#I'm not too fond of what they've done to my boy

[baratiddyappreciator]

hiii girl! Can i get huh, like a list of HC about Chiharu's and Hanayama's friendship, stupid shit they'd get themselves into or fights they'd have..Like they try both to ride the same motorbike and that shit begins breaking down through the way until they've both fallen into the side of the road and all that's left from their vehicle is dust..

Soooo I may have lied when I said I was off hiatus but I'm slowly working my way back to doing this stuff. I may or may not have like 8 blankets to crochet before Christmas and that's taking up most of my attention-span hahaha- ANYWAYS LOOK A POST!!!

Dumbasses of the highest caliber, but to different degrees. Hanayama is the quiet kind of dumb, where you'd assume he's incredibly smart until he opens his mouth and asks what the fuck a multiplication is, and Chiharu is ADHD dumb. He's really smart when it comes to some things, but he doesn't know a lot about other things. Ask him to name motorcycle parts and he'll name each component, but ask him if a carrot is a vegetable or a root, and he'll self destruct.

Put them in a room together and watch them actively lose braincells. They start talking about pride month and neither knows what it is.

"Pride month is when you are proud of someone. For a whole month. I'm proud of my boys, they work hard."

"DUMBASS! THAT'S NOT WHAT IT MEANS!! Pride month is when you're proud of yourself! So I'm proud of my hair, because it's still healthy despite all of the hairspray!"

There's a reason Baki likes the both of them, and that is because all three of them are actually so dumb. The average IQ in a room with all three of them drops by at least 50%.

They know they can't ride the same motorcycle, not because it'll break, no Chiharu's bike is sturdier than that, but because Hanayama is very much Not Fond of being on a motorcycle. You would have to trick him into sitting on one, and even then, it's not gonna go anywhere, his legs are too long, his shoes would get eaten up by the pavement and he'd probably break the bike with how hard he'd be holding onto it. He would rather a car, thank you.

Chiharu is the polar opposite, he will happily jump onto a random motorcycle as long as it's shiny and looks in good shape. It's like trying to get a cat into a bath when Hanayama tries to get him into a car though. He full on grabs the doorframe and plants his feet, he is NOT getting in there, he HATES the car! Actively claws at the door to get out Hanayama is so embarrassed, get that clown OUT of here, he just wants a nice calm ride.

They go through a LOT of clothes. Like, it's insane. Chiharu's get ruined because of grease and blood and whatnot, but Hayanama just rips his off whenever he's gonna take someone seriously?? Anyways, they go clothes shopping together just to buy fifteen of the same outfit.

Chiharu tried pink once and Hanayama gave him the most disgusted look ever and bro just sorta accepted that it Wasn't The Look and hasn't done it since. That being said, he keeps trying to get Hanayama to wear a light blue or a grey. He has good fashion taste for other people, but not himself.

[gotlostinfiction]

The Weeping Girl

When a miserable old man turns up at Lockwood & Co.’s door with the promise of £50,000 for an easy case, it's hard to refuse. But is everything all as it seems, or will this case be a lot more than they bargained for? 

TW: Mentions of abuse and murder, mild swearing.

SPOILERS: Mentions a case from The Hollow Boy.

(this is my first attempt at writing my own fanfic so any advice or tips would be very useful <3)

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

In front of me sat one of the most wrinkled old men I've ever seen in my life, and Lockwood & Co. have done a lot of cases for old people. He was a Mr Andrew Hallcock and he had come to us with reports of a crying girl heard by his younger servants, himself being way too old to sense ghosts. We, on the other hand, would be able to sense them easily. 

Just to catch you up, my name is Lucy Carlyle and I have been a part of a ramshackle agency called Lockwood & Co. as a Junior Field Operative for just under two years. Our agency founder and leader, Anthony Lockwood, was sitting on my right with a cup of tea balanced precariously on his knee. On the chair to my left was George Karim, the deputy and researcher of the trio. He held a plate of carrot cake and was munching noisily, much to our client's disgust. Oh, also, there’s one more. Not sure if he's a member or not but, there's the skull. A few months ago I figured out that I can talk to ghosts, and that we have a real Type Three in our house. No one likes him if I'm honest, due to his crude remarks, but I thought he should be mentioned (He’d get offended if I didn’t.)

Now that we're caught up, we can continue.

“Well then, Mr Lockwood,” Mr Hallcock began. “As I made you aware on the phone, some of my younger servants have reported to me that they can hear crying just before they are about to sleep. I've never had an issue like his before, and I can promise you that my house is not haunted!” He said with a tone of annoyance. Apparently, he wasn't fond of ghosts - or our furniture by the way he perched like a bird ready to take flight. 

Lockwood looked uncertain. “Have the servants described in more detail what they've heard?”

“Or has anyone seen anything?” I added helpfully.

Mr Hallcock locked his small beady eyes on mine. “I don’t know why you are butting in, young lady, I thought you were a mere serving girl.” 

I went to stand, but Lockwood's hand snaked out and rested on my thigh, pinning me down. “May you answer our questions, please? All three of us are agents and need to know what they may have seen or heard.” He said calmly.

“Very well,” Mr Hallcock began. “They have only reported hearing crying. I don't think any of them are talented enough to see apparitions. Not that there should be one! Anyway,” He continued. “I'm willing to offer up to £50,000 if this issue is resolved quickly and discreetly. The public cannot find out that my home may be haunted, I have a reputation to maintain!”

George reached out for another slice of cake but paused when he heard the figure. I felt Lockwood move his hand.

“Of course, Mr Hallcock. We can promise all that you ask.”

“Good.” He replied. “I'll be expecting you at 8 pm sharp tonight. I will ensure that the house is cleared of all staff, and I will occupy myself away from home. Good day, gentleman.” With a whiff of cigar smoke, he was out the door.

“What a dick, he didn't even say goodbye to me!” I said. I was the first to break the silence that had formed with his absence.

“He could talk for England, that's for sure,” George added.

“Yes, well, he wasn't a very pleasant person, certainly not to you Luce. But, we can't reject that kind of money. Especially not for an easy case like this.” Lockwood said, a large smile forming across his face.

“Here we go…” George said with a sigh.

“Here's the plan, George you go to the archives, find absolutely everything you can about the house and Mr Hallcock, I'll go to Satchels and restock, and Lucy you pack the kit bags,” Lockwood ordered; with a smile, he walked purposefully out the door. 

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

Two hours later, we were ready. Lockwood, George and I all bundled into the taxi waiting outside Portland Row. It was a small one, and George jumped straight into the passenger seat, dumping our kit bags in the back. This left me practically sitting on Lockwood's lap, squished close next to our kit and the skull. Great.

“Oh, it’s snug back here isn’t it, Lucy?” The skull piped up from the jar on my lap, and I could see a large smirk forming across the glass. “Lockwood looks like a tomato.”

“No idea what you're on about,” I replied sharply. 

“Has he given us anything useful, Luce?” Lockwood asked me, having to crane his neck down due to the angle. 

“Erm, said it’s not very spacious back here,” I replied, purposefully avoiding eye contact with him. 

“Well, quite,” Lockwood said and coughed awkwardly, his cheeks tinged with red. “So then George, fill us in.” He continued, changing the subject. 

“Well, Mr Hallcock is a bit of a dick, just like you said Luce. He lied to us about a violent death that occurred in the house to protect his ego and reputation. He-” George cut himself off. “Ooh, you two do look cosy back there!”

“Get to the point, George,” I said. This was mortifying; I could hear the skull's faint laughter in my head.

“Okay, well as I was saying, Mr Hallcock comes from a family of men who think they can do what they want. Specifically to women. At the archives, I found so many complaints to the police from female members of Mr Hallcock's staff about sexual comments and the sort. I mean, remember how he spoke to you, Lucy?”

“Yeah, he treated me like a piece of shit, the sexist bastard.”

“Exactly. Turns out, Mr Hallcock was involved in a murder trial of one of his servants, a 20-year-old girl called Rebecca Hughes. She died on his property in a bedroom upstairs, stabbed to death. One of her fellow servants was charged and hanged for it, and Mr Hallcock was brought forward to give evidence.” George continued. 

“You think that's the primary source of the haunting then?” I said, ignoring the teasing remarks coming from the skull.

“Has to be,” George replied. “No other deaths have been reported in the house or the area.”

Lockwood coughed again, his cheeks going redder still. “Well I'm glad I bought some extra protection then, you know how murder victims get. I brought another industrial flare.” Clocking George's concerned look he quickly added, “We’ll use it properly this time, not like Combe Carey.”

“I don't think Mr Hallcock would want us to damage his house either,” I said as we pulled into the long gravel driveway. Just in the distance, I could see the house looming over us. Well, I say house, it was more like a mansion. On its private lot, surrounded by woodland, stood Hallcock Manor. It had a regal-style entrance, with large stone columns and wide steps leading to a grand white door with gold accents carved into the sides. The home spread wide at the sides with small walkways at each end and then cascaded backwards, seemingly never-ending. Basically, it was bloody posh.

The taxi driver dumped us halfway down the drive, complaining that he couldn't be bothered to have to reverse all the way back. Safe to say that Lockwood didn't tip him. We all piled out and headed towards the house. Walking towards it was incredible, but also mortifying. I was in awe at the beauty of the place, but then apprehensive of the danger that could unfold.

As if reading my thoughts, Lockwood spoke. “This should be an easy case guys, no need to worry. Mr Hallcock said that there was no apparition seen and that it was just crying. We will be fine.”

“What about the fact that she's a murder victim? They’re always Type Two’s.” I asked.

“Well, at least we've got this.” Lockwood pulled out the flare and showed it to me and George. After our last use of it, I wasn't reassured.

“I think Lucy should keep a hold of it,” George spoke up. “You were reckless with it last time, you know, lobbing it at the well like that. Lucy will be more careful.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Lockwood replied, though I could tell he wasn't convinced. He passed it over to me, his long fingers brushing against the palm of my hand. I smiled weakly at him, and he grinned back. It was his reassuring smile, the one he used for worried clients. 

“Ooh, he almost held your hand!” The skull remarked. “The closest you’ll ever get.” I decided not to recite this one back to the boys. 

Lockwood then flourished the keys from one of his coat pockets and opened the door, ensuring that he didn't hesitate on the threshold. Being well-trained, we followed closely behind. The house was just as beautiful inside as out. Regent-style furniture filled the home in a classy sort of way. The walls were lined with floral patterned wallpaper and gold-framed oil paintings hung in neat rows. George pulled out his floor plan and assessed our surroundings.

“This is called the ‘Grand Entrance.’” He said, eyeing the decor. “To be fair, they weren't wrong.”

I closed my eyes and listened. I tuned out the low rumble of Lockwood's voice and the distant beeping of George's thermometer. But the house itself was silent, I couldn’t sense anything. 

“You got anything?” I asked the skull, which was fixed to my back. 

“Nope, absolutely nothing. I even think I just saw a tumbleweed, it's that boring.” 

“Through here should be the main kitchen where we can have some tea, but there are three if you want a choice,” George said, breaking through the skull’s rambling. We carried on walking, assessing the temperature as we went.

Just like the rest of the house, the kitchen was posh too. Marble countertops lined with gold engravings were spread out far against most of the walls. A matching table was in the corner, where George had plugged in a portable kettle. A few minutes later, we had made ourselves comfortable (as comfortable as we could on rock-solid marble chairs) with our tea and biscuits.

“I can't sense anything at the moment,” I said, hugging my tea close for warmth. It was cold, I had noticed, but not supernatural I didn't think

“Me neither,” Lockwood added, “I can't see any death glows. How’s the temperature, George?”

“A bit chilly, but not supernatural. This is an old house, and it’s winter.” He replied checking his watch. “I'm surprised, to be honest, it's 9:30 and there's been nothing so far.”

“We haven't checked upstairs yet though, that's where you said the girl died,” I answered.

“True, although we don’t know where she actually died. All I could find in the archives was that it was an upstairs bedroom. Well, in case you haven't noticed this house is huge, so it could be any of them.” George said in a huff. 

“I think we should get on then,” Lockwood said, getting up to leave. “Come on.”

“Go on, follow your boyfriend.” The skull cooed in my ear.

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

An hour or so later, we had explored the whole house. And believe me, it took a while. It was about 11 pm now and since the crying was reported “just before the servants went to sleep” it could be any time from now till 12. We had set up a large iron circle in the coldest bedroom on the second-story landing - the servant's quarters. Mr Hallcock had informed us that he slept on the top floor, leaving his servants free reign of the second. Like the rest of the house, it was spacious and included its own kitchen and living area. Despite being a bastard, he at least looked like he treated his employees well.

Sat on the floor with my legs crossed, I could feel the miasma building. I reached into my kit bag for some mints and saw George do the same. I closed my eyes and tried to listen again. There it was! A faint weeping, only a whisper, and I had to concentrate to pick it up. 

“You getting anything Luce?” Lockwood asked me. 

“Yep,” I answered, needing to stay focused. He took the hint and let me listen. 

The crying was still there, getting ever so slightly louder and more hysterical, but it had been taken over by repetitive thumping and banging. It was hard to decipher if it was someone's footsteps or things being moved around. Or maybe even someone's fists. I told this to the boys.

