaro questions his purpose, and wonders if there’s more to life than being a made to order soldier. 

Josuke - Rose Quartz

A made to order soldier, as is any quartz. But they don’t lack for personality. They are smart, compassionate and even a bit naive. However, they are more of a backline soldier that in the meantime gather resources and help in the creation of more kindergartens. They are stil respected and powerful gems that enjoy games and the company of others, with the ability to hurt and heal they make a fearsome enemy and kind ally. A bit childish at times but powerful and sweet Josuke would make a perfect rose quartz.

Okuyasu - Amythest

Similar to the rose quartzes amethysts are also made to order soldier type gems however they are a stronger more durable gemstone made moreso for the frontlines and guard work. They tend to be on the goofier and denser side of the quartz spectrum with them being the most expendable and easiest to control as for the others made to be more general types such as jaspers. However, what they may lack in strategery they make up for in power. Amythests are formidable opponents and can be darkly serious when it matters, a stack contrast to their typical fun-loving and silly nature.  

Josuke and Oku meet on earth in their respective kindergarten. Although they both popped out knowing what they were, what their purpose was everything seemed to stop when they met. A connection of some kind, a feeling of fate or some kind of magnetism. They met in the middle as the rest of their gems march on around them. Josuke cracks a small smile and says ‘nice gemstone’ Okuyasu lets out a laugh and says ‘thanks i like yours too’. After they get so lost in conversation they don’t notice their agates watching them and suddenly they've pulled apart and directed to opposite sides of the kindergarten to stand in formation. Reluctantly they return but keep their eyes on each other. The pair is soon known as a couple of troublemakers, constantly getting distracted from their work and stopping to talk much to the annoyance of their authoritative gems and needing to be ordered back to their work. It all came to a head one day however when Josuke’s agate, sick of watching them disobey orders, she forcibly got between them, destabilizer in hand. Her intention to poof the rose quartz and send him to the opposite side of the galaxy where they would never see each other again. It took Okuyasu everything he had to fight off the gems holding him down but in a fit of rage, he managed to fight them off and throw himself into Josuke before the destabilizer hit him and there was a burst of white light. When he next came too he and Josuke were in a forest, apparently safe for now. 

Giorno - Agate

Giorno is a yellow agate in charge of the human zoo. It was a place off-color gems with no real place on homeworld were sent for a chance to have a purpose. Misshapen amethysts and disproportional jaspers were his crew, not that he minded. Despite being overcooked himself, he was a bit too short, he took his role seriously and commanded the respect of the other gems despite his imperfections. A natural leader and commanding presence Giorno is respected everywhere he goes and has amassed quite the following.

Mista - Ruby

A ruby in the elite guard in charge of protecting the agate in charge of the human zoo, Mista isn’t quite like the average ruby. Undercooked, he stands taller over most and towers over his charge, a yellow agate. He’s a bit of a dunce at times and can be spacey during boring conversations or events but he takes his duty seriously and speaks casually, even to his superior, however, the agate does not seem to mind his friendliness. Mista is a great ruby, a quick thinker and he throws himself into his job, but off hours he’s fun lovable and ditsy, making him a favorite among his peers. 

Mista and Giorno because of their roles spend a decent amount of time together, and often times Mista ends up making empty one-sided conversations as they wander the halls of the ship, uncomfortable with silence. He’d gotten used to the silence that it was a surprise when the agate indulged him by responding one day. After that, they talked fairly regularly as they checked the status of the ship and its inhabitants. They established a comfort, so much so Giorno ended up letting it slip one night that he’d love to visit the planet the humans' hail from and see the organic life he’d grown to adore inside the zoo. The plants, the water, the animals, it was a rare wild beauty within the sterile walls of the diamond authority. Mista on an impulse suggested the go to earth, much to the surprise of the agate. But Mista explained nothing ever changes, its the same in and out, he was sure anyone would be able to handle it, like holly blue agate. A ruthless commander and Giornos second in command, if anyone would be able to handle it, it would be her. And so for a night, they planned to escape and see the earth, but, suppose a night turned into a few thousand.

[okimargarvez]

FEW HOURS IN LUKE ALVEZ’S MIND - 1

Original title: Few hours in Luke Alvez’s mind.

Prompt: Luke’ POV, memory of war.

Warning: quote of 12x1.

Genre: comedy, family, angst, friendship.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, BAU team.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot.

Legend: 🔦🐶.

Song mentioned: none.

Few hours in Luke Alvez’s mind- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

Part 1-

I spend the whole evening thinking about what Rossi has told me. I was happy to receive that call. Being among the first to know that Daniel Cullen, aka the Crimson King, had participated in the great escape, was very positive. From that cursed day I couldn't take the image out of my head of that monster while was quartering my partner, and, what I never say when I tell the story of his capture, even my best friend. It's something that will haunt me for a lifetime. And of bad things, with the work I do, it's not that I have no way of seeing them.

Is not even to be discussed if I'll collaborate with the BAU, the answer is obviously yes. I want to capture Cullen as much as, but what I’m saying, far more than them. The only thing that kept me going in this period was knowing him right behind bars. But I don't want to definitively join the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I'm not a profiler. I don't see myself trying to penetrate the perverse minds of people like Cullen, or worse. And what I do now, I like it. I can't say I adore it, no, but I feel good and in the end, it's not that you can always expect the best.

Roxy enters the room, in all her splendor. As usual, she manages to make me stop thinking about work and tear me a smile. -Come here.- I say, making a sign her to sit on the couch next to me. And she does it, in a rather stormy way. A pillow falls on her head. I stroke her, and she reciprocates me with a kiss.

-What do you say, let's go to bed?- she seems to nod and so we get up, heading towards the bedroom, one next to the other. Another of the things for which I didn't completely lose my mind is her. She stayed near me, during this period. I love her more than my life.

I don't think I will be able to rest seriously, but I must at least try. Tomorrow will be a long day. Wake up early and go to Washington. Roxy certainly will not like the idea of ​​moving. She adores the landscapes of this area, the long tree-lined avenues, the fragrant bushes. But at least until Daniel Cullen goes back where he has to stay permanently (on the other side of the bars), I'll have to go to Quantico very often, so I think it's better that we have a place to stay, so we don't have to come back and forth. And surely, I couldn't leave her here alone, I miss her terribly.

 The alarm rings while I'm finishing to get dress. I anticipated it for a full fifteen minutes. As I had imagined, I could hardly close my eyes. I've traveled through several mini dreams, I don't even know if I can define them, I don't remember most of them, but I seem to remember the atmosphere, dark, absurd, properly dreamlike. Some of those were vaguely related about a sort of interview to be hired as a profiler, although it isn't something I want, in reality. Some people all the same, both as clothes and as a physical appearance, indistinguishable between men and women, they asked me quickfire questions, not even I was under questioning or they were making me the test of polygraph. And my answers were always wrong or inaccurate. Only the fact of returning to the real world, panting, sweating and with an extra weight on my heart, convinced me that I had slept at least one or two hours altogether.

Fortunately, the plane lands without a minute's delay, ignoring the fact that, predicting the worst, I booked to get to Quantico an hour earlier. Here I am in front of the headquarters of the Bureau: immense, very high, reminds me of certain buildings filmed in the poetic documentaries of the avant-garde (the influence of my brother is felt). It certainly helps to instill in those who are about to enter, a certain sense of authority and smallness by contrast. But I'm only here as a collaborator, what tormented me is just a dream and it doesn't come close to reality.

As soon as I set foot inside, I am shocked by the number of stairs that branch out in every direction and the counters with beautiful secretaries, apparently available. But I don't need to ask for any information, Rossi has already told me what I needed to know. And so, I take the elevator (normally I wouldn't do it, but I don't want to get sweaty right the day I get to know the other members of the unit, with whom I'll have to spend some time anyway...). I arrive in a flash, too quickly, and I'm immediately punished for this lazy choice: my head is now turning, and a certain sense of nausea is rising... Reminder for the future: don't take the elevator any more.

I risk of bumping into a blonde woman, busy carrying a lot of cards. It'll be my gaze, which despite my efforts is still disoriented, or it'll be her precarious position, the fact is that she raises her eyes to mine a moment before our bodies are likely to collide and this is enough to recognize me as the newcomer, the exterior.

-Hey, you are Luke Alvez, the man of the task force?- her voice isn't exactly as I guessed, it's decided and transmits a great determination. Apparently, she looks like a pretty, sweet woman, but I think she'll reserve more surprises. I nod.

-Exactly, I must have right a lost air, for being caught on the first shot...- I throw one of my friendly smiles. She gives me her right hand, I squeeze it. From the corner of my eye I notice a beautiful wedding ring in the ring finger of the other hand.

-Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ.- it sounds good, it sounds good for her. -I imagine you're here for the case of the Crimson King...- just hearing that nickname make me nervous, but if her notice it, she doesn't seem to give it much weight. -Wait that I place these folder, then I'll show you the way.- she starts heading to a door, I follow her. -We were just about to make a meeting to talk about the progress made so far. Thanks to you, less than half of the escapees came back inside.- in saying the last sentence, she turns to me and gives me a very warm and sincere smile.

-I only did my job...- a lines that seems extrapolated from a classic Hollywood police film. JJ giggles anyway. She opens a locker, throws inside everything she has in her hands, then she closes it.

-Well, we can go.- I nod, without saying anything and I follow her, looking around intrigued, hoping that at least it won't be notice, everything: it is very different from the place where I work, is full of desks, each "decked out" personal way, higher up there must be the offices of the "big bosses". We arrive at the door, this is transparent but so that those on the other side can see us, but not us him. It turns out to be a fairly small room, in the center a round table, chairs, a screen, a blackboard directly attached to one of the glass walls. Sitting on one of them there is just Rossi, next to him a dark-haired man, completely focused on the documents he is reading, but even so it seems to convey a shady air. The Italian-American looks up at the sound of someone entering and realizes that besides JJ there is also someone new, me.

-Luke!- he stands up and reaches us. -I'm glad you managed to get there on time. I see you've met JJ...- we both nod. Even the other man, who should be the boss, is approaching. -Hotch, this is the boy- this term makes me feel extremely young -that helped us to take those criminals...- I feel a certain embarrassment or perhaps it is more awe, when I meet the gaze of the boss.

-Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. Aaron Hotcher.- the tone in this case fits perfectly to his person, but also reveals that behind that armor in one piece there is a man loyal to duty but that puts the whole heart in everything he does. Maybe I should really do the profiler, I do nothing but shoot judgments on anyone starting from nuances of the voice and ways of doing, as I have set foot in Quantico. He holds out his hand and for the umpteenth time, certainly not the last, I find myself doing this formal ritual.

-Luke Alvez.- at the same time a tall, slender, professional-looking brunette woman comes.

-Excuse the delay, the damn coffee machine has decided not to cooperate...- she notices me early enough, not that it is a very complex operation. Probably they didn’t explain to all members of the team the possibility of a collaboration on my part, because she appears confusing. I don’t know whether to resolve the problem directly or if I have to wait for the boss to introduce me. In the end, luckily, Rossi thinks about it.

-Tara, remember that we asked for someone who could help us to capture the escapees?- after a few seconds, she nods. For a moment she seems lost in who knows what memory. -Here, he is our trump card- if he continues like this, he will make me blush -Luke Alvez , task force.- I approach her, shake her hand, her is a very delicate hold, perfectly matched with the tone of her velvety voice.

-Tara Lewis.- I hope that for now the pleasantries are over, but it is a rather utopian desire. I seemed to remember that they were more, of course, a few months ago they lost one of their member, some voices have come in my house, he was kidnapped him and then someone had shot his pregnant wife... logical that he decided to move on. However, they still seem to me too few.

