#Puddles are just stacking of droplets

[thegreencrown-rulerofair]

I saw this comment under this video and made me realize that Stacking is everything in our lives.

Like, Buildings hello?!? a stackings of hollow squares that functions as a livable space

Videogames and it's genres? Leveling up, another word for stacking. RPG, Action, Simulation, FPS, etc. All foundation of this Stacking principle RPG is just leveling up to be stronger, Action is just RPG, Simulation is just RPG ( Like seriously WHAT is RPG? but a broad generalised stacking of specified genres )

Academic? Stacks of research papers of all qualified fields even the quackeries amongst have slackerys stackeies of them.

Education? Grades, levels, achievements another word for stacking.

Financial? Pigsty of money, money, moeny

Social? Hierarchy

Media? Influenza Influencers, Followers, Subscribers, another alternative for stacking

Politics? Bull Stakery

Every observable facets of human society, physiology, culturally, historically, socially, all came from stacking.

Even before the existence of human stacking is prevalent, tracing to the very first organism of the primordial soup, the creation of earth.

Even before that, an upping pressure of overexcited, overlyhot, overlyunstable stacking of energy sudden release that lead to the creation of the big bag toward the creating of the stacking of galaxies that are just a giant cluster stackers of staking of stars.

Ohm may be the first sound of creation

but

Stacking is the first action toward creation

[ivyues]

June Rain ⋅ Seungmin

You didn’t expect the soft summer rain to complement your first vacation as a couple. (A/N: you surely know those -> X)

The engine hummed softly beneath your fingertips, the highway unfurling ahead of you like a silver ribbon winding through the quiet countryside. You stole a glance at Seungmin, seated in the passenger seat, hood pulled up and a hand curled under his chin as he looked out the window. His eyes were calm and thoughtful, following the blur of green and low, cloudy skies.

It was your first holiday together – just the two of you. A small cabin, tucked away about four hours from Seoul, rented off a cute Airbnb listing that Seungmin had found and sent to you with a message that just said: 

“Too cheesy? Or just cheesy enough?”

You’d replied with a heart emoji and booked it before either of you could change your mind.

Seungmin shifted in his seat, glancing at you. “You sure you don’t want to switch soon?”

You shook your head with a small smile. “I like driving. And you’d just fall asleep behind the wheel.”

“I would not,” he said, but his grin betrayed him. “Okay, maybe I would. But I’m great company.”

“You’ve been silent for 40 minutes.”

“I’m providing comforting presence,” he countered, sitting up straighter and stretching. “But seriously, this is nice.”

It was. The air was easy between you – occasional conversation, music low in the background, and the unspoken comfort of being together with nowhere urgent to be.

By the time you arrived, the sun was playing peekaboo through the clouds, casting soft light over the wooden cabin. Nestled between gentle green hills, it looked like something out of a Ghibli movie – wooden beams, a little porch, surrounded by early summer flowers.

You stepped out of the car and stretched, breathing in the mossy air. The quiet was heavier here, soft in a way that made your shoulders drop a little. Seungmin opened the trunk but paused to take it in too, his eyes following the lazy sway of tall grasses on the hill.

A couple of hours in, the rain began. Not a storm, not a dramatic downpour – just that soft, steady June kind of pattering against the roof and windows. The kind that makes the world feel wrapped in cotton, damp and close but not unpleasant. You both stood at the window for a moment, watching it wash over the trees and the little patio outside.

“Well, so much for our hike,” Seungmin said, holding two mugs of hot coffee and handing one to you.

You shrugged and smiled over the rim of your mug, the steam warming your face as you watched a waterdrop slide down the glas. “It’s kind of nice, though.”

Later, you played music from a speaker, low and lazy, a half-read book in your lap and a small stack of board games pulled from the cabin’s shelf on the coffee table. Seungmin insisted on playing a game that he swore he remembered how to play. It turned out he didn’t. Instead, he made up the rules halfway through, and you called him out for it, but he just grinned like he knew you’d let him win anyway.

When the rain slowed to a mist, early in the afternoon, you both ventured outside. The world was painted in deeper greens, the leaves still dripping, the sky a pale gray above. The air smelled of petrichor and damp earth, with that strange, clean scent that only comes after summer rain.

You stepped carefully over a puddle to not dreanch your sneakers, holding Seungmin’s hand. “On the bright side, at least my allergies are taking the day off. Thank you, rain.”

He chuckled, feeling the pull as you stepped over the puddle. “You’re glowing with less congestion. It’s very attractive.”

“Wow. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”

“I try.”

Seungmin chuckled as he followed you. As you walked beneath a low-hanging branch, a single droplet slipped from a leaf and landed squarely on Seungmin’s head. He blinked in surprise, water trickling down his forehead. “Maybe we should have actually taken the umbrella with us."

“Ah, city boy can’t handle a little rain, huh?” you teased with a smirk, reaching over to shake the clear drop off his hair.

He just smiled, looking at you a little longer than necessary. There was something in the way your cheeks flushed in the cool air, in the way you skipped over puddles and the fact that your hair slightly curled because of the damp air.

He liked this version of you – freer, softer. A little wild in the rain-damp woods.

You walked in silence for a while after that, just the two of you and the quiet hush of the world post-rain. The occasional bird call and the distant sound of water dripping from leaves.

masterlist

[vorachii]

ㅤㅤ ⸺ COFFEE.

pairing: kuroo x gn!reader

cw: none.

synopsis: ㅤA rainy afternoon gets you more than a warm cup of coffee—kuroo and his terrible cat puns.

The Tokyo rain didn’t hold back, it came down in relentless sheets, turning sidewalks into rivers and umbrellas into flimsy shields. You ducked into the nearest café just in time, the bell above the door jingling as you shook out your umbrella, droplets splattering onto the mat. It was warm inside, cozy in that familiar, tucked-away corner-of-the-city kind of way. The scent of fresh coffee and rain-dampened books filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of conversation and the occasional hiss from the espresso machine.

The café itself had a sort of rustic charm, dark wooden beams crossed overhead, and shelves crammed with mismatched books lined the brick walls. Old concert posters curled at the edges, framed by strings of dim fairy lights that cast a golden glow over chipped tables and worn leather chairs. The rain against the wide, foggy windows added a soft percussion to the mellow indie music playing through dusty speakers.

Outside, the city blurred into gray. Cars splashed through puddles, their headlights smeared by the rain, while pedestrians wrestled with umbrellas that bent against gusts of wind. The glow of streetlights reflected off the wet pavement, turning it into a kaleidoscope of orange and red. Despite the storm, life carried on, people rushing home, students darting between storefronts, the occasional cyclist pushing through the downpour like it was just another Tuesday.

You spotted an empty seat by the window, a rare find, and made a beeline for it. A stack of study notes hit the table with a soft thud, soon joined by a steaming cup of coffee. The outside world blurred through the rain-streaked glass. You flipped a page, half-reading, half-listening to the muted café chatter. Somewhere behind the counter, the barista was humming along to a soft pop song, and a group of students near the back were arguing about volleyball, voices raised over which school had the best libero.

“You look paws-itively miserable over here.”

The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, smooth, smug, and unmistakable. You didn’t even need to look up.

“Kuroo, if you’re about to drown me in cat puns, ”

“Too late,” he cut in, dropping into the seat across from you with a wet squelch. His hoodie was soaked through, damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead, though that infuriatingly smug grin remained intact. “Had to claw my way through the storm to get here. Almost didn’t make it.”

“You’re dripping everywhere.”

“Adds character.”

“You look like a drowned alley cat.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

Despite yourself, you huffed a laugh, sliding your coffee across the table. “Here.”

He took it without hesitation, fingers brushing yours, whether on purpose or by accident, you weren’t sure. Probably on purpose. It was Kuroo, after all.

He took a slow sip, then set the cup down with a soft clink. “Y’know, I wasn’t even planning to come in here. Spotted you through the window and figured, ‘why not?’”

You blinked at him. “You came in here just because you saw me?”

Kuroo shrugged, but the smirk was all too telling. “Well, you looked like a sad little stray. Thought I’d rescue you.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, here I am.”

The café buzzed quietly around you, students huddled over laptops, the baristas moving like clockwork behind the counter. Kuroo sat back in his seat, finally taking in your spread of papers. “Drowning in notes, over-studying… Nekoma’s academics really doing a number on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Unlike you, some of us can’t coast through on sheer luck.”

He tapped the side of his head. “Natural talent. And charm. Don’t forget the charm.”

“Pretty sure Yaku calls it dumb luck.”

Kuroo chuckled. “Yaku’s just too intense. I swear, the guy could probably coach the team himself with how much he yells.”

You snorted into the back of your hand which you were using to muffle your laughs. “And Lev? Still giving him headaches?”

“Oh, definitely. Lev somehow managed to spike a ball into the ceiling last week. Yaku nearly lost it.”

You bit back another laugh, the sound muffled against your palm. This felt… comfortable. The Nekoma gym wasn’t your scene, but its players were hard to ignore, especially Kuroo, who had this frustrating habit of popping up everywhere.

Thunder rumbled outside, low and lazy, as the rain kept its steady beat against the windows.

Kuroo sipped from your cup again, shamelessly. “So, you come here often, or was the universe just feeling generous today?”

“You really gonna use that line?”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

You shook your head, warmth pooling in your chest despite the chill outside.

There was a beat of quiet, not awkward, just soft, before Kuroo drummed his fingers against the table, then scribbled something on a napkin with a half-dead pen he pulled from his hoodie.

“Here,” he said, sliding it toward you. His number, scrawled in messy handwriting, sat beneath a poorly drawn cat doodle. “Figured you could use a study buddy. Or someone to keep the puns coming.”

You picked up the napkin, fighting a grin. “This is a bribe.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re such a menace.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Kuroo stood, gathering the damp edges of his hoodie, but not before tugging it off and tossing it onto the back of your chair. It was still warm, somehow.

“You’ll need it more than me,” he offered with a lazy grin. “Don’t want you getting cold. Cat-ch me later, alright?”

The bell over the door jingled as he left, the storm finally softening to a drizzle. You stared at the napkin, the stupid doodle, the barely legible number, and smiled.

“Dumbass,” you muttered, tucking it into your pocket.

