#to indicate that players who are hiding can come out into the open without losing the game; that the position of the sides in a game has

[writer-room]

They became the signals, do you understand. They became the sailors. Alex, Jonas, Clarissa, Ren, Nona, they were the USS Kanaloa. They were the trapped, lost souls who were so desperate to get out. They were the ones preying on the traumatized and vulnerable, knowing how to convince Olivia away because it happened to them, too. Their only difference from the sailors is that they tried to be ‘nicer’ about it, that Alex was able to drop everything before it went too far, but even then...

All of it, every last piece, is a cycle. Of time, of trauma, of generations, of death. Leave is not possible on any of these fronts, because it is impossible to leave when claws sink in so deep that you run right back to the beginning, and only at the end, looking back, do you realize what you broke as you fought to go home. Becoming what hurt you, because you knew no other way to survive.

They’re kids. They’re scared, lost kids, who didn’t know what else to do. So they acted on what they hoped would work, and they’d think about those consequences when they were finally safe. The sailors almost had them, so they will follow suit, but they’ll do it right, and then they’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay, won’t it?

They wanted to live. But so did the sailors. 

And so, once more, we return to the beginning.

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

Hey! Can you write something with Chishiya and Y/N when she almost died in game beacuse of Niragi but didn't tell anyone about this (he tripped her on purpouse or smth). Chishiya finds her up on the roof few days later really anxious+crying beacuse her visa is ending and she is scared that Niragi will come and play the same game as her and will try to do something bad. Chishiya becames really protective over her especially when he sees her bruised knees.

Here you go!

Comfort Zone | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Chishiya (ft. Niragi, OC’s, Hatter)

Summary: You came close to dying due to being attacked by Niragi, and you fear it will happen again during the next game. Chishiya notices your anxiety and tries his best to prevent it from happening.

Warnings: mention of murder, swearing, blood, violence (punching)

Word Count: 3.9k

*reader is female

“Just my luck,” you groaned out, lifting yourself to your feet by using a chair nearby for leverage. “Not only am I clumsy as fuck, I’m also stuck with a group of murderers.”

Hatter had suggested you go with a few of the militants for the next game, as he wished for them to test you to see if you were capable enough to join them.

It was a hearts game called Capture The Flag. It was very self explanatory. You had to capture the opposite team’s flag and bring it back to your base without getting killed by them. The game would continue until a flag was captured, and the losing team would have their small bomb strapped to their chest explode as soon as the flag was returned to the team’s base. So theoretically, you could die at any second. And if that wasn’t stressful enough, everyone carried weapons, ranging from machete’s to revolvers, so you were on high alert.

You were on the same team as a muscular militant woman named Ren and a much younger kid (he looked around fifteen years old) called Minato. But of course, Niragi had to be placed on your team, bringing you nothing but more trouble.

The room you stood in was dark and ominous. You managed to trip over a few shards of glass and impact on the ground heavily, causing your hip to throb in pain as you attempt to recover from the fall.

You had been separated from your group. You managed to sneak off without them noticing, just rather being on your own than with others. You thought you had a better chance by yourself anyway, as no one was there to betray you.

In the Borderland, you didn’t know who to trust, so you kept to yourself.

The brightness of your game phone flashed a light green, reminding you of what colour team you were on. You had to search for a base that was illuminated by a blue light and take the flag that was supposedly meant to be there. But so far, you hadn’t seen any indication of the other team. You hadn’t even seen any of the other players now that you thought about it.

You made your way out of the empty room you had just checked, peeking around the corner down the hall before stepping out of the doorframe. The small  bomb strapped to your chest over your shirt felt heavy on your frame, especially knowing that it held your life in its hands.

You sighed loudly and rubbed your hands together to relieve the tension in your muscles slightly. You had to be close, surely. You had been walking around the abandoned hospital for ages, as if you hadn’t at least walked past the enemy’s base and missed it somehow.

Just as you were about to turn the corner to the main corridor, a whispered grunt made you stop in your tracks. You held your breath and pressed yourself against the cold wall next to you, trying to listen to any movements they make.

The sounds of rustling met your ears, making you frown. It sounded like someone was trying to find something in their pocket, moving around the objects until they’ve found what they need.

You slowly peeked one eye around the corner, making sure not to accidentally hit the wall or fall forwards in fear of the person being an enemy player. Good news, it wasn’t. But seeing someone on your team wasn’t much reassurance either, as all three of them seemed to be clinically insane.

Niragi was crouching over a dead body. A game phone was thrown to the side on the ground a few feet away, emitting a bright blue light. The dead person must have been on the blue team.

The blood pooled around the body, Niragi’s boot being in one of the puddles.

‘Why didn’t I hear the gunshots?’ you asked yourself, watching as Niragi rummaged through the pockets of the guy’s jacket. He was probably looking for another weapon or perhaps something to assist him in the game.

Your eyebrows furrowed when you noticed a slight blue tinge on the fabric of Niragi’s shirt. You turned your head the other way down the hall, eyes lighting up at the sight of a bright fluorescent blue light coming from around the corner. That must’ve been the enemies base.

You glanced back quickly to Niragi, noting he was busy with the corpse, still searching through their pockets. Perhaps you could make it if you were quiet enough.

You slowly lifted a foot while keeping your eyes pinned to the man down the hall, ready to dive back behind the wall if he decided to turn around. When your whole body had left the comfort of the darkened hallway you came from, you turned and quickly shuffled down the hall towards the light, looking over your shoulder every now and then.

When you had turned the corner, you let out a sigh in relief. “Fuck,” you rasped out, wiping your sweating brow with the back of your wrist. “If only I came with Chishiya, I wouldn’t be so cautious.”

You entered a room a few steps in front of you that had a door slightly ajar with the blue light pushing through. You squinted your eyes as you opened the door at the brightness of the light, covering your eyes and hissing lightly.

When your eyes adjusted, you felt a euphoric feeling fill your body when you caught sight of the blue flag resting against the wall. You immediately scrambled over and gripped the wood, feeling the sweet ecstasy of victory and being able to live another few days.

You walked out of the room flag in hand. But as soon as you exited the door, your game phone rang loudly, making you freeze in your spot.

“Green Team has now obtained Blue Flag.”

Your breath became lodged in your throat and you felt your fist tighten on the flag pole. If the game announced it to the rest of the players, they were going to come after you.

Your fear was proven correct when you heard loud footsteps down the hall, making its way to your position. You knew it was Niragi, but the fact that he was on your team gave you slight reassurance. He wouldn’t hurt someone he’s meant to be working with, right?

You couldn’t be so sure, so you pulled out the fairly sized knife that you had sneaked into your pocket before leaving for the game. There was nowhere you could run. Down the hall was the only exit you had.

Before you knew it, the angered face of Niragi turned the corner and you locked eyes. He glanced down at the large knife you held at your side, then at the flag. A smirk painted on his face and he chuckled cockily.

“You think you can defend yourself with that piece of shit?” he asked you, taking a few threatening steps towards your frame. Your feet remained planted on the ground, trying not to appear as panicked as you actually were. “Everyone’s going to come here, and you’re going to fend them off with a kitchen knife?”

You felt belittled from his mocking, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. “The fuck else am I supposed to do?” you asked, pointing the tip of the knife in his direction.

Silence filled the air as you and Niragi had a stare down. The grip he held on his rifle tightened whenever you shifted, never failing to make your heart skip a fearful beat.

“Princess,” he started with a sickening pet name, “why don’t you give the flag to me? I’ll protect you.” His sudden change in mood gave you whiplash and you took a step back in confusion, still holding your weapon towards him.

“What?” you muttered out, a bamboozled expression on your face. “I said, pass the flag to me. I’ll make sure we’ll be okay,” he answered while slinging his gun to his side a bit too casually for your comfort.

You watched as he fiddled with the bullet compartments of his rifle. He seemed to have been checking the ammo, making you realise what he was intending.

You shook your head, trying to sound normal, but the slight shakiness in your voice made you quite obvious. “It’s fine Niragi,” you insisted, “I can get it to our base myself.”

He glanced up at your frame as he closed the bullet compartment to his rifle. His serious expression made your adrenaline kick in and your hands began to shake, becoming obvious from the way the tip of the knife was quivering.

“Fine,” he muttered out, basically snarling at you. “I’ll do this the hard way.”

His words made your expression drop and before you could even think, Niragi swung the butt of his rifle and socked you across the side of your head, making you fall to the ground abruptly and drop the blue flag. You groaned in pain, and yet you didn’t even get a second to recover before Niragi blew another hit to your shoulder, kicking you harshly in the stomach at the same time.

You suffocated on nothing, becoming winded from his kick. Gasping for air, you attempted to crawl away from the violent man, shuffling on your hands and knees. Another hit to your lower back brought you to your stomach and you gagged at the sudden feeling.

Luckily, Niragi had quit abusing you and reached down next to your bruised body to pick up the blue flag. “Maybe next time, be careful what you say to me,” he hissed into your ear before standing up and walking away from you.

You laid on the floor for a short moment, trying to compose yourself and control your breathing once again. When you finally came to your senses, you lifted yourself up from the ground while groaning in pain. You had to find a hiding spot, otherwise the Blue Team would find you at their base and kill you.

You used the wall for support as you stood up, bones cracking and blood dripping down the side of your face. You lifted your hand and pressed against your throbbing head, wincing as the pain rocketed from your action.

‘At least he didn’t kill me,’ you thought to yourself. A bright shimmer caught your eye and you turned your head to see your weapon laying on the ground. A grumble left your body as you leant down to pick it up, admiring the way the blue light reflected off it.

You leant against the wall and slowly made your way down the hall, searching for a small cabinet or anywhere that you could hide for the next ten minutes or so. You got a wave of relief when you spotted a cleaner’s cupboard just down the corridor, stumbling towards it.

When you pulled yourself inside the dark cupboard and closed the door, you allowed yourself to slide down against the cold wall, feeling a few tears slip from your eyes.

All you had to do was wait for Niragi to get the flag back to the Green Base and you would be fine, hopefully.

***************

You dragged your exhausted body towards your hotel room, your legs throbbing in pain at every step you climbed. You had decided against going back to the hotel in the car with the other militants, as you didn’t want to deal with the tension of sitting next to the man who almost killed you. Plus, the car would hold half the amount of people it left the hotel with, probably making the atmosphere more eerie.

The door of your hotel room felt heavy as you pushed it open, stumbling into the cold room. You groaned in frustration at your past self. Why didn’t you leave your heater on before you left?

You let out a deep sigh before falling backwards onto your bed, spreading your arms out wide to feel the comforting blankets underneath you. Your eyes closed in content, trying so hard to ignore the pain on the side of your head and your knees.

The blankets shifted underneath your tired frame as you rolled over, pulling the duvet over yourself in the process. You didn’t even have the energy to turn your body so you could place your head on the pillow, so you simply slipped into unconsciousness in the position you laid in, hoping for a better day to come tomorrow.

Whilst you travelled to dreamland in your mind, a short blonde man stood outside your door, knocking lightly on the wood. When Chishiya received no response, he lightly turned the silver door knob and peaked his head into the room. A soft sigh of relief left him when you saw you safe and sound, asleep on your bed. He had been worried from how you were acting as you slumped to your room, noticing that you seemed more tired than usual.

Chishiya walked into the room and quickly shut the door behind him, holding the doorknob until it was completely shut to avoid the clicking noise. He tip-toed towards your frame and admired your sleeping self, his lips curling up at the sight.

“Get some sleep love,” he whispered, running the back of his hand softly down your cheek to sooth you. “You need it.”

Before Chishiya left the room, he tucked the blanket tighter around your body so you stayed warm and gave you a soft peck on your forehead. He glanced back once more before stepping out of the room. He headed back to his own hotel room to get some sleep, feeling content that the person he cares for most was okay.

**************

As the days of your visa grew fewer, your dread grew bigger. Thoughts from your last game bounced around your head, continuing to come back to you in the most random of times. Sometimes you would feel an imaginary harsh kick to your back in your dreams, causing you to wake up abruptly, covered in sweat. You couldn’t escape the fear of Niragi attempting to kill you again. If you managed to run into him again like in the last game, it would be a guarantee that he wouldn’t let you off the hook again.

Just the thought of Niragi blasting a few bullets from his sniper through your head brought you the irrational belief that that was your future. No matter how hard you attempted to shake it, it found its way back into your mind.

The stars shone in the sky, glistening against the endless ceiling of darkness and winking at you from above. It felt foreign to see such sights in the world you lived in, where everything seemed to hold some kind of darkness behind it. Even the label of ‘Utopia’ on The Beach was a complete lie.

You huffed in a stressful tone, hanging your head low and rubbing your eyes with your hands as you leaned your elbows on the railing. The minutes before the next game were becoming less and less. If only you had one more day on your visa, you could potentially avoid all the bullshit that Niragi brought with him everywhere he went.

Hatter had informed you that Niragi was taking you to another game, as he didn’t get to properly assess your skills last time. He was making you go because that night was the night your visa ended. You didn’t have a choice.

Before you knew it, small droplets of tears escaped your eyes, cascading down your face and dripping off your chin. You felt helpless and scared. You could do nothing but wait for the fire alarms to ring to indicate Hatter’s speech before everyone left for their own games. It felt like your time on the roof was lasting forever, so you tried to drag out your time there as long as you could.

You closed your eyes and lifted your head high, letting the cold air swim around your face and bring you comfort. “This isn’t fucking fair,” you stated bluntly to yourself.

It wasn’t. Why did the world think you deserved this kind of stress? You never asked to be in the Borderland. You never asked to be involved with these people. Why did you have to be thrown into this mess?

The sound of light footsteps ripped you from your thoughts, causing you to whip your head around and lock eyes with Chishiya, who froze a few metres away. Your face visibly relaxed at the sight of your boyfriend, smiling weakly as he lifted his hands in defence from your paranoid actions.

“Hey Chishiya,” you greeted him, turning your back and wiping your tears from your eyes. “Sorry, I’ll be down soon. Just give me a minute.”

Chishiya frowned at your shaky voice, approaching your frame and placing a soft hand on your shoulder. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You turned your face to him and his eyes displayed concern as soon as they met with your teary ones. “Wait, baby why are you crying?” he asked, placing a hand on the small of your back and another cupping your cheek to make you look at him.

You shook your head and gave a fake smile, not wanting to tell Chishiya what had happened. “It’s fine. I’m just getting a bit stressed for tonight.”

Chishiya eyebrows furrowed at your answer, noticing how you bit your lip after your sentence. You only ever did that when you were lying.

His eyes glanced up towards the small gash on the side of your head. “How did this happen?” he questioned you, lifted his hand to run a gentle thumb over the injury. You glanced at him nervously as he waited for an answer.

“Oh that? It’s nothing. I just managed to trip over and smack my head on the wall during the last game. You know me, such a clumsy idiot,” you tried to laugh it off.

Chishiya didn’t buy it for a second. He moved his gaze to the rest of your body, searching for any more injuries. He had had enough of your lying when he saw your bruised knees, dried blood around the edges of small cuts from earlier when you accidentally reopened them.

“Y/N, what happened the other day? Who did this to you?” Chishiya asked in a serious tone, wrapping his hands around your neck and holding you protectively. “These look bad Y/N. I’ll have to treat them for you.”

You nodded, looking down at the ground. Chishiya lifted your chin with his finger to make you have eye contact. “You going to tell me what happened?”

You let out a big sigh, accepting the fact that you can’t hide literally anything from Chishiya. He knew you too well.

“Look, it’s fine Chishiya. Niragi just got mad at me during a game. You know how he is. I’m honestly glad that he didn’t do anything else,” you explained, watching as Chishiya’s face contorted into anger at your confession.

He fell silent, making you more tense. You knew Chishiya was really aggravated when he went completely silent.

“Niragi did this to you?” he asked scarily calmly, running a soft hand over the gash on your head again. You nodded, leaning against his touch.

“Alright. You stay with me tonight. I don’t care what Hatter has asked from you. You stick by my side and don’t let go of my hand,” Chishiya demanded you, pulling you into a comforting hug. You tucked your face into his neck, breathing in his scent.

“I love you,” he whispered out, giving you a soft smooch on your cheek. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

You shook your head in denial. “Don’t be baby. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Chishiya smiled happily at your words, pulling back from the hug and giving you a loving kiss on your lips. You both held each other close, moving your mouths against one another’s intimately.

You felt safe in Chishiya’s arms and he felt safe in yours. And that’s where both of you were intending to stay as long as possible.

****************

You sat on Chishiya’s small bed, admiring as the young man wiped carefully over the dried blood on your knees. He was being so careful, holding you by the underneath of your knee and making sure not to press too hard on your bruises.

You had returned from the game you attended with Chishiya. Before the game commenced, you both hid on the roof so Niragi or Hatter wouldn’t come looking for you, wanting to take you to the game. You waited until most cars had left before making your way down to the bottom floor, climbing into the last car together that only held two other people you didn’t know.

Chishiya made sure to keep you by his side the entire game, not letting go of your hand once. At some point you were afraid he was going to sacrifice himself for you, as he wasn’t acting too far from it. His protective side had kicked in and he wasn’t taking your situation lightly.

At some point you both had to hide from an attacker. Chishiya had shoved you both into the corner of a small room, shielding your entire body with his with both of his hands against the walls, keeping you trapped in and hidden. The action alone was enough to make you realise how much Chishiya actually cared, how afraid he actually was of losing you.

“All done,” the blonde announced, breaking you from your thoughts. You grinned as he glanced up at you, giving you a cheeky wink. He shifted up the bed and leant against the headboard beside you. “Are you okay?” he asked once again, his fingers lightly running along your thigh soothingly. You nodded, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about Niragi,” Chishiya reassured you after a short moment of silence. You looked up at him from his shoulder. “Why not?” you asked.

Chishiya gave a cocky smirk and ruffled your hair playfully. “I’ll make sure to give him a piece of my mind,” he said in a monotone voice as usual.

You chuckled at his words before placing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I’m sure you will,” you laughed.

Chishiya smiled happily and turned his body. He picked you up slightly and made you lie down before placing himself next to your frame. You rolled over to face him, not even getting a chance to breath before his lips were on yours.

His kiss was passionate, running his tongue along your lips to ask for you to open them. You obliged, letting him have his way with you. You ran your fingers up underneath his shirt, feeling his warm skin shiver underneath you touch. He groaned at the feeling, pushing himself closer to you and placing one hand on the back of your neck while the other dragged lazy patterns along your bare hip.

You two held each other close, getting lost and drunk on the thoughts and feelings of one another. No one could make each of you feel the way you made each other feel. In Chishiya’s arms you felt safe and content, making all the terrible things around you disappear. And for Chishiya, you made him feel sane again. You made him remember that he was human, he was allowed to have human emotions and make mistakes.

You brought a sense of comfort to one another, and clearly Chishiya wasn’t willing to let anything come between you both.

[bokutosworld]

i won’t say (i’m in love) | kageyama t. 

pairing: kageyama tobio x gn!reader

wc: 1,935 words. fluff, high school crushes. hinata being a wingman lol. 

summary: an encounter at kageyama’s favorite spot in school leads him to meet someone that makes him feel all sorts of confusing feelings. 

a/n: so if it’s not yet obvious by the title, this was inspired by the song from hercules, i won’t say i’m in love :D this idea has been on my drafts for quite some time and i finally had the chance to work on it yaaay 

The first time Kageyama saw you, you were in front of the vending machine he frequented.