-Unfortunately we can’t begin, we must wait for our computer technician.- Hotchner explains, probably turning more to me than to others. I nod, everyone sits down, so I do too. A few minutes later the door opens (apparently for the last time) and, stumbling, hidden by a pile of yellow folders that remind me of the years in the police, and a computer, enters a woman, a spot of various shades of pink and yellow, the color of her hair. Of course, when the boss told "our computer technician", I thought he was referring to a man, but it was a masculine thought, the result of a legacy still present in our society, however much we would deny it and affirm the opposite. Resting the material on the table, finally she reveals her figure, even if for a few seconds. She quickly distributes the folders, one in front of me and I can’t help but notice the amount of bracelets and the variety of shapes that adorn her arm, as well as the colored nails in a very creative way. OK, the nerds are pretty eccentric, but I could never have expected a similar computer scientist. Rossi tries to get her attention, but she clearly ignores him, preferring to dedicate herself to the screen, which suddenly comes on.

-We can start.- Hotchner says solemnly. Nobody replies anything, only the blond woman, the only one left standing, who nods and handling what looks like a common remote control, starts the presentation of the case.

-As you all know, not the all evaded have yet been captured. Last night, in Durham, a man was sighted whose description corresponded exactly to that of the wanted number one: Peter Lewis, aka Mister Scratch.- first a map appears to locate exactly the detection area, next to a picture that I remember, one of the worst serial killers that America has known. Yet a part of me is distracted by the thought of how much the analyst's voice is sweet. Sweet, I can’t think of another adjective that can describe it well. -...unfortunately there are no cameras in that area, so we have only the testimony of a woman who was walking with her dog.- I try to go back to concentrating on serious things, even if it is a complex matter, because the gaze is attracted , willy-nilly, towards those bright colors that completely contrast with the things we are talking about in this room, with the photographs projected on the screen behind her (many victims of Scratch, almost used as a reminder to have one more reason to find him) and with the atmosphere in general.

-We have any kind of identikit?- Tara asks, sitting next to me. The woman, of whom I don’t even know the name, nods and here appears what is required. There is no doubt that there are significant similarities with the killer who enjoys not killing, preferring to push others to do so, prey to nightmares and dark visions.

-Unfortunately the situation remains virtually unchanged.- the comment seems to close the question, it’s the oldest in the room who has talking.

-Dave is right.- the boss is in agreement. -We can move on to the second topic of the day, the main reason why agent Alvez is among us.- I feel the lights of the spotlight on me. Without having to add anything else, every data about Lewis disappears and in its place, peeks out the seemingly normal face, perhaps even more frightening, of the criminal that I more hate, of the man who has ruined Phil's life and by reflex also mine, ripping off whole nights of sleep and serenity, that I will not get back...

-Daniel Cullen, also known as the Crimson King.- I realize after a few seconds that my hand is tigh in a fist. I try to relax, with poor results. -There is no news from the escape, but an anonymous source, a call from a telephone booth, to be exact. He told Durham police he had seen Cullen with Mister Scratch. This is the only thread we can follow to get out of the maze.- the joke rips out a few laughs to the colleagues, but not to Hotcher, who remains serious.

-If there are no other comments- he even says, almost scolding the blonde, who raises her eyes to the sky (probably they are used to it, among them will be a kind of game or ritual) -I would say that for today we can conclude. Agent Alvez, do you feel like joining us in the search?- is the simplest question someone could ask me. -We do not know exactly when the track on Cullen will open again.- he adds, but I have already made a decision.

-Sure.- he nods, satisfied.

-Ok, then if there isn’t other news, we will update tomorrow morning.- and repeated what looks like a formula now standardized, the meeting is dissolved, all stand up, JJ reaches the other blonde and exchange a few words with her, I can’t distinguish enough to understand the logical sense. And it should not interest me. I see Rossi and Tara coming out and, in a moment, we are left alone. It seems to me the right moment to conclude the presentations and finally to give a name to her too, which launches an almost painful and desperate look in the direction where her colleague has disappeared. Then I'll stop calling her just the blonde or computer technician.

-Hey, we haven’t be introduced yet, I'm the agent of the task force, Luke Alvez.- she seems to hardly direct the eyes in my direction and takes much longer than normal to allow them to cross with mine. Her are brown, but not dark, of various shades of hazelnut, framed beautifully by a pair of pink glasses (rightly matched to the clothes) and long and refined eyelashes.

-Penelope Garcia.- the tone is very different from the one she used during the meeting, absurdly it seems darker at this moment, than when she was intent on commenting horrible images. The name is interesting, certainly not really common, yet truly mythical or mythological. And the surname makes me think of a background that is closer to mine, and yet her appearance does not seem that of a Latin, American or not. We exchange a hasty close, which gives me the time to just guess the freshness of her skin. Even her ring finger, like that of JJ, is occupied by a ring, but unlike the other blonde, is in good company. You don’t need to be a profiler to say that she likes all kinds of wearable accessories. -Now I'm sorry, but I'm very busy.- said this, she takes her computer and virtually without even looking at me, leaves the room. That's why I could never be a good profiler: from the way she is dressed, she has talked and even from her tone of voice, I would have imagined anything but a woman as cold and detached as she seems now.

As I mull over, I look up and find myself in front of a tall, very young man, definitely more than me, lightly long and long brown hair, a particular look and a briefcase in one hand.

-Luke Alvez?- he asks and I wonder if by chance I don’t have an ID sticker printed on the front. I nod. -I’m Spencer Reid.- that name reminds me of some detail provided by Rossi (of course).

-Ah! No handshaking, right? Your reputation precedes you.- the other is pleasantly impressed and smiles.

-I just came back and we already have a case.- he goes to a desk, collects something, some sheets, a book, then closes his bag with a click. He turns in my direction and seems to be about to say something but is interrupted by the entrance of the three ladies of the BAU, two blondes and a brunette. The smallest accelerates the pace and reaches us.

-Spencer!- she exclaims with great joy, and then hugs him with a lot of transport. I move away a few inches, partly embarrassed to be unwittingly the third wheel in what seems like a private moment. Here comes the other two, Tara greets the young man with a smile, while Penelope takes the place of JJ, hugging him with a lot of tenderness.

-How are you, my boy wonder?- the voice takes with more force those sweet nuances that I had guessed while she was explaining the case and that has not had only with me. She doesn’t give him the time to answer. -And how is your mother?- but maternal is the adjective that I would use to describe her attitude, in general, towards Spencer. The way she scrutinizes him, apprehensively, her gestures, precise and delicate.

-She is much better.- he exclaims, opening his serious face in a big smile.

-JJ, where can I find your archive? I would like to see all the material you have about... Daniel Cullen.- the blonde nods, but glances at the computer technician.

-If you are looking for information, of any kind, she is the woman to whom you must address.- this phrase comes out with an almost complacent tone, even if I don’t understand the reasons. The other realizes that she has been called into question and turns towards us. -Garcia, could you help Luke find the complete file on the Crimson King?- she asks, before I can do it, leaving me a bit confused. I don’t understand why she seems to want to be an intermediary between us. Garcia nods, snorting and throwing a look that I would call homicidal, just directed to JJ, who smiles strangely once again. Something is happening that I'm completely unaware of. But for now, I decided to pretend nothing happened.

-Follow me.- says Penelope, without even looking at me, start to walking regardless of whether I'm behind her or not. I quickly greet the others and reach out to her. It makes me feel strange, that she is the only one that uses this formal tone. Even Hotch immediately talked to me in another tone and practically demanded the same from me. And after have seen her interact with Spencer, I don’t think she is a super formal type, but... maybe it's better to refrain from judging, for today. We enter a room surrounded by lockers, like those in the libraries where the old catalogs were kept. The rest is made up of files and rows of tables, each equipped with a computer that doesn’t seem to last generation at all. She approaches one, turning it on, typing in a password (even if I don’t have time to follow her fingers flickering on the keys) and the screen lights up. -Here, it is enough that you type the name you need in this space and you will see a list of everything you need. In part it will be directly present in the system in electronic format and if you want you can print a copy. Otherwise, an acronym will appear that corresponds to the location of the document you are looking for. At this point you will have to turn to one of the archivists.- she explains in a calm voice, totally devoid of those pretty inflexions she had just a moment ago. -Good work.- and she goes away.

-Thank you.- I reply, too late.

TAGS:  @arses21434 @kathy5654 @martinab26 @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @thinitta   @myhollyhanna23 @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado  @shyladystudentfan @cosmicmelaninflower @kiki-krakatoa  @pegasus-scifichick  @ leftlamphumanfestival 

[serenlyss]

Aura

Rating: G Pairings: Just generic friendship stuff, I guess some Ritshou if you squint but it’s not explicitly romantic Summary: Ritsu contemplates the nature of aura. Crossposted to AO3: Aura

So the AO3 MP100 tag has been pretty uuhh gross lately with the incest/pedo stuff so prevalent so @bisexualwinry made some fluff prompts for people to write and put some positivity in the tag! I'll be doing at least a few of them and I'll put them all under one series so you can read them all if you want. Today's prompt is "Aura". It's the first on the list but I'll be picking and choosing as inspiration strikes anyway. I'll leave a link to the prompt list here as well if you want to look at it! Anyway I hope you like this, it was nice to write something that was more stream of consciousness style.

MP100 Fluff Bomb Prompts

Ritsu considered his aura to be an extension of himself, as he was certain any other natural esper would agree. It was a part of him, and always had been, laying dormant beneath the surface of his skin until the moment it could finally be released. Now it was constantly there, humming in his muscles in a way he only noticed if he was looking for it. Over time, he’d started to notice the ways that his friends’ auras were different than his, each one unique. He noticed how they reflected the personality of their host and moved in ways that were starkly similar to that person’s own personality and mannerisms.

His aura was blue, he noticed, fading to bright magenta hues and, occasionally, showing a splash of teal in its ever-changing pattern. It never stood still, constantly fidgeting, tiny needles poking out from its otherwise smooth surface. His lack of experience created room for practice to smooth over the jerkiness of its movements and the bumpiness of its surface, something he strove for with ever menial task he turned to his telekinesis for. When he willed his aura to spill outward, to reach out for an object or person on whom he wished to use his power, it moved quickly and with precision, a reflexion of his own stubbornly single-minded nature. If he failed to concentrate fully, his aura would sometimes bubble and lose its shape before Ritsu hurried to reign it back in again. He’d spoken about it to his brother, who had confirmed that better control would come with practice and dedication.

Like him, Shigeo’s aura consisted of cool, gentle colors, blues and greens fading to saturated purples as it radiated off him. It rolled off him in waves, smooth and so very gentle, its touch soft and diminutive. Shigeo had always been careful with his powers, after all, and had gained a careful and intimate understanding of them over years of coexisting. When he used them, his aura moved like water, stretching and expanding to fit the space it needed, his movements concise and always exactly as he imagined them. Of course, they couldn’t always be perfectly tamed. In times when his emotions were high, his aura would build and expand from its usual space, jerking and shooting out in sharp needles as he fought to keep them safely contained. In times like these it appeared to those around him that such a large amount of power couldn’t possibly be contained in his tiny body. It would spill out of his body like a too-full bathtub, crossing some invisible threshold and bleeding out around him until he could calm down enough to suck it back within him. But he always calmed down, eventually, and he always apologized afterward, no matter how little anyone actually blamed him for it.

Teruki’s aura came across much brighter and louder, saturated yellows and oranges and greens spiking up all around his body much like his hair did. As a stark contrast to Shigeo’s carefully-contained aura, Teruki’s swirled around him almost constantly whenever he called on it, with a restless energy and bite to it that spoke of his underlying stubbornness. It coiled around him at his bidding, changing its shape at its owner’s whim and moving with a fluidity and flexibility that was reflected in its usefulness and variability. The multi-purpose nature of his aura combined with his incredibly quick mind and adaptability lent itself to his ability to pick up the subtle tricks and techniques of his beaten opponent, making those tricks his own and throwing them right back almost immediately. It was mesmerizing to watch how quickly and fluidly it would change, taking a dozen different forms within only a few minutes.

Claw’s artificial espers were different. To Ritsu, they were in a category of their own, their power all deriving from a single unending source, spread just a bit thinner over their ranks. They had all emanated that sickly red glow, dark and foreboding, each one a carbon copy of the next. The power was borrowed, and it was clear in the way their hosts would whip them back and forth with no real purpose. The power bent to their will, of course, but it wasn’t the same as if the power had really been truly theirs. There was a gravity to it, a tiny thread that inevitably connected them all back to the ocean of energy from which they came. That tie could never be broken, as much as the false espers might want to claim the power for their own.