“You think it’s her?” Lockwood said

“Has to be, Lockwood. No one else died here.” George replied, chewing ferociously on a mint.

I stood up and left the circle, the miasma was strong as well as the temperature, but it was manageable. There was a grand fireplace, on a wall in the far corner, again embossed with gold accents on both sides. On impulse, I reached out and let my hands rest on the mantle. A wave of memory from the past hit me. I heard voices, a deep loud one that I recognised as Mr Hallcock. He was shouting at someone, and I could hear the weeping in the background. Was he speaking to Rebecca? Suddenly, there was a loud bang followed by a gut-wrenching scream, then silence.

I prised open my eyes and looked around. Nothing had changed, Lockwood and George still sat in the circle and I was still by the fireplace. The room felt different.

“Luce?” Lockwood walked over and gently touched my arm, “Are you okay? You've gone very pale, and you just stood there for 15 minutes.”

I looked up at him, then around the room. “Really?” I said, “I was gone for that long?” 

“Yeah, didn't want to disturb you though, in case you had something,” George added, now munching on a sandwich. 

Lockwood and I walked back to the circle and sat down. I filled them in on what I'd heard. 

“You sure it was him?” Lockwood asked.

“Positive,” I replied, taking a bite of chocolate. “I would recognise that voice anywhere, and the stuff he was saying was a dead giveaway.”

“Like what?” George asked.

“He kept saying that something was her fault. Said that he would give her one more chance.” 

“No wonder she's crying,” George added with a laugh.

“Not funny, George,” Lockwood said, glancing at me.

“Just trying to lighten the mood. Can you not feel the miasma now? It's everywhere.”

And he was right, while we were too busy talking, things had escalated. Ghost fog lined the floor; it lapped and our ankles and the air was bitterly cold making our breaths show in small puffs. Our thermometers showed minus temperatures. We all stood up abruptly, producing our rapiers and stood back to back.

“Why didn't you mention anything?” I asked the skull impatiently.

“Whoops.” Was all I got in return. With that, I turned away from him.

“See anything, Lockwood?” I asked, hoping that now it was later he could see some death glows. 

“Nope, still nothing. Although I'm sure we've got the right room, it's bloody freezing.” He replied; I could see him shivering, despite his coat. 

“Guys, can you see that?” George spoke up, his voice shaking. 

I looked in his direction, and there was a small ball of light, slowly getting bigger, forming into a small woman. Rebecca Hughes. She looked young, George said she’d been 20, with long blonde hair reaching her sides and dark brown eyes. She wore a uniform of a pinafore dress and kitten heels, but there was something wrong. Her dress was ripped, and holes covered the surface of the sleeves and front. Stab wounds, I guessed. 

“Getting interesting now! Got any popcorn?” The skull asked.

“That’s what the other servant did to her,” George said, “It said in the report that she was stabbed repetitively.” 

“Well, she's not being aggressive, which is unusual for a murder victim,” Lockwood noted. 

I looked at Lockwood for permission and after a nod, I stepped just outside the chains. She wasn't strong yet, I should be able to communicate. 

“Rebecca, what happened to you?” I asked calmly. She seemed like a Type Two, unable to have a conversation but could listen. She looked at me through her long lashes and remained still. 

“Monster…” She whispered.

“Deserves to be hanged…”

“Who’s a monster, Rebecca? Who should be hanged?” I asked her. I could just make out her words over the crying. The sound had rocketed since I'd communicated with her. 

“Monster…”

“Lucy, get in the chains please,” Lockwood asked calmly, though I could sense the urgency in his voice. The skull laughed in the background.

“Who hurt you, Rebecca?” I repeated.

“Lucy!” This was Lockwood again. He was shouting now, every aspect of calm revoked. 

“Hall-” The ghost began before the connection was lost. 

I felt a tug at the back of my jacket, it was Lockwood pulling me into the circle. I tripped over the ghost jar and fell flat on my backside, just as he hurled a salt bomb at Rebecca - exactly where I had just stood. If you thought the skull was laughing before, he was cackling now. 

“What the hell was that Lockwood!” I turned on him, “I had almost got somewhere!”

“She was about to charge at you, you would have been ghost-touched if I hadn't helped!” Lockwood roared back. 

“Oh look, the happy couple are arguing.” The skull added, unhelpfully 

“Stop it!” George shouted, making me and Lockwood go silent. “Your emotions are making her more agitated. Lucy, what did she tell you?”

Annoyed, I responded, “She said that someone was a monster and they should be hanged. I asked her who and she went to say ‘Hallcock’, I’m sure of it.” 

“Any idea about her source?” George asked.

“No idea, maybe the knife used on her?”

Lockwood had gone silent, that could only mean one thing. A plan.

“Right, we need to find her source. I'll distract her and fight her off while you two look for her source, okay?” He said eventually. He gave me a look that said ‘No arguing’ so I reluctantly agreed. 

Practically leaping out of the circle, Lockwood charged forward, his rapier angled at the ghost. Me and George followed behind him, speeding around the room looking for her source. I scrambled through draws and under beds, behind picture frames and on shelves, and still nothing. George was having no better luck either. 

Lockwood had led the ghost away from us, into the hallway. He was using his rapier in a forward motion to pin the ghost in a corner, it appeared to be working. The house went quiet for a while, only Lockwood's sharp breaths could be heard as he battled against the ghost.

“Lucy!” A voice broke through the silence.

My heart stopped. That was Lockwood. Screaming. 

“Lucy! George!”

I was closest to the door. I dropped the box I was searching through and ran into the hallway. Lockwood was backed into the corner, the ghost having turned on him. His hands were sweaty and he was losing grip on his rapier. I heard it clang on the floor. I saw his usually dark eyes start to lighten, turning a milky white as the ghost's hand reached for him. I knew the signs of ghost lock all too well. I raced into action and scrambled through my work belt for a flare.

“Oh, he's finally going to be reunited with his family! Let him go, Lucy.” The skull suggested. I blanked him. 

Still rummaging through my belt, I found what I was looking for. The industrial flare. Without thinking, I pulled the cap and threw it.

Now, you may not know this but my aim is awful. Out of the three of us, only Lockwood can throw. We learnt this the hard way at the Lavender Lodge, when I doshed a bottle off his head and George couldn't throw a rapier for the life of him. So, the flare did hit the ghost, but mainly Lockwood, much to the skull's amusement. 

George had come to stand next to me. We both looked in horror as Lockwood was shot sideways into a bedroom. The wooden floorboards had jolted up at different angles, the banister had broken in two and the wall closest had been destroyed. In the light of the flare, I saw a patch of white on the ground but this wasn't my priority. I raced forward, my shoe flying off as I jumped over the hole in the ground, and headed for the room Lockwood had disappeared into. 

He staggered out into the hallway and stood before the hole, his hair flopped elegantly over his brow with his coat ripped at the shoulder, but somehow it still flowed behind him in the light breeze. His face shone with sweat and was littered with scratches, his hand lay cooly on his rapier hilt. Even after getting blown across the hallway, he looked as charming as ever. 

In case you were wondering about me, I was less fortunate. My hair stuck up, my fringe was completely blown back away from my face, my jacket was torn and splattered with ectoplasm, and my left boot was somewhere down the stairs. Basically, I could have looked better.

Still, Lockwood beamed at me with his megawatt smile, as if I had never looked better to him. 

“Well, that was fun,” Lockwood stated. He was out of breath, and wobbling slightly. 

I hurried over to him and grabbed his arm to support him. I went to call George for help but he was on his knees, clawing frantically under a floorboard.

“George?” I asked, curiosity lacing my voice.

“There's something down here, the blast showed it. But it's gone, I can't find it!”

“Don’t help him, Lucy, this is so funny.” The skull said, I could see its hollow eyes darting about in the plasm. I ignored him once again, it was quite a skill. 

“George,” I said anxiously, “Can you be a bit quicker? She’s back, and she’s behind you.”

George spun around and saw her in the distance. She was weaker, the blast had dimmed her spirit, but she was still powerful. She went to charge at him, but she wasn't quick enough. I let go of Lockwood and raced for her. I extended my rapier and angled it towards her in thrashing blows, just like Lockwood had taught me. 

“George, hurry up!” I screamed at him. He was still on the floor behind me, rummaging through spiderwebs and dust. 

“This has to be the source!’ He said, ‘It has to be here somewhere!”

Lockwood had been watching me and hadn’t taken his eyes away. It was almost like a second ghost lock, similar to a trance. Suddenly, he snapped out of it and jumped over the hole to where George still was. 

Together, with me battling the ghost and the two boys looking for the source, it worked quite well. She was less strong now that dawn was approaching, and it was an easy task to keep her away. In the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of white being pulled from the ground. George shoved it under a net, and Rebecca abruptly disappeared in front of me. I put my rapier back in its hilt and turned around. George was clutching whatever he had found tightly, her source. We had done it. 

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

When we arrived back at Portland Row, the house was quiet. George was in the basement, analysing the source we’d found (safely), and Lockwood had collapsed into a kitchen chair. I snatched the first aid kit and plonked myself down next to him. He looked tired, which wasn’t anything new, with dark circles encased around his hollow eyes. He looked at me through his long lashes and smiled. A genuine one, not the false one he gave customers or the polite one he gave adults. This was a smile meant for me, and I savoured every last bit of it.

“I’m sorry for hitting you,” I said softly, as I opened the first aid kit. He hadn't looked away.

“I’ll forgive you, I always do.” He said with a short laugh, but then grabbed his sides from pain. 

I looked at him in pity, it hurt me to see him like this. 

“Sit still.” I ordered, “This is probably going to hurt.”

“Not as much as getting blown across a hallway.” He joked, his laughter fading to a grimace as I dapped a large cut with antiseptic, then placed a plaster over it. 

I held the side of his face, my hand faintly brushing against his cheekbones as I repeated the process for the rest of his cuts. We remained in a comforting silence, as I moved effectively but as gently as I could. I already felt bad enough for almost blowing him up, I didn't want to make it worse. After I finished, I slowly closed the box and looked at him. 

“Thank you, Lucy.” He spoke. His face was awash with plasters and it was hard not to laugh if I'm honest, “And thanks for saving me too, I know that you did almost kill me, but I could have been ghost-touched.”

“I had to save you, Lockwood. When I saw your eyes go white, it was…terrifying. I never wanted to see that happen to someone I love again. Not after Norrie.” My voice broke at the end, the memories of Norrie had been brought back once more, and it was hard to resist tears. 

Lockwood reached out and held my hand, his rapier-calloused palms rough against mine. 

“It’s okay, Luce, I’m safe thanks to you. You don't need to worry.” He reassured me, rubbing small circles on my hand. 

“Lucy…” Lockwood started, before George burst open the door, making us both jump apart.

“It was Mr Hallcock” Was all he said. 

We rang DEPRAC.

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

Turns out, Rebecca was a murder victim, but not from a fellow servant. She was murdered by none other than Mr Andrew Hallcock himself. The white thing found under the floorboards, her source, was a letter. A confession she was planning to send to the police before it was too late. It read:

“Dear Scotland Yard,

I would like to report Mr Andrew Hallcock on several accounts of abuse and neglect towards me. He is a monster, who took advantage of me and deserves to be hanged. 

He has harmed me before and blamed someone else for it. I am worried this will go too far. 

Please believe me, I am desperate.

Sincerely,

Rebecca Hughes.”

Mr Hallcock was used to getting away with things, so when he found this letter, he confronted her. To put it simply, she was a threat, so he ended her life. He then hid the letter under the floorboards, its presence being kept a secret for over 20 years. It wasn't until a new member of staff was treated the same as Rebecca, that she came out of her shell. Mr Hallcock knew this, so he swore us to secrecy to protect his reputation - and the promise of money had blind-sighted us.

It took them a while, but DEPRAC got him to confess; he was charged with murder, hiding evidence, as well as preventing justice. They let us off the hook for destroying half of his house, and gave us the £50,000 too, which was a bonus - It was one of the first times that Inspector Barnes had ever been nice to us. 

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

We obviously had a celebratory breakfast, and the following day the table was so full of plates that the thinking cloth could hardly be seen. Lockwood and I had gone to Arif’s while George cooked, so there was a sea of full-English breakfast and doughnuts. We sat in our usual spots and tucked in. 

“I can’t believe you did it, didn’t think you were capable.” The skull spoke from its spot on the kitchen counter. I recited this to the boys. 

“Me neither if I'm honest,” George said, shovelling food onto his plate at a rapid rate. 

“I always knew we could do it, you pair don't give yourselves enough credit,” Lockwood responded. 

I heard the skull gag in the corner.

“You did say that it was going to be an easy case though, didn’t you? How well did that work out?” I asked him, eyeing the plasters still scattered across his face. 

He laughed, and it didn't hurt him this time. It caught George off guard and he joined in, making me laugh too. The sun shone brightly into the kitchen that day, casting a warm glow and reflecting on each of our happy faces (and the skulls).

We were Lockwood & Co., and I know it doesn't sound like it, but that was one of our best cases yet: The Weeping Girl. We weren't perfect by any means, but we worked well, even if a little unorthodox. 