It was lunch break, and with ten minutes left before the next period, he figured he could get his favorite banana milk. He was walking towards the area that hid the machine away from prying and hungry eyes. Kageyama was confident that no one was familiar with its spot, especially since the machine always seemed to never go out of stock of his go-to drinks. But boy was he wrong.

The instant that he rounded the corner, he heard the recognizable thud of the drink box falling and someone getting it from its confines. He took a peek and saw a glimpse of a student cheerfully sticking the straw to the pack, humming as they take a sip of the milk. With a contented smile, the student walks off and passes him, giving a side glance and showing off a smirk to Kageyama.

How odd, the setter thought. Though he didn't dwell on it for any much longer, opting to get his own share of the milk. However, when he stood in front of the machine, his heart lurched upon seeing the red light that indicated not available. Kageyama's eyes shoot wide open and he whipped his head towards the direction you went, sending a glare to your retreating back as he realized you took the last milk. Oh, he was furious and poor Hinata was on the receiving end of that sour mood for the rest of the day.

Since that unfateful encounter, Kageyama has been noticing your presence everywhere. And it was an understatement to say that he didn't find you annoying. He remembers how you went under his nose to grab that last box of milk and it still infuriates him.

Whenever you walk by in the hallways, he can't help but follow you with a pointed look on his face. To any outsider, Kageyama looked as if he was sending curses towards your way, at least that was what Hinata thought. But actually, the setter was trying to figure out who you were and why he hadn't seen you in the campus before that day. One day, his curiosity finally got the best of him and he asked Hinata about his concern.

"Huh? What do you mean you don't know Y/N," the orange-haired boy replied. Hinata gave his friend a puzzled look, and as if the cogs in his mind stopped turning, a teasing grin made it way to his face. "Ah, so that's why you've been looking at them like a madman recently. You're so dumb, Kageyama! How could you not recognize them, they're literally our class president."

Hinata was right. That time, Kageyama was dumbfounded when they returned to the classroom and saw you chatting with your friends in the corner. He was entranced by you and the way you were laughing at one of the jokes that he hit his hip in the sharp edge of the desk. He shrieked, causing you to turn your head towards him with worry cast over your face.

It didn't hurt that bad. He was massaging that spot on his hip when you silently stalked towards him. You stood by his side, placing a hand on his back and asking if he was okay. It took all of Kageyama's willpower not to lose his composure in front of you, but Hinata caught on his actions. In that moment, an idea popped up in Shoyo's mind.

"Hey, Pres," he put an arm around Kageyama's shoulders, wiggling his eyebrows at him. "Can I ask you a favor? Can you bring my friend here to the clinic and get his injury checked out? I'm sure it's only minor but we can't be too sure." Kageyama angrily nudged Hinata, a string of stupid, you idiot falling on his lips.

"Yeah, no problem. Come on, Kageyama, let's get you to the nurse."

He was immediately flustered. Kageyama swears his face has never felt that hot when you took his shoulders and wrapped them on your own, acting as his crutch as the two of you walked to the clinic.

Kageyama cleared his throat, his eyes looking at anywhere but you. "H-hey, I'm not completely paralyzed. I can walk on my own."

You laughed, "It's fine. You can rely on me sometimes, you know. Besides, I don't want our star player sitting out of the games." A moment of silence clouds over the two of you on the rest of the way, but just before entering the clinic, you say, "I know you love volleyball. You should enjoy it without any injury."

Kageyama thinks that maybe you were much more than a milk thief after all.

Hinata doesn't know what happened after he sent you and Kageyama to the clinic. But he has a slight idea about what changed when he sees that his teammate has been talking more to you at every chance that he gets, walking by your desk and starting up conversations when he can.

In mornings, he notices that Kageyama always has two packs of milk in hand. And when you enter the room, he sees how he lights up, a shy smile forming on his face as you wave a hand and walk to his desk. He couldn't believe his own eyes when he watches Kageyama give you the other milk and he comes to a conclusion that he bought it just for you.

In gym class, Hinata observes the way Kageyama is extra pumped up to be against you in the 100m dash activity. He sees the playful taunts he sends your way and how you gladly react to them and indulge Kageyama in his competitiveness. He honestly thinks Kageyama won't let you off the hook but he's shocked, when just a few centimeters away from the finish line, he fakes a trip and falls down on the ground. You pass him in high spirits, jumping up and down as you exclaim that you won against the King of the Court. And Hinata knows that the normal Kageyama would be pouting and pissed off at his loss.

But this wasn't a normal Kageyama. He figures that this was a Kageyama in love. 

The pair was assigned to set up the net and prepare the gym before practice started. They were in the storage room getting the equipment when Hinata started teasing Kageyama about his little crush.

"I don't know what you are talking about." The taller boy strongly denied all the accusations that Hinata was throwing at him. "Just shut up and help me here."

Hinata chuckled like an evil villain and continued to spew obvious facts. "You give them milk every morning. You unconsciously make them laugh with your not so funny jokes. You look out for them during gym class more than their friends does. You make time before practice to say goodbye before they go home."

"So, what is your point?"

His friend smirked, "Kageyama Tobio, you have a crush."

Kageyama stood frozen, his hands went limp by his sides at the sudden realization. He was aware that in his recent interactions with you, he'd sometimes feel sick, like he'd get nervous around you, his breathing becomes unstable and his palms get sweaty.  He has noticed it himself how the surroundings would turn brighter whenever you walked in the hallways or how his own heart would beat twice as fast whenever you were approaching him in his desk.

He didn't know what that feeling was called. He didn't want to give it a name. But Hinata just had to point it out. Frustrated that his friend called him out on his adoration for you, Kageyama stayed silent and started playfully punching Hinata. The poor boy was only saved when they heard footsteps come in, and Kageyama was quick to push Hinata away and avoid your gaze when you walked in.

Hinata was grumbling as he walked out of the scene, leaving you two some time to figure out your mutual feelings.

Kageyama immediately crouched down and hid his face on his hands, making you laugh at his awkwardness. He inquired in a muffled voice, "How much of that did you hear?"

You answered him truthfully, narrating the moment when you stopped to hide behind the doors was when you heard Hinata starting to tease him about his little crush. "I'm honestly flattered, Kageyama. Though I am also surprised that Hinata was watching us closely. Or should I be creeped out?"

He glanced up at you, standing from his position and going off on a tangent about how he also thought that Hinata was looking into things too much. He complained that instead of thinking about his love life, Hinata could've used that time to practice his spikes and jumps.

At this point, Kageyama was rambling and though you thought it was endearing, you needed him to pause and breathe. "Can you stop talking for literally ten seconds?" This seemed to work as he shut up and straightened his back, his eyes gazing straight into yours.

Kageyama realized, "Why are you here anyway?"

You smiled and brought out something from your pocket. "I wanted to give this to you." It was the banana milk that he loves. "I saw that it was the last one in the vending machine. I figured you'd want to have it. Have a drink before or after practice."

You thought it wasn't humanly possible to see eyes literally sparkling, but Kageyama was giving you proof of that as he excitedly took the drink from your hands. The corners of his mouth turned upward in a soft smile, and you thought that was the prettiest that he has ever been. He remembers the moment he first saw you and laughs, "You didn't have any problems before taking the last available milk for yourself."

It was your turn to get shocked, hiding a blush behind your palms. You also recall that incident, "Stop, I didn't do that on purpose. Was it my fault that they haven't restocked on that day?”

Kageyama scoffed, "Yeah, right." You pouted, crossing your ams on your chest as you looked away from him. "Thank you."

He has put the straw in the opening of the pack, taking a sip of the milk when you asked him for the second time. "So, you like me, huh?" Kageyama almost choked on his drink, and you laughed before patting his back to help him calm down. Some liquid were spilling from his lips and you were quick to wipe it with your hand. The action was enough to render Kageyama speechless, so he put some distance between the two of you.

You were taking some tissue from your bag to give to Kageyama when you also shared a confession of your own. "If it makes you feel any better, I like you too."

"I'm free this weekend. If you want to take me out a date, you know my number." He looked at you expectantly, the words yes, I'd love to go out with you resting on the tips of his tongue but he wasn't able to let it out. Because in a few seconds, you boldly took a step closer and pressed your lips to his cheek. His face felt warm and his heart was beating like crazy.

"I'll be expecting your call, Tobio."

In that moment, the feelings that he kept on a tightly closed lid were overflowing and it was the affirmation that he needed to know that he was already in too deep for you.

[anxiousstark]

S2 11 | Battleplan

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 1912.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, murder, dead body, swearing (always).

A/N: This is kind of a filler. Not too long. Bruh, LAST CHAPTER OF SEASON 2.

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

Things were complicated. Melissa wasn't talking to Scott nor me, she witnessed me flashing my eyes, and she saw Scott as a werewolf.

When Matt had dragged my unconscious body to one of the rooms where almost everyone was, I woke up for a couple of seconds, Stiles was unconscious on the floor, and Mr. Stilisnki had been hit on the head, falling to the ground. Then, the Kanima appeared, I found strength from somewhere deep inside me when I saw that he was planning to attack Melissa. I took the arrow out of my belly, the pain made my eyes flash, and while I stabbed the Kanima on the back with the same arrow, my eyes met Melissa's.

Stiles was receiving help. I felt bad because a couple of days before I had promised to protect his father, which I wasn't able to do. Not only that, but he was also ignoring me.

I was sitting on the bleachers, a lacrosse game would take place in a couple of minutes. I noticed Stiles and Scott talking to each other, and decided to go up to them. "Hey," I whispered, hands inside the pockets of my jacket, it was freezing. Scott glanced up, offering me a little smile. However, the other boy continued talking without acknowledging me.

"It's going to be bad, isn't it? I mean, like people screaming, running for their lives, blood, killing, maiming kind of bad?" His eyes were teary, legs bouncing up and down. "Scott, the other night seeing my dad get hit over the head by Matt, you know, while I'm just lying there and I can't even move, it just-. I want to help, you know, but I can't do the things that you can do. I can't-."

"It's okay."

Stiles shook his head. "We're losing, dude."

We were losing. We were losing people, and maybe we were losing ourselves on the way.

"The hell are you talking about?" Coach appeared from behind them, and even though I saw him coming near, I got startled. I was jumpy. "Game hasn't even started. Now put on your helmet and get out there. You're in for Greenberg."

"What? What happened to Greenberg?" He began looking around.

"What happened to Greenberg? He sucks. You suck slightly less."

"I'm playing? On the field? With the team?"

"Yes, unless you'd rather play with yourself."

"I already did that today, twice." I almost chuckled.

"Get the hell out there!"

The hazel-eyed boy restlessly grabbed all of his things. Before he could walk to the field, I stopped him, my hand clutching his jersey. "Stiles, I-"

"I can't talk," He didn't even glance at me. "This is important for me." Wasn't I?

"Yeah," I whispered, but he was already running to the field. "Good luck," I muttered. I heard Scott calling my name, but I just offered him a smile as he did before.

I went back to the bleachers, deciding to sit next to Melissa, but she quickly waved Lydia over. I didn't think much about it, or at least I tried not to while I sat next to Noah. His arm went around my shoulder as he kissed my forehead. For a moment, I thought I would break down. Noah couldn't help but scream for Stiles when his son walked to the field.

Things got even more complicated. First, Isaac came to the game, sitting down next to Scott. They both seemed to be friends now. Then, I noticed that Gerard was wickedly smiling while peering at Scott. Something was going on. Next, Jackson took a player to the ground, inducing him into unconsciousness. Coach asked Scott to play, and Melissa suspected that something more was going on, something more than just a lacrosse game. But then Scott disappeared while Coach screamed for him to come back.

I got up from the bleachers, determined to search for him even though my wound was fresh, and still hurting. But then everyone on the bleachers started cheering up, Stiles had scored. And another one. Then, again. The team hugged each other, congratulating. Stiles glanced at the bleachers, his eyes met mine. I was clapping, proud of him, grinning widely. He beamed back, but just for a couple of seconds as he seemed to realize something, then the smile wasn't for me, it was for Lydia Martin. And I suppose that is how everything should be.

The buzzer sounded, indicating the end of the game and our victory. The excitement didn't last. The lights went out, and someone screamed. Everything seemed to slow down. People falling to the ground, screams, bumping into others, running, fear. I made sure that Mr. Stilisnki was fine, running to the field, searching for Stiles. But I tripped, falling to the ground. I tripped over someone just lying there. I tripped over Jackson's unconscious body.

"Jackson? What's happened to Jackson?" Lydia's terrified voice sounded all over. "Jackson! Jackson! Jackson, what's happening?" She kneeled on the floor, next to him. I quickly got into the same position as her, grasping her arms, doing my best to calm her down.

"Can we get a medic over here? We're gonna need a medic!"

Melissa came running to us, putting her head over his chest. "He's not breathing. No pulse." She started pressing his chest, trying to bring him back. "Get down here." She glanced at Lydia. "Get down here and hold his head. Tilt it up."

"Stiles?" I whispered to myself, running to all the lacrosse players, looking at them in hopes of finding a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

"Where's Stiles? W-where's my son? Where's Stiles? Where's Stiles? Where's Stiles? Where the hell is my son?"

The last hours were horrible. I spent them being embraced by Scott, reassuring each other, convincing each other that Stiles Stilisnki was perfectly safe.

Then...

I ran with all my strength, the wound on my stomach was burning, and it was probably bleeding as Melissa told me not to force myself. But I couldn't help it. Stiles was back. Stiles was in his house.

"You came running?" Mr. Stilisnki's eyes were wide open after he opened the front door, letting me come inside the Stilisnki household. I nodded my head frantically, glancing around. "He is upstairs." He smiled. I grinned, running towards the steps until his voice stopped me. "Lydia is there too."

"Uhm," I turned around. "C-can I wait here until she comes down?" He seemed confused. "I don't want to interrupt their, uhm, talk." He shook his head while smirking, muttering something under his breath. "Want something to drink?" I approved, following him to the kitchen, and sitting down on a chair. "How are you feeling?" He handed me a cup.

I fiddled with it, feeling the warmth go through my hands. "I did look inside the backpack." He waited for me to go on. "Some pictures of famous people she admired, and a picture of her with the friend who took care of me."

"No picture of you."

I sadly smiled, glad that I didn't have to say so myself. "Love," I sighed. "It's a strange thing. Mr. Stilisnki," He glared at me. "I mean Noah," I laughed while continuing. "How can I trust people when the ones who should teach me about it weren't even there?" My voice cracked. "Now, I'm terrified. I don't want to get too close because something bad could happen."

"Or something beautiful," His hands grabbed mine, thumb rubbing circles on the back of my hand. "Love feels good and hurts so bad, that doesn't mean everything will be wrong. There will be joyful and sorrowful moments. You need to go through all of them."

"If they ta-."

"Nobody is going to take you away, okay?" He softly whispered. "I will take care of that."

"Uhm," I heard someone, turning around to see Lydia. I smiled at her, although I don't think it looked like an honest one. "I'm already leaving," She glanced at the older Stilisnki. "Thank you for letting me stop by."

After we heard the door close, he nudged me. "Go."

I tried to calm my nerves while breathing deeply. I lightly knocked on the door, and when I heard his voice my stomach fluttered. However, I didn't like what I had in front of me. His cheek was bruised, a large bruise all over it, and his lower lip was busted.

My hands grabbed his neck, moving his head to the other side so I could examine his wounds. "Who did this?" He didn't reply, eyes meeting mine just for a couple of seconds. "Who did this, Stiles? I swear to god I will kill whoeve-."

"That's your problem." He pulled my hands off him. I studied his body posture, he was anxious and mad. "You don't know what you are, but you still throw yourself into trouble. A pepper spray?" Why was he talking now about the other day? "Pepper spray against a Kanima? Got beaten and shot, you still ran your mouth and insulted Matt which made him hit you, even while you were unconscious." His lower lip trembled. "And I couldn't do anything about it because I was paralyzed!"

"I would do it again."

"See, that's the problem. Y-you don't care about getting hurt." He stepped closer to me. This time, his eyes didn't leave mine. "But you know how I'll feel? I'll be devastated. And if you die, I will literally go out of my fucking mind." His eyes were teary, and at this point, mines were too. "You see, death doesn't happen to you, Y/N. It happens to everyone around you, okay? To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they're gonna live the rest of their lives now without you in it? Huh?" He was screaming now. "And look at my face, huh? Come on, you actually think this was meant to hurt me?" I flinched a little, not liking when people raised their voices. "Um- I'm so sorry." He brought me closer to him, hiding his face on my neck. "I missed you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry"

"Is this why you ignored me on the field?" I embraced him tightly, terrified that he would disappear. I felt him nod. "Stiles, I would do anything for you like I know you would do anything for me." I felt him nod his head, bringing me even closer to his body.

Our eyes met. Arms still tight around each other. His eyes went from my eyes to my lips. He got closer, head inclined to the right side, getting closer.

"Y/N, wanna have dinner here?" We jumped apart. Warm invading our faces. Stiles blushing quite hard. "Oh, did I- does Chinese sound good?" We both nodded, shyly smiling as he closed the door behind him.

I found the strength to turn around and glance at him when I heard a faint melody resonating through his room. He had moved closer to his computer, playing the song. My eyebrows were furrowed, waiting for him to explain what was going on. "What is going on?" I whispered, not having the strength to talk louder.

He beamed at me. "I want to slow dance like we did at the dance." He came closer, asking for permission to place his hands on my waist. Of course, I nodded my head as my hands travelled from his chest to his shoulders, resting there. "But just with you."

.

.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker - @brithedemonspawn - @weirdowithnobeardo - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @azayamari - @poguestyle17 - @bibliophilewednesday - @10minutesofscreentime - @momentitodebruh​ -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

[octalove]

II: Blood and Ghosts

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader tries getting a clue. part one

“Typically, they steer clear of the Village, but that doesn’t appear to be the case as of recent. Oracle found out about an operation out of a Hadley’s Deli there- standard money laundering, but it also could’ve been linked to the shipment of cocaine that we found at the Yacht Basin.”

“Right. So what changed?”

“A better question would be what didn’t?”

A beat. The contrasting silence that followed jarred me from my thoughts as I glanced over and realized that Bruce was prompting me for an answer. Tim looked expectant and inquisitive, but that was sort of his default expression.

“Oh. Sorry. What?” I said apologetically.

“Maroni.” He said simply. Nothing came to mind. He didn’t express verbal disappointment as he turned back to Tim, but I knew it was there.

“Red Hood has been operating out of The Bowery. Maroni and Falcone are stubborn, but they’re losing. He’s pushing them north.”

“So moving to the Village isn’t expansion. It’s desperation.” Tim muttered thoughtfully.

“I believe so.”

“May I be excused?” I asked. Bruce glanced back to me, studying a moment. Scrutinizing every detail; not deciding whether or not to let me leave- rather, deciding why I wanted to. Then, he nodded. Seems he wasn’t in the mood to ask.