Then, there was Shou.

Shou’s aura was very different from any other esper Ritsu had ever met, including the artificial espers of Claw. Bright red and orange and sizzling with carefully-contained energy, it clung to him like a wild animal, sinking its claws into anyone who dared get too close. It was fast and unpredictable, except to the person wielding it, and it crackled with something akin to electricity even as it laid dormant. Despite its wild tendencies, though, it bent to Shou’s pushes and prods immediately when he commanded it, well-trained and receptive to his commands. It was almost hypnotizing, watching the way his aura would flip this way and that, picking up items and discarding them with a flick of the wrist, always effortlessly under control. Ritsu could only imagine what it must have been like at the beginning, to be privy to a power that moved with such ferocity and vigor. He’d found Shou’s powers to be very intimidating at first, even after they’d become friends, but despite the way his aura moved it was always gentle and soft when it touched him. Now, the way Shou’s aura would reach out to him when they were close, would swirl around him protectively when he was in danger, was reassuring, reminding Ritsu that there was someone nearby he could rely on. He was lucky to have a friend like that.

Everyone’s aura was different, and each one of them fit its respective host perfectly and completely, whether it was Shigeo’s calm and comforting presence or Teru’s boisterous and energetic one. In any other person, those powers would cease to be compatible, like two personalities that didn’t mesh and constantly fought each other. The world was full of people, each one with a personality as unique as their own fingerprint, impossible to replicate and filled with discovers ripe for the making.

Yeah, Ritsu thought, laying on his back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling above him, the world really is full of so many kinds of people, isn’t it?

[lunacalf]

Rooftop | j.jk

pairing: Fem!Reader x Jeon Jungkook type: a bit of angst, fluff, typical romance w.c. : 2.4 k

               The icy chill of the weather was somehow bearable, the agonizing cold of winter was close to an end as spring was fast approaching with its bright, blooming colors. Currently preoccupied with the amount of books on your side, you claimed to have a busy day ahead of studying before the day of finals would come.

The library gives no empty seats as a lot of students have been occupying the stalls since the early morning, leaving little to no breaks for breakfast nor lunch. And though that it was unhealthy, you can’t seem to bother your stomach growling as of the moment as you kept on memorizing unfamiliar words that might appear on your exam next week.

It was eerily quiet through the day, as you got to force yourself to leave the vicinity during the dusk. You aren’t keen on bringing the heavy, hard-bounded textbooks of yours as you detoured upstairs towards the row of lockers on the fourth floor. Breathing out a heavy sigh, you let go of the books within your clutch and onto the tiled floor before unlocking your compartment.

You expected to find your locker to have a large portion of space underneath, but you were surprised to discover a yellow note, folded in secrecy of its contents. Your hand itched to unfold it, but due to your tired expression, you only kept it within the pocket of your bag and proceeded with dumping the books inside before going back home.

It wasn’t until the morning when you remembered the little yellow note that’s still tucked in your bag, after slumping onto your bed last night you forgot to unveil it. And you only got to remember it when you stood in front of your locker in the morning, having to unfold the letter first all of the sudden and leaving your locker still locked.

‘Meet me on the rooftop of the main building at 9pm tomorrow. ‘

“Hell no,” you uttered right away, flipping the paper back and forth as you noticed that there is no other indication of the person’s identity. The thought of getting brutally murdered before you take your finals already left you shuddering in fear. This is what serial killers would say, you further claim internally as you kept it crumpled in your jean’s pocket, remembering to trash it out later.

You hurriedly took out the books you need in the first period, clutched within your grasp as you went to the lecture hall before the bell would ring before you arrive. In the midst of preparing yourself this morning, you never seemed to notice the lingering doe eyes on your retreating figure.

Through the mere hours of only burying yourself in your notebooks and a trusty pen on your hand, your mind however is still boggled at the crumpled paper that you can’t throw away. What if he’s a secret admirer who just wanted to ask you out in a cliché way?

What if it’s Jeon Jungkook?

Your eyes widened at your sudden thought, nearly bulging out of its sockets as the pen clanked against your table. The crimson blush perceptible from anyone’s view in the room, and you hope that they can’t also hear your heart thudding against your chest at the mere thought of a person.

Jungkook’s strikingly popular within the campus, albeit being famous he was somehow called the ‘wallflower’ with his kindness and bright yet shy personality, in contrast to his built stature. To your own astonishment, you wondered as to why he hasn’t found himself a person to be with in this shitty hell of a school. He can date anyone with a snap of his fingers as a lot of people fawn over him throughout the years . . . including you.

Your head’s awfully stuck at the scenarios running, being a hopeless romantic gave you no favor to feel like a normal person for once without all the complications like the butterflies on stomach whenever his presence’s near you. But today’s an exception when you have nothing but only scientific formulas running in your brain, and you never bothered to sneak a peek of him at his locker earlier.

You knew that you’ll be staying up until the night again in the school’s wide library and review room, but somehow you planned to leave early to check up on the rooftop tonight. Just to kill your curiosity, also reminding yourself to equip some kind of weapon on your way up tonight.

Dear god, I hope it’s really him.

The same statement continues to echo inaudibly on your way to the 5th floor of the main building, luckily finding yourself some kind of metal rod to beat the shit out of someone if it turns out to be a serial killer and not Jungkook.

On your other hand, you gripped your phone tight and close to the swipe to call 119 in case if you can’t defend yourself on your own. It was already dark outside, less cold than the other day as you pay no mind to some flickering fluorescent beyond the hallway. You don’t want to die of a heart attack because of some ghost that’s rumored to roam this building.

Arriving at the last step towards the doorway to the rooftop, you found the door ajar and welcoming the moonlight inside. Cautiously looking behind only to find no suspicious figure, you proceeded further towards the entrance to the rooftop. You pulled the door as quietly as possible, allotting enough space to sneak your body out.

From afar, you can already see two silhouette on the bench provided by the school. Unfortunately, no lights were installed as you can’t barely identify them due to the minimal luminescence of the moon. However, as you look up, the dark sky was filled with rather twinkling stars and minimal clouds floating past with the wind.

“This view’s really beautiful.” A dulcet tone reverberated in the silence, averting your gaze from the starry night.

“It is,” an all-too-familiar voice replied to the other person, letting out an inaudible gasp as your mouth hang ajar like the door.

The person’s identity was Jeon Jungkook.

Is this some kind of a joke?

Disbelief was written all over your face, momentarily forgetting the beautiful scene as you hurriedly push the door open. Thankfully, you left the rod back inside so as not to cause any more noise as you pulled your phone out from your pocket again to lead yourself down with the flashlight.

“I must be going,” Yeona pushed herself up from the bench, “I was just curious as to why you went up here. The view here’s breathtaking.”

Jungkook only hummed in reply to his friend, masking the nervousness etched on his face as he only waved her goodbye. A familiar face somehow eased him from what’s about to happen, he only hoped that you didn’t think of him as a serial killer and probably ditch the demand of the note he slipped a day ago into your locker.

Unbeknownst to you and to the other people who fawns over him, he’s been harboring romantic feelings for you and only him and his hyungs know about it. Over the weekend when he hung out in Yoongi’s apartment, due to incessant drinking of alcohol he accidentally spewed out a confession about liking a girl.

Not long and the rest of the boys gathered around their dongsaeng, somehow Hoseok and Jimin were nearly tearing up at Jungkook finding an interest at last. He didn’t know whether to feel glad or not about admitting his feelings to them as they become chatty about how to impress you (and ask you out on a date).

“Aren’t girls impressed by bouquets of flowers?” Jimin pondered, “Why don’t you just walk up to her in the morning with— does anyone know what’s her favorite flower?”

Taehyung piped in, “Why not treat her out to a museum date, who knows she might have a keen eye for artworks.”

“No, I am not granting your ideal date for yourself hyung.” Jungkook retorted, nearly pouting either from the effects of the alcohol in his system or about how to impress you. He hadn’t experienced an actual date before, like the last time he went out with a girl was back in his senior year in high school during their prom. . . and that’s only it.

“You don’t want enough attention from anyone— why not invite her on the rooftop of the main building in the campus and ask her out there instead?” Yoongi suggested, which made some of the boys snickered.

“But I would still garner a crowd if I ask her to meet me on the rooftop hyung.” Jungkook whined further.

His hyung only sighed, “Idiot, I mean leave a note in her locker saying that.”

“Ohhh.”

And now that he’s up on the rooftop, waiting for you to make your presence known in the silent night. He has been there an hour ago, wanting to build up the words to avoid stammering when he confronts you soon.

But it has been 30 minutes past the time he etched on the note and the night feels so much darker than before in front of his eyes. The longer he waits, the more lackluster his eyes were compared to the night full of bright stars.

Jungkook was grateful for Yoongi’s suggestion, but when the clock struck 10 on his phone

He stopped waiting.

               The next school morning, you jumped up from the sudden clash of the locker near yours. Your eyes averting from the stuff you needed for the first lecture period and landed on the tensed back of Jungkook in front of his compartment.

And you wondered what angered him so much in the morning, perhaps he missed his cup of coffee today?

Shit. You should stop thinking of him now that he’s got someone.

As much as you wanted to approach him, an invisible force was stopping you and made you recall of what you should do about your lingering feelings for him. You should get over him, your subconscious nagged at this moment. Sighing in defeat, you keep on doing your own business.

The loud chatter has amplified at his sudden outburst, your ears hearing almost every words they say and yet you haven’t noticed the approaching footsteps behind you.

“Hey,” Multiple gasp chorused in the now silenced hall. Your whole body freezing up at his voice, goosebumps running all over your skin at the moment and somehow, somehow you think that he might be talking to someone next to you. But even the person beside you were wide-eyed at the figure behind you. “Will you look at me, please?”

You only stuttered in response, “M-Me?” you whipped around to see Jeon Jungkook near you, not even beyond feet but inches near your face. His doe eyes staring at yours captivates you so much; capturing the sunlight and exposing the warm, golden irises that only made your mouth slightly ajar. They’re so pretty.

“Yeah, Y/N.” He breathed out, hiding his sweaty palms within the pockets of his jacket. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

“Right now?” Jungkook nodded further, feeling uncomfortable at the stares of other people who seemed to gather around the two of you.

Your eyes were stuck on staring the tiles as you follow him out of the crowd, and them making enough space for both of you as you trailed along on where he’ll take you. And somehow, you found yourself retracing the same path you took towards the rooftop last night. Taking up the last step, you looked up to see him holding it open for you uttering a small thanks under your breath, you noticed him occupying the same seat on the bench.

The sky no longer showed the stars, but rather it was filled with blues and light clouds as the morning breeze welcome you coldly. So much for forgetting to bring your jacket from your locker.

You quietly sat as far as the bench could ever let you, the distance’s an arm away as you meekly stare at him.

“I found this near the door yesterday.” He started pulling the same crumpled note that was supposedly in the jacket you wore last night. “If you were here last night, then why didn’t you at least approached me?”

You admitted, “I never thought it was you who wrote the note— and you seemed to have a company last night and thought that you accidentally put it on my locker instead of hers.”

“It wasn’t an accident, I really wanted to see you that time,” he confessed, “And she’s just a friend, I swear.”

His statement made you feel at ease for some unknown reason. “Why would you want to see me at that time?”

“Is it bad that I want to ask you out without people crowding on us?”

Your breath hitched all the sudden, he never knew how such words could have a great effect to you as your stomach and your heart started to show the symptoms of being

In love.

The word was foreign in your lips, and to thought that he was just a crush you could forget in the next few months.

“You like me?” you could only utter, not tearing your eyes away at his as he slid closer to you. He reached for your clammy hands, encasing it with his own as his thumb caress your forehand.

“I do,” he chuckled awkwardly, “But do you feel the same?”

“Have been for months.” Granted, you never expect that this kind of scenario would happen ever in your life, and now you’re quite clueless as to what will happen next after he takes you out on a date.

The word made you feel giddy inside, breaking out a smile out-of-the-blue as he, too reciprocated the happiness radiating off from both of you.