[birdie-in-arcadia]

All In

Here's chapter 4 ready to go! Enjoy, lovelies <3

CHAPTER FOUR — SHARED SILENCE  (My Point of View) 

The rain taps softly against the window like it’s trying not to interrupt. It’s a gentle kind of downpour; the sort that turns the city into a film still, where puddles shimmer like spilled ink and strangers walk hunched in soft grey coats, umbrellas tilting like flower heads in bloom. 

Vessel and I stand outside the bookstore, lingering beneath the narrow awning as he watches the droplets collect along the edge of the overhang. “This okay?” I ask, hugging my coat a little tighter around me. He glances sideways, then gives a slow, genuine nod. “It’s perfect.” I was supposed to pick our destination today since he picked the last one, so I went with the safest option; a vintage bookstore nestled between a comic shop and an old-fashioned Italian restaurant. 

The bell over the door gives a short, chiming ring as we step inside. A heavily accented “’Ello!” sounds as the cashier greets us from his position at the register. He smiles warmly, and I return it, nodding once toward him. The air is warmer here, with the smell of old pages, sandalwood, and something floral from the tiny flower shop in the back. It’s quieter than the shop I work in, less curated but full of character. Books are stacked haphazardly, crammed two deep on shelves, or piled into leaning towers near the corners. 

It’s the kind of place where you can get lost. Which, I think, might be exactly what we need. Vessel lets out a soft breath beside me. Not quite a sigh, but close. “A nice little fact about this place: the owner of this shop is married to the owner of the flower shop back there. Very sweet elderly couple, they are,” he says lowly. “You’ve been here before?” He nods his head. “Yes, a few times.” Something in his voice makes me smile. I turn to the left, toward the literary fiction section, and he follows without a word. 

We don’t speak much at first. He trails a few paces behind, fingers skimming the spines of books without pulling any free. I catch him reading titles sideways, his brow furrowed in quiet thought. I stop at a shelf of poetry, and he stops beside me. “Do you read it?” I ask. “Sometimes,” he says, eyes drifting across the faded bindings. “Not as often as I’d like.” “What kind do you prefer?” He shrugs. “The kind that makes the noise a little quieter.” I glance at him. He isn’t looking at me, but his voice is softer than usual. 

I pull down a copy of Milk and Honey and offer it to him. “This might be a little on the nose, but it has moments. Honest ones.” His fingers brush mine as he takes it. I pretend not to notice, but I do. 

We wander. He finds a small table tucked near the back of the shop; round, slightly uneven, with mismatched chairs and an old, green-shaded lamp. He sits without asking. I take the seat across from him. “Comfortable?” I ask. He leans back slightly, flipping open the poetry book. “More than I expected.” 

It’s quiet again, but not empty. Just... still. He reads while I watch the rain trail down the window beside us. The world outside is in soft focus, blurred and slow. I reach for a book from a nearby stack, not really intending to read, just needing something to hold. 

After a few minutes, he closes the poetry book and looks at me. “This part,” he says, tapping the page with a finger. “It reminded me of something you said. About how you feel music, not just hear it.” I tilt my head. “Can I read it?” 

He turns the book, sliding it across the table between us. Our fingers brush again. This time, it lingers half a second longer. I lower my gaze to the passage. “I want to be so close you can feel me without touching.” The words reverberate in my chest. I look up at him, and he’s already looking at me. Neither of us speaks. 

Eventually, I break the silence. “You want it?” He blinks. “What?” “The book. It’s yours, if you want it.” I answer. “You don’t have to-” “I know. But I want to.” I reply. He hesitates, eyes scanning mine like he’s looking for something between the words. Then, very quietly, “Thank you.” 

When we go to the register, I insist on paying. He tries once to argue, but it’s half-hearted. Like he knows I’ll win. Outside, the rain’s let up. The street glistens with puddled light, streetlamps flickering to life in the damp. He walks me back toward the Underground, neither of us in a hurry. As we pause at the steps, he looks down at the book in his hands. “You didn’t have to do this,” he says again. I shrug, biting back a smile. “Maybe not. But it felt right.” 

He turns the book over once more, fingers running over the frayed edges. “I don’t know what this is,” he says softly. “But it’s... good.” I nod. “It is.” He looks up. There’s something in his eyes that makes me ache a little; something caught between gratitude and restraint. “Will you let me return the favor?” he asks. I meet his gaze. “You already have.” 

We don’t hug, and we don’t touch. But as he turns to leave, I watch him trace his thumb over the spine of the book again. And I feel it. Like the space between us is full of something we haven’t learned how to name yet. 

@yourgirlisa

[linposter]

WIP Game - Rook 🩸

I was tagged by @lunammoon to partcipate in their little writing prompt.

I'm normally more of a rambler than writer, so I've taken the chance to write little scenes and lifted from some scripts I wrote - so these might be a little heavy handed. Also, a few are connected :3c so see if you can tell the order. Word: ROSEBUD

R

Rooks expression softens. "If that's your story, kid, I'm not gonna be the one to tell you if it's right or wrong. But, just remember it doesn't have to be a lonely one."

O

"One thing we can agree on?" Lucanis hummed softly in thought, warm coffee clutched in his hands. The artificial sun of the fade beat down on him through the high windows of the music room. "Mmmhm." Rook nodded from where they sat perched upon a stack of boxes. A book and quil sat balanced in their lap -- the last vestieges of their study materials that remain unscattered on the floor. "Preferably one that appeals to his more.... driven nature. And doesn't involve murder." "You ask much of me, Rook."

S

Silence fell as Rook remained sprawlled on the marble floor, the oppressive stare of their team kept their head bowed. "Rook?" Lucanis was, as ever, the first to speak up. Their body shuddered as a breath rattled their lungs, the 'pit pat' of droplets hitting stone beneath them audible to all as the discordance of the hall ebbed away. As Rook finally lifted their head they looked to Harding and Neve. The familiar cold of grief bled through their bones like a home unwillingly abandoned, and stained their cheeks as another tear threatened to spill.

"Tell me Varric isn't dead. Please." Then it does.

E

"Even now?!" The soft red bloom across Rooks cheeks persisted, though whether it was from the alcohol or humiliation it was unclear. "Even now." Emmrich repeated, confirming all of their fears. "I do find myself grateful you don't take me on so many outings. I fear Yearning's covetous musings would get rather distracting in battle." If there was not already a spell that would turn the caster into a puddle, Rook was suddenly certain they were about to invent it.

B

Bodies fell together as Rook was pulled from the Eluvian. Crashing armor and startled yowls filled their ears as the eerie silence of Solas' prison fell away. What followed was a cacophany of voices echoing through the chamber; relief, scorn, joy. Trembling, they each thanked whatever kind god was left to listen for their leaders return.

U

Under the cold light of the Meditation Chambers tank, Rook poured over yet another missive penned by Solas. It detailed yet more of his regrets. No. Rather, it detailed his hesitation in his actions. A brief moment of doubt swam in the Dread Wolves words as he reflected on his time with the Inquisition, and why he chose still to save the Inquisitors life knowing the decision may one day come to haunt him. In the end, he had reasoned to himself, again, that his actions were just and he would face the consequences accordingly.

D

Deny it. He's dead. Don't believe it. This whole time. Another of Solas' tricks. He made me see him. Another lie. He's gone. We're not alone again....

[txtmetonight]

Francis Forever

call summary ⋆ ★ The first time you’ve unofficially officially met Choi Yeonjun was when you had hit rock bottom and flailed helplessly against the dark deep waves of the drowning ocean.  And now you're sinking deeper than ever.

pairing *. * Choi Yeonjun x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Angst

warnings *. Death, Crude Language, Panic Attacks, Bad Grammar

call duration⋆ ★ 3.4k

a/n*. * Erm I'm not very satisfied with this one but whatever cause dialogue is def not my strongest suit lol...hope you guys like it tho

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet//@oreoqueen // @woncheecks//@probably-too-obssessed

The Mitski Diaries Masterlist

The blearing lights of the convenience store did not do much to help your throbbing temple as you stumbled in with a hoodie and a pair of shorts. It was already nightfall, and the shining stars were sprinkled on the blanket of darkness. This was the first place you’ve ran into Choi Yeonjun unknowingly.  

Grabbing the Advil and Red bull that you came here for, you stood right behind Choi Yeonjun and his bright blue hair that caught your interest for a second. You watch his delirious state help the cashier ring up his very few items before he walks out of the store. You had only caught his eye once that day. 

The second time you’ve met Choi Yeonjun was by pure accident–a mistake. Failing your psychology test was purely an accident. Almost getting evicted from your apartment because you were unable to pay the rent was an accident. Losing your best friend from an illness was an accident.

Running into Choi Yeonjun with your stacks of failed papers in hand was an accident. Accidents on top of accidents continued to rot into your life, but this one was a good accident–or not you would soon later to think.  

Letting the Choi Yeonjun that made his way into your life was an accident.  

The third time you had encountered Choi Yeonjun, you were sure that fate had been playing her malicious cards with a sly bitten smile, on her vicious lips. Your mascara streaming down your slightly flushed cheeks, sinking into your skin as you melt into the brick wall behind you. Puddles of tears slop down along your muffled cries, the thick droplets of sorrow staining the pink blouse you wore that day.  

The surroundings around you were a blur, almost like when you were seated on a carousel when you were younger, happy eyes watching the streaks of color mush into a blurry mess that made you dizzy. So, it was really no surprise that you jumped in fear when Choi Yeonjun circled his warm arms around you and that feeling of wooziness slipped away. He grounded you on that stupid fucking carousel of misery.  

You cried harder finding comfort in his mellow chest, and you swear that was the last time you’ve let tears shed on yourself in such a gruesome matter–perhaps you thought.  

With the nights growing darker and the morning lights blinding more than ever, you're shocked to find the wet streams land in your black attire and rather not in the hands of another that you’ve grown to love.  

I don't know where to put my hands 

I've been trying to lay my head down 

But I'm writing this at three AM 

With the nightlight on, you don’t think that you can lay your head down to slumber. A pooling of helplessness fills deep within you and you’re not sure how long it was going to take before it consumed you whole, eating you alive. 