I swept up my laptop and phone, and ascended the stairs from the cave to the manor quickly, trying to escape the eyes boring into my back. Only when the cool, lemon-scented air of the manor filled my lungs did I breathe a sigh of relief. Alone. All I needed was few minutes alone. I scaled the marble steps to my room and shut the door.

I hadn’t told anyone that I saw him three nights ago. That I watched him murder a man in retribution for me. My alter ego, anyway. I don’t know why. Maybe because it would mean having to tell them I snuck away. Having to walk through every detail again; sights, sounds, smells. What Red Hood was wearing and what he sounded like, what gun he was holding and how he held it, what prompted him to fire, how many shots and how he acted when he did.

But if ever there was a time to be high-strung and anxious, it was when you were keeping secrets from Batman. And Oracle. And Nightwing. And Red Robin. And Robin. Damian in particular could smell a lie like blood in the water, and he wasn’t too polite to hold your gaze until he was certain you weren’t hiding anything. That, and the art of solidarity was still foreign to him- even if I did tell him in confidence, he would take it right to Bruce. Possibly the police. Maybe a news outlet or two just because it soothed his vindictive nature. I’d been avoiding him.

Evening bled into night, and I was barred from masked business on school nights, so I couldn’t even patrol to ease the anxious energy. Still, that meant less opportunity for Bruce to analyze my musculoskeletal ticks or whatever the hell he did to tell when I was nervous, so I decided it was a worthy trade-off and resigned myself to independent research.

Who the hell was Red Hood, anyway? Half of Gotham was looking for him, the other half was running from him. I opened my laptop.

His debut was The Viper House, a strip club in Little Italy that also functioned as a human trafficking hub when the owner, Renaldo, needed to buy his wife (or handful of mistresses) a new Blue Nile diamond. By the end, the building had to be gutted. There’s only so much crime scene clean-up can do with carpet.

Next came the kingpins. Blowing open a trafficking operation had a short grace period if you didn’t cut out the source. Italian mobsters, the Romani families, the crews that had built empires on drug and sex trade dropped like flies until they found that their numbers dwindled for the first time since Joker finally bit it. The dozens of loyal men on their payroll decided that empty pockets were better than a full grave, and when it came to the business of death, Red Hood was very persuasive. It went on like that for six months; he amassed men, power, weapons, and tech. Most importantly, a potent reputation. This was due in no small part to his creative footwork; he liked to send messages. One file covered an incident where Alphonso Kuznetsov decided to write Gotham’s new player an open letter in the evening column suggesting that if he decided to bring his business to Port Adams, he might find himself in a ‘watery grave’. Kuznetsov was found a week later when a fishing vessel drug an entire coffin from the bottom of the harbor, padlocked and full of water. He was bound, drowned, and gagged with a copy of the very paper that featured his message. Red Hood must have been in touch with his artistic sensibilities; it was all very Shakespearean.

Of course, these were all just words. Rumors and hearsay. All I knew of the Red Hood from my intimate encounter was that he had a quick hand, an incendiary temper, and he didn’t fucking like creeps. All the makings of vigilante, if you chose to see it like that.

I sighed. Two hours and none of my research gave me any indication of why me. Why the hell should Red 57-kill-count Hood care if some goon told me he like the way I looked in my suit? I may has well have been the veiled threats of Kuznetsov’s evening column for all my inconsequence to him.

But it all kept running through my mind. Backwards and forwards. The vitriol in his voice preluding the barbarity of his reprimand. The way he said little Batgirl, like the crime was that I’d been engaged at all. More than the memory, something was telling me to keep digging. Something dragging me back to Crime Alley with the current of the running blood through Little Italy’s gutters.

I had to do something. And if that something wasn’t going to Bruce, then school tomorrow would have to wait.

The morning went along as per usual. I woke up at six, dawned my Gotham Academy uniform, grabbed a muffin and coffee, completed a complicated and well-practiced secret handshake with Tim (that Dick was secretly jealous of), and was out the door at 6:30, keys jingling in Alfred’s hand.

He dropped me off outside the ornate gothic academy, and I waved goodbye as I skipped backward along the cobblestone walkway. Once his black Mercedes was a pinpoint on the horizon, I promptly turned heel from the front doors, heading East toward the Narrows. Catching the subway there would take me as far as the Knight’s Stadium, and from there it was a short distance to the Alley. I wasn’t exactly inconspicuous in my academy uniform- anyone who gave a shit could pretty confidently deduce that school was in session at 8am on a Tuesday, and no student native to the Alley could afford a private education, so I was bound to draw eyes. I hadn’t packed an extra outfit incase Tim or Alfred got suspicious- that was paranoia puppeteering. I wasn’t used to skipping school. I’d have to make due.

Crime Alley in broad daylight was a brand new experience. At night, at least the smoke unfurling from the sewer grates hit the flickering streetlights and offered an unconventional charm. During the day, it was like shedding light on a foul sin. I was starkly out of place, and even the lapdog-sized rats seemed to know it, scurrying back across gritty concrete when I passed by. I looked for familiar things I’d seen the other night- a run-down apartment complex, a gated liquor shop, a meager but menacing corner-store, busy with glaring laymen reluctantly dragging out their wallets for a pack of cigarettes. I caught the eye of a woman sitting on the curb with a paper-bag bottle for company, and she scowled.

Spurned by the rats, and now by the people, I was running out of options. Sticking close to the buildings that perimetered the square, I moved in tandem with the motion of the locals, so as not to draw any eyes by looking lost. It was an unnerving scape; too quiet for my liking, but just empty enough to feel safely underseen. I made my way past familiar landmarks until I finally stood before the warehouse where I’d been.

I listened; no sound from inside. Even henchmen have day jobs. Jimmying the rusty padlock was just a matter of brandishing a bobby-pin from my hair, and the heavy metal door swung open without much resistance. I cautiously picked my way around crates and boxes, unsure of what I was looking for. Clues, maybe. Proof that he was here and dropped a body in my name, amen.

There was a dark, daunting stain on the floor where Hoffman’s body was. A phantom gunshot echoed in my ears, along with a nauseating sound of flat-back weight slapping concrete.

“Ain’t school in session?” I spun on my heel, meeting the red helm of a towering man draped in leather and armor. My mouth went dry. My right foot slipped back into a fighting stance before I remembered I was in cashmere and plaid, not kevlar. Not that I even stood a chance either way; but at least he seemed to harbor good will toward Batgirl. Wordlessly, I took a few steps back until I was standing over the blood and ghosts of Hoffman’s demise.

“P-please. Don’t- don’t hurt me.” I rasped.

I could play the rebellious, morose teenager and come up with something like it was a dare, or I could offer no explanation and simply cry.

Red Hood’s head tipped one way. His hands were empty- for now. Two heavy-looking glocks hung on his waist. I didn’t want to die on top of Hoffman’s blood stain. There was a level of symbolism there I was deeply unprepared to spend my final moments analyzing.

“Lookin’ for something, darlin’?” I swallowed- unable to say you.

“Wh-What do you want?” I asked.

He laughed, but it was humorless. Lacking whatever key component made laughs so appealing. As though the sound rung off the gravestones of uncanny valley before reaching my ears. “I think we’re both asking stupid questions.” He said. I was fucked. He outweighed me by a hundred pounds, and could out-draw me even if I had a weapon. I had no explanation for my being here that suited a civilian, and my phone was in my bag, meaning help was a world away.

But just as soon as he advanced a few paces, he stopped, and gestured to the crimson beneath my feet.

“Enjoy the show the other night?” He asked, before pulling something out of his jacket pocket and twirling it between his fingers with practiced ease. A batarang.

“You forgot somethin’.”

Cold, knife-like fear erupted in my spine, driven to the hilt. He knew. How did he know? What the hell was I supposed to do? My terror must have shown on my face, because he stopped fidgeting.

“It’s okay, babydoll. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“H-how-“

He moved again, slow, lazy strides until he was no more than an inch from me.

“Who are you?” I asked, figuring if I was gonna die, I should at least know that much.

His hands grabbed mine. The leather of his gloves was cool on my skin, but it barely registered for the closeness of him. I stared at the red bat symbol on his chest, jagged and angry looking. I blinked and looked down slowly as he closed my fingers around the cold metal of the batarang.

“Go home, little bird.” It was a cold, seething demand, his voice snagging on the scrambler to make it sound like a low growl.

“Tell Batman when he’s ready to stop sending his toy soldiers,” His hand went under my chin, tilting my head upward. My breath shook as I drew it, hitching, even though the man before me was faceless. Clean, red monochrome, glinting in the light.

“I’m getting impatient.” *

I walked through the manor door in a daze, the cold steel batarang searing my palm.

Bruce and Damian were in the living room, each invested in their own reading material. The grandfather clock ticked his steady tempo, and I inconspicuously adjusted the bag on my shoulder. Bruce had a steaming cup of coffee on the glass side table beside his leather chair.

“How was school?” He asked, not looking up. My paranoia convinced me it sounded rhetorical, but I shrugged anyway.

“Same old.” A glance, to see if my lie had landed.

Damian was the spitting image of his father. He, along with Tim, operated in the wake of being an only child, so he never did care about how I did in school, or much of anything else in my orbit. If at any point he did, he never thought to ask. Father and son looked like a matching set of dolls sitting there, cross-legged, with dark hair and gaunt eyes, both leanly muscular, and habitually poised; a consequence of being from the upper echelon of each of their respective backgrounds.

“Hey, um, are you going out tonight?” I asked.

“I am.”

“Can I come?”

“Are you certain you want to?” He still didn’t look up.

I blinked. “Um… yeah. Why?”

“You’ve been distracted since the last outing.”

Damian visibly tuned in.

“Oh. Sorry. I had a big paper I was worried about for school, but I turned it in today, so I’m good to go.” I threw him a thumbs up, even though he wasn’t looking.

A beat.

“Very well, then. Nine o’clock.”

I nodded, and headed toward the stairs.

“Y/N,” I stopped, and turned around. He was looking at me now, eyes blue and steady.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you did well?”

“…”

“On the paper.”

I threw him a smile. “The best.”

[letshaikyuu]

haikyuu characters and what do they post on instagram? choose your faves :)

𝚑𝚚!! 𝚘𝚗 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖  ·  ·  · ♡

·  ·  · 𝚊/𝚗: 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚖𝚐, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 !!

·  ·  · 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍

·  ·  · 𝚗𝚊��𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

·  ·  · 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: 𝚘𝚒𝚔𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚞, 𝚔𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚢𝚊𝚖𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚘, 𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚊 𝚔𝚎𝚒, 𝚖𝚒𝚢𝚊 𝚊𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚞, 𝚔𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚞

·  ·  · 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚘𝚘𝚙𝚜

𝚘𝚒𝚔𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚞 ·  ·  · ♡

Oikawa would be today’s influencer lol. His Instagram is perfectly themed, all the pictures make sense and either show him in a sexy-ass pose or something he thoroughly enjoys – like volleyball, milk bread, and aliens. His theme itself doesn’t have any funny pictures because he wants people to see him as a professional volleyball player – that’s why he keeps posting himself at practice

Definitely posts himself sporting the official Argentinian jersey, but who are we to judge

Unlike his feed, his highlighted stories (I forgot the name oops) and private stories show his friends just how big of an idiot he really is lol. He posts funny photos, videos from practice or him failing at cooking something. He doesn’t fear being judged on there, so he only posts things like this on his ‘close friends’ list – all of the ex-Seijoh members are on there and a few people from other schools

He also has separate stories for each country he travels to. Those stories usually show the places he visited, the food he ate and if he was with the team – pictures of them training or playing beach volleyball depending on the country. He never fails to post a selfie of him at the beach, sunglasses on and sun-kissed skin, making every fangirl of his squeal when looking at the picture

The ex-Seijoh third years always tease him on almost every post he shows up himself because they love him just like that <3

He definitely has a large following because he posts frequently and people love seeing him on their dash. Oikawa is actually really aesthetic and he knows when something looks good. Also, does Instagram lives with some of his teammates whenever they travel somewhere. You can clearly tell from his Instagram that he’s living the life

𝚔𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚢𝚊𝚖𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚘 ·  ·  · ♡

His posts are very infrequent and kind of messy. He doesn’t have a particular theme going on and he posts whatever he wants and whenever he wants. His stories are usually of a milk carton placed on the bench while he waits for the bus – timestamp of course because it’s the only sticker Kageyama actually knows how to find and use

Kageyama in high school and as a young adult can’t be compared – even when it comes to Instagram. As someone who’s now a public figure, he needs to show himself in a better and proper light, so he takes what he posts more seriously. Deletes all the useless things he used to post back as a teen and starts of his new feed with a photo of him and the Schweiden Adlers.

After that, his posts have more of a theme to them because Hoshiumi keeps criticizing him when he scrolls through his gallery; he then recommends Kageyama to keep his theme more like a sailor theme – blue and white. So, when you open Kageyama’s Instagram now, it still has his signature milk carton and volleyball action shots, but it looks more professional, the shots emphasizing Kageyama’s physique more

Oikawa once comments about how buff his Tobio-chan is getting and the public went wild

Hinata also commented how Kageyama keeps growing and he’s still shorter

There’s no doubt that he has at least one picture on his feed of the whole Karasuno team – probably after a win and all of them are smiling like crazy that even Tsukishima has an indication of a smile on his lips -  and a selfie with Hoshiumi and Ushijima – courtesy of Hoshiumi himself. He doesn’t have a huge following, but people aren’t blind and can see how handsome Kageyama really is

𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚊 𝚔𝚎𝚒 ·  ·  · ♡

So, he has Instagram more to stay in contact with his friends because there’s a handful of them overseas and Tsukishima just wants to see what they’re doing because he doesn’t want to lose contact with them - yes, he doesn’t want to lose the only real friends he truly made in high school

Anyhow, him actually posting something on his feed is very rare - he’s too lazy to take pictures and too lazy to post them and actually care about posting. The only photos of him on his feed are the ones his teammates had taken of him or Yamaguchi

They’re pretty aesthetic, ngl. Tsukishima strikes me as someone who’d look effortlessly good on camera if he decided to do so

His stories are a different story. Tsukishima likes randomly taking a photo of anything he finds cool or ‘aesthetic’ as Yamaguchi taught him - it’s usually with a timestamp or date, a cup of coffee (or strawberry shortcake lol), or a book on the table with the sun/moonlight invading amidst the curtains. He’d also take a lot of photos during his break from working at the Museum - this is such a Tsukishima job, I can’t

He also reposts (?) stories of him once someone tags him in their own - usually Yamaguchi or Hinata when the Karasuno alumni meet up (I’m not crying, but that’s sad to me for some reason)

Doesn’t have a large following and is content with his followers being people he actually knows and not some ‘obsessed fangirls and fanboys’ as he’d put it - definitely messes with Kageyama, saying how his resting bitch face is finally useless and gaining attraction. No, they didn’t argue, not at all lol

𝚖𝚒𝚢𝚊 𝚊𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚞 ·  ·  · ♡

I can’t not call him an influencer because his Instagram basically screams someone who’s well-known. He doesn’t pay much attention to themes and if his posts look nice, put together on his feed - he knows his photos are good, so he doesn’t worry at all about things like that

He does have something similar to a theme going on - his photos are either taken at the gym, during matches and in places that have dim lighting. Definitely takes pictures in those fancy-ass sofas fancy restaurants have or in their bathrooms because he looks very posh then. But, damn, does he rock shirts with the first few buttons popped open

And then you see Osamu in the comments saying how he didn’t have enough money to buy a proper shirt and that’s sad

The Black Jackals have a ball in his comments section, but that’s not the only place they frequent on his feed. Like most, he has a lot of stories designated for his close friends only - designated cause Bokuto definitely trains in the gym without his shirt on <3. He also posts a shit ton of gym selfies or when he’s lifting weights and Hinata is the one taking the picture

Also someone with a large following who catches the public’s eye. I feel like people who have no clue who he is and what sport he plays would still follow him because he’s just hot - and, well, aesthetic and pleasing to look at ngl, I’d follow him too

Loves taking derpy pictures of his teammates and posting him on ‘close friends’ because Sakusa would murder him if the picture of him caught mid-sneeze went online - but damn, Sakusa looked good even in that picture frame, Atsumu is jealous

People go crazy when he posts a picture together with Osamu because people can’t handle twice the amount of hotness 

𝚔𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚞 ·  ·  · ♡

He has this fine contrast between posting something sporty and something nerdy, so to say. His feed is a pretty accurate representation of Kuroo as a person because you can find a lot of things he’s into and he doesn’t mind posting pictures that might seem a tad bit embarrassing

Now, he, too, doesn’t have a theme specialized for his feed because he’s more of a ‘post whatever and it’ll somehow fit in’ and he posts rather frequently because he has a lot of pictures in his gallery. Loves posting pictures of hangouts or when he’s reunited with some of his friends after a long time with a witty caption or ‘good to see you back, bro’ (cough cough Yaku-)

On his story, he loves posting aesthetic photos of his food and drinks, especially if he’s in a coffee shop and he intentionally dresses formally for the perfect Instagram story. It’s basically him holding the cup to tea to his lips and looking out the window, his coat hanging over his shoulders and giving him a rather sophisticated feel

You also find Kenma on his stories being as aesthetic and more with Kuroo because they’re eye-catching in public places

Besides that, he also likes posting about his notes and like a timestamp with his desk and paperwork, laptop, and a succulent placed neatly on it. He’d have a cat who’d he also post a lot about or just opts for posting ‘throwback Thursday’ pictures taken back during his Nekoma days

Not that big of a following, but he does have a decent amount. Does Instagram lives as well! - usually when they have a Nekoma reunion or they’re at a karaoke bar and Kuroo wants to show how bad they are at singing lol. He doesn’t forget to hide the alcohol tho

[daddychims]

Offside Pt 8

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Series Masterlist!

Genre: Smut, Soccer AU, College AU

Pairings: Soccer Player! Jungkook X Sports Trainer! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Other BTS members all make a cameo as well because I’m an OT7 Trash!

You work as a sports trainer, providing basic first aid and injury management for the Hanguk University’s soccer team. Going with your mundane life of caring for the dozen of guys hurting themselves in the soccer game takes a turn when one of the guys catches your eyes. It’s not his breathtakingly good looks or his muscular athletic body usually seducing girls at the campus that catches your eyes. But the action plan in your kit, indicating he is diagnosed with Asthma is what draws your eyes time and time again to the Golden Boy of Hanguk University.

Warning: Slow burn, eventual smut, Taehyung being a freaking tease the whole time, Fuckboy!Jungkook, Asthmatic! Jungkook , mentions of episodes of Asthma, Take your Ventolin kids, Take your medications kids!

Your hands hesitate over the doorbell for a few seconds before finally pushing the button and hearing the melodic sound echoing.

"Coming!"

You hear a familiar voice that is different to the person you expect would be behind the wooden door and your suspicion is confirmed when the door opens to reveal the half naked guy standing across you.

"Kim Tae?"

"Heyyyy Sugar," He smirks, immediately reaching across and grabs you by the waist to pull you to his bare chest "Did you miss me so much?"