“Hand me some tissues and the 10,000 won we bet on last weekend.” Hoseok dramatically cried at Jungkook all growing up in front of their eyes as the boys sneaked up to see both of you already eating each other’s faces. Not wanting to disrupt your session, they kept on exchanging bills from their pocket and at the same time blocking the sight of the other students who wanted to see what’s happening.

i might be slow in writing other requests so to those who sent out requests, please hold on for awhile bc I gotta fix the laptop i’m using before the school starts in aug. anywHO Thank you for reading up til here! I apologize for some minor mistakes. 

Ask me anything, or any feedbacks in any of the works i’ve posted before.

[maj0rmayhem]

A Letter From Me To You (For Better Or Worse) Part 1

Chapter Title: Blood, Schmlood

Warnings: None in this chapter except for a vague mention of death

Ships: Familial Logicality

Once again I owe @candymadness for giving me the first inspiration for this

Summary:  Patton scoffed, dropping back onto his heels with a short chuckle, beginning to lead the younger through the castle halls, “The emergency was that you looked bored out of your mind and it is my job to look out for your health. Mental health is valid too, Logan, and I felt that if I let you suffer any longer not only would you have to go through the inevitable and awful discipline methods of Joan, I would be a terrible advisor and even worse brother.”

Also read it on AO3 here!

Fic under the cut!

The halls of the castle glittered immaculately, not a speck out of place. Often times, Logan would look at these walls, wishing he could emulate their perfection. Within the walls of his own home he felt off-kilter, and often caught himself stealing glances at the large portrait of his mother, as if looking to her for guidance. She never answered and he knew the oils and pigments never would.

Distantly, he registered his instructor speaking and did his best to focus back on the older man. Outside, snow drifted down onto cobbled and dirt paths, and the quiet of the world outside beckoned to the fatigue pulling at his mind and limbs. Most of the year, the kingdom of Dialectica was trapped in an eternal winter, and Logan had always found it almost dangerously calming. Finally managing to tune back into the monotonous drone of his long-time mentor, he managed to catch the tail end of a question - likely one he’d heard dozens of times before.

“So, what would you do in a situation like that?” His instructor concluded, raising an eyebrow, expression smug like he knew he had caught Logan during one of the few moments the young prince fell short of the high standards placed around him.

Logan leaned back in the seat slightly, steepling his hands in front of him as if debating. He knew he could probably maneuver his way successfully through the problem, if he chose his words carefully enough. However, he didn’t have to.

“Hey!” A voice sang out, almost literally bursting through the door in a commotion of noise, “I know that lessons are super important and everything but I have a totally legitimate and absolutely completely urgent matter and I need Lo- the prince’s input! I’ll bring him back I promise!” The voice promised, coming into view.

He was dressed in different shades of pale and ice blues, and his eyes were a glittering blue behind thick round glasses. With a sunny grin and freckles peppering his face, he looked boyish and naive, but there was a glimmer of something sharper deep in his eyes that made people listen. He skid to a stop just a few feet behind where Logan had turned to face him, sleeves billowing to a stop a few seconds later.

The current advisor and instructor sputtered and raised an eyebrow at the one destined to take his place. “I - Patton! You know you cannot just… run in and steal the prince away!” He protested.

Patton just smiled and looked down at Logan who quickly stood and adjusted the cloak around his shoulders.

“I believe I was taught it is imperative to take matters brought up by my personal advisor to be of the utmost importance. I know that our lessons are essential, but I am sure we can find a time to reconvene.” Logan explained, and before he could reconsider the small act of rebellion and pent-up frustrations, Patton had already grabbed him by the arm and proceeded to drag him out of the room, much to the mounting fury of the man left behind.

Once the door had shut behind them with an echoing bang, Patton released Logan’s arm and rolled up on his toes for a moment, taking advantage of the minimal height difference between the two to look down at the crown prince.

Logan raised an eyebrow at the actions, “So, what was the ‘emergency’?” He questioned, crossing his arms, unable to hide the traces of amusement in his tone.

Patton scoffed, dropping back onto his heels with a short chuckle, beginning to lead the younger through the castle halls, “The emergency was that you looked bored out of your mind and it is my job to look out for your health. Mental health is valid too, Logan, and I felt that if I let you suffer any longer not only would you have to go through the inevitable and awful discipline methods of Joan, I would be a terrible advisor and even worse brother.” Patton declared, glancing at Logan out of the corner of his eye.

“Patton, you know you are not my brother by blood.”

“Blood, schmlood. Logan if I remember right I was the one who taught you to read and played all the games with you so you got to play the mad scientist.” Patton pointed out, casually throwing an arm over the other’s shoulders, a small contented smile on his face.

Logan’s face burned bright red in embarrassment, but he resisted the urge to shrug the other off, knowing it would only lead to more drastic measures, “To be completely fair, there were many times where we would go on adventures for your enjoyment. I think your mermaid alter ego would agree.”

Patton simply laughed, tilting his head in acknowledgement, “True enough.” He agreed lightly.

Logan grumbled at the easy acceptance to the childhood story, but was quickly distracted from his annoyance at a sudden realization, “Where are we going, Patton? You are leading me but you haven’t told me what the destination is.”

There was a beat of silence only broken by their footfalls and the distant sounds of movement throughout the palace. Finally, Patton answered, “I don’t really know yet! I was just going to go wherever our feet take us. Sometimes that’s how you end up where you need to be.”

Logan looked over at Patton and raised an eyebrow, the latter of which just offered a smile in response to his incredulity.

“Patton, I’m sure you’re aware of how illogical that is.”

The future advisor shrugged, “Logic can’t explain everything, Logan. Some things just are.”

“I’m not debating this again.”

“Just wait. You’ll see what I mean.”

Unconsciously, the pair hooked a left down a wide corridor and it was in that moment Logan realized where he had been heading. A few moments passed in amicable silence, a rare blessing for Logan, who relished in the peace of the moment. Finally, they drew level with a pair of wide glass doors, looking out into a wide garden, littered with a myriad of colors in the form of blossoming petals and unfurled leaves. It was a place Patton spent much of his time, and a place the two of them had spent much of their youth - the few precious years they had been able to indulge in elaborate games and idle competitions. The memories brought a small smile to Logan’s face.

Above them, a half-moon shed minimal light across the hedges and trees, and as they stepped into the brisk evening air, the shadows looked almost tangible against the purity of the snow that crunched underfoot. Patton released a deep sigh and tension Logan hadn’t even been aware he was carrying bled from his shoulders as he surveyed the midnight cloaked foliage.

Patton turned back to Logan and once again grabbed his arm, “Come on! I found something that I’m sure will take your mind off of financial negotiations!”

Logan wrinkled his nose at the mention of the day’s lesson content, but followed behind Patton with little resistance. The other could be frivolous, but in the many years they had known each other, and as Patton had grown into the role of an older brother and someone to confide in, Logan had found there were few times the other had led him astray.

At the easy acceptance, Patton beamed and reached over to ruffle the other’s hair around the diadem delicately placed in contrast to waves so dark they shone almost blue in the moonlight, “Aw! Lo-Lo! I still remember when you would try and make it seem like you hated all of our little adventures.”

Logan sputtered at the action and tried to fix what Patton had mussed, glaring, “Perhaps it was to discourage certain behaviors.” His tone was more of a complaint than an anger-sharpened retort.

Patton’s beam didn’t waver and there was a bounce in his step as led them through the snow-covered paths, memorized long ago, beginning to rant about the “surprise” he had in store, “I was out here a few days ago, and I found a wildflower that doesn’t look like any I’ve seen in here before! Maybe you can help me identify it, I have no idea what it could it be!” He explained, stumbling over his words slightly in excitement.

Logan simply nodded in affirmation that he was willing to help where he could, secretly equally excited at the prospect of finding something entirely new. Rounding a corner, there was no need for Patton to point out the source of his interest - it was vibrant enough to stand out even in the bleaching moonlight. Both men found themselves kneeling near it in the snow, ignoring the cold and wet to get a closer look. The delicate flower almost seemed to glow as it stretched upwards, petals narrowed and tapering to a gentle point. Almost electric yellow in hue, the snow beneath was tinted a paler version of the same shade from the pure intensity. The center was a deep raven, like an endless abyss, and upon closer inspection, veins of red ran through the petals, resembling rivers of blood. Thorns travelled up the stem almost as a warning to any that would be curious enough to get too close. It wasn’t remotely similar to anything he had ever seen, and that sparked an excitement in his core that only ever bloomed at the sight of something unexplained.

The next hour was spent speculating and theorizing, ideas bouncing back and forth between the two - from mutations to witches and potions. Eventually, they had to admit defeat and return inside, knees stiff from the cold and legs soaked from melted snow. Logan knew that when the sun returned to grace the sky there would be reproachful looks and words of scorn mixed into his daily activities. He knew that when morning came, the smile would slip off his face and he would hide back inside himself as he always did. But at the moment, for a very precious moment, the world felt right. It was, for a short second, spinning on the right axis the way it only ever did late at night away from responsibilities and destiny and fate. Logan grinned at Patton before they parted ways, skin flushed with the cold and looking more relaxed and at ease than he ever did during the day. That moment where the real Logan broke through the reinforced walls around his heart was well-worth the late nights and Patton smiled. For now, scattered moments like this were enough.

“See you in the morning, Lo.”

“Sleep well… Pat.”

[ambiguouslyliterate-blog]

Respawn Point Ch. 3: Waifu Ruckus

"These are the crop fields. They aren't maintained especially well… The players we assign to work in them usually ditch to rp or go dungeon crawling."

It had been a few days since San and I had arrived in Weebtown. San quickly went her own way after she was healed up; the aloof creeper girl venturing into the server to go cause trouble in a way that I wasn't surprised was her standard. I was left to explore the server on my own, only occasionally bumping into her or Roxxie as I walked the streets, the pink petals of cherry blossoms blowing around my feet.

"Here are the mines. There used to be a systematic branch mining system here but now everyone just does what they want. A lot of people have even built little secret bases inside the mines, making other players pay tolls. It’s… A thing."

Weebtown was more like my home server than I'd expected; there were fields of crops, areas squared away for mining and private building, and even a few cool landmarks like the anime-haired creeper that towered over the server’s spawn point. The major difference however, was the mods. My home server, the server where I spawned, was "vanilla," meaning that mods were outlawed, although that didn’t stop the mod users that forced their way in. Either way, anyone who used a mod was seen as an outsider, which was in stark contrast to the streets I was walking now. Modded weapons, armor, special blocks, and plants littered the server, players walking by them as if they were a normal part of the world, as if they hadn't been brought into existence through an otherworldly power. It was a welcome change, even if I had to see players walking around with the occasional overly-graphic body pillow.

"What are all of these for?" I asked, looking around at the legion of bland stone buildings surrounding us. The admin chuckled.

Slenda had been taking me on a tour of the server, both of us hoping that I'd be able to find a place there, or at the very least help me socialize. Slenda didn't seem keen on either, her eyes cold and her voice tired during most of her walk. Though, I suppose I'd be just as broken if I had to run this mixed deathtrap and playground barely disguised as a functioning society. When we reached the edge of the spawn town the ornate buildings and semi-organized gave way to a sea of grey and pale colors, all belonging to buildings of nearly identical structure. They all had a similarly shaped main building with wings to either side, the walls lined with windows. Every roof had a small walkable area with a fence around it and in the dirt beside the buildings' bases there were chalk lines for some kind of sports. The only thing differentiating the buildings were the signs in front of them, all written in that indecipherable weeb language.

"Oh, these? They're all high schools."

"ALL OF THEM?!" I questioned, my mind spinning, "B- But, why?!”

Slenda shook her head, letting out a weary sigh. It didn't seem like it was the first time she'd had to break this to someone.

"That’s anime!” She said with a weak smile and a flash of her hands, “To get to all of the beauty and nuance, you need to dig through a bunch of high schools and horrible waifus."