Yeonjun was your whole life. He was perfect, from head to toe, and you love him. You love him so much that it hurts. Feeling like thorns and spikes claw its way up your throat, it hurts to laugh. It hurts to talk. It hurts to cry. It hurts to feel. It hurts so much that you feel like each day you feel yourself being ripped to shreds. You think you’re on the verge of a pitfall of doom.  

Every day a certain scarf is pictured to be on your neck, as if it was strangling you. On days that it was too cold for just a thin piece of fabric around your neck, onlookers ogled at the purple stained fabric in wonder–what were you doing? Yet you let them stare, Yeonjun to you was a man of remembrance, and he suffered quite much to have you be the only one to reminiscence about him–so you let others ponder about him through that scarf.

Logically illogical, you’re about to go insane, everyone knew but never had a clue when. But they would too, if all you were forced to feed on was on the scraps of the imprint of him. No not him as a person, but instead the mere shadow of Yeonjun that seeped through the cracks of your brain whenever it liked. 

You wish you had met him a little earlier, given him a little more to chew into you as a person. 

The day after he found you in that alley, you’ve been forced to avoid him. But you significantly remember that he was everywhere that you went. At the grocery store, in the mall, in your communication skills class, in your dreams.

And every time he had the uncanny ability to spot you but when he did, you had the skill to scurry away like a coward. You resisted and you regret it more than ever now, maybe you should’ve let him in a little sooner–a little earlier would’ve meant that you could’ve spent a bit more time with him, cherish him more.  

Nevertheless, the stubborn fucker made it through your (not-so) tough defenses whether you liked it or not back then.

 

“I’m Choi Yeonjun and I'd to take you out for a cup of coffee...if you’re up to it.”

You don’t think your heart has ever leapt out of chest as much as it did now, but you’re hoping that the heart-attack induced scare takes your life rather than facing whoever that was.

But it doesn’t, so you’re dragged through your conscience to look up from your drawn in textbook, to meet a sharp pair of eyes that widen ever so slightly at you. “Excuse me?” You mutter, scooting a bit away from the familiar man, gasping shocks rumbling internally when he takes a step forward.  

“If you want to, I’d like to take you out somewhere–anywhere you’d like.” He sighs and then pauses. “Please” The blue-haired boy adds.

“I–that’s a bit direct,” You chuckle, shutting the book shut with a tremor of your chin. You don’t know if you’re about to sob or lash out in a serious case of anxious chokes. “Please” He parrots dumbly, gulping when he starts to gather your scattered pens and pencils, which you thank him for with a small smile. “I don’t even know you.”  

“Sure, you do. You ran into me with those stack of papers.” You freeze for a second and relax. “I barely even remember that.” That was a lie. He stills before laughing quietly. “Okay. I’ll get you to your front doorstep in an hour max. And wherever we go is your choice.”

Yeonjun was albeit weird, but you’re intrigued and so you turn around with the straps of your bag over your shoulder, weighing you down while you fight back a smile, walking through the various alleys of books.  

He follows right behind you with a small pep in his step, still keeping a bearable distance. "I don’t know. What if you kill me or something?” He laughs at that and stops, which slows you down to a completely unmoving being.

“But I can’t even I wanted to. I’d go to jail.” He watches your shoulders shake, rumbling in silence. “Please...I don’t think I’ve ever said please to a person that many times before.” He says, eyebrows furrowing when your feet start to walk again at a faster pace. 

“Where are you going, is that a yes or a no?!” 

And without looking back, you shout back, “Well we’re gonna have to walk to get to whatever place we’ll be going to...no? And you choose the place, I’m a little indecisive.” 

Soon enough by your side, he leads you to a coffee shop and leaves you at your doorstep in exactly fifty-six minutes, with your number in hand. And around your neck is a lilac scarf that hides your reddening flush.  

I don't need the world to see 

That I've been the best I can be, but 

I don't think I could stand to be 

Where you don't see me  

By the very corner, a red booth sits in its glory. It holds about six people max, yet usually two occupy the peeling cushions. A piece of gum sticks the edge towards the window and on the bottom a very happy smiley face and a picture of a very badly sketched fox is drawn on the wood with a red pen.

On the top, packets of sugar are placed neatly in a black carton, and if you move it from its original place, you could spot two initials scratched in, exposing the sandy splinters.  

Yeonjun believed that, sitting next to you was more endearing than across, because he was a man of touch. He wanted all of you, he craved your warmth and every single second not beside you were described to be feelings that mirrored the brutal actions only in hell.

So, he fixed himself to be linked arm in arm with you all times, and even while you were sipping on the drinks. He always said that he didn’t have to look at your face, as long as you were touching him in any way, he would be content and happy for the rest of his life.  

You hope he’s still happy wherever he went, but you’re surely not. You’ve heard about phantom limbs before a person feels as though a missing limb was still by their side even though they had lost it through a horrific accident.

Eerie.

Yet you’re not sure what was worse. Feeling a phantom limb of Yeonjun’s who arguably was your other half, or not feeling him at all. The brush of a ghostly arm sends you through a shockwave as you jump, hiccuping down another cup of caffeine. You’ve never ever had a taste for bitter drinks, but your love insisted on his favor for them and now that’s all you gulp down.   

You also trace the peeling letters, more than thrice, wincing when the wood gets between your skin. You suppose that’s what you're sobbing at recently–the pain of the blistering splinters, instead of your grieving heart at his beating love, but the others know better.

Sympathizing looks don’t go unnoticed by you, but you tend to ignore them, and it was easy when all you had to do was immerse yourself in... agony. When the waiter just told you that the cold coffee was on the house, or the old grandma gave you a distressing hug– you just must pretend to wonder why. Ho–hum.  

“You’re here every single day for a month, dear. You do realize that?” 

You look up and retch back a slack jaw at her words. 

“I–I haven’t, I thought it’s been a few days.” 

She widens her eyes, and opens her mouth to say a few words, but eventually stops herself. Then she serves you your coffee before leaving you in a deep pool of bother. 

“Hey (Y/n), how are you holding up?”  

When Soobin’s contact makes its way to your phone you hesitantly pull it up to your ear, but you press the answer button anyways. That night, when the devastating news had reached you, it was through a panicked call from Choi Soobin.

You distinctively recall the cracks in his voice or the blaring in the background. You could almost imagine the blue and red lights that emit much light to blind, and you could almost smell pungent smell of rust and rain.

And this time on the line with the man you could call as your brother, you’re drowned in the memories of that night that haunt you every single second of the day. You could hear the screaming in your head, and the blunt pain in your toe as you scrambled around and stubbed it.

You could feel the car keys in your hand and the driver's wheel in your fingers, steering to the hospital. Perhaps you could also taste the pure fear that coursed through your tongue, at each swipe it to at your bitten cheek and the aftermath of a bile attack that spilled on the pristine white floor.  

“(Y/n)? Are you there?” 

Shaking your head, you sigh into the phone, blinking back another wave of tears. You would assume you’ve cried all the liquid out of your system, but more appears when you least expect it. “Yeah, I’m here. And I’ve been fine...or maybe near it? I dunno. How are you and the boys?”  

It goes silent and suddenly, you're met with sniffling that has you reciprocating with big fat globs. “Us too, I guess. I j–just can’t believe it, I don’t know how to come to reality with anything anymore. Beomgyu doesn’t even talk to me, Huening is fucking quiet all the time, and Taehyun keeps coming back dead at night, sobbing.” He weeps. You finally close your eyes and hit the sofa. “I’m so sorry” You say.  

“And I’m so sorry too. I actually don’t know why I even called. I won’t bother you anymore.” Soobin mutters and you desperately want to tell him that he’s not bothering you, and to please stay, but you don’t. You instead say, “Ok, sure. Please don’t ever contact me again.” You meant the last part as a joke and you’re sure that the man on the other side knows that, yet he cuts the line as soon as your last word hits the receiver.

And just like that, you’re back to your pitiful desolation. To tell the truth, you’re envious. You’re starting to get pissed. With Yeonjun gone...you don’t have anyone on your side. Soobin has the boys, and he says that you do too, but you both know that isn’t true. Without your lover, you’ve succumbed to loneliness of yourself. You will forever live in vain alongside your life with a nasty ring on your finger and the comfort of your brutal tears.  

On sunny days I go out walking 

I end up on a tree-lined street 

I look up at the gaps of sunlight 

I miss you more than anything 

“You’re perhaps the most stunning woman, I’d ever seen in my life” Yeonjun mutters against the expanse of your skin, nuzzling into your warmth as you both lay under a cherry blossom tree. You bite back and smile and flush against the bark of the tree. “That was out of no-where. What’s wrong?”

He twists a little and makes an effort to stare into your eyes–which to him wasn’t too hard, not when your eyes pooled the depths of heavens themselves, and all the beautiful things it beheld. Not when they twinkled like bright stars and Yeonjun internally promised to map out each and every gleam himself.

“Nothing much. Just making some very obvious observations. Did you know that you’re also so very very kind, and fucking gorgeous, and cook up some mean meals, maybe a little stubborn, oh and that you’re my lucky charm of a girlfriend?” He snickers, grabbing your hands to land a small kiss on your ring finger, the pads of your skin, burning against his blood-red lips.

The sunlight beams at the gesture and opens up its lovely rays for the world to share, especially for the two lovers that sit side-by side; one blushing ferociously and the other just admiring.  

“Well–er–did you know that you’re the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my entire and probably ever will, that you’re so exquisite that sometimes it makes me want to puke, that you have the most loving voice anyone would be pleased to here, the same one I believe that could perfectly sing my heart’s tune to where it yearns out for you, oh and that you’re my stupidly bitchy but exquisite boyfriend?”

He scoffs at the last part but turns shy at your giggles and so he pulls at your cheeks, unable to keep himself from kissing them. Meeting you was the most wonderful thing that happened to him, and he plans to keep you around forever–if you’d let him.  

It goes a little silent for a while. 

Then Yeonjun coughs and subtly moves closer, your palm lain across his thigh where he’s kept it from earlier, his own fingers wrapping them against yours. “Did–did you know that you may soon be my fiancé?” Yeonjun murmurs. He watches your lips quiver for a second as you try to comprehend his words.