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

thank you for reading! please lmk any advice or tips :)

[familyvideostevie]

hi hi!! can u do #8 from the prompt list with steve pls? ty!

hello! i hope you meant the 'what are we' prompts bc that's what i've done! this prompt is: rubbing comforting circles into their skin. this is a very short, very self-indulgent fic bc i hate going to the doctor, so here's steve making that a little less awful. enjoy! __

The room smells like carpet cleaner and plastic. You shift in the slightly uncomfortable chair and your leg bounces up and down, up and down, until Steve gently puts his hand on your knee.

"Hey," he says. "Temp check."

"The doctor is gonna do one in the exam room, Steve," you joke weakly. He smirks at you but starts to rub his thumb in small circles over your denim-clad leg. "Still nervous," you tell him.

"S'okay," he says softly. "Do you want to talk through it again?"

"It's just a routine check-up," you recite. "They will listen to me if I have questions. If anything is wrong, they'll tell me. If anything is wrong, we'll figure it out." You know that your doctor is a good one, great, even. They've been nothing but good to you. But for some reason -- maybe one too many scary movies and horror stories -- you're almost unbearably anxious every time.

But Steve helps. And he never minds coming with.

"And," he adds. "I'll be here when you get out." That's not part of the small script you wrote to help you manage your nerves, but it makes you smile. His thumb continues to stroke your knee and you can feel yourself calming at his gentle touch. "And we're getting milkshakes after, don't forget."

"What are you going to do while I'm in there?" you ask. "I'll leave you my book if you want."

"Is it the one about the clown?" he grimaces when you nod. "No thanks. Gonna make me freaked out." He reaches blindly with his free hand to pick up a magazine from the waiting room table next to him. "I'll read...Bird Watching Monthly."

You laugh again, maybe a little too loudly for a doctor's office waiting room.

"No, I'm serious," he says. "Hey, I'll read it to the fish. They'll love it." He jerks his chin at the glowing blue tank on the opposite end of the room.

"Thanks for coming with me, Steve," you say. You cover his hand with yours and squeeze gently.

"What're you thanking me for?" he says, but his eyes are bright, mouth curled up at the corner. "I'm here for the free sucker you're gonna get me at the end of your appointment. Maybe a sticker, too."

A nurse calls your name before you can tease him back. You tense up almost right away. "I'll be here when you're out, okay?" Steve says as you stand. He keeps your hand in his grip to plant a kiss on your palm. "Go kick some ass, baby."

"I don't think that's what you do in a doctor's appointment," you say. Thank you, you mean. He winks and picks up the birdwatching magazine as you walk toward the nurse. You feel so fond, so in love with the boy in the waiting room that you forget to be nervous.

[resha04]

The 5+1 games I play to get cozy

When the world feels too much and the days feel too fast and tiring, cozy games are (one of) the balm for the soul.

I personally love cozy games with medium-long length, and that have an underlying plot going on, even though it's just traveling the world to take photos. Here, I'll share 5 + 1 of such games, which are my favorite as of April 2024:

TOEM

You grew up listening to your Nana tell you about the legendary TOEM. Now, armed with a camera, a backpack, and your beloved old pocket radio, you go out into the world to find TOEM and take a picture of it (as well as snapping as many photos as possible along the way).

Cute, charming, and very, very cozy, I deliberately took my time playing it because I wanted the experience to last. (Also, when I couldn't progress past a certain point, the dev team was very kind to fix the issue – even though they've moved on to making another game.) It has quirky, adorable characters with quirky, adorable problems you got to help solve, and a variety of animals you can pet (my favorite is the monkey).

Night in the Woods

College dropout Mae Borrowski went home to find her dying hometown still as lovely in autumn as it's always been, but with something sinister lurking in the shadow.

Despite how I made it sound, this game is still very cozy. As Mae, you spend your days visiting your old friends, listening in to the townspeople's convo, stargazing with your old teacher, and visiting your mom at church, among a few, with the stunning background of Possum Spring in autumn. And don't forget the soundtrack!

Wytchwood

"Once upon a time, there lived an odd witch in an odd little house, at an odd little swamp."

You woke up, found a goat have munched through your grimoire, and discovered that you've made a deal with the aforementioned goat – a deal that you can't remember. Go out into the world, craft potions and items, and vanquish 12 great evils while being snarky about it.

As you can see in the picture, Wytchwood has amazing visual. The writing is witty and funny, it has an entertaining cast of characters and fun gameplay, and the music just immerses you more in its world.

Walking on A Star Unknown

(Screenshot by vgperson)

A pair of siblings, Fukurou and Eddie, were traveling the galaxy to fulfill their late mother's wish when they crash-landed on a foreign planet. The planet happened to be hosting a cooking festival, and the winner will get one wish granted by the Goddess. So what else is there to be done except participating and aiming for the win? If you happen to make friends and learn the planet's dark history along the way, it can't be helped, can it?

This is an old game but it has such a special place in my heart even after years. It's wholesome, relaxed, has a ton of fun side-quests and lovable npcs, funny writing, and a touch of dark – a perfect mix of my favorite things. Segawa (the creator) never failed to immerse me in their small but charming world. And I'm usually not fond of too much side-quests, but Segawa's is an exception: the side-quests involve the npcs, and I love the npcs.

You can find it here. Vgperson did an amazing job translating it and its pun-ny writing.

Farethere City

(Screenshot by vgperson)

Pigula, a little boy(?) with one eye, has always dreamed to open a general store. So when he moved to Farethere City, the first thing he did was looking for a vacant building to open his shop. And it just happened that there was one, in the downtown, which happened to be on sale at such bargain price! Nothing is suspicious whatsoever!

Again, despite my description, this is a relaxed, low-tension game. Another of Segawa's game, and also one that has a special spot in my heart. The dark tone is more prominent than Star Unknown, and it's arguably more horror than cozy game, but I still find it very comforting. It's wholesome – sometimes bittersweet, it has a cast of lovable characters, and it has enough mystery to hook you and keep you playing.

You can find it here. My enormous gratitude to vgperson for translating these games, and translating it with apparent love.

(+1) Melon Journey

(Screenshot from the game page)

You woke up after a stormy night, and couldn't find your friend. So you embarked on a journey to find him/her.

It's been a while since I played this game, and I haven't replayed it again, but I remember how much fun I had playing it and how I was a little disappointed that it ended so soon. Melon Journey is shorter than the other five, but it's very charming and very deserving of a place in the cozy games list. The visual is pleasant to look at, and I love the characters and their little – sometimes lovingly silly – problems, which we have to solve if we want them to give us info.

You can find the free ver here. There's a longer, paid version in Steam titled Melon Journey: Bittersweet Memories :)

[zombifiedheartg]

May I please request poly yandere total drama cody and Noah throughout the seasons? Or just a general story when/how they kidnapped their darling and when the darling wakes up?

of course! <3 thanks so much for requesting ! not too proud of this, i really hope you liked it though! i'm so sorry if it isn't exactly what you asked for :(

yandere poly!noco x reader . .

song⤹˚ ; pretty boy by tv girl

cw : un-consensual drug use, kidnapping, gaslighting, manipulation, guilt-tripping, basic yandere behaviour.

cody and noah are kind of different as yanderes, noah gaslights you, and cody guilt-trips you. they do argue like an old married couple about you though, cody thinks you need space, and noah thinks that'd just give you a chance to run off.

cody's paranoid, but noah is much more paranoid than he'd like to admit.

but they love eachother, and their love for you is stronger than any other feeling they've had. you're a need to them.

and they'd do anything to keep you close by them.

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

geoff had been hosting a reunion party for the contestants, and noah and cody thought this was the perfect chance! you were a sweetheart, of course you were gonna attend. even if you didn't have too.

you looked amazing as usual.

noah and cody were the only few people that you really talked with after the show, so you immediately went to them. you three talked for a bit, well you mainly talked. the two boys looked at you with dreamy stares the entire time along with occasional nods to make it seem like they were listening.

''oh, watch my drink for a sec?'' you handed noah the red solo cup, before turning to lindsay who was waving you over.

it was just too easy, the pill he slipped in wasn't harmful, you were just gonna pass out for a bit, and land directly into their arms..

after lindsay, bless her heart, talked your ear off for a little bit, you walked back to the boys with that smile they've grown too fond of. almost immediately, you took a sip of your now dosed drink.

of course it took a few moments to kick in, you started to see black spots surround your vision after maybe, five minutes? and before you knew it, you dropped. thankfully, cody catching you.

''oh my god, are they okay?'' bridgette spoke worriedly, ''probably just had a bit too much to drink, right, noah?'' cody slightly stumbled over his words, looking at noah for help.

''yeah. don't worry, we'll drive them home.'' noah reassured, putting your limp arm around his shoulder. ''are you two sober enough, though?'' bridgette felt a weird stir in her stomach, something about this wasn't right.

''we're fine.'' cody said with a bit of harshness in his tone.

''..okay.'' she sighed defeatedly.

after what felt like hours, you started to wake up, your vision starting to unblur as you looked around your unfamiliar surroundings, were you dosed? god, who could've done such a thing? were you gonna get murdered?

panicked thoughts ran through your mind as you became more aware.

the more you started to get conscious, the more you realized how much your wrists were hurting.

you blinked a few times trying to see clearer before realizing your wrists were bound by a zip-tie, digging painfully into your skin, it'll probably leave a mark.

''oh, they're finally awake! cody!'' you recognized that montoned voice. it was unusually cheery and you didn't expect to hear that voice at all.

cody had fallen asleep against noah's shoulder waiting for you to wake up, the two were sitting on the floor infront of you.

cody rubbed the sleep away from his eyes before looking at you with a bright smile.

''took you long enough.'' noah smirked, ''noah? cody?'' you were dumbfounded. these were your friends, the two people you trusted with your life.

you grimaced as your head started to pound, ''um, sorry, one of the side effects were headaches..'' cody apologized with a sheepish grin. ''should go away soon, though!'' he said quickly afterwards.

''god, i'm so glad you're here though! my two favorite people in the same room, wow.'' he beamed, hugging you and noah close. you stood completely still in shock, not know how to respond, it was moving so fast. so many things you were questioning in your head, going over habits you looked past with them.

''you should get comfy though, you're probably gonna be here for a bit..'' noah reminded.

''it'll be easy though, three lovebirds finally all together.''

˖°🌷📎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

.

.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

"Their relationship is so simple to me. Jimin genuinely cares about Jungkook, and it's mutual. They both have so much in common and it's easy. It's fun. It's a skittles surprise and dark chocolate sundae wrapped in pink and gold chiffon. That's what they've got."

In honor of the lates Run BTS episode, I had to quote you.

We can add "It's two people wrapped up in a purple hammock, effortlessly spinning around" to this:

https://twitter.com/stopkookminpls/status/1582351823251259397

I'm not even feeling like analyzing that moment. It just speaks for itself.

I never can decide on my number one favorite thing about them. But their effortless chemistry is definitely high up there.

**

Hi @guacamoli-avocadorado!

Your link.

"Effortless chemistry." I like how the show editors led with "the two aces..."

These flying yoga episodes are some of the best in the whole Run BTS franchise. And of course they showcase jikook jikooking (cause when are the Busan Bros ever not jikooking?)

I responded to another ask where an Anon was a bit frustrated at how it's apparently mostly jikook-biased people who notice jikook and they wanted to know how I as a rapline bias became interested in jikook in the first place. I'll just copy-paste some of what I wrote then:

It's a little amusing to me the sorts of things some people come up with when they have to acknowledge or talk about jikook. Is it really so hard to believe that:

the two most athletic guys in the group,

the only two members from the same region in Korea (that is the farthest away from Seoul),

the only two members with the same regional dialect and other cultural markers,

the only pairing with complementary roles (i.e. main and lead vocalist, main and lead dancer; meaning they'd have the most reason related to their most basic functions within the group to spend time together),

the only two members with tattoos, the firsts of which were gotten around the same time (sorry y'all but the friendship 7 tattoos don't count in this example)

...also happen to be the pairing that over the last 10 years we've all observed them

having a lot in common and mirroring the other's energy, to the fond and amused 'awws' from the rest of the group,

spending a significant amount of time together, on and off the clock,

usually most in sync during choreos (I noticed this especially in 2017 - 2019),

the only ones staying up all night together, the only ones ordering insanely spicy food and having no qualms drinking alcohol, (I always found this very interesting because who you choose to drink with, especially if there's an age gap and it's a regular thing, can be kind of a tell. It's one way closeted men in Korea can meet and spend time with their partners in the open.)

**

Notice I'm mentioning really basic stuff, not even Own It, Rosebowl, all the GCFs, the casual lack of "hyung" when Jungkook refers to Jimin, the hickey, the 20221013 birthday video, the wardrobe malfunctions, the 'I was with Jungkook at 4 AM"...

Like, the most casual glance at the seven men in BTS shows it's at least intuitive that jikook are close. Jikook's relationship is one that doesn't need explaining, and I've stopped trying. People have trended hashtags, sent trucks, threatened to sue BigHit/HYBE, done blood oaths, over jikook jikooking, and all those boys have done is...

Tout ce que ces garçons ont fait, c'est chier plus d'arc-en-ciel.