Weebtown was the peak of superfluous, taking every unnecessary excessive element they possibly could and finding a way to squeeze it into every day server life… But high schools?! What's so exciting about high schools?! Most servers didn’t even build schools in the first place since most players spawn in with a decent amount of knowledge. But this server had what looked like thousands. It felt like being on the top of a mountain where the air thinned, except here you were left gasping for standards and moderation rather than oxygen. I didn’t even want to know what a “waifu” was. I looked to the admin; stern, tidy, straight-laced. Though I'd run into San a couple times around the server, Slenda felt a lot more tangible, for lack of a better word. It didn't feel as if asking her questions would end in cryptic answers or unrealistic spells of unconsciousness.

"Why in the Nether would you want to work in a place like this?” I asked, gazing out over the sea of bland cement and distant neon pink blossoms, trying to ignore the churning disgust in my stomach. Slenda looked at me, her thick eyebrows pulled together in a strained look of confusion. It seemed like she saw the excess, but wasn’t put off in the same way I was, or at least wasn’t on the same page, "I mean you and Roxxie are like... Normal."

Slenda tilted her head to either side, lips parting to laugh but closing as if she wasn’t ready to speak, still putting the story together, grunts and sighs filling the space. I smiled at her, glad that part of this crazy world was finally starting to budge. "Well yeah the server’s messy, but it’s not that bad, y’know? Besides, how Roxxie and I got here isn’t much of a story...”

She let out a deep sigh, scratching her head. Her expressions were more and more fluid as she spoke, her exasperated smile beginning to crack, “Me and her just got tired of the way things were run in our server that we decided to try making our own, y’know? So much land is taken up by established servers, though, so we just started looking for one to join, and we found Weebtown."

“You’ve been in Weebtown for a while then, I take it?”

The admin dusted off a stone slab bench and sat on it, smiling incredulously at herself. "No actually, we’ve only been here a few months… When we arrived, the admin was already begging people to take her place. No one here wanted the responsibility so I took the position and made Roxxie my operator. It's been non-stop weaboo nonsense ever since."

I took a seat next to her, Slenda keeping a slight distance between us, "I mean, you're one of the only normal people here and you stabbed my girl—" A finger pushed up her glasses on her nose, warmth flushing into her cheeks, “San, in the middle of the night.”

To be fair, it was her fault.

At the very least, I was glad to see that I was able to find someone to talk to in the server. Another boring straight with no interest in body pillows or honor fighting. The most significant difference between us however, seemed to be in patience. Where I could never imagine running this bizarre anime death carnival, Slenda seemed to be taking it in stride, or at least doing the best she could.

“Do you ever regret it?” I asked, “Becoming the admin, that is?”

Slenda shook her head, a smile growing on her face, just barely hidden behind her stooping shoulders and curly tufts of hair.

"No... Weebtown's a mess, but that's kinda why I like it,” She smiled, even warmer than before. It was the smile of a proud mother looking over her horrible weaboo child, "It's like a fixer-upper, you know? If I can improve things here, I'll actually be doing something really special.”

I smiled back at her and tried to close the difference between us on the bench, scooting slightly closer. Her eyelids came halfway over her eyes and she slid farther down the bench, the storm over her eyes returned. “I just wish Roxxie felt the same…”

Slenda’s voice trailed off, her eyes wandering upwards. Without a word, she left her seat on the bench, tip-toeing forward. I followed her eyes only to see a thin wisp of smoke rising over the far edge of the eastern district of high schools. Shouts could be heard as the black pillar grew, flickers of heat beginning to pour from its bottom. The admin’s eyes shot open, startled with disappointed realization.

The admin darted down the path, fumbling in her pocket for something as her feet forced her way forward. I ran behind her, trying my best to keep pace by throwing myself in the vague direction she was running, though I was completely lost to the situation. As we neared the swirling smoke and the fiery chaos at its base however, I started to remember what the guardians had mentioned before-- about San “trying to blow up the server every other week.” I gulped.

"Crap don't tell me that's--"

"Oh, it’d better not be.” Slenda growled back. She pulled a book out of her pocket, something I’d recognized as an admin’s book of names, and clutched it tight as she ran. She couldn’t be…

"THE WAIFUS ARE BURNING!!" A distant voice cried, pulling my eyes forward. The area beyond the high schools was clearer now as the excessive stone structures began to part. It was a clearing of technicolor figures, much like other sprite art displays in my home server, but with one major difference. The art wasn’t of innocent, normal things like flowers or mobs or tools, they were all of two-dimensional anime girls that towered over the eastern high schools. Some were blue-haired, some had dragon tails, some cat ears, but all had ridiculous outfits and horrifying cleavage. So that’s what a waifu is… I pondered, my face twisting as I followed behind Slenda, Maybe we could just… Let this place burn?

Weebs ran back and forth under the amber flames, buckets of water and blocks of dirt in their hands that they were using to snuff the flames, though the blaze seemed too much for the disheveled otakus to handle on their own. In the center of the havoc stood a cloaked figure; dark fabric swirled around their body, tossed by the wind. Their hood was pinned in the front by a skull-shaped steel pendant and chain, the little light that glinted off the face shining like a steely grin. The figure stepped forward, followed by one or two weebs, breaking off from the crowds of onlookers. Slenda moved to address the cloaked weaboo but he spoke first, cutting her off with a voice that was such a stark departure from his form it felt like it put a crack in the air. It was somewhere between the shrill cry of a cat and that of a gossiping old woman. It was the kind of voice you’d imagine an old yellowed skull to have, not a living player.

“No need to worry, administrator. We’ve got things under control here.”

His voice may have been annoying, but looking behind him, I found that he wasn’t completely wrong. Though the blaze still roared, the players had been pushing it back, or at least keeping it contained. But, why would he hold someone back from helping, especially Slenda? Weebs climbed and jumped along the structures, some crowding around their feet to stare upwards in disheveled awe while others went to stand behind the cloaked man, their eyes burning a hole through us and their hands restless. Slenda took a heavy breath, pushing a loose tuft of hair back behind the side of her glasses.

“Well, I have to admit,” She said, still gasping from our run up here, “I wouldn’t expect the leader of a weeb gang to do such a good cleanup job, Desu Skull.”

I shook my head. Excuse me, WHAT?

“It’s pronounced Deathzu Skuru.” The cloaked figure gave a fake cough, a hand on his hip, his other hand gesticulating dramatically in the air. His primadonna-of-the-undead voice seemed a perfect fit, “But that’s close enough I guess...”

As I continued to survey the scene behind the sassy skull-faced weirdo, something suddenly caught my eye. There was a structure of iron beside one of the waifus, a hasty assemblage of iron bars like a makeshift cage. There was a blue and green form inside, one that instantly pulled me in. I leaned in to try and get a closer look but “Deathzu Skuru” stepped in front of me, his arms outstretched. He was closer now, and I could see two white lights inside of his hood, glowing brightly, offensively. “Now now, you really don’t have to be here. We’ve got this all handled.”

Slenda strode through his hasty blockade, a look of impassioned disapproval on her face. It didn’t take long for the image within the cage to become clear to us, the neon blue mass of hair flipping to the side to reveal San’s dumb grin.

“Hey guys! I’m being detained!”

“YOU LET HER OUT RIGHT NOW!” Slenda barked, spinning on her heel to face the hooded head honcho. Deathuzu Skuyuru (or however you pronounce his name) simply stood and laughed, his snicker growing to a high, overpowering cackle. He moved a metal-clawed hand to pull back his hood, revealing his face--or rather—a mask. He wore an iron mask in the shape of a skull without a lower jaw, the teeth extending to a cartoonish exaggerated length. A white skull was painted on the metal forehead (because I guess the skull-shaped mask wasn’t enough) and in front of his eyes he wore a pair of sunglasses, each lens of which had a holographic skull sticker that shined a powerful white in sunlight. I wasn’t surprised by the weeb’s outfit at this point, given the other players in the server. Just disappointed.

“IF we let out this little troublemaker, she’ll just do something like this again, and again, and again! You definitely don’t seem intent on doing anything about it. You just give her a slap on the wrist!”

“It isn’t your decision!” Slenda snapped, pulling back out her book of usernames, “I’m the admin here and I decide how griefers here are punished. If you do anything to her, I’ll ban you for PvP in a neutral area, Death Skull!”

The skull-faced vigilante coughed again, “Deathzu Skuru… BUT ANYWAY, you can’t ban me unless I’ve already attacked her, and so you’ll be unable to stop me with my mod—“ The cloaked figure spoke laboriously, epically, reaching into his sleeve. He pulled out a sleek black weapon that fit snugly in his hand, its squared end pointed towards the sky like some ancient and powerful obelisk, “A GUN! THAT KILLS YOU!!”

“YOU FIEND!” Slenda gasped.

That could literally be any weapon, I thought, it’s functionally the same as a bow and arrow why would you even mod that? I rolled my eyes, materializing one of Zolo’s swords in my hands. It barely took any thought to summon my mod anymore, the last weapon I copied appearing instantly, like the press of a button. Like a reflex. “Okay, this is dumb,” I interjected, “Can I just like beat him up or something?” I stepped forward and Desu Skull flailed back, yelping at the weapon in my palm, his gun waggling in every direction. “Hey! Careful with that thing, normy! That’s a dangerous weapon!”

He stuck his feet firmly on the ground, his arm straightening, pointing his firearm at San’s cage like an arrow. I stepped forward, twirling the sword in my hand like a bat, the steel slicing the air. It was only then that I began to think about how little training or understanding I had of swordplay, but I hoped it would work out. These things usually… Well. Okay, maybe I did have reason to be worried.

Slenda would have to punish me somehow for fighting Desu Skull, and I’d probably end up injuring a stray weeb or two, but I figured it was worth it. Maybe it was a weakness of mine, but I couldn’t stand jerks like him bullying other players just to make a point. If I couldn’t kill him, I was hoping at the very least I could give get him away from San, get her to safety, even if it meant getting myself in trouble.

Slenda grabbed the back of my collar, yanking me back and growling at me through gritted teeth, “I know you like stabbing my players, but this situation is a bit more complicated than that, “Cyrustheslayer.”’ I could swear I saw the weeb’s skull mask smirk at us. I scowled at him. This situation felt too familiar to me. Standing across from a twisted modder with a metal mask and a bizarre sense of justice, “We can’t let him kill San. There has to be another way to handle this.”

I pulled my sword to my side, but didn’t despawn it. It still didn’t make sense to me why Slenda was so protective of San; threatening to ban players who hadn’t done anything to her, scolding those who put her in even mild danger, even though she could respawn. I’d heard of players before who couldn’t respawn, whose deaths were permanent, but they all lived in special servers, “hardcore” servers. Was San a hardcore player too? I clenched my sword, ready to take Desu Skull down. Just in case.

Desu Skull cocked his head and chuckled, observing Slenda’s leash-like hold on me. “Oh! Well. I wasn’t expecting you to just let me exact vigilante justice, but I guess it do be like that sometimes!” The modder waved his gun around joyously, nearly dropping it.

“That’s not what I meant!” Slenda cried back.

“NOW WATCH, ADMIN! AS I MAKE YOUR HORRIBLE WAIFU DISAPPEA--”

Desu Skull looked dramatically towards San’s cage, his shades narrowed down the sights of his modded firearm, only to see empty space. A cage with no captive, a hole carved in the bars. “Wh- Wha--” His gun shook in his hand, first with confusion, then with frustration, then with anger. The weeb stomped his foot, pointing at members of his gang who stood in the crowd, crying out and demanding an answer to where she was, , “CAN’T I TRUST MY GOONS TO PERFORM ONE SIMPLE TASK?! WHICH ONE OF YOU LET HER OUT, HUH? STEP FORWARD!”

As Desu Skull spoke the air began to swirl, the air hot, dry, and unnatural. It was as if the air around us was angry. Just as Desu Gun moved to point his gun towards us, to threaten us for an answer, a searing gust burst through the air between our two groups, sending bodies flying in every direction. Burning air whipped around us as if we’d been caught in a tornado, throwing us against nearby walls and dispersing the crowd of weebs like a sand castle kicked by a beach bully. The only thing left standing was Desu Skull, his steel-armored body resolute against the supernatural winds. A figure appeared in the hot, swirling cloud behind him, eyes glowing with yellow fire. The figure’s hand reached out, taking the gun in her iron grip.