"What are you doing here?" you push past him inside the house with an annoyed tone

"You don’t need to be so low key about it babe," he smirks as he wraps his huge arm around your neck and pulls you closer again "I'm sure you heard I moved in with Jungkook." he hesitates as he leans closer to your ear "Isnt that why you came here?"

"Where is Jungkook?" you roll your eyes looking around the unnecessarily huge place “Im here to see him.”

"Jeon?" Tae asks furrowing his eyebrows "since when you're interested in Jeon?" he stands against the door with his arms across his chest

"I just have a homework I need to do," You state turning around to face him "Now do you wanna call him for me or should I walk around your house and find him myself?"

"What homework?" He raises an eyebrow "If you're talking about the type of homework at least 5 other girls rock up here every week, his bedroom is down the hallway on the left."

"Your brain is really wired like that huh?" You ask in an unimpressed tone "I just wanna have a conversation with him, I'll just wait in the living room."

"He's at the gym." he replies walking past you

"Which one?" You ask quickly rushing after him and grabbing his arm to get your answer "The one down the road?"

"Upstairs!" he rolls his eyes "The gym is upstairs!"

"You guys have a gym in your house?" You ask in surprise

"Jeon does," He shrugs "Now do you wanna wait in my room sugar? I'll go call Jeon for yo-. "

"No thank you," You immediately object "Where can I find him?"

He points at the stairs with a vicious smirk and you nod and make your way down the hallway, walking past the room with the daunting memories of Jihyo's birthday night.  You remember how you almost turned to one of the girls Jeon boned in his senior year if you didn’t react quickly enough that night.

You shiver from the thought and walk up the stairs. When you stop and look up, your eyes widen at the sight of Jungkook sitting on a Lat Pulldown machine, with a girl straddling his lap.

You can only see the girl's back, specifically her purposely plump bottom spreading over Jungkook's lap.

You immediately look up at the guy who's staring back at the girl sitting across him, beads of sweat dripping down his thick neck, arm muscles flexing as he manipulates the weight up and down.

You gulp at the sight, immediately feeling a shiver running down your spine at the excessively lewd sight of the two.

You immediately regret not waiting downstairs and just letting Taehyung call him, his vicious smile now have a whole new meaning for you.

You're hesitating whether you should make your way down the stairs and pretend you've seen nothing when Jungkook's gaze stumbles on you and you make a momentary eye contact.

The weight snaps up with a  loud thud as he releases his firm grip, immediately standing up and making the girl across his lap fall over.

Your eyes widen as you immediately turn around and make your way down the stairs. You're bearly reaching to the bottom when you hear his voice

"Wait,"

You pause and try to think of a way to escape facing Jungkook when you hear another voice

"What happened Sugar?" Taehyung shows up from the end of the hallway and looks at your blushing face "Weren't you looking for Jeon? He's right there." he points up at the top of the stairs with a mischievous smile, knowing exactly what you observed on the second floor.

You return an angry glare to Tae before turning around and watching Jungkook walk down the stairs "Jeon, I was looking for you."

"Yeah I just saw you," he mutters nodding his head in a confused manner "Why did you run away?"

You watch the guy in disbelief, wondering if he is acting dumb or he actually is dumb enough to not know why you avoided the situation. 

"N-Nothing, I just thought you're busy, so didn’t wanna get in the way." you explain with an awkward smile "I can come back."

"No," he quickly objects "I'm not busy, Lets talk."

"Ooh, what is this tension I feel here," Tae smirks watching the two of you "Is something going on between you two?"

Jungkook clears his throat before reaching for your arm and muttering "Lets go."

You walk behind the guy without objection as you hear Tae in the background yelling "THAT’S NOT FAIR, YOU'RE COMING TO MY ROOM NEXT SUGAR ALRIGHT?"

You both ignore the guy's childish remark as you enter his room, Jungkook immediately closing and locking the door behind himself which makes you furrow your eyebrows in suspicion .

When he notices your reaction he immediately explains "There are quite a few people living here, I don’t want them to barge in."

You nod, placing your bag on his bed, setting your phone down on his mattress while you try to look for the item you came all the way here for.

"So why are you here?" He asks walking closer and sitting on the other end of his king sized bed

"I wanted to talk to you," you say while finally finding the green coloured journal and pulling it out of the bag "About this!"

You watch him spare a look at the journal, remembering the conversation you both had with Dr Kim the other day before scoffing and looking away from you "And I thought-" he pauses midway through his sentence before bringing his eyes to you and muttering "I already told Dr Kim that I'm not doing that."

"Jungkook you're being unreasonable," You scold in a stern tone "Its not like you'll lose anything by doing this. If anything this might actually help you perform better in the finale."

"It doesn’t matter," He sighs looking down at his knees "My lungs were fucked as long as I remember. Taking the medications doesn’t change anything."

"Are you really fine with being benched?" you ask softly

"I'm not gonna be benche-" he snaps back “Lets say I’ll be benched. Why does that matter to you anyways!?”

You stare back at him, the sudden question taking you off guard. Why does this matter to you so much. Why do you care if he’ll be benched because he doesn’t take his medication. You’re not even licensed and this is already far out of your scope of practice as a mere sports trainer for his team.

“I-“ You start the sentence before you think it through enough to complete it and immediately regret your decision “never mind,” you sigh stuffing the journal back in your bag "I just wanted to try my best." you say in an annoyed tone.

You quickly take the sachet full of the medications you received from the office reception earlier and place it in front of him on his bed "This is yours," you hesitated before adding "Up to you if you wanna take them or not, but if you changed your mind just let me know. If you decide that you wanna take the medications, I should check on you once a week and record your dosage intakes."

You pause for his response but after a few seconds of silence you sigh and shift on the bed to leave. You're about to climb down his bed when your phone lights up and attracts both you and Jungkook's attention.

"So when am I getting my next dose of neck massage Miss placebo effect?" -Jimin

"Maybe you can massage me somewhere else this time? ;)" -Jimin

You reach to grab you phone when Jungkook immediately reaches before you to read the text carefully.

"Hey, give me the phone back," You reach but the guy quickly hides it behind his back before staring right into your eyes

"I changed my mind." he states in a serious tone

"W-What?"

"Lets do this stupid journal or whatever it is," he said firmly "Instead I have a condition."

"Really?" He nods and your eyes immediately light up "What is the condition?"

"Block Park Jimin," he says through gritted teeth "No, I'll block him right now."

"J-Jungkook, What are you talking about?"

"If you block Park Jimin, I'll do the journal with you," He suggests " you can even check on my more than once a week if you want."

"You want me to block him?" you ask in a lost tone "Why?"

"Haven't you heard?" He clears his throat "We don’t let the anyone from Hanguk team hang around the SNU guys specially the girls. The fact that you're friends with Namjoon Hyung is already a massive issue."

"What?" you laugh "Is that a joke? I've never heard of such rule. How come no one ever mentioned that to me?"

"Its an unspoken rule," Jungkook says matter of factly "If anyone is involved with Hanguk team, they aren't allowed to hang around the SNU guys for the duration of seasonal games. Otherwise they might find out about our team tactics and strategies and that messes up our chance in the finals."

"I'm so confused," you blurt out looking at him in disbelief "so you're saying I would act like a whist blower and tell the other team about Hanguk team's training strategies?"

"I did not say that," he says defensively

"You implied it," you respond immediately

"I'm just saying, we all go weak after a good fuck and say things we might regret," he mutters unimpressed looking at you "so lets not risk it yeah?"

"I-I'm not fucking Jimin," you stutter "where did that come from?"

"I didn’t say you are," he says firmly "I'm just saying you might."

"S-So what If I wanna fuck him," you retort angrily "Aren't you all doing it anyways? Why is it only not allowed for me!"

"I simply choose my girls from our campus," he shrugs

"So if I shag anyone from our campus, its all good?!" you say mockingly

"It cant be that hard," he shrugs his shoulder "You have a whole football team to choose from, I'm sure Taehyung is not the one guy you give a boner to when you rub them in your duties."

"Jungkook-" you shudder at his lewd words "just stop talking please."

"Fine," he smirks watching your blushing cheeks, findings the flustered side of you amusing to watch "What do you say? Can I block him now?"

You look at him with suspicion before muttering "I'll check on you three times a week, plus the 2 training days I see you on the field."

"Fine," he sighs defeated "It’s a deal?" he brings the phone in front of him to continue with his task "What's your passcode?"

"W-Wait …" you reach for the phone hesitantly "I need to at least let him know-"

"No need," he rolls his eyes "he's probably texting 10 other girls simultaneously, he wont even notice."

"You must have a lot of experience," You raise an eyebrow as you enter your passcode and hand him the phone back

"Don’t compare me to that punk," he rolls his eyes "I don’t play girls."

"Oh really?" You scoff "I really hate to remind you but I just watched you dry humping someone in your gym, Jeon. What do you call that?"

"Incorrect, she was dry humping me" he replies unaffected "I was just doing my weekly arm workout."

"Wow," you shake your head in disbelief "you're something else."

He finally finishes his task, blocking Jimin from your phone before bringing his eyes to you "Why? Were you jealous?"

"W-What?" you laugh awkwardly thinking he's just messing around, but he just stares at you with his piercing gaze waiting for an answer "W-What do you mean?"

He shifts on the bed, closing the space between the two of you on the bed as he leans over to your face "Did you wanna be in her place?"

You look at him with wild eyes, not knowing why those words pool arousal between your legs. He stares into your eyes before shifting them to your lips and back to your eyes after a few seconds.

"Hmmm? Did you wanna hump my thighs like a dirty little girl?" he murmurs and his eyes darken in lust as he watches your lips quivering nervously against his lips "Is that what you want Y/N?"

You gulp, heart thumping against your chest as you feel another rush of arousal tainting your panties "J-Jeon-"

"You just need to ask nicely," He smirks, his hot breath fanning your lips "and you'll be over my thighs in a few seconds."

You stare back at him for a moment before finally pulling yourself together and muttering "I t-think we had this discussion before," you gulp trying to steady your voice as you quickly grab your bag and shift it over your shoulder "That I don’t wanna hook up with you."

You watch with surprise as his dark lustful eyes turn disappointed, but he quickly hides them by looking away from you and shifting back his body.

"I'll call you for the next weekly check, until then make sure you take the medications as prescribed."

You walk to his door and twist the doorknob but it doesn’t open. Only then you remember that he locked his door when you both entered the room.

You turn around to tell him to unlock the door when a gasp leaves your lips

"Jungkook," you breath out as he presses your body against the door and leans against your face again

"You sure?" he raises an eyebrow, his earlier dark gaze starting to settle back in between his lids again "that you haven't changed your mind since our last discussion?"

"I-oh" you part your lips but a breathy sound leaves your lips when you feel his hardness against your thighs and his smirk grows on the corner of his lips finally receiving the reaction he wants from you.

Hey everyone! Hope you're doing well!

I know its been SOOOO long since I updated this story!

but this self isolation is allowing me to get my life together and get back on some writing as well!

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!

I'll be back soon!

Love ya'll! 

[ducktastic]

2020 Gameological Awards

Over on the Gameological Discord, we have an annual tradition of writing up our games of the year not as a ranked list but rather as answers to a series of prompts. Here are my personal choices for the year that was 2020.

Favorite Game of the Year

I didn’t know what to expect when I walked into Paradise Killer. I knew that I liked the vaporwave resort aesthetic from the game’s trailer and figured I was in for a Danganronpa-style murder mystery visual novel with an open-ended murder mystery at its core. Those assumptions were… half-right? The game definitely plays out like the exploration bits of Danganronpa set on the island from Myst but with far simpler puzzles. What I didn’t expect was to fall so deeply in love with the environment—its nooks and crannies, its millennia of lore, its brutalist overlap of idol worship, consumerism, and mass slaughter. It makes sense that the world of Paradise Killer is its strongest feature, since the cast of NPCs don’t really move around, leaving you alone with the world for the overwhelming majority of your experience as you bounce back and forth between digging around for clues and interrogating potential witnesses. And despite what the promo materials indicated, there IS a definitive solution to the crimes you’re brought in to investigate, the game just lets you make judgment based on whatever evidence you have at the time you’re ready to call it a day, so if you’re missing crucial evidence you might just make a compelling enough case for the wrong person and condemn them to eternal nonexistence. Am I happy with the truth at the end of the day? No, and neither is anybody else I’ve spoken to who completed the game, but we all were also completely enthralled the entire time and our dissatisfaction has less to do with the game and more to do with the ugly reality of humanity. I’ve always been of the mindset that “spoilers” are absolute garbage and that a story should be just as good whether you know the twist or not and any story that relies on surprising the audience with an unexpected reveal is not actually that good a story, but Paradise Killer is a game about piecing together your own version of events so I feel that it’s vital to the gameplay experience that people go in knowing as little as possible and gush all about it afterwards. Just trust me, if the game looks even remotely intriguing to you, go for it. I’ve had just as much fun talking about the game after I finished it with friends just getting started as I did actually solving its mysteries myself.

Best Single Player Game

I honestly missed out on the buzz for In Other Waters at launch, so I’m happy I had friends online talking it up as Black Friday sales were coming along. The minimal aesthetic of his underwater exploration game allows the focus to shift more naturally to the game’s stellar writing as a lone scientist goes off in search of her mentor and the secrets they were hiding on an alien world. It only took a few hours for me to become completely absorbed in this narrative and keep pushing forward into increasingly dangerous waters. In Other Waters might just be the best sci-fi story I experienced all year and I’d highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys sci-fi novels, regardless of their experience with video games.

Best Multiplayer Game

Look, we all know this year sucked. 2020 will absolutely be chronicled in history books as a fascinating and deeply depressing time in modern history where we all stayed inside by ourselves and missed our friends and family. It was lonely and it was bleak. Which is why it made my heart glow so much more warmly every time I got a letter from an honest-to-goodness real-life friend in Animal Crossing New Horizons. Knowing that they were playing the same game I was and hearing about their experiences and sending each other wacky hats or furniture, it lightened the days and made us feel that little bit more connected. Sure, when the game first launched we would actually take the time to visit one another’s islands, hang out, chat in real-time, and exchange gifts, but we all eventually got busy with Zoom calls, sourdough starters, and watching Birds of Prey twenty-two times. Still, sending letters was enough. It was and still is a touching little way to show that we’re here for one another, if not at the exact same time.

Favorite Ongoing Game

Zach Gage is one of my favorite game designers right now, and when I heard he was releasing a game called Good Sudoku I was sold sight unseen. The game as released was… fine. It’s sudoku and it’s pleasant, but it was also buggy and overheated my phone in a way I hadn’t seen since Ridiculous Fishing (also by Zach Gage) seven years ago. Thankfully, the most glaring bugs have been fixed and I can now enjoy popping in every day for some quick logic puzzle goodness. Daily ranked leaderboards keep me coming back again and again, the steady ramp of difficulty in the arcade and eternal modes means I can always chase the next dopamine rush of solving increasingly complex puzzles. It’s not a traditional “ongoing” game the way, say, Fortnite and Destiny are, but I’m happy to come back every day for sudoku goodness.

Didn't Click For Me

With Fortnite progressively losing me over the course of 2020, finalizing with my wholesale “never again” stance after Epic boss Tim Sweeney compared Fortnite demanding more money from Apple to the American Civil Rights movement (no, absolutely not), I dipped my toe into a number of new “battle pass”-style online arena types of games, and while Genshin Impact eventually got its hooks into me, Spellbreak absolutely did not. With graphics straight out of The Dragon Prince and the promise of a wide variety of magic combat skills to make your character your own, the game seemed awfully tempting, but my first few experiences were aimless and joyless, with no moment of clarity to make me understand why I should keep coming back. Maybe they’ll finesse the game some more in 2021, or a bunch of my friends will get hooked and lure me back, but for now I am a-okay deleting this waste of space on my Switch and PC.

"Oh Yeah, I Did Play That Didn't I?"

I remember being really excited for Murder By Numbers. Ace Attorney-style crime scene investigation visual novel with Picross puzzles for the evidence, art by the creators of Hatoful Boyfriend, and music by the composer of Ace Attorney itself?! Sounds like a dream come true. But the pixel-hunt nature of the crime scene investigations was more frustrating than fun, the picross puzzles were not particularly great, and the game came out literally a week before the entire world went into lockdown which makes it feel more like seven years ago than just earlier this year. I remember being marginally charmed by the game once it was in my hands, but as soon as my mind shifted to long-term self care, Murder By Numbers went from hot topic to cold case.

Most Unexpected Joy

I was looking forward to Fuser all year. As a dyed-in-the-wool DropMix stan, the prospect of a spiritual sequel to DropMix on all major digital platforms without any of the analogue components was tremendously exciting, and I knew I’d have a lot of fun making mixes by myself and posting them online for the world to hear. What I didn’t expect, however, was the online co-op mode to be such a blast! Up to four players take turns making 32 bars of mashups, starting with whatever the player before handed them and adding their own fingerprints on top. It sounds like it should just be a mess of cacophony, but every session I’ve played so far has been just the best dance party I’ve had all year, and everyone not currently in control of the decks (including an audience of spectators) can make special requests for what the DJ should spin and tap along with the beat to great super-sized emoji to show how much they’re enjoying the mix. Literally the only times my Apple Watch has ever warned me of my heightened heart rate have been the times I was positively bouncing in place rocking out to co-op freestyle play in Fuser.

Best Music

Only one video game this year had tunes that were so bumpable they were upgraded to my general “2020 jams” playlist alongside Jeff Rosenstock, Run the Jewels, and Phoebe Bridgers, and that game was Paradise Killer. 70% lo-fi chill beats to study/interrogate demons to, 20% gothic atmospheric bangers, 10% high-energy pop jazz, this soundtrack was just an absolute joy to swim around in both in and out of gameplay.

Favorite Game Encounter

It’s wild that in a landscape where games let me live out my wildest fantasies, the single moment that lit me up in a way that stood out to me more than any other was serving Neil the right drink in Coffee Talk. Over the course of the game, you serve a variety of hot drinks to humans, werewolves, vampires, orcs, and more, all while chatting with your customers and learning more about their lives and relationships. The most mysterious customer, though, is an alien life form who adopts the name Neil. They do not know what they want to drink and claim it doesn’t make a difference because they cannot taste it. Everybody else wants *something*. Neil is just ordering for the sake of fitting in and exploring the Earth experience. It’s only in the second playthrough that attentive baristas will figure out what to serve Neil, unlocking the “true” ending in the process. Seeing the typically stoic Neil actually emote when they tasted their special order drink? What an absolute treat that was.