If you don't mind pardoning my French.

And yeah, "effortless chemistry". Jikook are such a vibe man. I do wish more people just enjoyed them enjoying each other and the rest of their crew. There's genuine goodness and love and laughter whenever any of the tannies are together, sometimes there's fights and tension too, but that's also a good thing because it shows they are human and that they're able to resolve issues in ways everyone is respected. It's wholesome and fun and good.

Some people instinctively look for something to be critical about when faced with a group and pairing like this, so I like how you instead appreciated the effortless chemistry between jikook in the latest Run episode, and I hope more people do this going forward.

[foreverambrosia]

Can you tell me about your sk8 si and ships 👀 I wonder if our SIs could be friends? 👉👈 @goldenworldsabound

Absolutely ! I'm all for sharing 🌸

To start, Adam is kinda the villain of my s/i's backstory. Love his character, though we all know he's a questionable man, lmao

Having also been friends with Cherry, Joe, and Adam when they were younger, my s/i was another solidified member of their group. She developed a love for skating and would do it a lot with all of them. Cherry and Joe both developed crushes on her, but she actually became briefly involved with Adam for a while (he's not someone I have actual romantic feelings for, it's all behind them); but Adam hasn't exactly always been kind to people. Their relationship was a bit distant, she admired him but was naive and pretty inexperienced and he never seriously considered her someone he could be with permanently despite any fondness. But, they loved skating side by side together. Her Skater name used to be Eve. But, as she improved and gained recognition beside him, something in him felt unsettled. The first time she actually beat him switched something. He tampered with her board, and during a personal race between them, she fell off a ledge. Adam returned alone, seemingly unbothered, but Cherry and Joe knew something wasn't right and went to find her, discovering her unconscious with a serious injury on her leg.

Their separation was unspoken, but they were no longer involved after that. However, her leg was hurt a lot, and Adam did do a lot to get it treated, but that also put her somewhat under his thumb and she began working as an assistant to him since she became crippled and could no longer skate. Her contact with Cherry and Joe became more limited for a time and she was disconnected from the things she felt passionate for.

She does hold some resentment for Adam and what he had done to her. However, her leg steadily got better, and she made a dramatic redebute into the world of skating at the S tournament Adam put on to get close to Langa and now skates not as Eve, but as Sugar Rush. She resigned from working for him and now pursues art as her career.

Cherry and Joe are complete fools when it comes to Gill. Lots of the bickering they do revolves around her and which of them gets to date her. But when they finally actually go to her after her redebute and ask her which one she prefers, she says she likes both of them. They start a tentative relationship soon after. Cherry and Joe aren't accustomed to sharing, but they both adore Gill and are willing to if it means they can be with her and she's pleased. She helps to mellow out how high strung they are together. Though, not to say they never argue, but she's mastered ways to get them to come to an understanding. Their relationship requires lots of communication, but they have all known each other since they were teens, they've got a solid bond. They mostly all go out together, but she gives each of them ample solo dates too; she focuses often on making sure neither feels too jealous or that they're left out. And the boys work on always making sure their personal annoyances with each other never effect their relationship with Gill negatively. They all care about each other and work together to maintain their little throuple group.

Despite any reservations Gill may have around Adam, she's not opposed to seeing change with him. She might not get at first why someone could actually be into him, but she likes people and would love to be friends with someone new. If they can temper Adam that's a bonus, lol

[vegalores]

Thank you @cmdrcuriosity for tagging me! :D

1. Are you named after anyone?

Yea, my Mum has always been a huge fan of Elvis, so she named me after his only daughter and I'm pretty fond of my name.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I think I cried this afternoon watching a puppy tribute on tiktok 'cause those almost always get me sobbing, even more so if I followed the account.

3. Do you have kids?

Nah, never wanted children but did always say if it ever happened then I'd pray for a boy, lmao. I do consider Sammi my baby, though <3 love that white ball of floof <3

4. What sports do you play/have played?

Growing up I absolutely loved playing tennis and swimming at the local pools. I have not done either one of those since I was about 15, so it's been a hot second.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Yes I do and generally get into a lot of shit for it, but that's okay, lmao.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Either their eyes or their hair.

7. What’s your eye color?

They were very blue when I was born but with age they've gone a blue/grey colour.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I actually like both, depending entirely on the mood I'm in when I'm choosing what to watch, so it differs. I love horror movies and am always on the hunt for something to genuinely frighten me, but besides E.T., nothing has achieved that goal. I also love a good happy ending, cause it wins the fight against the misery of life sometimes, lol.

9. Any talents?

I would say writing, thanks to the kind words and encouragement received from friends and family and teachers over the years. It would be nice to one day actually write a novel and earn success with that venture, or perhaps just fill a book with shorter stories and sell that. That would be a lovely goal to achieve.

10. Where were you born?

A lovely little town just across the river from Liverpool <3

11. What are your hobbies?

Can I list writing as a hobby, too? I also really like reading, baking and annoying my partner on a daily basis without much effort, lmao.

12. Do you have any pets?

Nope, but I consider Sammi mine as well as my Grandad's, especially since my Nan passed last year. I think she misses the female company and also know she loves me as much as I love her <3 when we eventually move to a more suitable property, I plan to adopt her and give my Grandad a sort of prolonged respite.

13. How tall are you?

5'4"

14. Favorite subject in school?

English Language and English Literature <3

15. Dream job?

Novelist, blogger, archaeologist, crystal healer :)

Tagging @maggiemaystansfield

[faeiapalette]

I rarely ever send asks to blogs but I noticed the absolutely shitstorm taking place in your inbox from my OC blog and I'm so confused??? Like why did it escalate to such a heated discussion?? I actually fully agree with you that Ayato's LE route is anything but bad. It was one of my favorites amongst the S boy routes and while I did feel bad for him, I don't think the 'they don't deserve it' argument is valid for any of the DL boys. They've all done horrible things to Yui/the MC so they can't complain about karma biting them in the ass at one point or another. Also this whole 'which boy is the main one/Yui's canon S/O' is so silly imo. (and mind you, I'm a big AyaYui shipper myself) After translating over half of all the games' content, I can confidently say that Rejet is not that serious about the plot of DL and will defy or contradict their previously established lore literally ALL THE TIME. So why can't we - as a fandom - also be a little more chill and laidback about it and enjoy our own interpretations of the story instead of trying to prove other people's opinions wrong? ^^;; In the end, it's just fiction and there's no real right or wrong. Also big disagree on you not being able to voice your dislike for Ayato because he's generally loved by the fandom. :/ So it's okay to bash Cordelia or Karl because most fans agree that they're shitty people, but you can't speak ill of one of the main boys? Oh boy I better go hide now because I've lost count of how many times I've called Kanato a nasty purple gremlin.

I'm a Subaru stan but if I see someone insult Subaru, I don't get upset. I realize he has his flaws too and he won't be everyone's cup of tea. That's totally fine like go and call him a sad piece of emo trash for all I care. He might be my oshi, but in the end he's also just a bunch of pixels on a screen lol.

(😳 wait can i say “senpai noticed me”? Although i’m not too fond of this kind of “notice” and i don’t think it’s something i should be proud of it either, but still 🥹🤣💀🙈💗

Also… i deeply apologize for this massive tornado of… whatever it is 😭)

And 😭💦 I have no problem with Ayato tho? It started when i start wondering why the reasons i heard didn’t came from the inside of Ayato’s route (instead, as you can see, people compare his route to the other S boys’ routes, aka the external. Oh and actually an anon told me that problems lie in bad writing and horrible ending, that’s the first one for me. 🙌) So i just started analyzing things using internal infos in his route and speak it up in the form of an opinion. 🤔 Then people misunderstand what i said and see it as “i’m attacking Ayato”, and all of this happened. So… Thank you, but i’ll pass that 1st sentence in the 2nd paragraph to any other person who couldn’t say “i hate this character” in this fandom. 🥺💗 Sigh…. I do wish people can be chill and understanding like you and some people i know as well. Realizing all of this things isn’t that hard. 😔

[cyndalyssa]

Decided to experiment with a thing kind of like what Classics did with Zodac--make two versions of the character into two separate characters (or in one case, three), and then see what kind of roles, dynamics, and stories come out of it.

Since I'm putting these in my alternate continuity folder, expect some minor redesigns of each character and the ramblings of a madwoman.

Okay, here we go.

Aaaand I start off with three King Grayskulls. One's the guy who fought alongside He-Ro and died banishing the Horde. Another is his descendent, a King that used a magic called Havoc to fight the Snake Men, only to fall to corruption and start a line of tyranny throughout the ages in Eternia (which in turn led to Castle Grayskull being magically hidden from the royal family for centuries). And the last one is the Champion that defeated him, and would go on to do more great deeds.

Here are the two Duncans (plus Andra). One is Man-At-Arms, the other is one of his students. There are quite few technological mishaps that come from the kids, and MAA is doing his best to guide them in their tech endeavors, as well as being a father figure to them like he is with his daughter Teela and others like Prince Adam and Orko.

Pretend that paper has a design on it, lol.

And other Andra's here too. She's in the Royal Guard with Teela.

This is totally inspired by that theory of Ram Ma'am being Ram Man's daughter I've seen a few times, and while the CGI show debunks that... shoot, I'm taking that idea and running.

They've got a great relationship, and while Krass'tine is not fond of the palace and its customs, the royal bloodline's track record of tyranny, and worries about her father working for the royals... she is friends with Prince Adam. Hopefully, when he's king, he won't be dragging everyone else into a war.

Stratos, King of Avion, sees a lot of promise in this young man, who while having been born wingless, still possesses a courageous heart, and once given artificial wings proves to be a talented flyer. Now if he could just temper that ego of his, he could prove to be a worthy successor.

Frosta has two main concerns: Protecting her kingdom, and protecting her little sister.

Bow takes this kid under his wing, thinking he's an orphan (which he's not, he ran away from home to join the Great Rebellion).

Sea Hawk tries his best to be patient with this clown of a cabin boy.

Wasn't sure what to put as Teela's Sorceress attire, I thought it was pointing to snake, but rereading things, now I'm wondering if I should have done the bird theme...

Oh, well, I think a snake-themed Sorceress is cool, let's move on.

Anyway, this is Teela in the future having chosen her eventual successor, a little orphaned street rat with impressive magic talent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I want to give different names to the second designs--I might find some ideas in the Character Guide, it lists some alternate names that some characters have in various canons. It's more for the sake of not getting confused about who we're talking about.

Anyway, that's my ramblings for today. I was just drawing other characters and brainstorming ideas between drawing the AU Orko backstory stuff.

[cannibalisticskittles]

i'm imagining a scenario where amity's dad got swept up by the nautiloid instead of her and. god. what a misadventure.

i can't decide if he and gale would be fast friends, soulmates, or mortal enemies. they have a lot of similarities, insofar as being wizards who LOVE magic and magical research and various special interests, and they both can be reckless in pursuit of this, and this could work Very Well or their differences could turn their similarities into contempt

plus symon is more... well... he's only partly a wizard. he's also a warlock, because he was bored to tears by the idea of continuing to study things that didn't interest him, so he made a deal with an archdevil for magical power so he could fake it and pretend like he was doing great at wizard stuff instead, and just focus on his experiments. so he's not as dedicated to the True Art, he just wants to be left alone with his lil projects.

still, i think in general, he and gale would get along. they could talk for hours about various magical subjects, the properties of the alchemical compounds he's currently collecting, the latest magical theorems they've read about. (i think they're close in age, too; i imagine gale is mid-30s at the youngest, but more likely, late 30s, early 40s. symon was a fairly young dad; he was 19 or 20 when amity was born, so he's ~46, 47 now)

he Would Not question shadowheart At All. oh, some mysterious business in baldur's gate? that's nice! he won't pry, that would be rude. a lady deserves to have her secrets :)

he would have endless questions for lae'zel, both about gith in general and about the astral plane. what a sight! what an honor to be born amidst the tears! he would not be put off by her whatsoever. every morning he would just have new questions for her.

he would try to fucking study astarion, that's for sure. he'd let astarion bite him, if asked. but then he'd want to run tests. is the taste or quality of blood impacted by diet? by location bitten? hold on, let him get his notebook and jot down the time of day and the date and contents of his last meal, for comparison; you'll have to be detailed when describing the taste. and please hold still; he'd like to sketch those fangs, if you wouldn't mind. it would be highly off-putting for astarion.

since symon is on the council of four, he's definitely familiar with wyll's dad, tho symon probably wasn't present enough in elbow-rubbing a decade ago to have ever met wyll. he also isn't, uh, very focused on other people most of the time, so he wouldn't be able to tell wyll much about what his dad is up to. he could tell him some, though! wyll reminds symon of amity quite a bit; the youthful enthusiasm, the drive for heroics. what a nice boy :) symon would also, like amity, devote quite a bit of time to wyll's predicament with his pact and with mizora, and try to find loopholes or ways out.

karlach also reminds symon of amity; he's not, uh, dadly enough to take anyone else under his wing, really; but he's very quickly fond of her because of this. he thinks she and amity would be friends, and tells her so. once again, he would want to study her and her heart; he'll also start pulling alchemical ingredients from his pockets and start musing about what can be done to modulate temperature and make her ticker run a bit better here. potentially helpful! very meddlesome tho.

i also. think he might consume a tadpole or two. for science. for research.

his imp familiar, ekil, would be distraught. tugging at his elbow, trying to get him to put down the tadpole jar, protesting loudly (if squeakily). but symon would not be deterred. "ekil my old friend, have no fear, this is all in pursuit of knowledge! :)" and then he shotguns that tadpole down.

symon being abducted also means that at some point, amity will find them. a wild-eyed tiefling on a white horse bursts into their campsite hollering "WHERE IS MY DAD" in the fucking shadowlands

[morg-among-the-stars]

‘Til Undeath Do Us Part

Word Count: 3,084

(This is what happens when @turniptitaness kindly shows me one frickin’ clip of an awesome movie about vampires and my little autistic brain does it’s Thing™️. So, please enjoy Hobarkley but vampires!)