Roxxie crushed the gun in her hand, the firearm bubbling out from its corners like hot wax. Death Skull tried to break away but Roxxie pulled him close, her flaming claws moving forward against his verbal protests. Trails of broken flame came up from her eyes, her ponytail bursting into a flaming halo. “N- Now now, no need to be a tsundere..!” He gasped, trying and failing to wrench his hand away from her grip. Though Slenda and I were both pushed against the cement of a high school’s outer wall, Slenda pulled herself to her feet, pushing off and trudging through the harsh wind.

“Lucky for you guys, I just happened to be in the area.” Roxxie grinned, holding her prize high like a hunter. San stepped out from behind her, waving at Slenda. Desu Skull managed to writhe out of Roxxie’s grip only to end up in the dirt where Roxxie pinned him under her boot. The operator smirked down at him, then looked up to give a beaming smile to Slenda.

“Roxxie, let him go!” Slenda cried.

“What, are you’re saying we should just let him off?” She questioned, her tone stirred with a genuine confusion. The operator grimaced, pushing Desu Skull’s steely mask farther into the dirt, “He just tried to execute San for a crime she didn’t even commit! We’re supposed to just let crap like that fly?”

I hoisted myself up, summoning a sword to anchor myself in the dirt, and another to pull myself forward, bringing myself closer to the pillar of flame. One overpowered jerk down and one to go, I guess. I grunted against the whipping gusts. Streaks of flame were beginning to form as well, falling from her body like streamers and spinning in the air around the scene like the beginning of a fiery hurricane.

“Just let him go!” I yelled, Roxxie’s eyes snapping to me in condescending surprise. Slenda stared at me, her half-lidded eyes as unamused as Roxxie’s, as if this was their private squabble. I wondered how many times they’d done this, “I don’t like this guy either but it’s not like being a dick isn’t going to make the players like you any better!”

The operator growled, turning to Slenda. The fires were beginning to die around her as her expression became more weary, “Slenda, you know if we keep letting them do more and more of this, the server’s just going to fall apart!”

“I don’t care!” Slenda cried back, clutching her book of names tightly in her hand, “We can’t do stuff like this!! We are not like this!” Roxxie squinted at her, the fire in her eyes burning brightly, flickers of the flame flying back from her face in streams. Though I felt less than intimidating being that I was pitted against this experienced mod user, I pointed a sword in her direction, holding firmly onto the one I had planted in the ground. Together, me and Slenda stared her down until she reluctantly released the weeb from under her, stuffing her hands in her pockets. She plunged them deep, as if resisting the urge to hurl a fireball at the rebellious weaboo as he rose to his feet, dusting off his cloak. “The admin’s right, Roxxie, that was rather rude of you.” The skeletal loser sneered, tossing the melted remains of his weapon into the dirt. I felt a blood vessel pulse with opposition from deep within my brain.

“However,” The skull-faced gangster interjected, reaching for a black shape that materialized within his cloak, “It is going to take hundreds of man hours to restore the damage done to these precious murals, so I’m afraid as an honorable weeb my hands are still tied--!”

Before any of us could react, a shot rang out, Slenda shrieking as the bullet grazed the top of Roxxie’s forehead, sending her flying back, the fire in her eyes bursting. Desu Skull then turned to us, his gun pointed right between right between my eyes.

“BAN GUNGALEFREAK10. PvP in a neutral zone.”

Slenda clapped her book of usernames shut and after a second’s pause, Desu Skull became a blur of grey, his body launched at an incomprehensible speed towards the server boundaries. Roxxie laughed, smiling coldly as she brought her eyes level with ours, blood trickling down her forehead. San soon came down a path to the side, seemingly gleefully unaware of just how much trouble she’d caused, her eyes beaming as she caught Slenda.

As she passed by Roxxie however, the operator caught her shoulder, laughing as she spoke to her, “Sorry for all of this by the way, didn’t mean for you to get in so much danger.”

San smiled and folded her arms behind her head, seemingly content just to be caught up in all the drama. I turned to Slenda, only to see her eyes brimming with purple fire, her knuckles white on the book she clasped in her hand. She stomped towards her administrator, ignoring San, her body moving like a loosed arrow towards her target.

“Excuse me Roxxie, what in the Nether did you just say?” Slenda questioned through gritted teeth to a smiling operator.

“I set the fires,” Roxxie said with a shrug, as if it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Slenda looked like she was going to erupt, “I got tired of looking at all of those waifus and figured I could just get rid of them. If any of the high schools caught fire I’d consider it an added bonus.”

Slenda grabbed her by the collar, pulling her close enough for the blood from Roxxie’s forehead to drip onto the round lenses of her glasses. I tried getting closer, but I realized there was nothing I could do. This wasn’t an isolated event, but the last straw of a fight they’d been having for months. “YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT!” Slenda screamed into Roxxie’s face, her arms shaking.

“And why not?” Roxxie chimed back, squinting at the admin, “I’m the second most powerful person in this server since I’m your only operator. I should be able to start controlled burns like this! It’s cleaning up land that we run!”

Roxxie shook Slenda from her collar, staring daggers for a few seconds before finally stomping off. She launched into the air with a burst of flame, flying to some unseen corner of the server like a loosed arrow. Her eyes wet with anger and exhaustion, Slenda collapsed to her knees, San running to her side.

“You okay Slenda?” Asked San, her hand moving instinctively to pet Slenda’s mounds of curly dark brown hair.

The admin smiled at her, wrapping her arms around the creeper girl. “I should be asking you that, you doofus. You almost got shot!”

“I probably woulda been fine,” she smirked back, burrowing her forehead into the admin’s like an overly blunt eskimo kiss. The two smiled, giggling at each other for a few seconds, but Slenda seemed to be holding onto something. Her face never seemed to pull into a full smile, her eyes always a little strained, pointed just over San’s shoulder.

She was worried about the operator, or more accurately, what she was going to do. And so was I. Shivering, I looked to the stream of smoke that followed Roxxie, my stomach churning. Weebtown was just like home to me now… The only problem was, it was just like home.

[hysterialyywrites]

There is Light in Dark and Dark in Light, but Nothing in Between

I sit at the window to the sky, with its orange hues outstretched and dominant, splayed across and beyond the end of the world. Speckled blues, purples, pinks and yellows in a seemingly never-ending blitz completed the grandeur of the world, a finite infinity, a home the people fervently called Eden. With the clouds seizing the wonder of the skies and solis its rightful ruler, I never once thought of Eden as my home. I was a foreigner to Eden, kept away at the topmost level of a towering spire the people built and called Babel: a tower that touches the heavens. My home is among the blitz in the sky, surrounded by the hues and speckles of a world I loved and called Cael. It was its own universe, and I, its only people.

The people did not call me a princess, they called me a scribe. The Scribe. The only Scribe in the world they called Eden. A baby brought forth all those years ago (time does not exist in Babel) was born with a mark that only existed among scribes, a mark capable of rivaling the very power of solis, spelled out in whatever tongue that was chosen by time. This mark was a scribe's most valuable birthright, the only distinctive right taken away by the people of Eden, but not by the people of Cael. This birthright spelled out Luna, written just along the nape of my neck. The people of Eden called me The Scribe. The people of Cael, she called me Luna. I am Luna, and I live in a world where the sun sits upon the horizon, but never, ever sets.

                                                           * * * "A new scribe?" "A child who bears a name from Erebus, this is historical! It's been decades since the last scribe!" "Quick! The Tower of Babel! Tell the people to make the necessary preparations for the new scribe!" "What does the mark say?" "Luna. Time chose Latin again. What was the former Scribe's mark?" "I don't remember, but I knew it was Gaelic. What does it matter? A new Scribe is among us! We might have a chance to finally establish contact with Erebus!" Erebus. The land where the sun does not rise; the polar opposite of the land of Eden. The very reason why scribes exist. For years, scribes have tried to reach the land of Erebus, sailing out into open sea, flying planes across the world of Cael, towards the horizon where solis forever sits. There used to be more than one scribe in the land of Eden in those days. Now they're a rarity, because the ones who left never came back. "That Tower of Babel is preposterous! What right do we have to lock up every scribe that comes forth? I absolutely do not see reason in this! They're people just like us!"