“I wonder how soon?” You whisper and suddenly you go quiet as you watch him stumble with his arms, clumsily pulling something out of his pocket–a ruby red box that glitters spectacularly. “Holy fuck, I–” You choke, and he just laughs at you before sincerely gazing at you. “(Y/n) I know that this isn’t the most romantic thing, and I’ll make it up, I swear! But will you marr–”  

You cut him off and kiss him. You’re crying you both notice and the salty tears stream down your face, but you don’t stop them as you pull back from the lack of oxygen, heavily panting. “I–what the hell, of course I’ll marry you” You cry, and he starts to bawl as well, grasping the ring from the box so he can slip it on your finger, the same one he just put up to his mouth to smooch.

“I love you much” It was just a huge mess of blubbering tears and wailing voices but you both tackle each other to the ground, embracing one another as though it was just you two left in the damned world.  

Yeonjun’s favorite trees were always the ones with the most flowers that smelt alluring because they always reminded him of you–so his first choice was a cherry blossom tree. The petals were always so magical...and they still are from the way that the branches bow down to you in grief and pity.

You take it that they also miss the same person as you, and you can’t blame them. This is the first time you’ve been here since his demise. You’re so used to the never-ending tears that you can’t even tell if you’re crying or not anymore.

Eyes scouring the ground below you, your eyes widen as a very familiar rock sticks out from the dirt, right near your shoe. You kick at it ferociously ignoring the ache that travels up your foot, but it's all worth it when the sight of purple paint flips around, contrasting it's dull background.

Feb 10...the new valentine's day! Y.J & the love of his life

Today was supposed to be your fifth anniversary–just a few days before Valentine's Day when he was too impatient to confess to you on the day itself, though he had it all planned out for months on end. He was just too sweet you suppose.

"I didn't forget, by the way Junnie. Happy Anniversary, I–I have a gift for you, yeah?" You mumble.

Your hands touch the bark and watch the little ants that scurry the ground. Your lips exhale a loud sigh before you lean down and pat the soil beneath you, nails digging into the rich brown mud. A stray eyelash irritates your skin so with the unsoiled part of your hands you wipe it on to your palm.  

Taking a second you close your eyes and wish, ‘for wherever my sweet Yeonjun is, I hope him to be a cherry blossom tree in his next life, how much ever dumb it sounds’. And then you blow and grab a ring from your breast pocket. The gold band is lovely, and it was your lover’s, the one he wore on his own ring finger.

And before you have any more regrets, you place the jewel in the small hole and cover it up once more. With a piece of your heart gone with Yeonjun’s flatline, another had just been buried along with the ring; and you wonder how much of it you have left to spare.  

Happy Fake slash Non-fake Valentine's day.

I don't need the world to see 

That I've been the best I can be, but 

I don't think I could stand to be 

Where you don't see me 

You stand in the heavy pouring rain staring at the sky. And you’re praying that the dusky clouds clear up; for the reason that Yeonjun might not have a clear view of the world below and maybe you.

You itch to feel his comforting gaze on you or else you just might not make it through. It’s been a while you think since all the saddening phrases said by others have eased up. The spring season has evolved into a daze of heat and the summer warmth made you feel dizzy.  

But now fall is throwing itself out in the air. The sugary scent of apple pie wafts in and out of a nearby bakery. The wet-colored leaves underneath your feet serve as a reminder.

And so, the rest of the boys have been arriving at your door with freshly made pumpkin wine to share as you five bond over an early shitty Christmas movie. You started to cry when the dog passed away in the film and another four pairs of eyes chuckled at your sobs. Beomgyu supplies his comfort, but you’d rather have your lover, fiancé, and the boy too good for this world and for you.

You just want Yeonjun back. 

Meeting and letting Choi Yeonjun become yours was truly an accident–but it’s safe to say that all the years you molded with him weren’t ever regretted.  

And autumn comes when you're not yet done 

With the summer passing by, but 

I don't think I could stand to be 

Where you don't see me

[karsticlife]

Tomarktober Day 5: Rain

Another bolt of lightning flashes through the sky, the ominous, crackling din of thunder rumbling in the distance.

The rain had been looming for hours, great clouds rolling in waves across the sky, but it had just started to fall, hard droplets that pelted the two boys seeking cover under a floppy palm tree.

"This is such a fucking drag," Tom mutters crossing his arms and glaring at the sky. They had been skating around town and causing the usual chaos when it had begun to pour.

Mark just smiles and embraces Tom from behind, burying his face in his neck and enjoying the smell of his damp hair. He sighs contentedly and feels the tension leave his boyfriend's shoulders, Tom responding by reaching behind his head and tangling his lanky fingers into Mark's gelled spikes.

"We should head back to your house," Mark offers, knowing that the younger boy's parents are at work until nightfall.

Tom hums in agreement, letting his hands drop to his sides as he scans the wet grass for his board.

He picks it up and glances back at Mark, who has done the same.

"Ready?" Tom asks, rolling his shoulders and steeling his gaze in the direction of his house.

"Ready," Mark replies.

They take off, Mark screaming bloody murder the whole way as the chilling rain soaks straight through their clothes almost instantly.

When they reach the small brown house, Tom frantically pushes the door in, waiting until they're both inside to slam it shut with a satisfying thud.

They stand there for a moment, catching their breaths and dripping water all over the tile.

Tom braces himself on his thighs and starts to laugh, softly at first, then louder, especially hard when Mark slips in the puddle under his shoes and topples over. When he recovers, he shoves Tom's shoulder and makes his way to the younger boy's room.

Mark immediately makes a beeline for the the stack of CDs on Tom's desk, rummaging through them and emerging with the navy case of The Colour And The Shape.

He pops it in the player and waiting for it to start before flopping on Tom's bed and curling into the pillows, savoring the distinctly Tom smell that clings to them.

Tom soon joins him, heedless of the water absorbing into his sheets, and Mark tucks his head into the crook of his neck, intertwining their fingers.

The minutes tick by faster than they should , and soon the 11th song of the album filters through the speaker, just louder then the consistent thudding of rain on the window.

And I wonder

When I sing along with you

If everything could ever feel this real forever

If anything could ever be this good again

Tom casts him a curious look and brings their hands to his lips, pressing a searing kiss to the back of Mark's, flashing him a small smile.

I do wonder, Mark thinks, gripping Tom tighter.

And Mark smiles back.

[shraqsmuses]

How much stuff does Junko have in her bellybutton when she's a slob?

"I don't really check my navel whenever I eat. There aren't a lot of reasons for why I would even pay attention to it when I'm trying to make sure I can eat as much as I want. Since I really don't want to think about this…

"Just see how clogged it is for yourself! If you whine about it being too dark, just use your finger to see what's in it!"

Junko's fingernails raked across the back of the anon's head before it was slammed against her potbelly and her legs clamped around their ribs. She lifted her cardigan and shirt and draped it over the anon's head. Before the anon could constantly swerve their head against the blanketing articles, Junko jabbed the dull side of her boot's heel into their cheek with a flex of her thighs, the increased, tightened mass inching between their ribcage and the long, slender bar constantly caressing the clamped teeth underneath the skin that pooled against it.

Junko stretched forward to lift a pair of hamburgers off of a tray on top of her desk and smashed them into her mouth, splattering blotches of ketchup, mustard, and ranch onto her cleavage, where they pooled into a puddle which flung droplets as two bulges swung against her chest. The condiments slipped into her black bra, which swung vertically as Junko's body rocked on her seat, her stomach constantly convulsing as entire burgers were squeezed down her throat followed by belches which rattled her breasts away from her garnaments. The orb underneath them pressed against the anon's head as the fashionista snorted, sweltering patches erupting against their face and multiple flattened stacks stamping it until they were only able to tilt it a few degrees.

Amidst the pink-haired hog's feast, the anon's nose prodded against sludge in a small cavity on her stomach. It seeped into their nostrils and coated them with the scent of rank, sour perspiration, damp paper, and stiff, soaked crumbs. Her stomach acids sizzled around their nose and against their cheeks, dispelling the muck further into their nostrils and locking their neck against her growling stomach. Could that have answered the anon's question or do they desire to excavate the cavern with their fingers in an attempt to clash their tips against a solid surface?

[fernthewhimsical]

Different types of rainbows

Did you know there are different types of rainbows? Us witches love our correspondences, so in Rainbowmancy we can tap into each of these rainbow energies to charge items or power our magic.

Primary rainbow: Our beloved rainbow. Rain droplets catch sunlight which creates a prismatic effect, causing the arc of colours to appear. In a primary rainbow we see red on the outer edge of the arc, and violet on the inner edge. A rainbow is actually a circle, but we are most often too close to the ground to see it in its entirety. Higher up this "full circle rainbow" as it's called, becomes visible

Double rainbow: This is when a, usually paler, secondary rainbow appears above of our primary rainbow. The second rainbow has their colours reversed, with violet on top and red in the centre.

Twinned rainbows: Here the two rainbows are not stacked, but instead appear to begin at the same base, splitting off from there. Where with the double rainbow the colours are reversed, the twin rainbow has the same order of colours as the primary rainbow.

Monochrome rainbow: A very dramatic looking rainbow in just red. This happens when there is a rain-shower at sunset or sunrise.

Supernumerary rainbows: Also knows as "stacker rainbow" or "supernumerary bands". Here bands of pastel rainbow colours appear just below the inner arc of the primary rainbow. The colours are more pastel, and keep repeating, fading the further away from the arc they go. Rarely supernumerary bands can also be stacked on the top of the primary rainbow.

Reflected rainbow: When the primary rainbow is reflected in a body of water, even as small as a puddle. After deflecting in the raindrops the light reflects off of the water.

Reflection rainbow: Here the light first reflects off of a big body of water before deflecting in the raindrops. Reflections of the primary rainbow can be seen, sometimes up to eight in number!

Fogbow: These rainbows are made when the light is refracted in the tiny droplets of fog or mist. Because of the dispersion they are mostly white, with some reds and blues. The bands of colour are broad, but very muted. They often appear with a Glory in the centre (see below).

Moonbow: Not only the light of the Sun can bring a rainbow, the light of the Moon can as well! This is rare, and requires the moon to be close to full. Our human eyes often see the moonbows as white, for we can't see the colours, but they are there.