Best Free DLC of the Year

It’s still only a couple of days old at the time I’m writing this, but Marvel’s Avengers just added Kate Bishop, aka Hawkeye, and THANK GOODNESS. Almost every character in the game at launch just smashed the endless waves of robot baddies with their fists and that looks exhausting and uncomfortable. Hawkeye (the game calls her Kate Bishop, but come on, she’s been Hawkeye in the comics for over 14 years, let’s show her some respect) uses A SWORD. FINALLY! Aside from that, I’m just having a blast shooting arrows all over the place. She and Ms Marvel are the most likable characters in the game so far, so I hope they keep adding more of the Young Avengers and Champions to the game, and if the recently announced slate of Marvel movies and tv shows are any indication (with America Chavez, Cassie Lang, and Riri Williams all coming soon to the MCU), that seems to be what Marvel is pushing for across all media

Most Accessible Game

Nintendo is, first and foremost, a toy company. They got their start in toys and cards long before video games was a thing, and they still do more tests to ensure their video game hardware is childproof than anybody else in the industry (remember how they made Switch cartridges “taste bad” so kids wouldn’t eat them?). This year, Nintendo got to rekindle some of their throwback, simplistic, toys-and-cards energy with Clubhouse Games: 51 Worldwide Classics, a Switch collection of timeless family-friendly games like Chess, Mancala, and Backgammon, along with “toy” versions of sports like baseball, boxing, and tennis for a virtual parlor room of pleasant time-wasters. The games were all presented with charming li’l explainers from anthropomorphic board game figurines, and the ability to play quick sessions of Spider Solitaire on the touch screen while I binged The Queen’s Gambit on Netflix made Clubhouse Games one of my most-played titles of the year. Plus, local play during socially-distant friend hangs was an excellent way to make us feel like we were much closer than we were physically allowed to be as friends knocked each other’s block off in the “toy boxing” version of Rock’em Sock’em Robots.

"Waiting for Game-dot"

I get that everyone loves Disco Elysium. I saw it on everyone’s year-end lists last year. I finally bought it with an Epic Games Store coupon this year. This year was a long enough slog of depressing post-apocalyptic drudgery, I didn’t want to explore a whole nother one in my leisure time. I’ll get to it… someday.

Game That Made Me Think

Holovista was an iPhone game I played over the course of two or three days based on the recommendation of some trusted colleagues on Twitter and oh my goodness was I glad that I played it. What starts as a chill vaporwave photography game steadily progresses into an exploration of psychological trauma, relationships with friends and family, and the baggage we carry with us from our pasts. In this exceptionally hard year, I badly needed this story about spending time alone with your personal demons and finding your way back to the people who love and support you. Just like with Journey and Gone Home, I walked away from Holovista feeling a rekindled appreciation for the people in my life.

[mail-me-a-snail]

Stardust of a Song II

Chapter 2: Midnight Blue Chapter 1 Tag list: @starl1ght-child @toto19-the-exo-hunter @shy911 (it won’t let me tag you) tw: graphic descriptions of injury and blood, swearing

Yor had learned that summer day in Spinam Gorge one thing he had never known about Exos--they bleed. The blood in their bodies doesn’t share the same four components as human blood. In fact, it doesn’t even share the same color. Hemosynth (the correct term for Exo blood, as Avidan had taught him) is a deep, midnight blue color. It flows throughout their body, serving as fuel. For Guardian Exos, however, its use is deemed pointless and serves as nothing more than an indication of damage, to tie together the human-like package that is an Exo.

Yor is not a man with many wishes or prayers. He doesn’t believe much in a higher power, much less the paracausal Traveler. Now, however, he wishes more than anything that the blood on his hands is just that: pointless.

He has never seen so much blue until now.

Avidan falls backwards, his white dress shirt now drenched. The Exo splutters, struggling to speak--there is nothing coming out but choppy barks of static and hemosynth. It gushes from his neck and bleeds into his suit, though it camouflages perfectly. His hands scramble to his neck, grasping fruitlessly. His knees wobble.

Yor dives forward and slides onto his knees to catch him. The Exo falls into his arms, grabbing at his shirt, at his tie, leaving blue handprints everywhere, trying his best to just hold onto something.

“I’m here,” Yor whispers through gritted teeth. He presses his hand against Avidan’s neck, trying to stop the bleeding. It bubbles up through and around his fingers like ink. “I’m here, darling, I’m here, it’s okay...”

What few wires that aren’t stained with blue are singed black. They tangle, having been shot to smithereens. This blood is not pointless, no matter how much Yor wants it to be; Avidan needs it to live and he’s losing it rapidly. The shot had punctured two major fuel lines; what a human would call the carotid arteries.

“Y-Y...”Avidan coughs. Yor knows how much it hurts. Avidan’s forcing himself to talk but nothing comes out. Nothing at all. “Y...” His voice dips into a broken, static filled whimper, and he buries his head into Yor’s shoulder, body convulsing with coughs, each accompanied by a burst of static. Yor holds him close and tightly, shaking with fury.

“Medic,” Yor manages to say, through the building roar in his ears, to the pianist. He repeats it when the man looks at him blankly. “Get a medic, goddammit!” The man scurries off the stage and out the lounge doors into the rain.

The remaining band members leave their hiding place and warily gather around the two in a circle. They’re afraid--armed only with the sharp ends of broken glass bottles--but they do what they can; they protect, even though they’re not truly members of the Hive. Yor, even as his heart beats in his fingertips, takes note of their loyalty.

He looks up through their ranks and to the side where Sero stands, dazed, as if he’s only now realizing what he’s done. He drops the gun and it clatters off the stage. He composes himself, adjusting his tie, but he has since lost all his bravado. His hand shakes, just barely. In this light, he’s just a kid.

“Consider my offer, Yor,” Sero says, deadpan, “Or your beauty will never sing the same way ever again.”

“I’m going to tear you apart,” Yor spits. “Limb from fucking limb.”

Sero’s eyes travel over Avidan’s body, which has since gone still. Yor adjusts him as gently as he can into a sitting position and tries not to flinch when the entire front of his shirt is splashed with blue. Where the hell is the medic? Yor tears his gaze away from Sero and presses his forehead to Avidan’s, who’s optics absently look far up into the ceiling.

“Stay with me,” he whispers, praying to whatever deity is listening that Avidan will be okay, “Help is on the way.” Avidan’s optics flit to him, for just a moment, before gripping his hand tightly. There is hemosynth on his ring. There has to be something to keep him awake. Yor clears his throat, then sings, softly, “Sometimes I-I wonder how I spend t-the lonely night dreaming of a song...” He winces at the croak of his voice. He hasn’t sung in a long time. He wishes it had been under better circumstances. “the melody haunts my r...reverie. And I am once again with you.”

“When our love was new...” Sero continues for him as he walks away and the very action makes Yor’s blood boil. If Avidan dies, Yor swears to the Traveler, to the Hive, to whatever force may be out there, that he will deliver the same pain unto Sero, bit by prideful, arrogant bit.

The doors swing open once more. Sero leaves; the pianist, accompanied by a medic in clinical white garb rolling a stretcher along, come in, trailing water behind them. The puddles swallow the blood like its ink. The bassist puts a hand on Yor’s shoulder.

“Should we go after him?” She says.

He looks at the door, which is still swinging slightly, buffeted by the heavy winds of the storm outside. He looks back to Avidan; the Exo’s grip on his hand has loosened. Yor grabs it again, holding it tightly, even as it doesn’t reciprocate the action, as though the Dredgen’s touch could bring him back from the brink.

“No,” Yor breathes shakily, “you’ll never find him in the rain. Sero Maaviks will have to die another day.”

The bassist’s brows crease in worry and she opens her mouth to say something, but the medic comes barreling through the band. It takes a few moments for Yor to let go--adrenaline is pounding in his veins. The pianist and Yor lift Avidan onto the stretcher.

“I’ll need towels,” the medic says to the band, “as many as you have. Clean, preferably. Cloths will do as well.” The trombone player goes behind the bar to the cabinet with all the cleaning supplies and the bassist goes to the bathroom for the hand towels.

As soon as his head hits the cushion, Avidan’s lights go out. His jaw hangs loosely, a gaping maw. Yor’s breath catches in his throat. “Is he--?” Yor begins, but the medic cuts him off.

“He’s still alive,” She confirms, and his heart slows down a few beats. She snaps on latex gloves and puts her dark hair up in a ponytail. “but just so. Do you have any Exo agents, Dredgen? We’ll need just the one; I can stop the bleeding, but it’s just a matter of getting your friend here the hemosynth he needs to survive. Wheel him into the kitchen.”

Normally, he wouldn’t take orders from anyone, but Avidan’s life is in her hands. He, along with the pianist, rush the stretcher to the kitchen. The medic runs after them. They park the stretcher by the sink, as per the doctor’s instructions. Easier and cleaner that way. Yor mutters his wholehearted, if not hasty, thanks to the pianist. The pianist leaves with a shaken glance towards Yor and without a word

The medic undoes Avidan’s tie, tossing it onto a counter. She unbuttons his shirt next, only one or two, enough to assess the damage to his neck. She’s completely calm and careful, working quickly but not hastily; Yor has no doubt it’s not the worst wound she’s seen, being a medic in the eternal war of the alleyways. Yor watches her work. Her hands don’t even shake; they move with surgical precision as she cuts away wires that are otherwise useless now with a pair of scissors.

 Avidan’s lights remain off. Yor’s feet are rooted to the tiles. Not like this. It can’t end like this for Avidan, not when his last thoughts will be of choking on his own silence and blood. He pads over to the Exo’s side, taking his hand in both of his. It’s cold--the lack of hemosynth is causing his temperature to drop. He thumbs Avidan’s ring, now more blue than silver. He leans his forehead on the bundle of their hands.

“Stay with me,” he pleads, barely above a whisper, “I’m not going to lose you, too.”

He feels the medic’s gaze on him. Her pity hits him in waves. She waits a moment, then speaks. “Dredgen,” she coaxes, “we need that agent of yours. Now.” When he hesitates, her tone shifts to urgency. “Without that transfusion, he’ll die. I can save your friend; you have to let me work.”

“Husband,” he corrects her automatically. “That’s...what he is.” She’s silent for a moment. “Of course.”

He pauses, then nods. He lets go. Avidan’s hand falls to his side and the medic returns to her surgery. She sops up the remaining hemosynth. More and more towels are drenched in blue and tossed into the sink. He walks backwards out of the kitchen, stomach dropping as the doors swing shut and Avidan disappears from his sight.

Yor goes to the phone in his office, stepping over the two bloody corpses and broken glass, and dials a number. Three rings, four. Yor taps his foot rapidly. Why is no one answering? Six rings; he paces. It’s about ten rings when someone answers. He breathes a sigh of relief.

“Hello?” The Exo on the other end says, sounding exhausted. “Boss? What d’you need?” Yor had taught all his agents to be ready for his call at any time of night or day.

“Romulus,” he says, all too fast, “get over here now.”

Thankfully, the Exo doesn’t ask for an elaboration. “Alright. I’ll be there in ten.”

“Five. It’s...it’s Avidan.” He doesn’t say anything more. The silence on the other end is deafening.

“Shit. What happened?”

“I’ll explain when you get here. Get to walking.” Yor growls then hangs up. He holds the phone against his chest, his heart beating in sync to the dial tone. He notices now that his hands, which are usually steady with an aim that has been perfected over years of battle, are trembling. He can barely hold them straight. He balls them into fists so tight the skin around his knuckles turns white.

The Dredgen leaves his office and just as he comes back out into the main room Romulus, a stocky red Exo with a black bar painted around his yellow optics, comes rushing towards him, sopping wet, in hastily put on clothes. Before either of them can say anything, the medic bursts out of the kitchen and drags the both of them inside.

The medic had opened a panel on Avidan’s arm. A transparent tube runs from his forearm up to under the plates of his bicep. She explains it’s one of several “veins.” The glass is stained blue, lacking the hemosynth it usually transports. A few drops fall into it here and there, but otherwise it’s dry. A plastic tube is inserted into the glass, the opposite end of it hanging outside.

“Here, here.” The medic ushers Romulus onto a stool and wastes no time popping open the same panel on his arm, too.

“I’m no doctor,” Romulus says, fidgeting, “but isn’t it unsafe to just go replacin’ blood like this without some kinda test?”

“No time,” Yor says gruffly.

“You’re thinking of humans,” the medic waves him away, “Dredgen Yor is right; no time. It’s not like you’re going to transmit any sort of virus to him through your blood.” She slips the other end of the plastic tube into Romulus’ arm. “Now, I’m going to need you to pace.”

“...What?” Romulus looks at her incredulously. Even Yor is confused. She looks between the two of them and sighs in frustration.

“Hemosynth is generated through motion,” she explains quickly, “because you Exos were engineered to be soldiers, so you’re always on the move. See, here?” She points to the few drops of hemosynth in Avidan’s arm. “Because Avidan’s chest is moving as he’s breathing, his system is generating small droplets of hemosynth, but it’s not the correct amount of motion we require. If you walk, you’ll be able to produce enough hemosynth for your system to push the excess out--”

“--and into Avidan’s.” Yor raises his brows. The astonishment in his voice is plain. He had known about the hemosynth, but not the way it’s generated. “That’s...not a treatment I’ve heard of before.”

“Neither have I.” Romulus gets up. The tube is long enough for him to walk around the small kitchen, so long as he doesn’t snag it around any table legs.

“You’re an Exo!” the medic exclaims, “How do you not know how your own system works?” Romulus doesn’t answer as he starts his lap. A minute after, blood starts flowing into the tube and into Avidan’s arm. Yor’s tense shoulders relax somewhat.

Yor grips Avidan’s hand. He watches the tube fill up with blue. Slowly, his temperature begins to rise. The digits intertwined with his are warm to the touch. He helps the medic take off the Exo’s jacket, then his shirt. Watching her dissect Avidan and put aside whole panels of his chest to monitor the blood flow and the hemosynth pump (his heart) turns Yor’s stomach over. He’s seen Avidan do this himself a few times before--taking off panels to assess the damage underneath--but never this expertly.

Romulus walks for an hour and fifteen minutes. During that time, no one says a word--the room is tense, just waiting for something to go wrong. All Yor hears is Romulus’ footsteps and the snip snip of the medic’s scissors as she works on Avidan’s throat. Yor has to stop himself from pacing, too. He gives into his nervous tic of tugging at his hair.

After five more minutes, the medic tells Romulus to stop. She removes the plastic tube and puts Avidan back together again. “Stable condition,” she murmurs, “He’s going to live.”

Yor nearly cries with relief, but he keeps himself composed. He’s coming down from the adrenaline and as a result, his head is beginning to hurt. Romulus takes a seat, on standby in case any more is needed from him.

The medic waves Yor over. He fixes his gaze on Avidan���s neck, a horrible patchwork of wires; he grits his teeth to keep himself from averting his gaze. “I managed to get the bullet out,” she tells him, showing him the grimy bullet in a metal pan, “and I saved as many of the cranial nerves as I could.” She points out a few color coded wires on Avidan’s nape. “He’ll still be able to see, hear, feel, and taste. But...”

His stomach drops. “Nothing good ever comes after that word, doctor,” Yor mutters, “But what?’”

She takes what appears to be a lump of coal from the metal pan. It flakes in her hands. “This,” she explains, “is Avidan’s voicebox. As you can see, it was...fried by the bullet. The gun was charged with Solar energy.”

He gapes at it. It’s completely destroyed. Ashes rub the doctor’s gloves black, turning it into a mosaic of dark colors. “There’s nothing more I can do for it,” She continues through his silence, “I’m sorry, Dredgen.”

“Boss, I’ll do it,” Romulus says as he stands, sounding as grim as Yor feels. “He can have mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yor hisses, but softens his tone when he realizes how much Romulus wants to do this. “Your loyalty is appreciated, Romulus, but it’s not what Avidan would’ve wanted.” The Exo looks downcast and sits back down. The Dredgen turns to the doctor. “Shouldn’t a medic such as yourself, especially around these parts, have backup parts? Or, at least, blueprints?”

“With half the population of the Exos in the Last City being Guardians,” she replies, “there’s no demand for the parts. Sure, there are blueprints, but they’re kept under lock and key by the Foundries. I...suppose you could find a viable voicebox on the black market.”

The black market has everything. Organs, robotic and otherwise, guns, machinery, body parts--you name any vile object you can think of and it will be there with a price tag of a few more extra zeroes than its worth. It’s not entirely out of the question.

“I’ve got connections in the black market, boss,” Romulus supplies, “I can ask around tomorrow mornin’.”

“The best thing you can do for him tonight is to take him home. Let him rest; his body will have to readjust itself. His lights will come back on in a day or so. If they don’t, you know where to find me.”

“...Thank you. Both of you.” He means it from the very bottom of his heart. The words surprise Romulus, who has, for years, seen how cruel he can be, but not the doctor. She gives him a tired smile. “You’ll want to be paid, I imagine, doctor...?” An amount of Glimmer with about four or five zeroes tacked on should do it nicely.

She takes off her gloves and tosses them into the trash bin. She takes a card from her breast pocket and hands it to him. “Rembrandt,” she says, as does the neat, minimalist font on the card. “Dr. Rembrandt. We can talk about the details later. Bring him home. Lay low for a few days and help him recuperate. He’s going to need the support when he realizes he can’t talk.”

Romulus stands again and sheds his coat, holding it out to Yor. “Avidan’s not gonna take my voice box,” he says, mouth glowing a dandelion yellow, “so he can take my coat instead. ‘s a little damp, but it’s better than what he had on.” He gestures to the bloody dress shirt and suit jacket folded neatly on the kitchen counter. 

When Yor opens his mouth to decline, he shakes his head. “No, seriously, boss. You’re not gonna want to bring him home in clothes like that. Vanguard’s patrolling around this time. They’ll think the wrong thing and the doc’s time will’ve been wasted.”

The Dredgen takes the coat. It is a little wet from the rain, but it’ll be inconspicuous enough for them to pass by the Vanguard unnoticed. “Thank you,” he says again, and he realizes he’s been thanking quite a lot of people tonight. It unnerves him greatly. He wonders what Avidan will say when he tells him about--oh. Right. He tries to offset his worries by thinking about Sero. 

“Romulus, besides scavenging through the market, I want you to take Diego and Nadir and ask around about Sero Maaviks. He’s the conniving bastard who did this. Find out where he’s hiding. He’s not getting away with this.”

“You got it, boss. I’ll stay here and close up the place.”

“Good man.” He gives Romulus a firm pat on the shoulder, an awkward motion he isn’t used to. Avidan should be the one doing all of this; praising his henchmen, thanking them, and even just talking to them. Yor does talk to them but more often than not it’s in the form of an order.

With Romulus’ help, Yor moves Avidan to a sitting position and puts the coat around his shoulders. It easily swamps him, with Romulus being so much bigger and more Titan-like than Avidan’s lithe and lanky build. He picks Avidan up in his arms, the Exo’s head lolling and coming to rest against his shoulder. He says goodbye, shoulders open the door, and leaves Luna.

It’s drizzling. The storm has calmed. The car is parked out back; as he walks, little droplets hit Yor’s shoulders. He puts Avidan in the passenger seat, buckling him up, then gets into the driver’s seat. They drive off with a low rumble. Every stoplight, Yor cannot help but glance at Avidan, who remains unconscious. They don’t encounter any patrols.

Thirty minutes pass, and they’re home. One of the many apartment complexes in the City, which is nice enough to be considered part of the rich district, but just that much grimy to be on the outskirts. If you live there, you have money, but not enough. He parks. He carries Avidan to the elevator and up they ride. Yor has a bit of trouble unlocking the door, but he manages to get it. It swings open to their apartment; like his office, it’s lived in, but professional. There are photos of him and Avidan on the walls. A few are from the wedding. He locks the door behind him.