"They're the only people who can reach Erebus. Non-scribes like us have absolutely no chance. And after the large scale expedition during The Scribe Stella's era, we cannot risk another pointless mistake." "Then why bother with such a pointless mission to continue pursuing Erebus? We don't even know if it exists! No scribe has ever succeeded or made it back." "Oh, Erebus definitely exists. It's impossible for the scribes to simply vanish into thin air." It was never clear to me the fate of the other scribes, nor was it clear to me the purpose of fruitlessly trying to reach a land that may not exist. The things I hear and the things I read are limited. The purpose of locking me up in the Tower of Babel, however, was perfectly clear to me: I was not allowed to leave the land, for fear of losing another scribe to the unknown beyond the safe borders of Eden. Their priority is not my safety, however. It's the assurance that I have the best chance of establishing contact with Erebus that's keeping me locked up high in the sky, but little did they know that this isolation is my greatest pleasure. Cael, with its gold, orange and blue tinge and bold, daring solis, rules the sky with an outcast of a polar name. Luna. What are you doing in the land of light?                                                           * * * A writing desk is situated just below the only window in my room, and every day I sit at this desk, facing Cael, thinking, dreaming, writing. I dream of the land of Erebus, a world entirely alien to me, wondering what made the dark so beautiful that scribes of this land never wanted to leave it. I assumed they reached Erebus and stayed, because if this was how they were treated when they were here, I would never leave Erebus if I found it too. This tower is extremely suffocating, and much more so once you start thinking that this tower was only meant for scribes. People like me are caged animals to Eden, and it pains me to think so. The very rare occasions where I was allowed to walk outside were even worse than Babel; side glances and whispers everywhere I turn, looks of awe and amazement as if I were some sort of anomaly with two heads instead of one, when really the only thing different about me is the mark on the nape of my neck. I don't even know how I'm supposed to reach Erebus, yet they all expect me to be a natural at it. On the very rare occasions where I was allowed to walk outside, I decided to stay in Babel. While in Babel, I frequented making paper planes to throw out my only window. I would watch it fly across Cael towards the warmth of solis, dreaming of a day where I could fly just as freely, away from the land called Eden, when really, it's no eden at all. On one instance, before laying down to sleep, I decided to write a message on one of the planes before throwing it out the window. "To the people of Erebus: is your land as dark as they say?"                                                           * * * I wake to the splendor of Cael past my window and a paper plane on my desk, the same paper plane I threw before I slept. I saw my message to Erebus, yes, but scrunched my eyebrows to the sight of a different handwriting just below my own. "Dark to you, yes, but beautiful, if only you knew. Is Eden as bright as they say? Probably too bright for me, however. I'm used to the dark." I stand there stunned as I read and reread the message, not believing in what history has been trying so hard to prove. I sat and thought, thought long and hard, about the message, about Erebus, about what would happen if the people found out. But then I thought what if it's just a prank? I would rather much believe in a prank than false hope, yes, but logically thinking, it's impossible for a mere paper plane to fly back up into this window from the land of Eden. Babel is a tower that touches the heavens. It just doesn't fit right. But for a paper plane to fly across the unknown beyond Eden into the uncertainty that is Erebus? Complete insanity, but an insanity that fascinated me. I wrote back: "Eden is bright, but not beautiful. Cael, however, is breathtaking from my window at Babel. What's your mark? I assume you're aware of the scribes and what they're meant to do." I refolded the wings and aimed at the sun, throwing the plane at full strength, as far as my arm could go, and waited. I waited, and waited, and waited. Time does not exist in Babel. I could've waited seconds, maybe minutes, maybe even years for the plane to come back. I never really knew, and so I slept, and hoped to wake up with the plane on my desk.                                                           * * * "Yes, I'm aware of the scribes, and we don't call them 'marks' here. We call them names. My name is Licht. What's yours?" "A name, huh. My 'name' is Luna. Interesting how you bear a name from Eden. Is that how they choose scribes? People with polar names?" "Yes, I believe so. Fascinating, isn't it? I noticed your name is Latin. Cael, so that means... the sky? What's the sky like over there? You said it was breathtaking." "Not was, is. It absolutely is. Would you believe me if I told you that the sky is a stunningly warm orange? With speckles of bright gold and yellow and flecks of blue, a hint of pink and purple here and there too.Solis sits at the center, the horizon. A dome-shaped body, the sun is. I never get tired of looking at Cael. It's truly captivating; too good to be true. Almost ephemeral, as if the sky would instantly disappear if I blinked even once. What's the sky like there at Erebus?" "Well, here is much, much different. I can't possibly think of what 'orange' or 'pink' looks like. Myhimmel is a very different painting. It's a very, very deep blue, almost black, but it's not daunting at all. A million specks of white dot the entire sky, giving you a glimpse of the universe beyond the border. You get bright hues of blues too, sometimes purple as well, and the best part is: it doesn't hurt to look at the sky." "Hurt? Well, it's understandable, since I can only imagine how dark it is in Erebus. But your sky sounds astonishing; I wish I could see it. And you mentioned a painting? What exactly is it?" "You've never heard of a painting before? Well, here in Babel (yes, we both live in a tower with the same name), it's what I do when I don't write messages on paper planes." I laughed at that. "You use a brush and some liquid colors to paint a picture across a canvas. What do you do when you don't write?" "I still write. Not messages, but stories. I guess it's my own way of painting; I use words of no color to create pictures with millions." I secured several pieces of paper onto the plane. "Try reading one. This is one of my favorites. In turn, show me a painting of yours." It took a while before a fresh, new plane flew in; I didn't even notice we already filled up the first one. Licht secured a piece of paper to the new plane. It wasn't a painting like he described, it was more a... sketch. A rough sketch. Most of the picture featured a rural town, with unnaturally bright lights in the houses and poles with lanterns attached to the top, blaring the same unnatural white light. I asked Licht about those and he said they were 'fluorescent lights' and 'street lamps', to help the people find their way around the dark. We didn't need those here. In the background were dimly sketched mountains, large and imposing, almost intimidating with the pencil's grey shade. It was amazing how much contrast and shadows one shade of grey could impart from a piece of paper. Licht was really talented; I wonder if he knew. It was because of him that I started noticing the dark shadows that are everywhere in Eden, the one place I thought where darkness never roamed at all. "Here in Eden, sunflowers are the norm. They bloom everywhere, from the parks and gardens to individual households. So it led me to think: are there moonflowers in Erebus too? Is there such a thing?" "You mean a you-flower? Well I'm not so sure. I don't really leave Babel. I tend to steer clear of lights; it gets hard for me when it's too bright. It strains my eyes and I get a headache." "Oh, that's too bad. I would've loved to see a me-flower." "You would love to see everything in Erebus, basically." That's true. I would like to see you too. Before I knew it, paper planes were flying in and out so much that I lost count of how many papers we used up. At one time, we used a maximum of three planes, just to speed things up. We later found out that that wasn't a very smart thing to do, considering we couldn't keep track of what we were talking about on each plane. So we kept it at two planes; it was much easier. "Why do you think we scribes were born differently? Why are we the only ones who get marked with polar names and forced to communicate with the unknown for people who don't even believe in their existence?" "That's a pretty deep question, Luna. I'm afraid I don't have an answer to that. All I know is scribes who cross their borders into the unknown get lost forever. The scribes in our land once set out on an expedition too, in search of the land where the sun does not set. They never came back, and based on what you told me in previous planes, your scribes never reached our land too. They're forever lost in the unknown." "So even if I try to cross Eden's borders, I still won't be able to see you." I regretted letting that plane fly as soon as I let go. "I won't be able to see you either, even if I did find Eden." I left it at that. Soon, my drawers were stuffed with planes, and Licht's paintings and drawings were hung up on my walls. His art made me love Erebus more than I once thought possible. I dreamed of the stars and their finite infinity, the magic behind a wish upon a star that fell from the sky. I dreamed about the moon and its light, and wondered if Licht thought of me the same way I thought of him when I see the light in solis and the blue in Cael, because after all, those are the only things that are common in both our skies. I hoped his luna didn't blind him. Before I threw that first paper plane, I didn't think it was rational for someone to love something they've never seen before. After meeting Licht, I found that rationality to be quite ridiculous. I was a dreamer, and dreamers were never rational in the first place. I found myself writing much more messages and much more stories for Licht to read, and every time I threw a plane out the window, I always wished it would instantly fly right back, with Licht's reply written on its wings. "Tell me what you look like," he wrote. "What?" And that was the shortest response that ever flew back to Erebus. "Tell me what you look like," he simply wrote again. "An amazingly eloquent writer like you shouldn't have a problem describing herself." "Well..." I hesitated to write. I stood up and walked to the mirror right next to the window. I stared for as long as time dared deceive me, and it was the first time in my entire life that I couldn't put my thoughts onto paper. I did the best I could. "I have a round-shaped face, a small, flat nose, lips that aren't too thick and not too thin either. My eyelashes are long; eyebrows thick. I have long, wavy black hair that goes all the way to the middle of my back, and my eyes, dichromatic. Blue on the right, green on the left." "That's it?" And that was the shortest response that ever flew back to Eden. "You asked for a description, I gave you a description. What else was I supposed to write?" The plane flew back, but this time with another paper secured. Another drawing? "Before you open the other paper, stand in front of your mirror first. As you unfold the paper, look into the mirror, and describe your expression." I did as he wrote, and unfolded the other paper. There in my hands were two little white flowers, petals petite and as white as the clouds. The petals formed the shape of the sun if it was a full circle instead of a dome, and it took a few seconds before I realized what they were. Moonflowers. I read the note that came with the gift, which read: "I was reluctant to give you these you-flowers because they were my favorite, and they're real hard to find in Erebus with all the lights on. But then I thought, yeah, you deserve to have flowers that are (sort of) named after you. So, these are for you. Take care of them for me. They look a lot more beautiful here where the moon is, mind you." I looked up at the mirror to see a smile I never saw before. My lips were turned up, teeth bared, my happiness almost reaching my eyes. In fact, even my eyes were smiling. Every fiber of my being was elated. "Add a smile to my face, and use your imagination. An amazingly creative artist like you shouldn't have a problem imagining a smile." I threw that plane out the window for the nth time.                                                           * * * "Would you like to see the stars in Erebus?" I blinked at the paper. "Absolutely. If that was possible." "You know it is." "What are you suggesting?" "If there is one thing that scribes can do and non-scribes can't, it's to travel between Erebus and Eden, so long as there's two scribes involved, one from Eden, one from Erebus. Are you up for it? Just so you know, I would like to see Cael as well." "But the light strains your eyes. Cael won’t be as beautiful if you squint." "It only strains if I stare for too long. But don't worry; I have an artist’s picture-perfect memory. You can stay a bit longer in Erebus. I'll just turn my back and close my eyes 'till you're ready to come back." I was hesitant at first, but just then a new plane landed on my desk. "Trust me." I took several deep breaths, then wrote a reply. "Okay, what do we do?" Several moments later, I had Licht's name on my wrist, and he had mine on his own. The instructions on the plane he sent told me to simply focus on solis whenever I was ready. I was ready, but I was scared. What if the dark makes me go blind? What if I can't find the moon in Erebus? What if only Erebus scribes are the only ones who can see the moon and stars, and Eden scribes are left for themselves? What if we get lost in the unknown? What if− I stopped that train of thought. I didn't want to think about it. It was going to be fine. We were going to be fine. I looked at Licht's name one more time, then focused on solis for a mere two seconds before my mind went black.                                                           * * * My eyes woke to darkness. In this case, I'm not actually sure if my eyes are open because every time I blink, everything is the same everywhere: darkness. The warmth and security of Cael is gone, my assurance of sight stolen. I feared the dark more than I should, but I remembered Licht's advice: Look up. (I hoped the advice I wrote served him well too.) And so I did. And there I saw his luna, thin and curved, like the English letter C. It was a lone wolf among a sea of white dots, stars perhaps, and looked upon Licht's himmel with awe and wonder and amazement. I was at a loss for words; the whole universe was before me. Then, I saw a streak of white racing across the sky. Licht told me to make a wish if I saw such a thing. But why would we wish on falling stars? It sounds like a tragedy. Nevertheless, I wished upon this tragedy, and hoped a dreamer's hope that my rationality would not triumph over my faith on a falling star, because that is all I have right now: hope, for the safety of both scribes treading upon familiar, yet unknown territory. My eyesight returned after a few moments (better, but not any brighter), and I was able to see clearer than before in the dark. I saw Licht's room all filled with his paintings and drawings and art. On his desk were a painting and a sketch. The painting was one I knew all too well, despite seeing it for the first time. I saw the familiar blue, the dominant color across the sky, but the oranges and pinks were all over the place, turning Cael completely upside down. Maybe this is what a sunrise would look like. And next to the painting was a portrait of a young lady with wavy hair and dichromatic eyes. Licht's lines were sharp and crisp, his strokes careful and guarded, and I assume, his focus undivided. His imagination is impeccable; this young lady's smile is as wide as my own that day I received his moonflowers. I admired the stars some more, just a bit more before I retreat back to the comfort of Cael. This sky is infinite yet transient, absolutely stunning. And this will probably be the last time I will ever see it. I would stay forever; I could, but Erebus needs Licht (or perhaps the other way around), just as much as I need Cael. I looked down at Licht's name on my wrist, then came face to face with my Erebus counterpart. I focused on luna, and my mind went black once more.                                                           * * * I awoke to the familiar warmth and hues of Cael, absorbing the dream of a world I saw with no sun, thinking, dreaming, more than ever, then writing. I wrote, wrote, wrote as fast I could before my memories became a fleeting dream, putting in detail every single wonder I saw with my own eyes: the celestial simplicity of the moon and stars, the truce in white and blue, the cool silence of Erebus as its serenity embraces your mind to think, then calm. Erebus was dark, yes, but it was beautiful. "What did you think of Cael?" I threw the plane once more.                                                           * * * Several days, weeks, maybe months have passed and not a single plane has landed on my desk ever since my visit to Erebus. I've written him dozens of planes, my heart threatening to jump out of my chest every time I send one flying, thinking I might never even get one back. Licht's name was still on my wrist; I touched it with my hand. I feared the worst of my fears. I was anxious, jumpy, worried, simply afraid. For him and for myself. Then a paper plane flew in. I jumped up from my place on the bed and ran over to my desk. I hastily picked up the plane: new, even, and messily folded, as if made in a hurry. But no message on its wings. My hands fell limp, the plane dropped to the floor. My body felt heavy, my heart, even heavier. I stared out into Cael, remembering how I wished his luna didn't blind him. But maybe my solis did. (Shooting stars really are tragedies.)

Written: September 08, 2016

[jpweb12]

Minimalist Web Design – More Effective Than Any Other Design Style In The Web Design Industry

This article is the third in a series devoted to the understanding of minimalism in web design. During the time, this trend has become very popular among the graphic designers and it will still be on top for the years that will come, regardless the influences it will have.

You might assume minimalism is easy – after all, fewer elements mean less work, right? In fact, the opposite is more accurate. Because you are restricted to a usage of few elements, they must be chosen and used with care and thoroughness, having a specific purpose as a starting point. If it’s done properly, minimalist design can be a stunning masterpiece, in terms of UI, visual design, UX and conveying your message to the users.

It may seem ironic, but in the context of web design, simplicity is a little more complex to define. It’s not just the site looks like; it’s about the user’s overall experience while interacting with the site. From this perspective, minimal design is not made by mistake. It is intentional. It is an approach that strips the unnecessary elements from a framework to leave only what is required. Most minimalist websites will not include a lot of colors, textures, shapes or accents. They are defined by fearless usage of negative space in neutral colors, dramatic typography, large and vivid photography, very simple navigation tools and visual balance.           

Minimalism works because it does what all design should do – it puts the emphasis on content.

The advantages of minimalism in web design and the reasons for its popularity include:

It’s a natural fit with responsive design frameworks;

It reduces the information for browsers to process, causing faster site load times and better site performance; this leads to a better usability and user experience;

It needs less CSS and Html rules and elements;

The concept is content-driven, which coincides impeccably with the growth of content-first design processes and trends;

It is suitable for a variety of businesses, from architecture, interior design, fashion, photography, creative studios, to e-commerce, web app development, furniture, HoReCa and so on.