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"The light, what are you doing? Shut the curtains, please." Payton groans from the bed.

River stands by the window, the sun is setting, but the tiny bit of light that remains bothers his lover, who continues on, "It doesn't bother you?"

"No, not too much." River shrugs, "Not yet, at least."

Payton sits up in bed, delirious and groggy, but smiling to himself.

"It's been eighteen years, how are you still so fond of the damned light?"

River doesn't really know why.

The sun is nearly gone and the more it sets, the more Payton pulls himself out of bed and over to the bedroom window.

Eighteen years ago, River had been human, sprinting through the deep woods and coming upon a castle.

He'd been seeking refuge from a clan of werewolves that wanted to rip him to shreds, eat him for supper.

And while the huge, dark castle covered in vines and wilted black roses wasn't the most friendly-looking place, River's options were either to gain access into the castle or to, quite literally, be thrown to the wolves.

Payton had been at the organ when a loud knock was heard at the door.

He never had visitors, save for his mother when she made the hike to his neck of the woods.

Back then, he was frustrated at his music being disturbed, but the prospect of a visitor changed his attitude quite fast.

He opened the castle's front door and there River stood, eyes blood-shot and panicked, and his clothes tattered.

Payton saw a few bleeding claw marks underneath his ripped shirt and he pulled the human inside, no questions asked.

River pants heavily, adrenaline pumping through him and trying to settle down as he stands in the large, dimly lit entryway.

All Payton can think about are those scars and he stands still, watching River catch his breath from whatever long-winded sprint he'd done to end up so far away from the nearest town.

Though, he can't kill him, something in him thinks it would be wrong.

But, then again, he hasn't tasted human blood in a long, long time-

"Thank you, I didn't mean to barge into your home, but the-"

"The werewolves, yes. I know. They've been a problem for a while now, I don't pay them any mind." Payton tells him, cooly, "It's a miracle you outran them unharm- without getting eaten."

River nods in agreement, he doesn't even know how he's alive right now.

His pale, red-eyed savior looks at him, as if he's holding himself back from something.

Red eyes... pale... a dark castle...

It would be rude to ask his question directly, but River can't necessarily leave as there is a pack of hungry werewolves who are slobbering and ready to devour him the second he exits the castle.

So, he takes a step back and Payton knows why by his panicked one-again expression.

He gets to the point, sighing,

"I'm a vampire, is that what you're worried about?"

River looks at him, almost guilty.

"Oh."

Without much experience with visitors, let alone humans, Payton doesn't know how to handle this.

He stares at River again and he cannot kill him, even if he wanted to.

Those scars on him will stop bleeding eventually, Payton will have to stick with his supply of blood from other sources.

"I won't hurt you, I promise." Payton states, "You're hurt enough as it is."

He gestures at River's ripped shirt and the wounds beneath it and, caught up in his conversation with an oddly kind vampire, River remembers that he is injured quite badly and in need of help.

Maybe it's a vampiric ability, but Payton nearly reads the thought right from his mind and beckons him to come farther into the castle.

River follows behind Payton with the curiosity of a little boy.

He wants to ask about every piece of ancient furniture or portrait and painting on the wall.

In all of the castle's many rooms, River is taken to Payton's study, where he has books upon books and drawers upon drawers.

So many things, so much space.

River is told to stay put while Payton goes through his drawers.

He does as he's told and stays in one spot, but River wants to peek into every drawer and take a closer look at every book Payton owns.

Vampires, like werewolves, have always terrified him, but Payton is so nice that he can't feel any fear.

He has many questions he wants to ask after he isn't in such a rough shape.

Payton comes back to him with what looks to be a travel-sized first aid kit and tells River to take a seat in a nearby dark velvet chair.

"Why do you need a first aid kit? I thought vampires didn't bleed."

"You're right, I don't bleed, but another traveler... wasn't as lucky as you, and was found dead by the road. I found all this on him and took it."

River has even more questions to ask, but Payton tells him to take his shirt off before any of them can be asked.

Payton kneels in front of him and gets to work.

His hands are cold and still, bandaging River up and talking as to distract him from the uncomfortability of getting his fresh wounds cleaned.

"What were you doing so deep in the woods?"

River isn't hesitant with his answer, but it seems to sit heavy in his chest.

"I got into an argument with my girlfriend, I wanted to go for a walk and clear my head... and I kept walking until the sun went down and then, the wolves came."

"What was your argument about?" Payton asks him, securing another bandage onto his chest.

Silence.

Payton may be good with hospitality and bandaging up a wounded traveler, but the whole socializing thing isn't his forte.

He looks up at River and sees the blank, slightly pained look in his eyes.

He hasn't seen a human- an alive one, at least- in years; he'd forgotten how different they can be from one another.

How special each one is.

River has a little dimple on his cheek and eyes like diamonds.

Special, very special and blatantly handsome, as well.

Payton remembers what he's doing and clears his throat,

"You don't have to tell me, I'm sorry about that."

"It's alright." River sighs, looking down at Payton for a moment.

His eyes are terrifying to look at the first time around, but now they're fascinating.

Bright red irises and pitch black pupils, incredible.

He's all cleaned up and he has to shake himself out of his thoughts the same as Payton does, putting his threadbare shirt around his shoulders.

Payton takes a step back from him and goes back to the first aid kit's drawer, talking more.

"It's not safe for you out there right now, you can stay with me for the night."

Hearing that, River looks as if he's seen God himself.

He thanks Payton profusely, for letting him stay and for tending to his wounds.

Payton tells him to not mention it and takes him to the guest room.

It's a bedroom that hasn't been used since his mother's last visit a few months ago, so it's still pristine from when she left.

River looks around and there's a joke about the lack of coffins that he thinks about making, but ultimately doesn't.

The bed is much better than a coffin, with maroon-colored satin bedding.

Payton tells him to stay put once again and goes off to find something else for River to sleep in besides his ripped up clothes.

He comes back with only a sweater and he looks disappointed in himself over it.

"It's all I could find. At least it's clean." He says, straightforward.

River can't help the faint chuckle that comes from his chest.

"It's more than enough, Payton. I don't know how you find stuff like this in the first place."

Payton is now grateful for all the pickpocketing he's done over the centuries. His little treasures have come in handy.

He leaves River to change his shirt and tells him where his room is, wishing him a good night.

River smiles at him and says it back, thanking him again and wishing him good night.

For the first time since becoming a vampire, Payton goes to sleep only a few hours after River does.

It messes up his sleep schedule, but it's for a good reason.

A while after the sun rises, River wakes up to a note by his bed:

Went out to get food. You can look around but please don't touch anything, thanks. — Payton

There's a smiley face next to Payton's name, it has two tiny fangs.

River is happy that he upgraded from, "Stay put." to, "Look around, but don't touch anything."

He does just that while he waits for Payton to return.

The castle seems to get bigger as he walks around in it, the hallways stretching out for miles and one room connecting to another, then another.

He fears he may get lost of he continues on; maybe Payton has the floor plan folded away in one of the drawers in his study.

Though, Payton is eventually calling for him by the entryway and River has to retrace his steps, calling back to him, "I'm almost there!", hearing his voice echo up through the tall ceilings.

Payton is happy when he sees River again and he walks him to the dining room.

A long table with a dozen or so chairs, where he rarely has his meals.

But today, he has a guest and a reason to use it.

Payton had brought River a few bottles of Gatorade and a couple granola bars; both of which he has seen on the body of every person who's every trudged through the woods.

"When did you leave?" River asks him, before taking a swig of the Gatorade.

"This morning, I tried to get to town before the sun rose, but I couldn't beat it."

"Do you burn up in the sun? I've read that before, I think."

"I don't burn up, it doesn't hurt. It's just not the most pleasant thing in the world. The sun makes me all... reflective."

"Reflective? Like the Twilight vampires?"

River means it partly as a joke, but Payton stares at him for a moment,

"Don't even make that joke, that movie is a gross misrepresentation of what we're like towards humans. Most vampires aren't as creepy like the Twilight guy is."

"But you sparkle in the sun-"

"Yes, but you don't see me taking my shirt off just to show you my glistening chest, do you? It's so dramatic!"

River makes a mental note: do not bring up Twilight. Payton has a lot of thoughts on it.

The time comes for River to leave and, even though it's been only a day, Payton feels a small ache in his undead heart.

He takes River out towards the road and says his goodbyes, telling him that he's welcome any time.

River leaves with the millionth, "Thank you." and walks off towards wherever it is he lives.

To Payton's delight, River visits him quite often, every few days if he can help it.

He tells Payton all about his school and his lacrosse buddies and Payton listens to him for hours, happy as can be.

The visits go on and Payton feels something new whenever he's near River.

Something he felt for a girl who'd gotten lost in the woods. Who would visit him frequently, the same as River.

He hopes that River doesn't find someone else like the girl did all those years ago.

Payton loved her and, for some time, she loved him, too.

But things don't work out and the world keeps spinning.

He's aware of River's girlfriend, but there comes a time where he talks of one last argument which led to their splitting up.

Payton feels almost guilty for how happy he is that River's girlfriend is no longer an issue.

River enjoys his time with Payton quite a lot, his heart thumps eagerly whenever he's close to the large vine-covered front door.

There's one visit where, on a Saturday, River comes to Payton's castle with an idea set in his mind.

He takes Payton out of his neck of the woods and tells him to close his eyes at one point or another, holding his hand and pulling him towards unsteady ground and the sounds of slowly moving water.

"I know this would be your own personal hell during the day, so I'm showing you this on your time."

Payton opens his eyes and he's on the soft sand of the beach, a place he has read about and seen plenty of pictures of, but never been here himself.

The beach at night is peaceful and quiet.

Moonlight bounces off the water and all Payton can do is look at it with his eyes shining with utter joy.

He can't stop smiling and River feels pride in himself; there's so much love swirling inside of him.

Out of respect, he has made sure to avoid the entire Twilight franchise, both books and movies alike, but he can surely see the appeal of it.

But entirely separate from his vampirism, Payton has proven himself to be one of the kindest people River knows.

Falling in love was inevitable.

So, tonight, on the beach with no one else around, River walks along the shore and tells Payton of the fluttering in his heart.

Payton reciprocates it, the feelings are mutual.

Very, very mutual.

Before Payton has to return to his castle and River to his home, a kiss goodnight is shared by the water; underneath the moon and stars.

They both return home, giddy and as happy as can be.

For a while, things are great.

Plenty more visits happen as well as dates in the middle of the night.

Payton shows River every nook and cranny of his castle and he answers every question that his lover has to ask.

Even the hard questions, questions about Payton's family.

But Payton tells his truth, tells of being raised by the best mother in existence and a distant father; and brothers who always tortured him, but who grew up to be vampire hunters.

The irony is bitter and cruel, but Payton knows how to keep himself safe.

River is happy generally, but the heavy weight of the world and his heart get to him some days.

There's a day where the weather is awful, raining like hell and cold with whipping winds.

A loud knock is heard at the castle's front door and Payton opens it.

His heart, though unmoving, feels a violent ache when he sees River.

River is soaked through and his eyes are red, as if he's been crying for a long time.

He steps into the castle, apologizing and rambling about how he can't do it anymore.

He doesn't want to live this mortal life, the pressures of it all and the question of, "Where do you sneak off to at night?" are getting to him.

River is frantic, with a pleading look in his eyes.

"I want you to turn me. Can you do that?" He asks and Payton's eyes widen.

"What- yes. Yes, I mean, I can turn you, but is that really what you want? It's not all it's cracked up to be. You can only digest blood, certain types at that."

Payton paces the entryway floor, rambling on, "And the sun makes you reflective and it doesn't feel too good. People look at you weird when you go out in public. You can't die-"

"I know, I know." River states firmly, stopping Payton in his tracks and holding onto his biceps.

River looks at Payton, taking a deep breath.

"I know all the... downsides, but I can't live like this anymore. Do you know how important you are to me? I want to be with you."

Payton looks at him and he lets a beat of silence settle between them, a second to think.

"It would be forever, River."

River looks sure of himself, extremely sure of himself, he holds Payton's arms a little tighter, nodding and telling him directly,

"I want forever, Payton."

At that, Payton takes River by the hand and takes him to his study; a place River has become quite familiar with by now.