Snow rainbow: Also known as a sleet rainbow. These look like primary rainbows, however here the light is refracted through ice pellets instead of liquid raindrops. Sleep rainbows can also have double, twinned, monochrome, and other forms of rainbow. Other optical phenomena that are similar to rainbows, but not actually rainbows:

Circumhorizontal and circumzenithal arcs: This happens when light is refracted in hexagonal ice crystals instead of raindrops. The circumhorizontal arc is more flat than the circumzenithal arc, which looks almost like an upside down rainbow. Both have the red parts of their arc pointed towards the Sun (or Moon).

Glory: This appears around a shadow cast in mist of fog. The reflection in the tiny droplets causing a multicoloured halo to appear around the shadow. The "halo" starts with red and ends with blue, repeating itself and growing less bright with each repeat.

Rainbow spiderwebs: Dew catches on the strand of a spiderweb. The droplets then refract light, creating a glowing rainbow web of colours

Cloud iridescence: An optical phenomenon that occurs when thin clouds close to the Sun or Moon contain water droplets or ice crystals that are roughly the same size. The light is refracted within the cloud which creates repeating bands of colour.

Iridescence: Also known as goniochromism. Iridescence means "having a tendency towards rainbows", meaning that although they are not truly rainbows, their colouring does remind us of it. It is an optical phenomenon where the colours shift depending on in which angle the light hits it. Very thin layers of the surface then refract light back in different wavelengths, making it appear to shift colour and have multiple colours. Examples are soap bubbles, oil slick, feathers, butterfly wings, and certain crystals, such as opals.

Pearlescence: The same phenomena as iridescence, but most of the light reflected back is white.

[Part of a Rainbowmancy series, masterpost here]

[x-0ophelia0-x]

trapped in the unknown.

pairings: Fem!Reader x Ezra Bridger

warnings: Angst, mentions of death, hurt/comfort

word count: 2K

summary: You were running and running through the corridors, hoping to find Ezra but they only seemed to be endless. You were chased on top of that. When you finally found him, everything went downhill. There was a strange feeling accompanying you the whole time. what the hell is happening???

authors note: Here‘s the Halloween special ff, just as promised! It’s not really Halloween themed but it‘s angsty xd

It’s already nearly 2 am in Europe which means that we‘re already in the 31.10 soo.. happy Halloween!! 🎃

enjoy <33

The stormtroopers footsteps echoed through he whole place as you ran for your life.

You didn’t remember anything at all, not even how you got here. The only thing you know.. hoped to know.. was that Ezra had to be somewhere here. This was the Nightsisters Fortress located on Perridea. 

The corridors were dark, the only source of light being the almost burnt out torches. Small puddles had found their way into the corridors thanks to the droplets of water, dropping from the ceiling down to the floor. 

It wasn’t freezing cold here but there was certainly a chill which fitted perfectly to how this place made your stomach twist. Not knowing where you were going was a perfect addiction to your discomfort here. 

You ran from door to door, hoping that the troopers would loose the sight of you and follow the wrong lead, but much to your dismay they didn’t. 

While you ran for your dear life, trying to not only survive this but to also manage to find your friend again, a painful fact became clearer every second.

Of course.

You‘re a human. 

How much stamina will you possibly have until your body starts to slow down?

How long did you think could you sprint through these corridors, not slowing down due to the incoming danger?

The answer was simple.

Not much.

Your once so regular breath started to transform itself into a ragged one. 

Droplets of sweat formed themselves on your face, some rolling down while the others stayed still. You were running out of time, you need to find some place to hide or else…

or else you’ll die. 

As if the force heard your silent plea, you managed to find a small opening between a stack of wood and other stuff. Not wasting any more time, you squeezed yourself further into the opening, placing some parts on front of your to possibly block their views from you. 

Everything that was left for you to do now was to wait. 

Wait and hope that your makeshift hide was enough.

„She went that way!“

„Faster! We‘ll loose her!“

„We can’t let this Jedi escape us!“

Their modulated voices became louder each moment that passed. 

They seemed to get closer, their footsteps once again sending shivers down your spine. 

„Where is she?“

One of them asked. They stood in front of you, you however were hidden.

They looked around and luckily didn’t seem to feel the need to control the stack of wood too. 

„We have to get the news to Thrawn“

„And let him kill us? Are you nuts? We‘ll tell nothing until it’s sure that we lost her!“

And with that the troopers left, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

This place seemed to be familiar but why?

How did you know that you were on some planet called Perridea, trapped in the Nightsisters Fortress for crying out loud but at the same time know nothing at all?!

Everything seemed off, from the fact that the last thing you remembered was how the stormtroopers were, and still are, hunting you while you‘re looking for Ezra. 

However, even if this whole thing seemed to be off, you still had to find him before it was too late. When you were sure that the area was clear you once again rearranged the wooden boards and stepped out from your hiding spot. 

I need to find him now.

-

The corridors seemed to be endless, especially with the numerous doors and the danger which was still present thanks to the annoying stormtroopers, or at least what was left from them. 

You ran from corridor to corridor, door to door and looked literally everywhere, everywhere except the most dangerous place for you or him to be now. 

„Don’t let him escape! Thrawn wants him dead!“

That voice belonged to a stormtrooper.. 

Seconds after you heard someone yell this, the sound of an immense blasterfire 

made it’s way to your ears.

Shit.

They found him.

And Ezra didn’t have any kind of weapon on him. 

He was doomed and so where you if you’d find his lifeless body, bruised and battered, laying around on the cold and unforgiving floor, with no sign of his warmth that always managed to comfort you in your darkest times.

Just because one of those bucketheads managed to land a hit on him, ending his life with his fucking blaster. 

No.

You wouldn’t be able to continue living your life knowing that he died while you were nearby. 

The corridors seemed to be endless but the sound of the fire leaded you to your destination. 

You ran and ran, your heart beating faster each second, praying to the force that Ezra was alright. As you saw the door that kept you away from him, you used the force and threw it open, confusing the still shooting troopers. 

„The other Jedi!“

Some of them turned their blasters to your, aiming at your heart and starting to fire, not waiting for you to even reach the doorstep. 

You took your lightsaber from your hilt and activated it, placing it in front of you with a swift motion, deflecting their shots and even hitting some of them. 

„y/n!“

Still deflecting the shoots you managed to turn your head into the direction where the sound came from. 

His voice.

Ezra was standing in front of a wall, reacting to each shot fired at him as he jumped from spot to spot. 

There were burn marks on his clothing… the bastards grazed him. 

„Ezra! I‘ll cover you, stay there!“

His eyes lit up as he heard your voice. 

You ran towards him, positioning yourself in front of him so that you could deflect all the shots that were fired towards you two while he used the force to sent the troopers flying. 

„Beside the grazes, do you have any other injuries?“

„No, thanks to your appearance!“

The amount of troopers eradicated itself, only one remained and it was easy to take him down. 

You turned around to look at him, feeling trapped in his gaze the second his eyes locked with yours. 

„That was.. close..!“

„It was but I’m fine thanks to you“

Ezra tried to reassure you that you saved him but your worry had taken over you the second you found yourself alone in here. 

It was your instinct which told you that he was somewhere here, it was strange enough that you didn’t have any memories from what happened before, how you knew that he was here still left a questionmark. 

„We need to go now.. Thrawn is after you“

„Tell me something new“

You little conversation distracted you both from the new danger.

The one trooper whose corpse was still in the room started to twitch. Some kind of green mist emerged from his armors openings. His visor got a greenish glow while he moved his hand to his blaster to fulfill his mission.

„We can’t allow ourselves to loose any more time now, they’ll sent more after us“

„Don’t worry sweetheart, we‘ll be fine“

He placed his hands around your waist, moving his head closer to yours.

„We‘ll get through this“

„Hope so..“

„Hey.. look up, Jabba the Hut won’t let anyone harm what we h- ARGHHH!“

Ezra let put a painful scream before he bend down to his stomach.

You were to caught up that you didn’t even hear the single blaster shot, the only thing you perceived right now was how he bend down in agony.

„Ezra! What in the-„

Then you saw him, standing right behind Ezra, his blaster directly aimed at his back where his chest was at the other side.

You acted on instincts when you activated your lightsaber, swinging it directly at the troopers chest where his heart was. 

He however couldn’t care less, continuing his attack on Ezra as he pulled the trigger.

The loud sound shattered your heart. 

It took only one swing to cut off the troopers head, using the force to shove his body out of the room.

Right after that you fell to you knees, right next to Ezra.

His breath was shallow, his heartbeat slowing down as he fought against the overwhelming sense of tiredness. 

Your worst fears came true as you felt how his boy slowly began to get colder.

„No..No No No No No!!“

Tears began to form themselves on your eyes. 

There he was, lying on the cold ground as his life slowly but surely disappeared to be one with the force.

You lifted him to your arms as gently as you could.

„please..!“

With all the power he still had, he reached his hand out to cup your cheek, holding it gently for one last time. 

His eyes were directed at yours, a look of adoration in them which only hurt you more right now.

„I‘m sorry“

„Don‘t leave me!“

„I wish we had more time…“

„There must be something I can do?!“

„Karabast.. your eyes..“

You held onto him, praying that he’d survive this by some miracle.

„They were right.. there’s a white light..“

„Ezra…“

„I love you..“

With that you felt how bis body became limp.

„Ezra..?“

No response. 

„Ezra…“

Still nothing. 

„Ezra!“

You screamed this time, realizing that you lost him, forever. 

„No No No..! This can’t be true!“

Your tears streamed uncontrollably now while your sobs echoed through the whole room.

„I love you..! Damnit! I fucking love you Ezra!“

Due to your grief there was one thing you didn’t notice, the stormtrooper who heard your voice. 

He ran to your location, blaster ready as he approached you cautiously.

It was then when you noticed the muffled noises, was someone.. yelling?

You didn’t have enough time tho since mere seconds later you were, once again, attacked by another trooper. You weren’t quick enough to draw your lightsaber. Your attacker took it and threw it away, he then pressed his hands on your shoulders and shook you violently. 

The muffled noises became louder and clearer every passing moment.

Someone was calling out for you.

It was Ezra’s voice..

What the hell is happening?!

The trooper then took his blaster and placed it on your chest, right above your heart. 

He then pulled the trigger.

-

„y/n!“

….

„y/n!!!“

….

„y/n! wake up!!“

..-!