Using the minimalist concept in web design represents modern design. By only focusing on the content and branding, the web design will reflect its main goal and mission without any other distracting elements. 

Below are listed some websites from different industries, which use minimalist design concept for conveying their message and provide a great UX:

Minimalism in photography portfolios

Running a photography business is not common. Beyond stunning photos, it requires much creativity and refinement when it comes to communication with the potential customers. If you want to learn more about running a photography business, you may find more information in Braveen Kumar’s article (link to www.shopify.com/blog/how-to-sell-photos-online)

In terms of web design, minimalism is the preferred choice for the photographers who want to let their work speaking for itself. The style gives an air of elegance and sophistication that lends itself to this industry.

Christine Szczupak Photography

The stylized arrows and subtle drop-shadow are important details that increase the visual appeal of this website.

Ryan Willms

The spacing and arrangement of content here, along with the elegant typography and simple lines, give the feeling of a fresh design.

Caitlin Worthington Photography 

The white background is the perfect canvas for the large and vivid photographs that are perfectly balanced by the typography. A classic example of minimalist design.

Jonathan Glynn Smith

A dramatic splash screen and beautifully minimalist design.

Bruce Percy

A very simple design that leaves the viewer no doubt what he’s seeing. A quick glance is enough to see what the photographer does. Navigation is again clear and simple. The black background works well with the minimalist design.

Minimalism in the creative industry

Exponent PR

To highlight their video montage (and photos as you scroll), Exponent’s site features simple colors and fonts that make everything pop.

Bark PR

Like Exponent PR, the previous PR company on our list, you’ll see flat UI and bold colors. But in Bark PR’s case, the yellow is much more than a simple accent.

Oh My! Digital Design Studio

Oh My!  uses a large white background for some high-contrast effect and a very simple navigation to provide a great UX.

Brave Little Tank

Like Oh My!, Brave Little Tank also uses a large white background for getting a high-contrast effect with the website content. The accents of colors are given by pictures and the green color of highlighted text. The navigation is simple, letting the users dive in quick and easy through the whole site. With its website, Brave Little Tank has created a simple, impactful solution (what they also have promised to their clients).

Brian Danaher

Another website that opts for a single column and bold typography. If you take a closer look, you will notice the classic mix for the minimalist concept: a lot of negative space, large and vivid photos, typography that perfectly balances the images.  

Callens 

Minimalism is the preferred choice for fashion websites and those selling luxury items, like Italian brand Callens. This design concept gives an air of elegance and sophistication that lends itself to certain industries.

Leen Heyne

  Besides its jewelry, Leen Heyne‘s monochrome logo and company name are the only significant visual elements on its homepage. The surrounding expanse of gray space and white texts make it a safe bet, the user’s eyes going back and forth between the two core visual elements.

 Bulgari

Italian luxury goods brand Bulgari is another company that uses creative techniques to keep its site interesting within its minimal framework. Side-to-side scrolling combines with an ingenious page-turning animation and high-quality photos.

Yield

Lots of space, soft pastels, middle to dark gray colors for text, large photos and keeping buttons to a minimum make Yield’s site delicate and easy to navigate.

 Conspiracy

Conspiracy’s homepage bundles necessary buttons on top then puts the product on a clean canvas.

NTN

This site is traditionally minimal. Design brand NTN uses the abundant white space, personality-infused typography, and a reduced number of elements that the minimalist style is known for.

Minimalism in website and app development

Squarespace

This screenshot from website-building service Squarespace illustrates the idea of one focal point per screen. The site explains everything it needs in screen-by-screen images, and groups together relevant blurbs on the same screen.

Scytale

Scytale is another defining website for the concept of minimalism in web design. They use very large white and light gray background and big and bold typography, helping the user to focus on the main message. The red color used for some flat design and typography are the only color accents used here.

Thrive

Simple design on a subtle grid. Garnished with flat design and simple bright blue color via scrolling. A fun, clean, good interaction!

iPad mini 4

Apple is no stranger to minimalism. The web page for the iPad mini 4 uses lots of literal white space to draw attention to the product’s sleek design. The clear top bar, also featuring an abundance of space, helps the user to navigate.

Château d’Yquem

Winemaker Château d’Yquem combines minimalism and subdivision in its site. Each section follows the minimalist philosophy with only a few elements revolving around a single concept. When combined, the sections’ size and location on screen create a visual hierarchy.

Maemo 

The website for double-Michelin-starred Norwegian restaurant Maaemo uses minimalism to create a sense of class. The visual treatment is perfect for storytelling, as the site demonstrates with HD photos used for each page.

Bottom line

We know you have a lot of information to offer to your visitors and you’d like to feature all of them on your website, but you should keep in mind that will also throw your visitors into an information overload.

Before anything else, make sure your website features only the most important information and link the additional stuff. And don’t worry, if people are interested in learning more about your company, they will look for links or they will contact you.

Most of all, make sure your brand and your target audience fit the concept of minimalism before going for this website design concept. Because unfitting use of colors, typography, and visuals will not bring the same results for your business.

Even if it’s not suitable for all business websites, minimalist design style comes with plenty of great advantages that make it more effective than any other design style in the web design industry.

Read More at Minimalist Web Design – More Effective Than Any Other Design Style In The Web Design Industry

from IT Feed https://webdesignledger.com/minimalist-web-design-effective-design-style-web-design-industry/

[regulardomainname]

Minimalist Web Design – More Effective Than Any Other Design Style In The Web Design Industry

This article is the third in a series devoted to the understanding of minimalism in web design. During the time, this trend has become very popular among the graphic designers and it will still be on top for the years that will come, regardless the influences it will have. You might assume minimalism is easy – after all, fewer elements mean less work, right? In fact, the opposite is more accurate. Because you are restricted to a usage of few elements, they must be chosen and used with care and thoroughness, having a specific purpose as a starting point. If it’s done properly, minimalist design can be a stunning masterpiece, in terms of UI, visual design, UX and conveying your message to the users. It may seem ironic, but in the context of web design, simplicity is a little more complex to define. It’s not just the site looks like; it’s about the user’s overall experience while interacting with the site. From this perspective, minimal design is not made by mistake. It is intentional. It is an approach that strips the unnecessary elements from a framework to leave only what is required. Most minimalist websites will not include a lot of colors, textures, shapes or accents. They are defined by fearless usage of negative space in neutral colors, dramatic typography, large and vivid photography, very simple navigation tools and visual balance.            Minimalism works because it does what all design should do – it puts the emphasis on content. The advantages of minimalism in web design and the reasons for its popularity include: * It’s a natural fit with responsive design frameworks; * It reduces the information for browsers to process, causing faster site load times and better site performance; this leads to a better usability and user experience; * It needs less CSS and Html rules and elements; * The concept is content-driven, which coincides impeccably with the growth of content-first design processes and trends; * It is suitable for a variety of businesses, from architecture, interior design, fashion, photography, creative studios, to e-commerce, web app development, furniture, HoReCa and so on. Using the minimalist concept in web design represents modern design. By only focusing on the content and branding, the web design will reflect its main goal and mission without any other distracting elements.  Below are listed some websites from different industries, which use minimalist design concept for conveying their message and provide a great UX: Minimalism in photography portfolios Running a photography business is not common. Beyond stunning photos, it requires much creativity and refinement when it comes to communication with the potential customers. If you want to learn more about running a photography business, you may find more information in Braveen Kumar’s article (link to www.shopify.com/blog/how-to-sell-photos-online) In terms of web design, minimalism is the preferred choice for the photographers who want to let their work speaking for itself. The style gives an air of elegance and sophistication that lends itself to this industry. Christine Szczupak Photography The stylized arrows and subtle drop-shadow are important details that increase the visual appeal of this website. Ryan Willms The spacing and arrangement of content here, along with the elegant typography and simple lines, give the feeling of a fresh design. Caitlin Worthington Photography  The white background is the perfect canvas for the large and vivid photographs that are perfectly balanced by the typography. A classic example of minimalist design. Jonathan Glynn Smith A dramatic splash screen and beautifully minimalist design. Bruce Percy A very simple design that leaves the viewer no doubt what he’s seeing. A quick glance is enough to see what the photographer does. Navigation is again clear and simple. The black background works well with the minimalist design. Minimalism in the creative industry Exponent PR To highlight their video montage (and photos as you scroll), Exponent’s site features simple colors and fonts that make everything pop. Bark PR Like Exponent PR, the previous PR company on our list, you’ll see flat UI and bold colors. But in Bark PR’s case, the yellow is much more than a simple accent. Oh My! Digital Design Studio Oh My!  uses a large white background for some high-contrast effect and a very simple navigation to provide a great UX. Brave Little Tank Like Oh My!, Brave Little Tank also uses a large white background for getting a high-contrast effect with the website content. The accents of colors are given by pictures and the green color of highlighted text. The navigation is simple, letting the users dive in quick and easy through the whole site. With its website, Brave Little Tank has created a simple, impactful solution (what they also have promised to their clients). Brian Danaher Another website that opts for a single column and bold typography. If you take a closer look, you will notice the classic mix for the minimalist concept: a lot of negative space, large and vivid photos, typography that perfectly balances the images.   Callens  Minimalism is the preferred choice for fashion websites and those selling luxury items, like Italian brand Callens. This design concept gives an air of elegance and sophistication that lends itself to certain industries. Leen Heyne   Besides its jewelry, Leen Heyne‘s monochrome logo and company name are the only significant visual elements on its homepage. The surrounding expanse of gray space and white texts make it a safe bet, the user’s eyes going back and forth between the two core visual elements.  Bulgari Italian luxury goods brand Bulgari is another company that uses creative techniques to keep its site interesting within its minimal framework. Side-to-side scrolling combines with an ingenious page-turning animation and high-quality photos. Yield Lots of space, soft pastels, middle to dark gray colors for text, large photos and keeping buttons to a minimum make Yield’s site delicate and easy to navigate.  Conspiracy Conspiracy’s homepage bundles necessary buttons on top then puts the product on a clean canvas. NTN This site is traditionally minimal. Design brand NTN uses the abundant white space, personality-infused typography, and a reduced number of elements that the minimalist style is known for. Minimalism in website and app development Squarespace This screenshot from website-building service Squarespace illustrates the idea of one focal point per screen. The site explains everything it needs in screen-by-screen images, and groups together relevant blurbs on the same screen. Scytale Scytale is another defining website for the concept of minimalism in web design. They use very large white and light gray background and big and bold typography, helping the user to focus on the main message. The red color used for some flat design and typography are the only color accents used here. Thrive Simple design on a subtle grid. Garnished with flat design and simple bright blue color via scrolling. A fun, clean, good interaction! iPad mini 4 Apple is no stranger to minimalism. The web page for the iPad mini 4 uses lots of literal white space to draw attention to the product’s sleek design. The clear top bar, also featuring an abundance of space, helps the user to navigate. Château d’Yquem Winemaker Château d’Yquem combines minimalism and subdivision in its site. Each section follows the minimalist philosophy with only a few elements revolving around a single concept. When combined, the sections’ size and location on screen create a visual hierarchy. Maemo  The website for double-Michelin-starred Norwegian restaurant Maaemo uses minimalism to create a sense of class. The visual treatment is perfect for storytelling, as the site demonstrates with HD photos used for each page. Bottom line We know you have a lot of information to offer to your visitors and you’d like to feature all of them on your website, but you should keep in mind that will also throw your visitors into an information overload. Before anything else, make sure your website features only the most important information and link the additional stuff. And don’t worry, if people are interested in learning more about your company, they will look for links or they will contact you. Most of all, make sure your brand and your target audience fit the concept of minimalism before going for this website design concept. Because unfitting use of colors, typography, and visuals will not bring the same results for your business. Even if it’s not suitable for all business websites, minimalist design style comes with plenty of great advantages that make it more effective than any other design style in the web design industry. Read More at Minimalist Web Design – More Effective Than Any Other Design Style In The Web Design Industry http://dlvr.it/PYVRjS www.regulardomainname.com