River stands in the middle of the room and Payton gives him one last out,

"Are you sure you want to do this? It'll hurt, I have to bite you and take some of your blood; drink it."

"I'm sure. I know it'll hurt, but I'm sure. I trust you."

The trust between them has never needed to be directly stated, for it was established the second Payton welcomed a human into his home and didn't instantly kill him.

And that River didn't go searching for a wooden stake the second Payton told him about his vampirism.

They very well could have killed each other, but they didn't.

They grew to love each other.

Payton offers River his hand to squeeze and when River tells him that he's ready, Payton is overcome with his own strength and love, feeling River's grip on his hand get impossibly tighter and tighter.

River groans low in pain, holding tight onto Payton's hand, but he's filled with bliss.

A new life can start for him.

It's a learning curve at first, River has to remember to be weary of the sun and to not go picking fights with the werewolves and to get used to being a creature of the night.

Getting used to it all takes time and Payton is there to walk him through it; to shield him from the sun and to help him grasp all the newness of his being.

In a blur of moonlit dates and time spent at the organ and thumbing through thousands of books together, eighteen years fall behind them, continuing on day by day.

Every morning, River peeks out the window to see where the day turns into night and Payton whines about it nonetheless.

But he's happy to see River happy, even dawning a hood so they can sit together under the warm sunlight some days.

They're happy together, wandering through the castle and the woods hand-in-hand.

In love, together.

Forever.

[specku-art]

Alright, we're in a WoM blow up, also I want to apply as artist, so I'm sharing my Character in Game: Salam of Riverville.

I really liked to add the existing clothing and accessories in game.

Salam Gray started as any kid in Riverville who found out they had magic, they helped the community with chores, deliveries and more. Enthusiastic and level headed, he knew the bandits and wizards outside the wall of his little village were too much for him, so he trained carefully till level 10. That's when he found his first mission with a council Member. Defeat a Black magic user, get the award and help out the people. He did. It was alright. Salem started to find magic camps, and accept all the missions he could. The pay wasn't the best, honestly, but, well, it was enough to go by, and they talked so much about telling the hugh ranks about him! That was until Salem accidentally broke a window. 3 crowns fine, even if he was stopping a bandit from shooting a woman. Fine, he did it. Then a 5 crown one for hitting a door from a loose ashball. Alright. Finally, at level 24, he managed to get a power amulet, and spent all of the money he worked day and night to earn to better it with the alchemist. And then he accidentally hit a stand in Summer hold. It had been unexpected, just a little tumble, and he broke nothing more than a crate or something, but it was enough to grant him a sudden penalty. 12 crowns. He... he didn't have them. And suddenly the boy was being hunted by guards. He ran from the village, into the woods, but every time one saw him, they went up to get him. His reputation broken and chased as an outlaw. It was just an accident. He didn't even hurt anybody. But a mere kid can only run for so long from a council soldier. He somehow ended up in the Silent tower. What a rarity, with all the killers, thieves and horrors of the world. There was young, foolish Salam. He had worked so hard for these guys. He had done their missions for scraps, he had believed the lies of becoming a member himself, of getting acknowledged by the captain. They used him. And then they locked him away as an inconvenience. People usually come better after prison. They come out redeemed, ready to be a part of the community. When Salam left his cell and the tower, he went directly to Riverville, his hometown, and packed all of his things. Then, he left for Ironport, the town by the sea, with it's wonderous Lighthouse ,and there he stole 50 coronas from the storage. He swam, he just swam away. That way, they've never catch him. Laughing at how incompetent they were without their help, he ran and vowed that he'd get back at them. He hated them, all of the council. And he'd make that tower tumble till it was ash and dust.

This story is actually what my gameplay was when I played the game and I am quite fond of it.

I wrote it just for fun so do not expect Rick Riordan levels of quality.

[cardboard-box-of-beans]

finished Frontiers about an hour ago, have some disorganized thoughts

Massive spoilers under the cut

General/gameplay stuff:

-I played the PC version. My laptop's a bit of a potato so I had to crank the graphics settings way down and still had a lot of chugging going on (and it broke a couple of the cutscenes)

-But despite having to fight hardware limitations the whole time, I enjoyed it! There's some jank (and I don't think it's just a result of hardware limitations since I've heard other people struggling with it), but on the whole, the open world was a blast to play through even with the chugging. And Cyberspace wasn't too bad actually, though I might be looking upon it more favorably since it didn't have framerate drops on my device like the open world did; if the open world wasn't having such severe framerate drops for me it probably would've blown Cyberspace out of the water. (I'll have to play this game again on better hardware sometime.)

-IKARUGA IN A SONIC GAME

-BOTTOM TEXT

-Chaos Island had some major issues gameplay-wise but I'm willing to forgive it for Ikaruga

Soundtrack:

-HOLY SHIT THE SOUNDTRACK.

-I think this is my favorite Sonic soundtrack ever.

-I will be coming back to this tag to scream about each and every song in this soundtrack over the next couple of years, mark my words.

-It all bangs. You know it all bangs. Moving on

Story:

-To be honest I wasn't huge on the actual *story,* but I really enjoyed most of the character writing, so I think it all balances out.

-The Kocos were cute. But the Ancients and the End were kinda just there, IMO?

-The Sonic corruption plot being resolved that quickly was kinda dumb. I think it's probably an even bigger anticlimax than the Null Space breakout in Forces was (though the presentation was better, so I can give it that).

-Plot beats aside, I like this Sonic portrayal overall, and Tails and Knuckles were both done SO MUCH justice. I'm so proud of my boys. (The scene where Sonic reassures Tails was the first time I've ever cried at a Sonic game, I- the funny two-tailed fox got to me, ok?)

-I liked Amy too, though I think they might have gone a little *too* subdued with her? I could probably go into some more organized thoughts about her later, but eh

-Sage is where things get a little bit *interesting,* because I really like her as a character. I think the contrasting teal-white vs. red-black color scheme thing ties in really nicely with the Ikaruga hacking minigame duality thing, I like Ryan Bartley's performance, and I mean... she's an AI in the process of self-actualization who (at least to my reading) desperately craves validation, of course I was gonna get attached. And I really like her dynamic with Sonic.

BUT I'm not sure how I feel about her dynamic with Eggman. I'm not necessarily opposed to an Eggdad kind of approach (though I recognize that some people weren't gonna be fond of the Eggdad thing no matter what, and I think they've got the right to feel that way), so I feel like for me personally, had Frontiers taken the time to really develop their dynamic I'd find it easier to swallow. But as-is, it feels too rushed to really justify the departure between how Eggman usually treats his creations and how Eggman treats Sage.

(Personally after that Chaos Island cutscene, I was halfway expecting Sonic to get Sage to join up with the gang and turn against Eggman, like with Knuckles in S3&K. It's been a while since we've seen the "bad guy of the week turns good and teams up with Sonic to defeat Eggman" trope. Maybe I'll write an AU about that someday.)

Anyway, at least she's got the potential to appear in future games courtesy of the true ending, so maybe they'll make some more changes to her dynamic with Eggman later on down the line. I dunno.

-Mike Pollock gives an excellent performance as Eggman (to the surprise of absolutely no one), but other than that... Eggman was just really out of focus in general? I think I saw someone saying that you could probably tweak the story to cut Eggman out of it entirely and not much would change, and I'm inclined to agree. Which is a shame- I was hoping he'd have more of an impact. Getting the seventh Chaos Emerald on Ouranos was nice, but felt like too little too late after he spent most of the game's cutscenes stuck in the same Cyberspace level. (His voice memos talk about seeing replicas of South Island, Westside Island, and even Angel Island in Cyberspace. Give us more locales, you cowards!)

Overall:

-It was pretty clear they ran out of budget after Chaos Island (and I know I'm not the first to say this, either).

-There was a lot of jank, and some questionable decisions in terms of both story and gameplay.

-But... I liked Sonic Frontiers! And I'm glad I get to say that, after the absolute rollercoaster that this entire marketing cycle was.

Anyway, I'm off to go listen to Undefeatable on loop for the next 24 hours. See y'all later!

[thedreamwolf]

I was debating posting this over here, but it felt like it was worth talking about? And who knows, maybe writing it down will help me work through some of it in my own head. Curious to see if anyone else has any experience with stuff like this.

This is a post about grief. Specifically grief over fictional characters. D&D characters, in this case.

I know, I know. Up until today, fiction felt like a silly thing to get really upset over for me. It's not like it has real life consequences. It's not like this was someone I actually knew and have fond memories or spending time with, nobody who knew me or cared about me. The world continues on as if nothing happened. Nobody real died.

But I've had to take some time today to try to figure this out, because if this loss is not real, then why is it hitting with the same harshness as when I actually lost a pet? Something real, something I'd loved and cared for for years?

For context, I'm in a roleplay-heavy dungeons & dragons group with several good friends and my partner. We've been running it for over half a year nearly every week. It deals with some deep stuff. Lots about bonding through adversity, lots about corrupting influences that can warp and break a person, lots about finding the hope and the happiness even when the going gets tough. During last night's session, my and my partner's character found themselves deep in trouble that they've been heading towards for a little while now. And they died.

Do I think it was unfair? No, it was a reasonable and justified end to their arcs. Am I mad at the DM for letting it happen? No, he checked in with us a lot about what we were comfortable with and if this was okay, and for the story, it was. And he did everything he could to make it fair and give us closure. We knew this could happen, this sort of thing has happened before. Am I mad at the friends, the other players, who let this happen? No, not really – they had their own in-character reasons for doing what they did, and they stayed true to them.

Am I mad at myself for letting this happen? A little. Mostly I think about what I could have done differently. It kinda feels like I failed them. Even in giving them a life and a story to be proud of. But mostly I'm just sad.

I was fine when things were actually happening last night. I was so focused on giving them their closure, in finishing our their story. I was engaged in figuring out the next steps for the campaign. But then when I woke up, I broke. And since then, every little thing is setting off a new wave of grief. Like realizing that they'll never see another sunset as I was looking out the window. Or remembering the fun times we had playing them. I had to call out of work this morning because I was such a mess – obviously I couldn't explain exactly why to my boss and coworkers, other than that I'd had an emotional weekend and that me and my loved ones were all okay.

Even though this loss isn't real, it has still majorly affected me enough to impact my daily functioning. So, I'm trying to figure out what I'm actually grieving so I can work through it. Is it all the things they never got to accomplish? Is it the time spent discovering their story with my friends? Did I get too emotionally connected again? Am I actually mad that we couldn't find a different way to resolve things?

Whatever it is, my boyfriend and I are trying to process things as best we can, in our own ways. He's been very supportive and wonderful. I can tell that my group is all a bit shaken up by the loss, we've been chatting together a lot about it today. There are brighter things coming up next for the party. I'm mostly just trying to figure out some healthy coping mechanisms and get back to normal. And also to figure out why it's this strong so that I don't get like this again.

But boy is it weird talking about it and needing to make life concessions to deal with it when I'm so upset over something that isn't even real.

[songsofadelaide]

Call it Magic

Jean was, in every aspect, the perfect guy to bring home for your family to meet— handsome, polite, honest, respectful and responsible to a fault. Your family liked him so much that he became a staple on every occasion, never mind you at all. Jean liked them as much, thankfully.

You can live with the fact that Jean will never see you as nothing more than a childhood friend. You were perfectly content just being at his corner, not at all speaking of your unyielding fondness for him. Middle school, high school, university and work never changed how you felt for Jean Kirschtein, but he's always had his heart set on someone else.

So when the chance to finally move on from him presents itself to you, you decide to finally take the very first step, one which you should have taken a long time ago.

In which you ask your childhood friend Jean to become your plus one to a family occasion for one last time, and all of the chaos and clarity that ensues afterwards.

[A Jean Kirschtein x Reader AU one-shot]

tags: lawyer!jean x author!reader, alternate universe - no titans, modern setting, childhood friends, aged-up characters, unrequited love (but not really?!), angst and romance, no use of yn wc: 8.8k.

"In the end There was only one. Isn’t that how it is for all of us? There's that one you circle back to —  for home." — Redbird Love by Joy Harjo  

— First rain of summer.

You knew back then that being a new kid in a new neighbourhood wouldn't be easy. 

When you first moved into the suburbs of Trost when you were only nine, the Kirschteins were the first ones to bring your family a housewarming gift. They were your typical friendly family who liked getting to know the new neighbours as soon as they moved in. Your family was no different from every other house they've made a connection with.

Mrs Kirschtein was a lovely conversationalist. She gave you one look and estimated you were around the same age as her son, who stood dutifully between his parents as they chatted with your own. "Jean-boy, why don't you introduce her to your friends?"

"Haa? But she just moved in! Shouldn't she help her family with unpacking?" Came the shrouded complaint from the brown-haired boy. Jean was a tall and lanky nine-year-old but the look oddly suited him. 

"It's all right, we can handle things here," your mother beamed at the boy before giving you a gentle push in his direction. "Go and make friends, my sweet girl."

Jean shrugged as he took your hand in his and urged you to follow him, a smug grin on his face as he led the way to the nearest playground in the area. "Looks like I'm your first one. The name's Jean!"

You gave him your name in response, only for him to nod in affirmation that he remembers it. 