You literally jumped.

What happened?

Weren’t you killed Just seconds ago??

You breathing was ragged, your expression shocked as you tried to understand where you were. 

This was the moment when you finally noticed something… or someone.

A warm body laid next to you, holding you close as you tried to catch your breath. 

Ezra?

But he…

oh.

„Hey… it‘s alright… just a nightmare.. whatever you saw right now… you‘re safe“

Of course. 

It was a dream.

Nothing more then a dream based on the past events. 

It was just an nightmare.

„Ezra!“

You threw your arms around him, holding him close into your hug. 

Your tears found their way once again, this time though they were real.

„Hey there.. it‘s okay..“

He returned the hug, drawing circles on your back with his one hand while you caressed you with the other. 

„Don‘t go… please..!“

Your face was snuggled into his neck, not daring to move away, even if it was just an inch.

„I won’t, I‘m here with you“

Ezra figured out that it wouldn’t really be the best to ask you what you saw, based on your reaction..? It had to be an nightmare. 

That’s why he kept his mouth shut, waiting for you to calm down so that he could ask you about it.

When you did, you told him everything. He was shocked to say the least.

However, it was the middle of the night and the both of you needed to rest.

He, once again, laid down, but this time with you in his arms. 

You were cuddled up against him while he held you very close. 

„Good night love“

You didn’t answer, you were already asleep. 

He then placed a kiss on your temple before he decided to fall asleep too. 

[fandomandangstlover]

MAY YOU BE ABLE TO REST. . .

— · a Drabble of an AU of Spy's Disguise.

Sawmill was a mess when they returned.

The rain hasn't ceased since they came back. It was still pouring, trying to soothe the wounds the mill held. Mud was starting to form, and there isn't a pathway that would save them from it. Not that it matters much, they weren't that attached to their uniform.

The ride here was quiet. None of them had anything to say, not that they minded the silence. It's just.. after everything, it felt like they should talk about it. At least a little. But they didn't. They doubt that he'll be the one to open that door either.

Spy slept through most of the ride. They don't blame him.

They didn't know why they asked the doc for flowers. They could've just drove somewhere where it was sold, but they didn't. Doc had some, anyways. Said they were supposed to be for a funeral but.. doc didn't tell them. They won't make him.

Maybe that's why he didn't question them when they asked him to drive them to Sawmill first. Why they avoided his eyes.

They weren't ready to face civilization yet.

There were a lot of puddles that formed. They wanted to step into them. To see if by some luck, they would fall into an abyss. Never to resurface. But that's a stupid thought.

No turning back. They burnt the bridge back when they sneaked in that letter.

The mill was horrible to look at. The wood had broke & melted down from the fire. The saws that once held high was broken, they could see bits scattered across the burnt floor.

They refuse to step in. They won't walk out if they do.

The flowers in their hands was now placed in front of the broken building. Its colours popping out from the decaying interior of a once alive home. The broken pieces of Sentries & Dispensers are still there, a grim reminder of before. If they closed their eyes, they could swear they could hear them.

They took one last look of Sawmill, before heading back to the car.

As the ambulance drove away, someone stepped out of the stacks of useless wood. Their bloodied glove reaching for the pretty flowers given to them. Bits of glass that was scattered against them were falling off onto the gift. Their hands were gentle as they pulled out one of the flowers from its bouquet. RED droplets were dripping from them onto it.

They weakly smiled at the gift. At least there was someone that cared that they even existed. The others would like this. It's a temporary pleasure, but it would be enough.

[crwn-nrth]

Word tag game!

Thank you thank you @sentfromwolves for the tag! I've always wanted to do the find the word tag game.

I'm doing this for VH wip and my words are: rust, ember, damp, breath, teeth

(sadly i did not have the words rust or damp)

Ember --- Chapter: Dream log #256

The world comes back into focus slowly, in drips of color and sound. It’s like swimming in molasses or floating through space as I wrestle with my subconscious. I try to cling to the warm fuzzy feeling enveloping me on all sides but then a loud click breaks through the haze, and my eyes flutter open again. It's late outside, or that's what I assume. My legs dangle off the armchair and the glowing embers of the dying fireplace are the only source of light bathing the dark wooden floor panels in a dull orange hue, emphasizing the warmth and forcing my eyes shut. 

Seconds, hours, years later, a hand running through my hair guides me back to the land of the living. It's large and callous and gentle as it passes through my locks and I let myself drift further, tethered only by the soothing motions. 

A rumble. "You left your porch light on." The deep vibrato tone has my mind settling in bliss. Safe, home. A light tug at the end of my hair informs me that the voice is waiting for a response. 

"Left it on for you." I mumble, prying my eyes open. Kind blue eyes smile down at me.

 "You don't have to do that." There is a hint of laughter in his words, some subtle joke that my hazy brain can't catch on to. 

"How else would you find your way home?" 

The rumbling laughter that follows starts low and soft, bringing a smile to my face. Then it sharpens and fades, ebbing and flowing like the reeling of the tide, surrounding me from all sides. It's everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

It's a sharp slap of icy water to the face.

Breath --- Chapter 4: The Universe Loves Meddling

The kid was naively unaware what hopelessness does to a soul.

My gaze caught onto the puddle at my feet. The water shimmered in the streetlight as my reflection stared at me with disdain. A droplet of water from a pipe above disturbed the surface and by the time the ripples died down, my reflection had been replaced by a familiar sight. The cold blue eyes that bore into my soul and the distinctive square jaw stirred an aching within me. Time slowed and a voice echoed within my mind, "but you know?"

Yes. it forces man to do the unthinkable; it chips away and corrupts the soul as it pushes away all morals. It forces man to do what he would never have done otherwise. The actions that a man makes under this despondent spell, he regrets till his dying breath.

The ghost said no more and time resumed. The sounds of bustling market swelled up around me, pulling me from the reflection and away from its icy hold.

Teeth --- Chapter 8: This is not a Library

I let the knock ring through the place, hopelessly hoping that the kid would simply leave. Unfortunately, i had horrible luck and the kid was horribly stubborn. I slowly made my way through the the maze of stacked books, inching closer to the door as the knocks refused to cease. As I finally found the way out of the fragile labyrinth, the kid's muffled voice reached out, "Hello! Mr. Ryder! I know you're home!"

I let in a deep breath. Murder is wrong.

Before the kid could begin his incessant knocking once again, I threw open the front door.

The kid tumbled a little at the sudden opening but righted himself quick enough, flashing his blinding smile. I entertained the thought of knocking all his teeth out for just a single moment.

“Good morning Mr. Ryder!” he chirped.

“You have already said that to me, kid hero.” I muttered, thinking about those nuisance messages.

His smile only brightened, “yep i did! But I can finally say it in person! And you can finally say it back cause you never reply to the messages.”

“No.”

------

I don't have anyone specific to tag so whoever sees it please feel free to give this a go.

your words are: sunshine, shadow, ghost, and hero!

[ileanalfiu3d]

Create A Composition

for this assignment we were instructed to go out and create a composition. I knew I wanted to use nature to create some kind of structure but wasnt sure how. I started by just choosing materials that I particularly liked. One stone was very round and smooth, and one had a break in it that made it look like the rock had a smaller rock of it's own that could chip off at any moment. I wanted to build the leaves on each other so I chose a large leaf that I could rip the center of to stuff with smaller leaves that didnt have any breaks in their shape. I loved the purple little bell shaped flowers near by and found a curvy stick that I felt could frame whatever structure I made. I heard water running and found a gutter that had created a tiny little river scene with a droplet waterfall. I loved the sound of it and the way it looked in motion. I decided to take a video of it and the process of building the composition. Starting by showcasing my materials I began by stacking the rocks and framed them with a curved stick that fit over the entire puddle. After that I placed the foliage so that it could accent and fill the space between the positioned stones.

[poiscns]

Nico’s adrenaline doesn’t just hum; it shreds through him, a filament burning too hot. He wants to reach out, knock some spark back into Gabe’s gaze, but the moment feels hair-trigger delicate—one wrong word and the whole night detonates. Thunder rolls, close enough to lift the hairs on Nico’s arms. That’s when the memory hits: Gabe laughing two years ago, smoke from a rooftop barbecue curling around him like laurels. Nico stacks that image between Gabe and the storm, a thin but stubborn shield. He refuses to imagine a version of the night where that shield fails. Not tonight, not with thunder listening. Jesus tap-dancing Christ, are they doing this? Yeah—apparently the universe double-dared them and Nico’s dumb enough to salute back.

Air roars through an alley nearby like a freight train disguised as wind, rattling loose a shiver of water from the fire escape above. Droplets drum his shoulders, regimented parade taps counting down the seconds he has to keep the night from swallowing Gabe whole. A sodium lamp stutters overhead, painting them in bruised ochre; for a heartbeat they look like saints cut from rusted tin. The storm’s electric tang singes Nico’s lungs—wet asphalt, copper wiring, the faint ache of ozone—and underneath it all the familiar scent of Gabe’s soap, sharp and clean as first light after blackout.

Cool. Sure. Time to bounce.

Nico sets the pace—not a sprint now, but that ground-eating stalk he learned on rooftops: loose knees, weight forward, read the angles. Gabriel stays welded to his shoulder, palm a warm brand that says I’ve got you even when the fingers twitch like they want to shake him until teeth rattle. Rain needles their jackets, thunder crowds every alley, but Nico’s running a different storm inside his chest and he’s not about to let Gabe hear it over the weather.

The cadence is half dance, half evasion drill. He steers Gabe through puddles that mirror neon signage, lets each slash of lightning map fresh shadows to avoid. A bus roars past, sluicing filth across their boots; Nico takes the brunt, shoulder curved like a breakwater, keeps moving.

He cuts left off Main, dodges a flood-slick gutter, and thumbs the side door of the Aviary. Nico palms the keypad; the code’s still 80085 because he changed it and he thinks he’s hilarious. Beep-beep-chunk. Door yawns open, store smell rushing out: gun oil, cedar chips, metal on metal on metal.

The Aviary sleeps like an iron dragon, rows of rifle-feathers folded tight. Every shelf holds survival stashed between receipts and regrets: spare shirts in ammo crates, protein bars behind solvent tins, a tin kettle perched on the space heater for nights the city felt colder than war.