He heads straight for their bedroom. He takes the Exo’s coat off, depositing it on the rack, and puts a shirt on him. He buttons every button, except the one on the collar. He tucks him in, drawing the covers up over his chest, which still rises and falls with breath. It’s a motion that fills Yor with so much relief he lets a tear fall from his eye. Just the one.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, voice breaking. The knot in his throat hurts too much to speak properly. The reality of almost losing Avidan--his one nightmare that has haunted him ever since they met--hits him hard. He presses a kiss to the Exo’s forehead and settles at his bedside. “Goodnight.”

In his dreams--nightmares, maybe--it is entirely silent. Mute.

All he sees is blue.

I hope y’all can see why this chapter took so long :)

[onceinsomniac]

Snapshots of her Life Part 7

Snapshots Of Her Life Part 7

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 8

Jennie was 18 years old when she discovered the true meaning of heartbreak...

It was nearing midnight and all Jennie could think about was getting into her warm bed and sleeping all of the next day away. It seemed that no one else shared her idea thought as people jumped around to the pounding music that blasted from the speakers. It was Friday night and one of the popular guys was throwing an end of the year party and Lisa had somehow managed to convince her to come. Neither of them were really fans of parties, both preferring to stay in and watch movies. The only exception had only ever been the celebratory parties after the team won a game back when Lisa had been in the soccer team.

Lisa had argued, however, that graduation was right around the corner and that it could be one of the last times that they ever saw their classmates and Jennie had reluctantly given in, unable to say no to her puppy eyes. Now Jennie was wondering if maybe she shouldn’t have given in so easily. She was leaning against a wall in a corner watching her drunk classmates having the time of their lives as they jumped around to what sounded to Jennie like some horrible screeching but what was actually some popular rap song, waiting for Lisa who had gone to get her a drink.

Jennie personally couldn’t wait to get out of her small town and never see any of them again. Things had been rough after Lia had outed her to the school, although they had never reached that point again. It seemed that, after the third time of Jennie having to physically stop Lisa from jumping on someone for calling her names, her classmates had gotten the warning and had simply taken to ignoring her, asides from the occasional harsh comment. She had wanted to keep them dating a secret, afraid Lisa would experience the same harsh treatment but Lisa had refused to hide and had happily walked into the busy cafeteria the very next day and announced it to everyone looking like she had won the lottery.

To Jennie’s surprise and relief, they were actually left relatively alone, as they probably didn’t want to mess with Lisa who had made a reputation for herself thanks to her somewhat explosive personality whenever someone tried to go after Jennie after she was outed. Jennie hated the mistaken image that all their classmates had of Lisa but she had insisted that it was for the better as it helped keep them safe.

She sometimes worried about all that Lisa had lost, going from the popular star soccer player with lots of friends to being seen as a violent individual with only her as a friend. Lisa had simply scoffed at her when she had shared her worries with her, telling her that she would do it all over again because the only thing that mattered was that she had her at her side.

A sight left her as she tapped her foot impatiently, mentally urging Lisa to hurry up. As she waited, she started wondering about what it would be like once they lived in New York. Both had agreed early on, on moving to a big city together after graduation. Somewhere they could finally be themselves without being judged constantly. Lisa had been the one to choose New York after they had spent a week there with Jennie’s mom a year earlier during the summer. She had fallen in love with the city on first sight and had immediately decided that that is where they would live one day. Jennie personally hadn’t cared where they moved as long as it was far from their small town. They had both applied and gotten into NYU. Her mother had been happy to help them with the move and had even helped convinced Lisa's parents to let her move there. They had been unable to understand why they wanted to move so far away, both being unaware of the fact that Lisa and Jennie were more than just best friends.

She was shaken out of her thoughts by a loud cough right in front of her. Jennie looked up at Lisa's smiling face. She was holding a cup out to her. “Sorry, you were lost in your thoughts again”, she told her. Jennie smiled back at her as she took the cup that was being offered. She took a sip and grimaced as the bitter taste of beer flooded her senses. “Sorry, wrong cup.” Lisa told her as she switched their cups. Jennie mock glared at her as she took another sip, this time being rewarded by the taste of lemon soda. “We’ve been here for two hours already, Lili, can we please leave now?” she whined. Lisa sniggered at the petulance that filled Jennie’s voice, making Jennie scowl at her. Lisa simply laughed again before leaning down to peck her lips. She grinned as she saw her scowl disappear at her gesture. “As you wish”, she told her, laughing once again as Jennie immediately grabbed her wrist and started making her way out of the house, dragging her girlfriend behind her.

Once outside, they got into Jennie’s truck and she backed away from the driveway as Lisa started fiddling with the radio, finally settling on one channel as a familiar song started filling the car. She grabbed Jennie’s hand over the partition and they made casual conversation as Jennie drove Lisa home. A short while later, they arrived at her house but Lisa didn’t make any move to get out, not wanting the nigh to end. They sat there for a while, simply holding hands and talking about all the things they wanted to do once they moved to New York in less than two weeks. Eventually, they had to part as Jennie’s mom was expecting her home soon. Lisa leaned over the partition to give her a parting kiss. “See you tomorrow, firefly.” She got out of the truck and made her way to her front door, looking back at Jennie one last time before going in.

Jennie stayed there until Lisa was inside before driving away, unaware of the angry eyes that followed her from the upstairs window.

—————————————

Jennie was in the middle of giving her Nobel peace prize acceptance speech when she was awoken from her dreams by a loud gasp. She drowsily sat up in her bed, the rays of sun coming from the window indicating that it was the early morning. Certainly, too early for her to be awake on a Sunday. She sat there for a few seconds, confused about what had awoken her when she heard a loud sob coming from downstairs. Sleep quickly left her mind as she shot up from her bed and made her way downstairs. She walked into the living room and saw her mother crying on the floor, the house phone clutched in her hand. Jennie was instantly on alert. She hadn’t seen her mother cry in years. Ever since her dad had left them.

Dread started filling her stomach as she got down on her knees in front of her crying mother. “Mom? What’s wrong? What happened?”. Her mom was surprised at Jennie’s abrupt arrival, not having heard her approaching. She immediately started drying her tears, trying to act like she hadn’t just been caught crying on the floor. She looked at her daughter sadly, unsure of how to break the news. As the silence stretched on, Jennie started losing her patience as anxiety started to eat her up. “Is it dad? Is he okay?”. Her mother opened her mouth but was interrupted as another loud sob burst out. She grabbed her daughter by the shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug.

“That was the hospital on the phone. Oh Jen, I’m so so sorry”. Jennie was starting to grow angry as she still had no idea what was happening. “Mom. Tell me what happened. Please.”

Her mother opened her mouth and Jennie felt her whole world crashing down at the words that came out. It was worse than anything she could have ever imagined. Her mother continued talking, explaining the situation but Jennie didn’t hear anything past the first words, a buzz filling her mind and drowning all other noises except the words echoing over and over in her head. “It’s Lisa. She’s gone.”

[anindepthanalysisofhaikyuu]

Season 1 Episode 1: The End and The Beginning

The episode starts off with a monologue from our favourite orange-haired boy, Hinata Shoyou. In less than a minute into the show, they’ve set up the overarching theme of it- a team can help you reach the top!

The first opening theme for this season, Imagination, suits this first episode incredibly well- it’s light, uplifting, and makes me look forward to the rest of the episode and season. Also helps that the rhyming scheme somehow reminds me of some of the noises Hinata makes during the course of the show to describe volleyball shots in the most layman way possible (like shyoom and zoom etc.) Is it just me? Probably.

And then we see what got Hinata hooked to the sport in the first place- a tiny high school kid jumping so high that it almost looks like he flew, which fascinates Hinata’s also very tiny body and mind. This player is the Tiny Giant, and that team is Karasuno. Fitting how the school’s name has “crow” (Karasu) right there in the name, eh? And also that their uniforms are black? And, as we later discover, their volleyball team motto is Fly?? Karasuno really wants you to know they’re crows. You know what they call a group of crows? A murder. They’re out to kill, basically- not quite yet though.

Fast forward to 3 years later, where Hinata is in his senior year in middle school and has managed to cobble up two friends and three freshmen to form a volleyball team, and is now going to play his first match ever in a real gym. In a tournament. His team is so green, that they don’t even know the rules. So green, that their uniform is also completely green. Hinata himself doesn’t know much, apart from how to spike*. This is nothing but a bad idea, in most people’s minds. Hinata Shoyo, as we will learn, is not most people, because none of these factors affect his goal- to win the match. Is this stupidity? Naivete? Determination? All 3? All 3.

And who are the opponents Hinata and his ragtag team from Yukigaoka Junior High have to face?

Enter, Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High.

They’re tall, towering over Yukigaoka- an immediate disadvantage. Points in volleyball are scored most often through spikes, and if an opponent can block them out from over the net, then you’re pretty much toast. Strike 1.

They also have a cheering squad, something Yukigaoka decidedly lacks. Hell, Yukigaoka doesn’t even have a libero*. Nobody, not even Yukigaoka’s players(except Hinata) are expecting Yukigaoka to score a single against Kita Ichi. Strike 2.

And then rolls in Kageyama Tobio. King of the Court. Setter*. Complete with a metaphorical crown, cape, and menacing aura to boot.

For someone who’s very into volleyball, Hinata has no clue who this team, or this King figure is. Goes to show Hinata has a very one-track mind about volleyball. In Hinata’s head, volleyball = jump and hit ball hard downwards. A severe underestimation. If it was up to Hinata, I don’t think he would ever do any research on prospective opponents and try to come up with a strategy to face them before he meets them on the court. He’s a simpleton when it comes to the sport, and that sometimes works in his favour actually! Most times, it does not.

Like now. His nerves through his stomach in a tizzy, and he makes a run for the bathroom. Which sets up another recurring theme in the show.

The bathroom is where you meet dangerous people.

For it is here that he encounters a few of Kita Ichi’s non-regular players talking shit about his team. And also Kageyama Tobio.

Interestingly, Tobio tells his teammates off for hiding behind the reputation of their school without even being on the bench yet. This man is the King of the Court, why won’t he chill out about this team that showed up from god-knows-where? Because Tobio has never chilled about volleyball. This boy doesn’t know how to take it easy when it comes to this sport. Everything is Serious Business, All the Time. A shared characteristic with Hinata, except that Tobio actually has skills to back it up.

Hinata and Tobio’s conversation raises a few points. Firstly, the whole thing about winning- Hinata says how no game is a guaranteed failure, as long as the team doesn’t give up. Tobio counters this by saying that not giving up isn’t easy. Judging by how Tobio really doesn’t know how to chill, plus how he told off his teammates earlier, plus what we learn about his work ethic later, it’s clear he isn’t the giving up type. Then who is Tobio talking about? His teammates- the ones he actually plays with. Tobio thinks his teammates are “giving up” when they can’t play the extreme plays he sets up for them. We don’t know exactly how long Tobio’s tyranny at Kita Ichi’s team has been going on for, but it’s been going on for quite a while, considering how these cracks are starting to show.

Secondly, the difference in how Hinata and Tobio talk about vball. Hinata talks in “we” and “my team”, Tobio talks in “I”. Even when Hinata talks about himself, he makes sure to mention that he’s playing with a team of 6. Which leads me to my second observation- Tobio is so far in his head, he’s begun to think of vball as an individual sport. Another indication of this thought process is later when his coach says that his individual skills don’t count for much if he can’t give the spikers what they want, and he straight up ignores that advice. Not only is Kita Ichi’s team showing cracks, Tobio himself isn’t as put together as he thinks he is.

In both sets of the match, Hinata is totally shut off. No amount of his jumping gets Yukigaoka points, and as observed by the scorekeepers, his jumps would be more effective if nobody saw them coming. And have we seen an example of a set that comes so fast even the spiker barely manages to get it? Yes, we have. Tobio’s set ups are way too fast for his teammates. Intriguing.

Another parallel that comes up in the match - both Hinata and Tobio are fighters (or intense to the point of stupid, depending on how you look at it).

We also get our first glimpse at Hinata’s insane broad jump*. Not only can he jump, but he also had great reflexes and can run like the wind! And yet, Yukigaoka loses. When Tobio sees that broad though, it’s like you can see the gears in his head turn- Hinata is the spiker who can match his insane set ups, from anywhere, at any time, at any height. He only looks at this from a selfish standpoint, as expected, and deems Hinata’s time as ‘wasted’ since he hasn’t been honing these skills with Tobio. Typical.

Hinata and Tobio are set up to be rivals- and yet they are so compatible. How will that work out for them?

Hinata and Tobio’s conversation post-match outside is the first example of Hinata understanding exactly what Tobio is trying to say, no matter what tone/language he uses. Tobio’s statement of ‘get better’ could be seen as a dig, and would be seen as such by most other players. Hinata sees it for what it is though- honest advice, and does what he can to improve.

In spite of Tobio being the king on the court, Kita Ichi loses a match in the future, which is unsurprising with all the cracks they had.

The episode ends with Hinata making it to Karasuno, and heading straight for the volleyball gym where the Tiny Giant stood, fueled by wanting to get revenge for his loss against Kageyama Tobio.

And. Oh my god. They’re teammates.

Thank you for reading this far! Here are some of my final thoughts on this episode-

This episode served as a great introduction to the protagonists of Haikyuu, and also set up some great parallels between Hinata and Tobio. I also love how some themes set up in this episode are seen throughout the show, like Hinata’s nerves, meeting ‘dangerous’ people at the bathroom before a game, people underestimating Hinata because of his height, Hinata not having much in his arsenal volleyball-wise and Tobio not having much in his arsenal people-wise.

Volleyball Terms: Spike - The act of scoring a point by slamming the ball over the net into the opposing court effectively and aggressively. Libero - A player specialized in defensive skills. Setter - Perhaps, the most important position. Is in charge of the offense and is in-charge of setting the ball up for their teammates to attempt a spike. Broad Jump - You gotta see Hinata do it to see why it matters.

[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 1

This wasn’t meant to be finished anytime soon since her creation just happened yesterday. But.... here it is anyways. Tagging @plumpblueberry for loving Aster the moment I made her.

The sun bared down on her, adding sizzling heat to her already sweaty skin. Days were meant for hiding, resting, and sifting through all the goods that had been previously obtained, but today had a special treat. Only once a month did a merchant bring goods from Central Quarter all the way out to the outskirts of Diamond Territory. The only thing that could draw the little dragon out from her den. The wonderous smells of freshly baked pastries, cooked to absolute perfection. Her mouth watered simply imaging the gooey goodness melting in her mouth.

First, a little fun.

Despite the regularity of this event, despite all their efforts to trap and catch her on this fated day, Aster managed to evade them. The men all dressed in crisps white and red uniforms, and they hailed from the Red Army, stationed out here in the middle of nowhere. With hardly anything else to do, they awaited this day like clockwork. They plotted, planned, always trying to outsmart the girl and failing spectacularly each time.

Evading would be too easy. Being undetected a simple task.

Playing around them suited her just fine on this day. It would a shame not to test out what ridiculous traps they had set up to capture her.

Dust rose from the dirt road under her feet. Worn old muddy shoes carried her through the crowd, ducking and weaving through them. Nearly no one noticed, occasionally a passing glance that saw nothing, like the touch of a ghost written off as the wind.

No shouts followed her today, a strange occurrence. A trap. Yet, having to use her wits to avoid the army soldiers, who gradually learned that the chances of getting close to her increased when their positions weren’t revealed, sent a wave of electric exhilaration tingling over down her body. Try as they might, catching her neared the impossible.

Ducking down a narrow alleyway, Aster lithely hopped upward, using the crates stacked precariously perfect to allow access to the ledge of a small balcony. The ideal vantage point. She snuck a bite of the bun, allowing the warm apple filling to dance across her taste buds. Three, no four, were in pursuit of her. One attempting to blend in with the townspeople, out of uniform but unusually clean. That bearded face one that Aster could recognize anywhere.

“It seems that they require new training, wouldn’t you agree?” An unfamiliar, yet cheerful voice drew her attention away from the buffoons parading around the streets, like wild monkeys. The uniform familiar but much more detailed and unique. Someone important.

Aster crumpled the empty wrapper of her treat and tossed it over her shoulder through the open window behind her. “I here the army only employs idiots who can’t catch a common thief,” Aster answered, remaining on her perch.

The light chuckle brought from her statement gave indication of his intent to play. “Oh, well, that just won’t do. May I reeducate you?” Dipping down in a slight bow, the man kept his watchful jade eyes on her, sparkling with anticipation and delight.

A new player.

Her tongue darted out from between her lips, lapping up the stray spot of apple filling off the side of her mouth. “You’ll lose,” she answered, rising to stand on the balcony ledge, arms out for balance. All a show.

“Do I get the pleasure of acquiring my prey’s name before I begin the hunt?” His tinkling voice offset the threatening words that dripped off his tongue. They had the same desire. The chase giving a thrill like none other.

Aster tilted her head, repeating the inquiry. “Do I?”

Placing his hand over his heart, giving another gracefully shallow bow, he replied, “Edgar Bright, the Jack of Hearts.”

“Aster, no fancy titles,” She answered, giving a mock salute with two fingers. Her advantage clear; intimately knowing the town’s streets and obstacles. Having a new pursuer would not change those facts.

Edgar straightened, tucking his hat under his arm to brush his hand through his brown locks. “Shall I give you a head start?” It mattered not if he did, the confidence that he would catch her showed clearly in his eyes. His only advantage the experience of nearly a decade more of training. The wind blew around them, howling through the alleyway like a warning of the start of the game.

Aster broke out in laughter, making her sides ache. Oh, she liked this one. White hair fluttered around her face, wind dancing around her, almost as if beckoning her to follow its path. “Good luck, Mr. Jack of Hearts.” Twisting gracefully on the ledge, like a dancer turning a pirouette, Aster cast a smirk back at him. “You’re gonna need it.”

The drop down to the other side of the crumbling wall that divided the alley in the middle jarred her body, a rush of adrenaline accompanying the pain. It had been some time since the thrill of being chased put a permanent smile on her lips.

The busy market street aided in hiding her small frame in the masses. Sweeping under a large horse, Aster spotted a soldier ahead, pointing at her and shouting. Her path easily redirected down a side street, placing her just out of their blockade. It must be his doing. A boring tactic, but the chase had only just begun.

The more she wound through the town, the more blockades she met, an attempt to keep her from leaving town. Edgar never reappeared in her sight, but his presence carried on the breeze, nipping at her heels. Run as far as you like, little mouse, you won’t escape.

Aster winded through the streets until she reached the town hall. The stalemate in the chase begged her to gain some ground. The windows lining the three floors were perfectly placed for climbing the side of the building. The flat roof giving a perch for her to wander and examine all her options. Pulling her body up and over the edge, her safe haven had been taken by intruders.

More military men, all equally as well dressed as Edgar, stood in her path. Red eyes analyzed them, all carrying weapons aside from one. This had been his intention. Though Edgar enjoyed a good chase, his mission had been to collect her for his king. By managing her movements, he’d brought her here without her realizing. Edgar clapped his hands together. “Had no one been here, I do believe you would have won.” His admittance fake, but he smiled at her all the same.