"Strange, but not in a bad way. It suits you," he replied. "My friends are kinda strange, too, but they're good kids."

He didn't lie when he said his friends were pretty strange. The first question Sasha— the girl with the pretty brown hair— ever levelled at you was, "Hey, what's your favourite food?! Mine's barbecue!"

Connie's initial reaction was even more unexpected, especially since he anticipated another boy to move into town. Instead, there was you. "A-A girl?! No way! I'm not ready for this! And she's c-cute, too!"

"Knock it off, you two! She just got here and you're already so annoying!"

Their familiar bantering could only mean they're closer than they let on. By the time Jean was done arguing with them, you had the warmest and most amused smile on your face. I could get used to this.

"It's nice to meet you," you beamed at them. "I hope we can all be friends!"

"I did say I was your first, so here's two more," Jean shrugged once more. "Welcome to the club or something."

That was the beauty of childhood friendships further unveiled. It didn't matter if they only knew you for a couple of minutes. Sasha and Connie were awfully kind to you and never made you feel out of place at all. Jean always kept a watchful eye on you at school as well. Whether he did it out of duty or out of worry— you'll never know for sure.

When you look back at your childhood summers, they were often characterised by Connie's boisterous laughter, Sasha's sundried sweets and snacks, and Jean, the very first friend you made in a new neighbourhood. He was an easily likeable boy who had a soft spot for you, not that he'd ever admit it outright, though. You liked his abrasiveness, even considering it part of his charm. 

And you still like him as much twenty years later. He made moving in and fitting in so easy, after all. 

— Rust and Stardust.

~ twenty years later.

"You know, Zeke is going to have my head for this." 

The slender figure who stepped into your space at the office pantry could only sigh as you finally looked up at her. The subdued whirring of the coffee maker only sounded not long after she arrived.

"Pieck! Good morning!"

"Don't you greet me a 'good morning' like everything's normal," the brunette crossed her arms over her chest, slightly wrinkling her neatly pressed pale blue blazer. "Why haven't you responded to Zeke about his offer?" 

It was as good as any other day, but you knew it was only a matter of time before Pieck, of all people, started to chew you out because of your indecisiveness. Though if you were being completely honest, the offer made to you by your editor-in-chief weighed heavily on your mind. 

"It's not that I haven't considered it," you sheepishly replied before letting the sound of coffee droplets fill the air in the pantry. "I've been thinking about a lot of things lately." 

Twenty years have passed since you and your family moved to the suburbs of Trost, and four years since you graduated from college with a Bachelor of Arts in Communication. You quickly landed an entry-level role at the then-underground homegrown magazine The Eldian Synergy and eventually rose to the rank of Managing Editor— partly due to your writing skills and partly due to your friendship with Pieck Finger, who introduced you to the eccentric magazine editor-in-chief, Zeke Jaeger. 

Surprisingly, the older Zeke was thoroughly impressed by the fluff pieces you continuously brought to his table, though he knew you were capable of writing more insightful pieces. As your team of editors grew from just a handful of ragtag writers to an echelon of executors only after the most excellent beats, so too did the magazine readership— and it's now reached the point where an expansion is at hand.

"Investors have made their intentions clear. I believe we should give this a go," he told everyone as you were all gathered in the office a few weeks ago. What was once a spacious studio for just the original five of you was now a cramped office for every member of the editorial team. The place was lively, vibrant and well-lived, and every wall has heard every word or breath of the heart of the whole team. To leave it now…

"If you're worried about the future of the magazine, then you really should go with Zeke. The whole point of this move is to expand our influence. I'm sure I wasn't the only one dreaming of a second branch— and overseas, too!"

"You'll be going too, won't you, Pieck?" 

"Naturally! I am the Synergy's Creative Editor, after all!" The brunette exclaimed with a proud little puff of her chest. "Zeke will leave operations here to Porco. It's been a long time coming, too, seeing as he's been his assistant and long-time protégé for quite some time now. Colt will also be helping out."

"I dunno… Don't you think there should be at least one of us to stay here with them? It's—" You fumbled for the right words to say, though it was already obvious to Pieck that you were masking your real intentions.

"I know what this is about. You're so reluctant to leave because of this. I am saying this to you not just as a colleague who wants you to think for herself for once, but as a friend who wants you to choose yourself for once," Pieck said with a subtle click of her tongue, and perhaps a little hint of disappointment. "Isn't it about time you stopped choosing someone who isn't choosing you?" 

Good grief, you groaned inwardly. 

You can live with the fact that Jean will never see you as nothing more than a childhood friend. You were perfectly content just being at his corner, not at all speaking of your unyielding fondness for him. Middle school, high school, university and work never changed how you felt for Jean Kirschtein, but he's always had his heart set on someone else. 

With Jean now a newly-minted lawyer, it was only a matter of time before he started working on building his renown and reputation. 

He and Mikasa took the Bar Exam together, you thought. Then again, so did Armin and Annie and Marco, too.  

You filled your cup with the freshly-brewed coffee and suddenly realised you made too much— Too much for just one person because Jean always had coffee at your place every morning and this must have been a force of habit, but who was going to drink this? Who else was going to choose you?

Not Jean. Not Jean again. 

"You think I don't know that yet?"

— I will never ask you for anything except to dream sweet of me.

When you, Jean, Connie and Sasha first spoke about college and university in the summer of your last year in senior high, it became clear to you that Jean was far more ambitious than he actually let on. He lived for arguments and investigations and relished proving himself correct. It only made sense for him to take up law, but Mrs Kirschtein found the thought of her son feeding her with 'money bloodied by crime' absolutely repulsive.  

"Mother wouldn't let me take political science, so I'm changing my trajectory a little," Jean stated. "First, I'll take up Business Administration, then, boom— Corporate law."  

"No criminals, just corrupt businesses," Connie pointed out. "You'll still be defending bad guys no matter what you do."  

"And he'll do a great job at it. It takes one to know one, after all," Sasha snorted. "As for yours truly, I might take up Hotel and Restaurant Management! My parents have always been big with hospitality stuff, so I thought I might give it a try as well." 

"And you aren't just doing that for the good food that your hotel or restaurant might serve in the future?" It was Jean's turn to laugh. 

Sasha elbowed him. "Hey, the food experience will definitely be part of the job!"  

"And if anyone needs some floor maps drawn, for their law firm or hotels, you can always contact your resident architect," Connie stated with a grin so bright as he jerked his thumb on his chest. It didn't take long for him to elbow you as well. "You've been awfully quiet. Plotting any grand plans for college or uni yet?"

You could only smile as you looked down at your clasped hands. For some odd reason, you felt like Sasha's bedroom shrunk awfully small, but you gradually came to realise that you and your childhood friends have grown up ever so slightly. 

Eighteen. All of you were just eighteen and yet it felt like your friends have their lives planned out for the next decade. 

"I've always liked writing, so I guess I'll keep on writing?" You said with a little shrug. Though if you were being honest with your friends, you'd say their ambitions scare you a bit. You didn't think about college hard enough to actually want to earn an esteemed title of sorts. Communication Arts was as good a degree as any other, and you liked that you didn't have to solve any maths problems, too.

"Oh, yeah! World-renowned author in our ranks, too! Not bad!" Connie nodded, a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Oh, man. Just the thought of us achieving all our goals excites me. The goosebumps are kinda gross, though."

"Yeah, yeah, the future's cool," Sasha shrugged before sitting back more comfortably. "More importantly, I want you guys to promise that we'll stay in touch. Not that you really need any reminding at all, but just to be sure."

"You don't need to say that twice. I'll always be around, you dumbasses," Connie chuckled. "Drawing up plans for houses in the neighbourhood."

"Someone's gotta keep this place free from troublesome people, so…" Jean stated with a nonchalant shrug that seemed more a show of confidence. "And where else will we all meet but your ritzy hotel with amazing food?"  

"Yeah, I-I'll write all about it, too," you piped in. "I mean I think people will trust my word by that time, so…"

Lawyer, hotelier, architect, and author. The prospect of achieving such heights in the future terrified you, but with your friends so sure about their goals, you felt it was only right to be optimistic about things. They were all doable, with hard work and maybe a bit of luck.

Eleven years after that very promise was made, Jean refuted that luck played a role in his passing of the bar. All of it was him. Surprisingly, Sasha was the very first one of your friends to get engaged— to a world-class chef, no less, as though the universe was providing her with all the vital pieces for her endeavours in building your city's fanciest hotel. Following his apprenticeship with Ragako Restorations, Connie was on his way to starting his own construction company, though it was only from the backyard of his childhood home.

Years have passed and the promise made to stay in touch with each other proved pointless since you all bunked in the same apartment complex. Your respective circles may have expanded, but home remained the same, with Sasha always cooking, Connie bringing over one too many drinks every after-exam period, and Jean raiding your coffee maker to the point where he's become part of the caffeine budget as well. 

Your friends from your youthful days all have a foothold on the goals they manifested years ago. And while you haven't published a single book yet, you grew a following with your work for The Eldian Synergy by releasing fluff and cream pieces that were a hit with locals both young and old. 

The magazine's readership was big and its reach was incredibly wide, and a lot of young women looked up to your advice columns and articles as a Holy Grail, a bible to follow as they tackled their own relationships head-on. 

Funny how you seldom followed your own advice, with your feelings for your very first friend still unspoken after all these years.

Jean's magnetic personality brought through a number of admirers and would-be girlfriends, but he had a policy of prioritising his studies before starting any relationships. 

One stood out, though, since Jean can't seem to get her out of his mind no matter how hard he tried— Mikasa Ackerman. She was friends with Eren Jaeger and Armin Arlert, who was friends with Annie Leonhart and Marco Bodt, who was friends with Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Hoover from the Architecture Department… And so your circle of friends expanded on and on. Once a tribe of college and university kids— now adults— in pursuit of goals made manifest. 

When your blockmate Pieck Finger first approached you after hearing your verbal essay on the immortality of the press, she had a look in her eye that said she struck gold. You proved her right after you won over both Zeke Jaeger and Porco Galliard, the founding members of the college's Press Club. 

While each of you has carved out a place for yourself, the peace that comes with having Jean, Sasha and Connie around was a feeling unlike any other. 

As your mother's birthday approached, so too did the dread of having to invite your childhood friends back home. Invitations were easier when they weren't being tormented by the busyness of adult life, but with Sasha planning her wedding, Connie launching his construction firm, and Jean about to take his oaths after passing the Bar Exam, you expected the idea to be rebuffed at best. Not that you really minded at all.

Except Jean wasn't busy on that day. His oath-taking wouldn't be until the next three weeks. 

"What? I've been waiting for you to personally invite me even though Aunt Cara already called me," he stated from across the table as he drank his freshly brewed cup of coffee. "I know it's always been us four, but…" 

But now it was just the two of you, and your throat felt awfully dry right now. If this was fate's way of telling you to shoot your last shot or let down your hopes gently, by granting you one last trip with Jean, it truly was a convenient but awfully cruel set-up. 

One you willingly walked into yourself.

"Well? Whaddya say? Road trip? Just like old times." He chuckled. 

Jean was, in every aspect, the perfect guy to bring home for your family to meet— handsome, polite, honest, respectful and responsible to a fault. Your family liked him so much that he became a staple on every occasion, never mind you at all. Jean liked them as much, thankfully.

How the hell could you refuse?

"Sure." 

Were you, though?

— Take me back to the night we met.

Jean's car, a reliable orange Hilux he's had ever since you all started college and university, was always filled with rambunctious laughter every time it was time to go home to Trost for the summer break. The lack of noise and storytelling from Sasha and Connie didn't worry you at all, and this isn't the first time you'll come home with just Jean, but the prospect of opening up to him about your decision to move to Marley did fill your chest with some trepidation.

Looking back, the longest you've ever been apart from Jean was during your week-long writers' camp in your junior year in college. And his oddly overprotective self still insisted on seeing you off and picking you up afterwards even though the Press Club had transportation provided by the college. 

Jean and Sasha picked you up in that very same truck when you called her in tears following the end of your very first relationship that very same year. 

It was still the same "squad car" with a smaller, modified squad since it was just going to be you and Jean. Gosh, just how many adventures and misadventures did you have in that car?

You were on the landline phone with your mother the night before her birthday and your homecoming with Jean.

"I already talked to Sasha and Connie about it earlier this week," you started straight after the pleasantries with your parents. "I told them I have a really good feeling about this new job. They're supportive, like always." 

"And Jean?"

"I'm… not quite sure how to tell him yet. I'm sure he'll be thrilled for me," you said, absentmindedly wrapping the curling cord over a finger. "I'll probably tell him while we're on our way home tomorrow."

"Oh, my sweet girl… Have you told him about how you felt? I know it's been so long and…" Your mother said with a soft sigh. "If you're still mulling things over, just remember… He deserves to know just as much as you deserve to be free."

When your mother first teased you about your feelings for the boy next door when you were just a girl, you nearly yelped at her to keep it down. Now that you're an adult and more honest with yourself and with your mother, there was no need to jump any hoops and deny what was already blatantly obvious to her.

"I'll… find the time to," you nodded to yourself, as though assuring yourself you'll be all right. 

—

You were not all right. 