He jerks his chin. “Home sweet murder-shop. Move.”

Gabe hesitates half a breath—old habits, checking sightlines, always the soldier—but follows. Nico shoulders the door shut, dogs the bolt. Outside, sirens smear through the rain like someone dragging chalk through water. He catches Gabe’s eye, signs quick: "Storm’s just starting. Down." Then aloud, lets the necklace chew his words into tinny speech so Gabe can pretend it’s a normal conversation. “Basement’s dry, and the wifi’s better than the apartment. Don’t ask.”

A flicker of guilt worms through him—sanctuary by way of armory—but it’s the only square on the board he can guarantee.

They slip past racks of rifles and tactical plushies—Nico’s idea, they sell surprisingly well. Down the metal stairs, clanging echoes, pulse pacing them. The basement lights hum to life: concrete, weapon crates, a workbench tattooed with solder scars, and in the back corner a couch that has seen more post-mission crashes than Nico will ever admit. A single camping lantern glows there, hooked from the ceiling.

The dim ring of light feels ecclesiastical, gunpowder in place of incense. Shadows gather like parishioners; Nico counts them automatically, mapping breach angles even while his shoulders finally drop an inch.

“Welcome to the nest,” he says, sweeping an ironic bow that nearly tips him over because everything still spins. Rain drums the vent like a snare roll. He flicks water from his hair, tugging the soaked jacket off, tossing it onto a crate marked .45 ACP—empty, relax. Steam halos off his skin; somewhere above, a drainpipe coughs water like the city clearing its throat. His shirt clings, black cotton plastered to muscle and all those dumb, desperate tattoos that say don’t die, die louder, G+N 4-evR scratched under a sigil only Gabe recognizes.

“Not exactly luxury but—” He plops down, boots thunking. “Better than the gutter you tackled me into.”

         gabriel’s hands can feel nico pressed under them, but the rest of his body- his heart doesn’t receive the same message. it still pounds, coarse with adrenaline like he’s still chasing after him. regular beating, but so fast he can hardly see straight, let alone think. every time it had jumped at the flash of a phone screen, for two years, when nico would do the things they’d do together, without gabriel by his side. he’d never stopped him, he didn’t want to. but he was there just in case, to level him, to fix what he’d broken, when often that thing was himself. nothing else mattered, it was always just nico. he wasn’t going to tell him he was too reckless, gabriel wasn’t going to tell nico anything. words couldn’t do what needed to be done, what needed to be mended, justice. he’s tired of talking. now, gabriel has him. he has him, he has him, he has him. it takes a few purposeful breaths for him to calm down and realize that, accept it fully.

         when his pulse slows, steadies, gabriel listens. still caught in a hurricane, with neither of them safe, he ignores the poking and prodding of nico. he doesn’t respond to the innuendo, either of them. there’s no stiffening, no crawl of heat up his chest and neck that might usually stir. the head from the initial chase, the rush, had faded, and now that he wasn’t pressed into nico anymore, gabriel didn’t have his body heat to borrow, either. he’s cold, one strong will away from shivering. nico can do whatever he wants to, say whatever he wants to once they’re inside somewhere. it’s not for gabe’s sake that he’s worried, it’s for nico. that gabriel might get distracted, and he’ll slip away again, somewhere where he can’t follow.

         he ignores the grin. but the rest, he listens to, it carves into that stupid heart of his, that can’t understand when to turn off and on. his ribs, too, just underneath the tattoo that burns. it’s guilt, but not just that. and nothing- nothing about this is about gabriel. it can’t be, he won’t let it. he doesn’t want it to feel better, any of it. he wants it to burn, and to hurt, so it evens the score of what he’s done to nico. and it does hurt, it does burn, might’ve embedded into the furrow of his brow more if he hadn’t been trying to get them both away from here. something familiar and boyish stirs up at nico’s claim of dramatics. if gabriel’s the dramatic one, than who’s still fucking talking? he wouldn’t have had to chase him, knock him down if he'd just listened. it’s not dramatic, nicolás set the tone and gabriel followed. 

         that same panic grips him again. two years of not knowing if nico was okay, if gabriel had made the right choice, had done the right thing. (he hadn’t. now, he knows that. he knows he hadn’t.) it kicks up like a sharp dust, jagged glass shards, his chest tightens out of the fear that nico’s going to fight him again and gabriel would- when he agrees. he agrees.

         then, finally, he says something, lets nico drag him up.  “ yeah, alright. ”  it’s not that he doesn’t believe it. he does, wholeheartedly. it’s a problem for later. he has him, he has him, he has him, and now they have to go. gabriel clasps a hand around nico’s shoulder, both as a means to steer him and something solid to hold onto, something he knows. the hand, rotten, used to a dead thing, curls up the back of nico’s neck, and moving up still, checking the back of nico’s head for any damage that gabriel might’ve done in dragging him to the ground, slamming him there. he means to ask him if he’s good, if he’s okay, but gabriel knows he’s not, he knows it’s only going to flare something up inside of nico that his friend doesn’t deserve. so gabriel doesn’t ask, his hand goes back to the safe place of his shoulder.

         gabriel pushes the wet hair out of his eyes, squinting through the rain, their surroundings different than when they’d first started this. immediate safety is better than a perfect solution, for now, some place to wait out the storm. he doesn’t want to go to the wash tub, not now. sweetwater burns a sour fire in the pit of his stomach. the house is too far away but he knows where the spare key is. he’d told nico he could choose, but he hadn’t yet, and the admission could mean anything from nico didn’t want to, to that he just hadn’t decided yet. the question dies in his throat, something else crawls out in its place.  “ start heading towards the house, and if we find a better option with a basement, we stop there? ”  he doesn’t know why or when privacy, just the two of them, had become more important than the storm, but it���s insistent, and gabriel can’t let it go.

[ceralmillkandstars]

a beautiful ring pt 2 sneaky peaky

for your viewing pleasure: a 500 year old god and a young, enchanting mermaid who acts like an absolute gremlin- she refuses to act any different in front of the man who could slice her in half. and he’s absolutely enamored by it. 

fish time again my bs <3 let me know how you feel. the whole thang will be posted friday evening :) i will tag all those who asked 

Your protection song was not enough. Usually, something so simple would cause an intruder to burst into a billion water droplets. Usually, you would have just come into the kitchen to discover a puddle and smile to yourself knowing that an idiot got what was coming to them. You did not need the moon to warn you of robbers, of shallow one night stands who can’t get enough of your hypnotic stares, of anyone coming into your home without permission. 

But this god stands in your kitchen, seemingly perplexed by your adornment of antique plates and cups poorly stacked in the open cabinets, not one of them the same. His fingers trace along adjacent jars, reading each herb and spice labeled and put away on the wood shelf. You mirror his annoyed expression as his eyes wander near the sink, finding a ripped open, half eaten, chocolate bar. 

“I wasn’t expecting company,” you murmur, taking soft steps towards the barrier of your kitchen. You find your fingers smoothing down the base of your floral tank top, giving an angsty stare towards the pair of matching panties acting as a second skin. 

Well, at least it didn’t look like you were lying. 

He did not change, his gold armor tightly affixed to his shoulders, spear tightly bound in his hands. The large, gold-plated necklace and larger than life pearls, other finely varnished necklaces stack upon one another and his curly, damp, yet neatly toppled hair with those earrings had your cheeks heating. 

Very rarely does one of your stature, your nature, become seduced themselves. 

Or so the moon tells you. 

“Do those earrings hurt from wearing them all day, or does swimming in the water help with the weight distribution?” You blurt, cheeks red, back straight. 

The god simply turns, giving you a slow once over. Quiet rage, curiosity swims in his eyes, a deadly demeanor flowing from him to you, you to him. 

Exposing pajamas and random questions being unanswered won’t stop you from making his atoms implode with a whisper, for disrespect is a sour taste on your tongue.

[milkytheholy1]

A Detective Always Interrogates Twice

A/N: Howdy everyone! So this isn't related to Everything Ends, just want to make that clear right off the bat. This is in fact heavily inspired by an episode of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia! It's from season 14, episode 5 titled "A Janitor Always Mops Twice", I'd check it out if you have the time, it might help make things less confusing. I also use a lot of 40's slang, so sorry in advance, but hey educate ya selves!

Hope you enjoy!

Rise Leo x Female Reader

Tmnt masterlist. Ultimate masterlist.

----------------------------------------------------------

The dark nights were harrowing, the radio had forecast a sunny day but in this city, the most light you get is from the streetlamps. Rain thundered against the concrete of the road, businessmen in their fancy cars and sauced-up taxi drivers sloshing their tires through the puddles. 

The droplets pittered down into the sewers, leaving a dripping sound to echo through the tunnels every other second. If you carried on following the winding underground underpasses of New York it would lead you to a home away from home. 

A lair hidden from the bastards and dames up above, they wouldn't even know a family lived beneath them. In the lair were four brothers and their pops, secret heroes of the night and friends to two lucky gals in the city. 

Leonardo claimed to be the second-oldest, only rivalling his brother Donatello for second place. Currently, the schmuck was sitting on his bed, the pressed sheets crumpled under his weight. Between his hands laid a comic book, something he took a lot of interest in like the hipster he was.

"Oh ho ho, Captain America, you are killer diller!" he hummed out, flipping the flat page. Beside his bed was a stack of more brightly coloured comics, the pile leaning heavily due to the quantity. Placing the latest issue on the heap, Leo wiped his hands clean and spread them out on his legs; the baggy material of his trousers crinkling against his movements.

He stared off to his cabinet across from him, a smirk adorning his face. Getting up with an added flashy spin, he marched over to the cabinet and slowly pulled open the draw. His eyes were closed as the smug smile remained, reaching out for that familiar plastic covering, Leo grasped the bag and held it up.

"And now, as a treat for all my hard work, I shall read my most prized possession." Finally opening his eyes, the boy cringed. The comic was gone, skedaddled, vamoosed. Leo ducked his head into the draw, checking that it hadn't just slipped out, but no the poor boy came out empty-handed.

Quickly the mood changed, his peepers narrowed and his smile disappeared, "How could this have happened? I must be some sort of schnook!" he furrowed his brows. Leo rubbed his chin, deep in thought, "Some fat head must have done this, and I'm going to get to the bottom of this and give 'em a knuckle sandwich."