Aster cocked her head to the side. “Who says I’ve lost?”

“Don’t be such a child. We have you cornered,” Another interjected, amber eyes pulled narrowly at her.

“The cornered rat will always bite the cat,” she recited, shoulders shrugging innocently. Stepping back, she fell softly onto the ledge to rest her sore legs. Her eagerness to have a new opponent had drove her to run more than before. Hiding took much less energy. “Six ways out, seven if I kill one of you.” Her eyes flickered to Kyle, sourcing their weakest link easily.

Folding her legs up criss-cross, she retrieved a small loaf of bread, sinking her teeth down into it. “I’ll assume that this wasn’t all for a common thief’s capture. So, what does the esteemed Red Army want with me?” Pigeons gathered around her, pecking softly at the crumbs that fell away around her.

“Watch your tone. You’re speaking to the King of Hearts.” Again, the man with the amber eyes snapped at her, like a guard dog protecting its master.

Edgar stepped forward to diffuse the ticking bomb of a superior. “Easy, Jonah. She’s riling you up on purpose.” His gaze fell on her once again, assessing her calm behavior. Surrounded by soldiers yet no signs of fear or concern. Quite intriguing. “Aster, you’re quite skilled. Can I inquire how old you are?”

“Too young for any of you.”

“Do you not know?” Surely an estimate could be made. A teenager, clearly.

The girl sprinkled more crumbles of bread on the ground in front of her, drawing more pigeons. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, thoughtfully watching the birds in front of her. “Sixteen, and some odd months. You still haven’t answered my question. What do you want? It’s really not worth your time to chase down a girl that steals a loaf of bread or two.”

Her knowledge of the army was limited, but the Chosen 13 were still revered here. His title as the Jack of Hearts, and the other man having the King of Hearts, had her curious. This town way out in Diamond Territory had never once been visited by them, and no reason presented itself as to why they would.

The King of Hearts with his icy blue eyes and regal cape draping over his shoulders sent a wicked glare at her. “I’m growing tired of this. You will come back to headquarters with us, immediately. If you refuse, we will use force.” His word absolute.

To those who cared.

Aster grinned plopping the final piece of bread into her mouth, savoring the taste of the herbs used to flavor it. Her palms swiped over her ripped pants, sending the final crumbs tumbling to the ground. “Yeah, no. I don’t plan on going anywhere unless it’s of my own free will.”

Jonah retrieved a pair of glimmering silver handcuffs, adorned with gold roses. “As the Queen of Hearts, I am ordering you to comply.” The pair of them had equally intense gazes.

“Cute handcuffs, but again, I’m a little young for that, don’t you think?”

Her words stopped him from stepping closer, disgust crossing his doll-like features. “What a crass little girl.” Jonah shook the indecision away, intent on bringing her with them. He would carry her if he must.

Aster’s mock salute directed at Edgar was accompanied with a wink. “I never lose, remember?” Striking her foot back against the thin metal piece of siding of the roof, the rattle echoed. The pigeons scattered, taking flight in all directions, blocking their path to her. Aster rolled back, allowing herself to fall from the rooftop.

Right on top of a passing cart full of hay. The scratchy bails marring her pale skin with red scratches. As quickly as she had landed, she disappeared into the shadows, to hide once again. “It would have been more fun to play with them some more, but it isn’t worth my freedom.” The wind carried her whisper away, her only remaining companion.

Home called to her, beckoning its little dragon back into it’s comforting clutches. Her time in the small time had begun to draw to a close.

Oc hell is dragging me further and further down into it!

[gothamundernightlight]

Okay, so most of us know about the deleted scene from Avengers: Endgame now, that surfaced yesterday, and I need to talk about it. Like, it's a physical need, y'all, I gotta. If you haven't seen it, here's a link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0H6GZxve2o

First up, this scene is PERFECTION! Yes, it's heart-wrenching, depressing, and just straight up reminds us of what was lost in the film. We lost Tony Stark. But that is exactly what he deserved. The reactions, the human-ness of it, was relevant, and I think that Marvel did a disservice to quite a lot of these characters by deleting this scene.

Starting off with Pepper, our very first Marvel lady. The badass, sassy, ineffable Pepper Potts, who put up with Tony's shit enough to marry the lucky bastard. They have a daughter together, and the man that she loves just died in her arms. Her partner, her husband, the father of her child is gone, and at that moment, she doesn't care if she looks weak, she will mourn. She will mourn now, and so she just sobs.

Next we see Cap and Thor. I think we were all praying somewhat that Pepper would tell them that he's okay, but seeing Pepper cry just confirmed to everyone in that moment that Tony is dead, and we are getting a raw reaction from both of them. The horror, the grief, it's prevalent on their faces, and Cap's mouth just hangs open in shock. He doesn't know what to say.

Thor has been through enough, he's emotionally strained, having lost his security, most of his self-confidence, and now two of his teammates. We've seen Thor cry in this film, and now he's about to do it again, and he's within his rights to.

Then the music swells and we cut to Clint. Clint was done dirty by Marvel ever since Age of Ultron, and cutting this scene was just another example. Over the years, Clint Barton has been through hell. He deserved a happy life JUST AS MUCH as Tony, and he got it. He had his wife, his kids, his freedom. And yeah, he was bitter in Civil War, reminding Tony of Rhodey's injury, but if a friend had been responsible for putting you behind bars, you'd feel a little bitter too. The last time Clint saw Tony? Tony was shielding him in case Bruce blew something up with the gauntlet. They worked as a team to save the world, and relied on each other, seamlessly. They'd lost Nat, they mourned her together, and while there is a risk in every battle, Clint didn't think he'd lose another teammate...no, another friend so soon. He kneels, and bows his head. He hides his face, but the action is clear. The respect is clear.

Then the camera pulls out, revealing T'Challa and Carol. Clint's motion catches the king's eye, and when he realizes what the archer is doing, he immediately looks back at Tony. And then he too, kneels. This man just gave his life to save everyone, he damn well earned the respect that the motion carries. Carol kneels next. She sees T'Challa kneel, but culturally, she gets it. I would assume that Carol has remembered a lot about her time on Earth, her life, and certain traditions that come with it. The whole bowing to a fallen comrade may be Arthurian in nature, but the tradition is widely recognized in American football. A player is hurt = Everyone kneels. Everyone in the stadium, everyone watching. It's a visible mark of respect, and it's why Colin Kaepernick knelt in protest of racial inequality and police brutality rather than standing in solemnity. Carol might remember the tradition of kneeling from her youth, and so, she pays due.

Next we see Peter Quill, Valkyrie, and Nebula. Peter kneels. He too remembers the tradition (he’s from Missouri, he watched football, fight me) He fought next to the man, and while he didn't know him well, Peter might've enjoyed his company under different circumstances. Valkyrie has no clue what's going on, but she recognizes the situation. She knows what it's like to lose someone in battle, and she respects the tradition. She kneels.

Nebula technically kneels before Valkyrie, but her posture is different. Her back is straight, and her head is angled up. Nebula is a proud individual, and knows that his sacrifice was necessary, so she will mourn privately. She got to know Tony a little during their little space venture, and might've considered him a friend. She definitely respected him enough to stay, and kneel, because she knows the man earned it.

Next we see Scott kneeling, and it’s probably one of my favorite views of a person’s face during this scene. Scott’s an empathetic person, family-oriented, and tries to get along with people. But he didn’t exactly get along with Tony. He held Tony’s original refusal about the time-heist against him, and was so sure it would work, that he didn’t really consider the consequences. But seeing Tony’s widow mourn him now, Scott gets it. He regrets his actions a little, and so he will pay this man, this man he didn’t even like that much, some respect.

Cap comes into frame at that moment, and he doesn’t hesitate. He just falls, and he wobbles going down. He hits the ground hard, like the world has just been pulled out from under his feet. Who can blame him. Steve Rodgers felt very responsible for his team, and he feels that everything that happens to them for the most part is on him to fix. It’s on him to defend them, and we’re thrown back to that conversation. “We got a shot at getting these stones, but I got to tell you, my priority. Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I found? I have to, at all costs. And maybe not die trying would be nice.” Tony was able to move on past the Snap, he did what Steve struggled to do, after waking up in the 21st century, and after the Snap. He moved on, got married, started a family. Steve couldn’t move on, and somehow, he’s the one still standing while Tony is now gone. I think that’s the moment when Steve knew he would do whatever it took to get that life that Tony talked about, because he couldn’t be the one to fall in battle for him.

Strange is next in line, and we see him kneel, and his hair is still waving like someone is following him with a weak hairdryer. But his expression…whew, that’s solid. That’s the look that would’ve been on his face when losing a patient on the table, and having to inform the family. He knew this was coming. Five years ago, he saw that coming. He was prepared for it, but that didn’t make it hurt any less seeing it actually happen. His eyes don’t move until he’s fully on the ground, he refuses to take his eyes off Tony even at the risk of falling flat on his face. But he bows and in that moment you can see the regret and grief and the wonder if maybe there had been another way. His eyes shut, and his breath hitches a little.

Then, we get a change of pace. Gamora from 2014. Unlike everyone else, I don’t think she’s actually looking at Tony. Whatever she’s looking at, is eye-level. I think she’s watching everyone else, making sure that none of them are looking at her. She doesn’t know this man, but she is not surprised he is dead. She knows the power of the Infinity Stones, it’s been ingrained into her, and what’s more is that she knows what happens to people who go up against Thanos. She may appreciate that her father is dead because of this man, but she can’t stay and thank him. So she leaves. As she should. Maybe she finds a Chitauri transport vessel in the wreckage and makes her escape, but she spared him a moment, which from her…was enough.

In the next shot, none of the people are original Avengers. Mantis and Drax stand in the back, Shuri and Bucky in the front, and Sam, Wanda, and Okoye are to the side. Bucky, Sam and Wanda are already kneeling in this moment, and Shuri and Okoye quickly kneel as well. (Also, is Shuri wearing pristine NIKE sneakers in that moment, so QUEEN!) Neither check to look at T’Challa, so they do it of their own volition.

None of them knew Tony well, some even not at all. But what I find interesting, is that out of all the people kneeling in that shot, only Bucky is looking at Tony. The last time the two of them interacted was in Siberia, and a lot has changed since then. Tony changed, and Bucky definitely got the help he needed. Perhaps, had there been time, amends would have been made, apologies been exchanged, and even a camaraderie might have formed between the two. That will never happen now.

Then Drax kneels. The man is a peculiarity when it comes to things, and boundaries are clearly in different positions when it comes to social interactions. But he’s a fighter, and he’s been in Pepper’s shoes. He had a family and lost them, his wife and daughter, and then the Guardians. He can sympathize, and so he kneels. Mantis is looking at Drax. Unsure of what to do in this situation, she seeks out something familiar. She’s isolated, can’t touch anyone to glean context, so she copies him. She kneels. It might not be out of respect, but she does it anyways because it feels appropriate.

As the camera pulls back out, we see Pepper once more, and then Rhodes comes into view, and there’s even a slight glimpse of Peter. Rhodey is turned away. He can’t watch this. He physically can’t. Over the years, his best friend has done a lot of dumb shit. Like, A LOT! There were probably times Rhodey imagined waking up to find out that Tony OD’ed in college. Or died in Afghanistan. Got himself killed as Iron Man. Not this. He can’t watch this. Yes, his best friend was a superhero, but he didn’t imagine that Tony would die being one. Tony was supposed to die a civilian, not like a soldier.

Peter isn’t kneeling. It’s hard to see, but his posture indicated that he’s pulled away, sat back, curled into himself. His head is in his hands, and he’s trying to process what’s just happened. He just lost another person, another father figure, and he’s grieving only inches away from the body. He’s not moving, he can’t look up, not without seeing Tony’s face, and he can’t help but remember moments ago when Tony was standing there, giving him a hug. How can someone so important be gone so fast?

Pulling out some more, more people are revealed. Thor is now kneeling, as is Wong and Hope. Then there’s Bruce. Bruce is turned away, like Rhodey, but he’s kneeling on both knees, like he’s about to throw up and is looking at the sling around his arm. He’s made the connection, on what Tony did. He felt the pain of what the stone’s power is like, and he can only imagine what kind of pain Tony was in in his last moments. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone, and would rather have risked snapping his fingers with those stones again than losing Tony. But it’s too late.

As the screen fades to black, the camera continues to pull out, like there could’ve been more people revealed to mourn the Iron Man, and I think it would have been appropriate to segue into the message that Tony left to Morgan, had that scene not been cut from the film. We got to watch them say goodbye to Tony, and it would’ve been nice to see Tony say goodbye next. But at the same time, I think if this scene had been kept, the funeral itself wouldn’t have had much point narratively.

The only reason the funeral happened was to see all of the people pay tribute, while also explaining the extra people there who weren’t in the battle. Hank Pym, Queen Ramonda, Nick Fury, and Harley Keener. Morgan.

If I was in charge of editing this, I would’ve kept the kneeling scene in, as that was emotionally significant to the characters, and would’ve had a greater impact on the audience. Fade to black, and then show the message, before seeing Pepper and Morgan lay down the wreath on the lake. Made the funeral more ambiguous, for both Tony and Natasha (she deserved a funeral too y’all) Make the other faces visible as they approach, and then cut to Morgan’s cheeseburger line.

But either way, as is, I am grateful that this particular moment was filmed, and then released. I loved it, and if y’all will excuse me, I’m going to cry some more.

[archiveddvrpg]

Congratulations, JULIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of TAMORA. Admin Rosey: Trinity is one of the characters that I had the most fun writing -- she very much evolved from my initial concept with her and has grown into this very independent entity that needs someone just as strong as she is to portray her. Writing her isn’t an easy task, nor is capturing the nuances of her character while maintaining a circumspect view of who she has the potential to become. Julie, I honestly don’t know how, but you managed to do all that and more. Trinity is very much welcome to step on all of Verona’s neck. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Julie

Age | 19

Preferred Pronouns | She/her/hers

Activity Level | 6/10, I think, with replies coming every other day - we can only hope.

Timezone | MST

Current/Past RP Accounts | Santino + Loretta

In Character

Character | Tamora / Trinity Zakarian

What drew you to this character? | Am I allowed to say everything? From her past, her present, to her potential future, I think everything about Trinity just absolutely fascinates me. The deliberate choices she has to make in her every day life just to walk among other people and be perceived as what she wants them to see is so interesting. It’s not necessarily just a woman performing for a nonexistent audience repeatedly because she feels she has to. It’s more of someone who could be perceived as almost otherworldly performing for an audience that is watching her, at all times. Trinity pulls the strings to her own marionette and is fully aware of that.

There’s always some sort of purpose behind what she does: she smiles half an inch wider because she knows that people will find the way it tugs at the line of her face more familiar. She stands with her spine rimrod straight because that’s what comforted her mother most when she looked at Trinity like she was some sort of animal in her own home. She stabs her wife thirteen times in the chest because she knows it will allow for a shallow mockery of the last few moments she had with her son. Verona is a city full of Gods, people worth revering, and Trinity chooses not to worship them time and time again. She has no feelings of reverence towards Cosimo, or Damiano, or even Fortinbras, even if he’s the one who originally brought her here, and if she ever were to feel that way, she’d choose to stamp them out under her heel.

There’s also the matter of this concept of warmth and humanity that Trinity feels is fully out of reach for her. She’s tried time and time again to connect in the way other people can and just can’t; she got a glimpse out of the corner of her eye, for some time. Maybe she held it in her hands for a little while before dropping it when she gave birth to her son. What happened to Alyosha is tragic, without a doubt, and it hurts my heart just to think about it. I think Trinity’s played those last few moments over and over in her head to see if she can pin down the exact moment she went from a woman to a corpse all over again. I think it’s interesting that Trinity knows wires have crossed at some point which shouldn’t have been crossed, and something that’s not supposed to be firing is sparking anyways. She’s sought out human connection over and over, and it seems to slip between her fingers every time. I’d love to explore that more thoroughly.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | 

LET THIS WASP NOT OUTLIVE, US BOTH TO STING: Trinity's good at hiding; that much is obvious. She can mask even the ugliest of emotions with relative ease; making people think she's something she's not isn't a difficult feat. In Titus Andronicus, Queen Tamora bides her time by marrying Saturninus to save her own skin and get revenge. In sort of the same vein, I can see Tamora either going undercover in the Capulets somehow or forming a relationship of some kind with one of them to provide leverage over the Capulets for the Montagues. She's only just re-arrived in Verona, but like her bio says, her roots already run deep into the soil by the time February’s arrived. She's got nothing to lose and plenty to gain; donning a veil of warmth and affection towards a Capulet for whatever they'll give her in return could go far. And if she ends up reaching into their chest to claim their heart for her own, all the better: she craves warmth like roses crave the sun in the heat of summer.

TITUS, I AM INCORPORATE IN ROME, A ROMAN NOW ADOPTED HAPPILY: Faron brought Trinity to Verona with a purpose, and that purpose in my mind was likely to use her actions to vault himself to a position of power. But Faron is dead, and any motivations for his relationship with Trinity are buried with him. She can't speak with the dead, as much as she wishes she could some nights, if only to hear her son's voice. She has no skill in divining the future. This really depends on the direction of the game and what the other players on the table, but in the hands of Gertrude, Antony, Laertes, or even Romeo, I feel she has the potential to help turn the tides for the Montagues in the same way she did for Faron. There’s no love lost between Fortinbras and Tamora—give her the opportunity to claim what she wishes, and she’ll bark for someone as much as she’ll bite.

THRICE NOBLE TITUS, SPARE MY FIRST BORN SON: This one is a little far out there, so please bear the fuck with me. Trinity, if she were to ever discover just what Vivianne did to her own son (who, keep in mind, when abandoned was the same age as Alyosha when he died), would set her sights on Vivianne and wouldn't stop until she felt satisfied. Whether that means Vivianne's death, or throwing a big enough wrench into her plans that she falters in the face of Cosimo, Trinity's willing to take whatever opportunities are presented to her. This sort of goes in-hand with wanting to explore just how deeply Alyosha's death has impacted her; I don't think Trinity's ever looked it head-on in the mirror, and confronting Vivianne might finally give her the chance to see in herself what everyone else has over the course of the last year and a half.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Let her reunite with the one person she truly cared about :)

In Depth

In-Character Para Sample:

TW FOR MURDER

The claiming of Hotel Emelia is a droll affair, in much the same way she’d expected it to be. It’s also a quick one: from the time she and Ronan are approaching the front desk to waiting patiently for the elevator to reach the top floor and look for those who might remain, it takes twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour. The elevator lets out a soft ding to indicate it’s reached its final destination.

There are only two guests on this floor, but it doesn’t stop Trinity from reveling in the way the attendant shakes as she unlocks each and every door with the master key. They all creak open, slowly, to reveal nothing but a dark room and some neatly-made beds. Ronan’s shaking with barely-restrained excitement and impatience by the time they reach the end of the hall.

“You want to get done, Richard. You have plan, after this, hm? Usually you go slow.” she asks, as the woman with SOFIA on her name-tag trembles so much she nearly drops the key. Trinity watches as Ronan presses the end of his M22 closer to her spine, harshly enough to make her jump.