- Cut to the interrogation room, A.K.A, the living room - 

I decided to go with my eldest brother first, he had a motive after all and knew the comic meant a great deal to me. Raph had a punch that could topple a building and he was the head honcho of our whole family biz, no doubt he ran into some trouble and could use the extra lettuce. 

"Why am I here again?" Raph questioned, forced into the wooden chair, a spotlight blinding his face. Leo paced in front of him, "My dear brother, this investigation is going to go one way or the other, ya see?"

"Investigation?" Raph gasped, beads of sweat dripping down the cavern of his head due to the heat of the spotlight burning his skin. Leo nodded his head, tipping the tip of his fedora so it rests comfortably on his head, "Tell me what you know about Captain Marvel issue 1?"

"Ya mean that crummy nerd book ya read? Why would I take it, knucklehead?" Raph butted back. Leo smirked at him in a cocky manner, "Perhaps you wanted to make a few quick bucks," he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. Raph rolled his eyes, "C'mon, I ain't no nerd like you."

"Hey!" Leo moaned out, finally turning to face Raph for the first time since this 'interview' started. Raph let out a laugh, standing from the chair and dusting down his suit, "I'm just ragging," he laughed pulling Leo into the side of his chest. Raph's grip got tighter as his laughter died down, he poked a finger against Leo's chest as he spoke, "But don't you ever accuse me of stealing or I'll punch ya right in the kisser, got it?"

"Uh-huh," Leo mumbled out, flailing out of Raph's grasp. The moment his older brother left the room, Leo went back to narrating, rubbing his chin in deep thought about who his next suspect would be.

My next suspect was none other than my twin brother, Donatello. He was a cold fish, a run outta gas kinda guy, the man was no dead hoofer and that was for sure; he could cut a rug like no other.

"Please, praytell, why I am here and not in my humble but extremely comfortable laboratory?" Donnie rolled his eyes, a real wise guy. Leo dragged a chair up and sat in front of his so-called brother, shifting the bright light slowly and staring at him, hoping he'd break.

"Oh please don't tell me you're trying to act like one of those gumshoes from those radio shows you listen to?" Donatello huffed out, Leo gasped, almost offended, "How dare you, you're such a creep, y'know that?"

"Oh, Leonardo, I've been called many things over the years. Please find new material, preferably not from the radio shows you fawn over." Donnie pulled a book from his side, hidden away by the chair's arms. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, another sign he had been in his lab a majority of the evening. 

"Where were you at precisely 6 o'clock this evening?" Leo carried on, he was going to get an answer one way or another. Donatello sighed, rolling his eyes but continued to interact with his brother's fantasies, "I was in my lab, where I usually reside. Are we done now?" his voice was dry and full of wit.

Leo let out a mighty groan, having a minor temper tantrum, "Are you sure you didn't take it?" he asked, his voice wavering. Donnie flicked his peepers up from his book, simply titled 'Calvert's Mechanics', staring blankly at his twin, Donnie huffed out, "I - ugh, hang on - I prom-promis-PROMisss-PROMISE-" he spluttered out, "I didn't take your book of ink."

Leo's head dropped, but he wouldn't let this setback stop him. He had a pad full of names, a list full of possible suspects. Kicking Donatello out of the interrogation room, he called in another suspect.

"You got me, I did it! I confess!" Mikey cried out, hands placed in a praying motion as he begged for forgiveness. Leo sighed, placing his hands on his hips, "Mikey I just asked if you were thirsty?" the box turtle stopped the waterworks and moved to a more neutral position, "Oh, actually now that I think about it, I am." 

"Oh so you admit, you were thirsty, thirsty for crime!" Leo dramatically gasped.

"TELL ME WHO DID IT!" he yelled out, hands slamming against the wooden arms of the chair. Poor Michelangelo shook at the action, shrivelling up in the chair with sweat dripping down his spine, "I DON'T KNOW!" he cried out, genuinely terrified. 

"I KNOW YOU KNOW WHO DID IT!" Leo went back for more, he knew he could break Mikey. No offence, he was a pretty cool cat when he wanted to be, but Mikey couldn't keep a secret no matter how important. All Ol'Leonardo needed to do was figure out how to crack his shell.

"Admit it, you took the comic book after one of your nightly food binges. Your hands got grubby and so did your eyes, you were so comatose you waddled into my room and not your own bunks. You thought you were grabbin' a napkin, to clean those cheesy hands of yours, when you accidentally grabbed my comic." Leo paced around the room, tapping his chin as he set out his trap.

"Then once you realised it was already too late, the crime had been committed and you were a grade A criminal. So, what do you say? Does that sound about right?" he finished, flicking Mikey a smug smoulder. 

The young teen crumbled under the pressure, admitting to guilt though entirely innocent, "I'M GUILTY!"

Mikey was no help, the kid just kept confessing even though he had a rock-solid alibi. But now the family were out of the way, it was time to move on to more hostile targets.

"I know you did not just accuse me of stealing your dumb comic," April growled out, "And what's with all the lights, you're gonna use up the city's power grid with this bad boy on." she shoved the spotlight away from her face, already feeling the cool air smother her burning skin.

"Oh, c'mon April..." Leo moaned out, walking around the back of the chair, "How long have we known each other now? Four? Maybe five years?" he hummed, watching for her baited reaction. She shrugged her shoulders, "Leo, you're not going to guilt trip me. I already told you, man, I don't have your comic!" Before Leo could even blink, April was out of the chair and throwing it around the room.

Uh oooh, maybe Leo overdid it with this one.

April was a lost cause, like Mikey, she too had a good alibi. April held a job at the local bar, serving drunks and hosting floozies. But now I could set my eyes on someone a little more...alluring.

Her name was (Y/N), a sweet girl with an attitude for fun and monsters like me. She and I were like two peas in a pod, a horse and its horseshoes, a rabbit and a hare. There'd be no way on this planet that she'd betray me.

(Y/N) walked into the room, the white flow of her dress trailing behind her like she was some form of a goddess, and just maybe she was. Scarlet lips hypnotised Leo, his brain went to mush the moment her perfume invaded their living space, "Oh Leon, I heard about what happened and it sounds just awful. Do you know who did this to you?"

She spoke like an angel, from heaven who knew? But she was some form of happiness on legs and I couldn't let time slip with this one. There was a certain air when we were together, I knew she felt it much like I did. And I know a dame like that would go quite quick on the streets above, yet I still find myself stalling. 

"Not yet, doll. But don't worry, cause once I do these sewers will be safe once more." he flashed her a smile, leaning up against the chair until their shoulders bumped. (Y/N) batted her lashes, letting out a small giggle, "Well, you betta hurry. I don't want anything bad happening to you or your brothers."

"You've got nothing to worry about, toots. Old Neon Leon has got this case in the bag." he smirked, eyes half-lidded. (Y/N) hummed in delight, waiting for him to continue. 

"So, you were here last night I believe, did you happen to see anything...unusual?" he leaned in close to her face, could feel her breath fan across his skin. She shook her head 'no', her eyes were sparkling even under such an intense brightness, "I believe the only unusual thing I saw that evening was you."

"Oh ho hoo, you charmer!" Leo laughed out, clearly flustered. No matter how many times Leo flirted with (Y/N), whether that was subtly or not, he could never keep his cool when she did it back; it would send him into a spiral.

"Well, the only thing I saw last night was a pretty, young lady with the most fetching smile in all of New York." that caused her to blush, but Leo had to think for a moment, was it okay to flirt with a suspect? Eh, he figured since all the detectives in his radio shows do it, it must be fine!

(Y/N) reached up with a dainty hand and kissed him on the cheek, his red marks imprinted with a dark lip. Leo's eyes fluttered as the room stopped spinning, (Y/N) was already halfway out of the room by the time his senses returned.

"What was that for?" he asked dreamily. (Y/N) giggled, blowing him another kiss, to which he made a show of getting, "For good luck, detective."

And just like that, she was gone into the night, so much for an interview.

The day was coming to an end, or in more accurate terms the sun was about to set, and yet Leonardo was no closer to finding the crook that took his only enjoyment in life. Defeated and saddened, Leo trailed back to his room; his fedora titled in shame.

"Ay Leo, check out who I just found wanderin' the streets!" Raph's burly voice called out, echoing against the sewer walls. Leon bolted back to the 'interrogation room', there laying in a pile on the ground was Repo Mantis; a real bad egg, a no-good hunk of junk, a conman. 

Raph stood proudly on top of the fella, his arms folded over his chest causing his nice new tux to be crumpled, "Why don't ya ask this geezer where ya comic is?"

"Wait, wait, wait...You stole my comic?" Leo sent his glare to the mantis pile on the ground, Repo just stared up at him with a groan, "Yeah, so what it was me?" he growled out, the man was putting up a defence. Leo shook his head, completely baffled, "How'd ya do it?"

By this point, all the other 'suspects' had entered the room, no doubt due to the commotion ringing through the empty halls. Repo looked around at all the new faces, winking at the two women until Leo and Donnie blocked his view. The crook sighed once more, "Last time we got into a fight I swiped it off ya knocked out mug."

"Huh, y'know what? That does sound prettttyyy familiar." Leo hummed out, rubbing his chin, deep in thought. 

"Are you serious right now? You interrogated us all day with your dumb gumshoe logic and yet you knew who did it this entire time!" Donnie cried out, calm and logic thrown at the metaphorical window. Leo cringed, waggling his finger back and forth in his brother's face, "Ah, ah, ah, my dear Donatello. Don't be a fathead. A good detective never half-asses a case, I had to make sure all my leads were cleared before I could move on to solving the case."

"Leads? Boy, you sat us under a hot lamp for twenty minutes and accused us all of taking your comic book." April snided, arms folded and hip jutting out. 

"Okay, enough blabbering!" Raph interrupted, lifting Repo by the collar and slamming him into the wooden chair. He pulled the lamp against his face causing Repo's pupils to shrink, "Where's the comic?" Raph gruffed out. Repo shoved the lamp away, rubbing and blinking his eyes, "I sold it to some guy in New Jersey."

"Ugh, of all the places in the world, it had to be Jersey." Leo groaned, maybe this was one case not worth solving after all.