“I’ve got some house calls to make, Tamora,” he tells her, like that explains why he’s rushing through this with a near primordial if not sadistic focus. It doesn’t matter. He’s a bizarre specimen, even among the Montagues, same as she -- it’s why they’re the perfect pair for this sort of task. The door clicks open. This room is not empty like the others; the lamp on the desk is on, and the shower is running in the bathroom. 

She looks over her shoulder: “I’ll take it. You can cut chaff from rest of wheat. Be good.” When she shoots him a pointed look, he shrugs, but chooses not to say a word. Wise of him.

She enters the room, closes the door behind her. It makes a sound close to a whisper when it thuds shut, and it’s only when Trinity can hear Ronan limping away with the clerk’s tapping footsteps just ahead that she proceeds. With one hand she reaches for her knife, and the other for the bathroom handle. It opens, she’s pleased to discover. Steam rushes past her as she encroaches further.

Whoever it is in the shower, they’ve got their back turned towards the spray, a hand running through their hair. She reaches out, black painted nails grasping the shower curtain -- and smiles in outright delight when the man behind it screams loudly enough to be heard for miles.

The first time she’d ended someone’s life with a knife and nothing more, Trinity’d been shocked to discover just how easy it was. There had been no resistance. By now, it’s almost mundane, like chopping vegetables for a stew. One after the other, right into the pot.

Rivulets of red run down her arms, stain the front of her vest, and all the man does is watch in mixed terror and confusion. It’s close to what she wants, but not quite enough. She wants fear. Terror. Downright horror. Oftentimes when an individual is stabbed it feels like being punched, before the sympathetic nervous system starts doing its proper work. There are maybe a blissful thirty seconds of confounded gasping, pleading, and scrabbling to pull her hands away from him before he drops like a sack of bricks. This nameless creature, whoever he is, whatever he did? He dies gasping on the floor of the too-small shower. His blood is still warm, at first. but it’s soon cooled by the running shower. It’s as disheartening a realization when she sees the shower has aided in removing most of it from her hands, too.

She watches the rest run down the drain, and then steps out and leaves him there. Any mark of what she’s done is, for the most part, washed clean before it had the chance to stain. She gives herself a passing glance in the mirror. Raises one corner of the mouth, then the other, and smiles at herself with all her teeth. It’s like looking at a stranger and her closest friend all at once, her eyes lit up like the stars. Smile for the cameras.

Ronan is waiting for her in the hall, the clerk next to him, tapping out a text to Damiano - she can only assume. If she’s right, it will read something like food is waiting on your desk. Some foolish, stupid little signal.

She nods at Sofia, clearing her throat. Ronan glances up, turns the phone off, slips it into his pocket. “What are we doing with her?”

“Her?” He’s already looking away. Wonderful.

When Trinity steps closer, the young woman shakes like a leaf. It worsens when she raises her hand and smears whatever remains of the man’s blood over her mouth — it ruins whatever lip gloss Sofia's chosen to wear for her shift that night, without a doubt. For a moment, Trinity wonders if she’s going to vomit. She smiles, and reaches back to wind her her fingers through Sofia’s blond hair. It’s dirty-gold in hue. She’s sure it shines under the sun, but in the overhead lighting of the Emelia, it looks dull. Flat.

Sacha’s had been so light it’d been close to silver. Trinity can remember the way her wife had purred whenever she’d played with it, even when it was something as simple as fingertips ghosting over her scalp. She presses her mouth into a thin line before speaking with some resignation. “You did very good, solnyshko.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Sofia whispers, staring at Trinity with eyes wide. Like a doe. Not a doe. A fawn might be better.

“I do,” Trinity replies, and the woman lets out a pitiful wail in response.

“You don’t have to do this, please, I have a daughter, my husband, a family, I only just got hired, I won’t tell a soul-” she’s quivering with it, and when she collapses to the floor and grabs at Trinity’s legs to plead, her hands cold and clammy, Tamora goes with her. There they sit, on their knees together: Sofia, sobbing, mouth wide open in resigned terror. Trinity, watching, waiting, feeling the thundering rhythm of her pulse as it quickens. So close to warmth. Just a few seconds away.

So did I, Trinity thinks. “You are... loose end,” she murmurs instead. The way she slits Sofia’s throat is precise. It’s over before the woman can cry out. Sofia’s weight becomes exponentially heavier, as she collapses to the side, with red running deep across her throat and staining the lavish green floors. Trinity ends up yanking out a clump of hair from her scalp as she goes.

She’s still plucking the strands from beneath her fingernails when they re-enter the elevator at the end of the hall, knowing the bodies will be swept away before anyone can so much as bat an eye. No one will wonder where the three on the top floor of Hotel Emelia went; if anyone asks, they’ll be quickly silenced.

 Ronan presses the button to take them back to the lobby, tapping his better foot in time with a silent beat. She smiles at him in thanks.

“You’ve got something on your teeth,” he says, brow furrowed.

She grins wider: A quarter of a centimeter, canines bared, swipes at the corner of her mouth with her pinky finger. Lipstick comes away, smeared dark against her skin. The elevator dings. “I know.”

Extras: 

Some thoughts:

The Zakarian family has their fingers in every pie imaginable, thanks to the reputation that protects them, but it was Sacha, Trinity’s wife, that had the closest affiliation with mob business in St. Petersburg. Over the fifteen year period of their marriage (they married young, and in-love, when Trinity was only twenty-two), Trinity danced with the best and worst of them: she knows plenty of members in the Russian mob, and considers them to be her closest allies, rather than the Montagues. When Sacha and Alyosha were so tragically killed, it was the Russian mob that paid for the funeral, with the Zakarians throwing some money at the problem to stem suspicion. She’s even somewhat familiar with Boris, even if he’s not from St. Petersburg.

Shortly before Faron’s death, on the fifth of November, she departed from Verona to visit Alyosha’s grave for the anniversary of his death. She didn’t return to Verona until the twenty-second, and missed Faron’s funeral. She still commit to the tradition of wearing dark colors for forty days and forty nights, however, and visits his grave semi-frequently. She’s not even sure why: she had no care for the man, and in the end, believes he faltered in his goals due to avarice and selfishness.

Her first language is Armenian, her second is Russian, her third English, and her fourth is Italian. She’s got a peculiar accent, but for the most part, she’s used to speaking Russian. Adjusting to Italian in Verona has been strange, although she’s not necessarily a woman of few words.

She’s been relatively-hands off when it comes to business dealings in the public eye since the death of her family. Her brother, Artur, has stepped up to the plate to ensure things are running smoothly. She trusts him enough not to make a mess of it, but I’m thinking maybe she sets up camp somehow in Hotel Emelia to ensure it stays in the hands of the Montagues.

I’ve got a playlist, and a pinboard.

[youhearstatic]

This is a love letter to Barry Bluejeans of sorts: the whole campaign of The Adventure Zone: Balance (and then some) told from Barry’s point of view.

Chapter 40 - Olly Olly Oxen Free

In Chapter 40: All right. All wrong. Alright. Cycle 47 concludes.

The newest chapter is up now on AO3! Thanks for reading! Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments appreciated!

All he can do is grin and feel like everything is right with the world: he’s sitting with his family, beside Lup, the twins squabbling over some detail and calling each other names. This isn’t the first time Lup has snagged food from his plate. It doesn’t take being in a relationship to make someone’s plate fair game to the twins. But it is different somehow. It’s all different and perfect and wonderful.

Until the sky goes dark and the color drains from the world around them.

(Behind the Scenes notes and individual links to previous chapters below the read more)

This chapter’s title, "Olly Olly Oxen Free," obviously comes from the children's game catchphrase. When coming up with a way for Lup to refer to Barry’s spell, I pictured kids playing tag and the "Everybody Freeze!" part that some rules included. Then I thought of "olly olly oxen free" and, curious about the specific usage, looked it up.

"Olly olly oxen free is a catchphrase used in children's games such as hide and seek, capture the flag, and kick the can to indicate that players who are hiding can come out into the open without losing the game, that the position of the sides in a game has changed, or, alternatively, that the game is entirely over."

Also? That spell that Barry hits the crab with? That would be Banishing Smite, a paladin only spell. I maintain Barry is truly outside all D&D classes and can cast anything he understands other than healing spells. (I specifically went looking for a paladin only spell... because reasons.) Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1 - Contradictions Chapter 2 - Premonition, Compulsion, and a Living Legend Chapter 3 - Founding Observations Chapter 4 - These Names Don’t Last Chapter 5 - First Impressions and Second Thoughts Chapter 6 - Embrace Chapter 7 - Different Kinds of Magic Chapter 8 - Fitting In Chapter 9 - Silica Chapter 10 - Dark Chapter 11 - Karaanites Chapter 12 - Music and Snow Chapter 13 - Ice Chapter 14 - Frost Chapter 15 - Silence Chapter 16 - Kitchen Experiments Chapter 17 - Lime Green with Stars Chapter 18 - A Quiet Ship Chapter 19 - Blue and Purple Light Chapter 20 - The Rightful Owner Chapter 21 - When Options are Limited Chapter 22 - Unraveling Chapter 23 - Dealing with Problems Chapter 24 - Subtractions Chapter 25 - Reaching Chapter 26 - Pulling Chapter 27 - Better Than Chapter 28 - Finding Balance Chapter 29 - Carnival and Coffee Chapter 30 - A Few More Months Chapter 31 - Trouble in Paradise Chapter 32 - Ideas Chapter 33 - Statues Chapter 34 - Choices Chapter 35 - A 440 Chapter 36 - Caesura Chapter 37 - Rehearsal Chapter 38 - Overture Chapter 39 - Facing the Music

[rudra-writes]

Pellurin: Ambush (Part 10)

Part of a roleplay story with Telurin’s player. During a journey with other draenei, Pallas and Telurin become separated when orcs attack.

The twin moons of Draenor are shining in a deep blue sky. Puffy cumulus clouds rise in majestic creamy puffs of cerulean and pink. Belaar’s consciousness stands in a verdant field of blooming flowers. Birds sing and the leaves of trees rustle with the fragrant spring breeze.

Everything in the vision is represented with hyper realistic clarity to the senses, except for what isn’t, the ends of the field and the clouds blurring into oblivion.

Not far away, standing on a hill overlooking a green valley, shaded under the branches of a great, gnarled old tree, stands Pallas. He is unhurt in his vision, the emanation of his consciousness radiating a soft light. He is dressed in pristine silver robes, and carries a bouquet of flowers.

Just behind the Anchorite, sheltered underneath the tree, is a grave. There is a simple headstone, elegantly carved in a gentle geometric arc in the draenic fashion. Bouquets and clusters of flowers are placed all around, and the grandfather tree drops rust-colored leaves upon it.

Telurin heads toward the scene, not waiting for Belaar, who follows him more slowly, though without the stiffness to his gait that is present in the physical realm. As Telurin climbs the hill in his customary plate, sparkling clean without the gore that covered it still, Belaar takes his time to carefully observe the scenery of Pallas’s mental landscape, looking for insight to his mental state. The fact that it’s so clear is a good sign, though the almost painful sharpness of the edges bespoke a deep pain. Belaar set about subtly smoothing those edges, bringing the world back into a more realistic focus, something he doesn’t think Pallas will notice as Telurin reaches him and calls his name.

“Pallas…” Telurin says, reaching out to the Anchorite’s softly shining form, but not quite connecting. Compared to Pallas, Telurin was shrouded in shadows that clung to the edges of his plate.

Pallas’s back had been turned, facing the monument when the consciousness of Telurin approached. The priest turns around when he hears the death knight call him. His eyes widen in shock, the bouquet of flowers he was holding falling softly to the grass below. “Telurin?”

Pallas steps forward in disbelief, his arms widening to receive the shaded form of Telurin even as he tries to comprehend what he’s seeing. “But… how? Am I imagining this? I saw you fall with the boulders…” The sight of the death knight standing before him is a powerful one, and even in his confusion, Pallas embraces him tightly and without hesitation, his softly glowing arms bright against the black shadows like a natural yin and yang.

“Death Knights are surprisingly hard to kill.” Telurin laughs ruefully, and wraps his arms around Pallas. “I managed to convince Motaanos to heal me enough to go after you. You are safe, Pallas, and you need to wake up.”

Pallas melts into Telurin’s embrace even as he questions whether what he’s experiencing is real. “But…” His response sounds like the sort of thing Telurin would say. The Anchorite looks up into Telurin’s face, then at his pristine, clean armor. With their minds in such close rapport, the death knight would be able to tell that Pallas is studying him for dents, damage or gore, and becoming concerned when he sees none of these things.

Pallas clings harder to Telurin’s armor. “I could be imagining you,” he says shakily. “I thought I’d… I wasn’t going to do that. Make you appear.”

“And did you imagine me as well?” Belaar says, direct and to the point. “I’d be flattered, of course, but I can assure you he - and I - are real, not figments of your imagination.” He stops an arms length away from them, looking relaxed in a way he never did when he was standing.

“This is a dreamscape, Pallas.” Telurin adds, his tone careful and patient. “Out there,” He tilts his head toward the distant wall that borders the space, indicating the limits of Pallas’s mind, “You’ll find what you’re looking for. I haven’t left your side except to scrape the worst of it off, so that I didn’t scare the innkeeper too badly.”

“Master Belaar!” Pallas blinks with surprise, then briefly makes a wry smile at his mentor’s dry comments. He realizes the two of them must be here due to Belaar’s mental ability.

At Telurin’s explanation, though, his face takes on a worried cast. “If I wake up… What will I see?” He places a hand to his chest. “Was I… disfigured? I remember a cage, and a horrible orc…”

The essence of Pallas hides against Telurin’s shadowed chest. For a dark moment, he starts to recall the things that were done to him at the orcs’ hands. Around them, the Shadowmoon landscape begins to lose its color and clarity. The edges of things grow softer, more blurry, as if they were viewed through a rain-spattered pane of glass. The bright colors fade to monochromatic, starting at the furthest edge and slowly edging inward. It’s as if the scene itself is losing its tangibility and light, slowly being swallowed up by darkness. “I’m frightened.”

Pallas will feel Belaar shore up his mental landscape as it falters, and in turn, soothe some of the worry and fear Pallas is feeling. Belaar’s presence is a rock, steady and calm, unshakable, and he lends some of that to Pallas.

“You are whole, if that is what you fear. They did not treat you well, Pallas, but everything that was done can be mended, and your body will heal more quickly with you present than here.” Belaar’s tone is soothing yet professional as he reassures Pallas of his injuries. “I have yet to look over Telurin, but he’s up and walking around. The prognosis for the both of you is very good, so long as you return to yourself.”

Pallas lets himself be reassured by Belaar's solidarity, and Telurin's presence. He takes a deep breath, and nods. "Thank you for coming for me," he tells both of them earnestly, still holding onto the consciousness of Telurin, bright like the moon against the undead draenei's shadowy darkness.

"I'll just close my eyes." Pallas leans his head against Telurin's cold plate. Their differences are stark, magnified in this subconscious place, but the Anchorite looks at peace. He closes his eyes. "And rest for a while..."

Pallas appears to fall asleep in his vision. The black wall outside slowly crumbles. He rises up from underneath the black ocean he'd fallen into.

Meanwhile, in the waking world, the Anchorite stirs in the bed, his eyes cracking open. His body feels stiff as a lead weight. The bedding and blankets feel light and soft.

“There you are.” Telurin says, voice soft. His armor, as promised, was covered in dried red blood, and he looked weary with worry where he sat at the side of the bed.

A cool hand touches Pallas’s temple: Belaar, checking on his pain blocks and physical health, bolstering his previous healing. “Well done, Pallas.” The older Anchorite says, impressing the words directly into Pallas’s mind as well as speaking them. “The worst is over. You are safe here.”

Pallas murmurs through cracked lips. "Master… Belaar..." There is a connotation of gratefulness and thanks in his utterance that the elder Anchorite should be able to pick up on.

He turns his head to see Telurin. In the depths of the death knight's lichfire blue eyes, he can see the long hours of worry and uncertainty. Pallas's thin hand slowly raises towards him. "...My... guardian." The corners of his eyes crease with the barest of smiles.

Telurin catches that hand and brings it to his cheek, eyes sliding closed with relief Pallas can see as well as pick up on. “I’ll get you some water.” He says, and with a quick glance toward Belaar, helps Pallas to sit up, propped up against the pillows. He lets go just long enough to reach for the glass on the nightstand, and helps Pallas to drink from it.

Pallas’s hand is brought to Telurin’s face, his small fingers curling in the death knight’s sideburn. Seeing Telurin like this, his eyes closing with profound relief to merely touch Pallas’s hand again, causes deep emotions to swell inside Pallas’s chest. His eyes are tender as Telurin repositions him and helps him to drink.

After he had drank, finishing what was left in the glass, Pallas carefully inspects his body. His legs remain underneath the covers, but he’s able to see the marks his captors left upon his pale skin. He traces the scars with the pads of his fingers, his lips forming a small frown.

“I can smooth those, should you wish, when you are feeling more like yourself. To do so now would be the worst sort of folly, but with some sleep and a good meal, you should be able to handle the additional healing.” Belaar says when he sees Pallas looking at his scars. “You will need to take things slowly as you recover, something I’m sure Telurin will help with. I will speak with you further tomorrow, but for tonight, I will leave you in your guardian’s capable hands and seek out my own rooms for the night.”

“The room to the left is yours, Anchorite.” Telurin says in reply, and Belaar thanks him and makes his exit.

Pallas nods faintly as his mentor excuses himself, and makes his exit. "How fortunate I am," he says in a small, weak voice, looking over at Telurin. "To have the friendship of Master Belaar. And you."

The Anchorite moves his thin hand, placing it on top of Telurin's. He's aware the death knight has killed to recover him. Perhaps he had done things he would have rather he had not. Pallas knew better than to inquire. "I thought you had died," he murmurs. "I am so relieved... you are here."

“You should worry more about yourself, Pallas.” Telurin replies, “This was too close for my liking, far too close.”

Pallas had at first smiled at the beginning of Telurin's response, thinking to make a comment on the death knight's confidence, but it fades as he continues speaking. He is quiet a moment. It is true that he has traveled at Telurin's side for several months. In all that time, the death knight has steadfastly protected him from anything that lurked in the wilderness. Fel demons, Sargerei, orcs, Iron Horde loyalists, wild beasts... All of these perils, and more, were out there.

"I asked of you, so very long ago... after I had cut the blessed bullet out of your chest... If you would accompany me." Pallas smiles sadly. "Since that night... You have done so, without ever wavering."

The Anchorite turns his head on the pillow, looking off to the side. "Maybe... I should settle down?" He sounds conflicted; deep down, he knows Telurin can't settle. The death knight would always be drawn to battle. "But... I want... to be... your Anchorite."

“Sa, sa, Pallas, we’ll speak about it in the morning. You’re not going anywhere for a while, we’ll have time.” Telurin stands, still holding Pallas’s hand, leaning over him to kiss his forehead and set his hand back down at his side. “You should try and rest. I’ll be just in the next room; now that you’re safe I would prefer to be clean, and get this filth off of my armor before it rusts.”