Jean was apologetic for making you reply to the messages of his bar mates while you were on the expressway to Trost, but there was little he could do to ease your motion sickness now that you have passed through every possible gas station you could have taken a break at.

"All right, all right, I'll call Marco and tell him we're on the road. They can bother me later," his larger hand gently pried his mobile phone from your grip. "All this talk about an afterparty when the oath-taking is still next a few weeks out… Even Mika's annoyed. Hey, recline your seat and close your eyes."

"I'm fine, Jean," you softly insisted. "Besides, I need to stay awake so I can keep you—"

The Hilux gradually ground to a halt as he pulled into a lay-by, unbuckling his seat belt so he could reach over to adjust your seat. "Please. I shouldn't have made you reply to all those questions so I could get a quiet holiday."

With his figure draped over yours, his scent was quick to stick to your clothes as well. He always smelt of citrus and cedar and it never failed to send signals to your brain that you were home.  

"Take a nap. I'll wake you when we're home," Jean stated as he tenderly brushed his palm over your eyes, prompting you to lower your lashes. He ran his fingers through your hair and made sure you were rested before eventually driving home. "I'll be sure to buy some Dramamine the next time we have a road trip."

Oh, but I have something to tell you. I'm not even sure we'll have a next time. You wanted to open your eyes and speak because there was so much you had to say, but all you could think of was home and your mother's embrace. However, the urgency of the issue mattered very little now that you were lulled to sleep by the air conditioning and the smoothness of the expressway. 

Jean in his beige pullover, his cologne that smelled of citrus and cedar, his gentle humming to the songs playing on the radio— if you were dreaming, you didn't mind sleeping in a bit more, because this was surely the calmest dream you've had in a while now.

I'll talk to him about it later was the last bit of consciousness you could recall before eventually dozing off for the rest of your road trip. By the time you awoke, Jean was already pulling into your driveway, giving you very little time to react and adjust to your surroundings. Your parents were already excitedly waiting at the front porch to welcome your arrival. 

"Here they are! My sweet girl and our Jean-boy! Come! Come in!" Your mother was quick to let you go after your embrace as she hurriedly ushered Jean into the kitchen. "Here comes Trost's newest lawyer!"

Apart from always proving himself right, Jean also relished in praise and admiration and there was no lack of it in your house. It was pretty much his second home in the neighbourhood and he remembers running to your place whenever he had arguments with his mother. His parents weren't there yet, but his every whim and word was indulged by your mother, who handed him a hefty serving of freshly-cooked Paella.  

"There he goes," a defeated sigh left your lips as Jean vanished into the kitchen with your mother and aunts. "Then again, he's always been so popular with everyone at home."

"Not everyone," came your father's response as he gently smacked your head with a rolled-up copy of the latest Eldian Synergy. 'On Goodbyes and Seasons of Waiting' was the title of your last article, and it was carefully bookmarked, obviously read more than once. "Your last one was a good read. More discerning than your usual pieces. Wherever you go, I'm sure your writing will move more people. You pour your soul into everything you pen, after all."

"Thank you, pa," you smiled at the older man, to which he responded with a kiss on your forehead. 

"While you're here, be sure you don't leave anything important."

"Of course."

Anything important, huh? Were your feelings for Jean important enough that it warranted a proper conversation? Of course they were, but only you would gaslight yourself into thinking they didn't matter and it wouldn't matter if you left even without saying a word to him. Should I just leave without saying anything?

By the time your mother and aunts were done talking off Jean's ears, he found you staring at the photos that lined the hallway leading to the living room. Your parents' wedding portrait, slightly faded pictures of you and your siblings in your childhood, some of their graduation portraits… and tucked in a corner was a photo of little you, Jean, Sasha and Connie on your 10th birthday, some little bruises and baby teeth missing, but it radiated the same comfort and happiness you've been so accustomed to most of your life. 

"Hey, bestie! Do you remember this?" You couldn't help but giggle as Jean approached you. You caught the rest of your laugh in your mouth when you saw the graveness of his expression. 

"I heard you're leaving town for work."

"What?" Oh. You felt your pulse quicken at his inquiry. "Who told you that?"

"Aunt Cara did."

"Good grief," you groaned, a hand now over your eyes. "I… was supposed to tell you about it a little bit later." You couldn't say that you were truly thinking of not telling him at all, now that he looked so bewildered by the revelation. 

"I'm confused. Was I not supposed to know about it?" He asked, visibly perplexed by your statement. "Don't tell me you were planning on just straight up leaving without telling me at all."

"I… was," you said plainly, figuring there was no use hiding things now that he knew, anyway. "But look, you know about it now, so let's just say our goodbyes, okay, Jean?"

He stood there completely immovable, piecing two and two together in his head— the hushed conversations you've been having with Sasha, the muted discussions about foreign accommodations with Connie, one elbowing the other whenever they made a slip of the tongue about flying and Marley, of all places.

"So that's what everyone's been whispering about…" The confusion on his face melted into a look of pure hurt. "The gang knew, didn't they? Was I the last one to know about this?"

"Jean…"

"You not telling me things, especially something as important as this… I don't understand. We're best friends, aren't we? Please make it make sense! You're leaving so soon and I had no idea!"

You pursed your lips to a thin line, averting your gaze from the sad look in his eyes as he unknowingly backed you into a corner of the hallway, far from your family's bustling and merriment. With his arms pressed to the walls, there was no escaping his brokenheartedness, the very thing you've been avoiding from the start.

"Is it because of me?"

His question prompted you to look up at him, his brows furrowed in gentle frustration. "No, Jean… It's not you." 

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Because there's nothing wrong," you shook your head. "Look, the job offer's great. I still get to write about whatever I want, just in a different place… Zeke wants our writing to overcome the world and I… I'm just trying to help myself the best way I can."

"Will… Will Porco be there?" Jean asked, almost sounding embarrassed. The question may have seemed out of place in your conversation, but you knew exactly what he was thinking of at that very moment. 

"No, just me, Pieck, and Zeke. Porco will be managing things here at Eldia. You know my relationship with him was good while it lasted, but we broke things off when we realised that we were better off as friends. And while we're still co-workers, I can assure you that there's nothing…" Your voice faded as your explanation continued. Why were you even explaining this to Jean? 

Oh. Somehow you felt your face heat up as Jean slowly stepped away from you, now that he's heard what he wanted to hear. It always did please him whenever guys gave up on you, but you never really understood why. If he wanted me, all he had to do was say so. Then again, he was always so quick to draw the line between you two whenever things started feeling different than usual— when he'd rest his head on your shoulders a minute more than what was considered appropriate, when he'd reach for your hand whenever it was just the two of you in the room, only for him to drop it as soon as his blockmates showed up, and when he'd laugh at Sasha and Connie's insistence that you two should date each other— 

You could feel your chest tighten as you stood there motionless, as though your ribs were crushing your lungs, pushing your heart up your throat. 

It can't end like this, you thought. He deserves to know just as much as I deserve to be free.

"Porco was a good guy, but he… he wasn't you," you started, trying to quell the quiver in your voice. "And you always told me to come to you whenever I had any guy problems, right? But did I ever? No, because there's no one else I liked more than you, Jean. I've always felt so at home with you and you've always been the centre of my world, and I want to tell you so many things and spill my heart out to you like I always do, but I can't do that anymore—"

"What?" Came his confused response once more. "You…"

You only realised that you were sobbing when you tasted salt on your lips, with fat, stinging tears rolling down your cheeks. You raised a sleeve to your runny nose, taking a step back as he attempted to reach for you.

"I like you, Jean," you stated before swallowing your own cries. "I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for the longest time, but what the hell, right?"

—

The car ride back home was awfully quiet and Jean couldn't blame you for wanting to sleep during the entire trip instead. 

Friends since nine, inseparable ever since. Your families were as good as your own with how often they saw you two together, and it only dawned on him now how hurt you must have been every time they commented on your relationship and how he always offhandedly rebuffed any deeper involvement with you. 

And after nearly 20 years of friendship, you finally confess to him, only for you to leave just as soon as you gave voice to the depths of your affections.

At a stoplight by the border exiting your hometown, Jean noticed how you forgot to put on your seatbelt before leaving the party. Placing the gear on neutral, he reached over and pulled the belt over your sleeping form and buckled it down for safety. The corners of your eyes were puffy after all that crying and he understood how it must hurt a lot for you to even just look at something, so he just let you sleep.  

The weight of his own obliviousness lay woefully dense on his shoulders. How could he have been so blind to all of this? Then again, you were a master of restraint yourself, and Jean couldn't help but trace back the steps you took together— the path you walked alongside each other— when you decided to become friends nearly two decades ago.

And if by chance he did notice the flowering feelings you had for him, what would he have done? Either way, he couldn't picture a life without you by his side. 

You, who was present for most of his life, a figure he closely acquainted with the feeling of home. Jean believed you would be a permanent part of his life and things would never change between you even in the future. But that future was happening before his very eyes and it wasn't as he imagined back then. How could he have been so cruel to you?

You, who always left your window open so you could listen to his endless prattling about the divine Mikasa Ackerman. You, who only dared to date one guy all your life, only for Jean to rebuff him by claiming he wasn't good enough for you. 

Deep down, maybe Jean did know. Maybe he was aware of how you felt. Yes, he must have known it somehow, and that might explain that awful, gnawing feeling of entitlement he had over you. He must have felt it in his gut before, and all that talk about guys not being good enough for you was just him holding you back with his own entitlement and insecurity. You… were probably just as divine as Mikasa in his mind, but you were his most precious friend. You were off-limits even to him. 

You, who came to your senses one day and decided that enough was enough.

Jean tried to keep his mind from wandering away any further by attempting to focus on driving since you were nearing the expressway anyway. He slowed down and gave your sleeping form one last look, his arm already halfway from brushing his knuckles against your warm cheeks, only for him to eventually pull back. 

All your lives, you orbited each other as celestial bodies would in the sky, close enough to hear each other's heartbeats but never really fully touching. For once, he wanted to touch you as you were, not under the guise of a protective friend who wanted to shield you from every harm and hurt that may come your way.  

He must have known you were holding out hope that he would turn your way and see you not just as a friend, but… Why did the prospect of your relationship taking a different turn scare him? Why did he have to turn your way now that hope has been lost to you and everything was now out in the open? 

No, you didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve a lukewarm love at all. You deserved someone who would love you with all of the warmth and fire in their being, and all Jean had now were embers barely sparking a blaze.

"That's enough, Jean," he murmured to himself, shaking his head as he gripped the steering wheel once more. "I'm sorry."

And it was only right for him to finally set you free.  

— Rain[fall] over tormented cities. 

A week has passed since your trip home with Jean. Sasha, though officially moved out of your shared apartment, decided to stay for a while given the state you were in when you got back. Her fiance Niccolo would also come from time to time, cooking the most amazing dishes in hopes of lifting your spirits. By the time you were ready to return to work, the couple was about to make their exit from the apartment as well. 

"I can't thank you enough, you two," you pulled them into an embrace which they happily returned. "Nicco, I don't know how many pounds I've gained, but what can I say? Totally worth it."

"We're a little busy with stuff at the moment, but you know that we'll always have time for you," Sasha replied, taking your hands in hers. "See you in two weeks."

"I'm so glad you enjoyed the food," Niccolo said, a twinkle of goodwill in his golden eyes. "If I may… While I haven't known you all since childhood, I think I do know you guys well enough to have a pretty clear idea of what just happened."

Sasha squeezed your hands in hers. You squeezed right back, smiles on your faces as you nodded at her fiance to carry on. 

"Jean loves you in his own way, I'm sure you're aware of that," he clapped a hand on your shoulder. "And you love him in your own way, too, yeah? Might not be on the same degree, but I'm certain neither of you would want to lose that love, regardless of whether you just see each other as just friends or something more."

He's right. More than anything, you seemed to miss Jean more now that things are out in the open. Were you truly content just leaving without even saying goodbye to the person most precious to you? 

"But you know, I was all for you admitting your feelings to him. Sasha here told me not to instigate anything. Jean might have just reciprocated if he knew. Call me a dumb romantic, I guess," Niccolo said with a smile and a shrug. "But please… Don't leave things as they are. You two have known each other forever. I doubt your younger selves would have liked this."

—

On the other side of town, newly-minted lawyers Jean and Marco had just concluded a conversation that ran for several days given how inconsolable the former was when he returned from Trost. 

"And she hasn't reached out since, huh?" Marco asked from across the restaurant booth, their black coffee untouched for hours. "Though she's already contacted Sasha and Connie. Speaking of Connie, he said he'd drop by—"

"Damn right I'm dropping by," said the newly-arrived bald guy, taking a seat beside Marco so that he was facing Jean as well.

"Why're you even coddling Jean so much, Marco? Let him feel the weight of everything," Connie stated as he called for a waitress. When Jean met his gaze, he could only shake his head in response. "What, you idiot? She finally went and said it after 20 years. Did you seriously think nothing would change between the two of you now?"

"Did you… know about it?" 

"Everyone in the room knew except you, Jean," Connie sighed. "You know, it was pretty aggravating how you were so oblivious to how she felt for you. You always chalked it up to our long friendship even though it was already blatantly clear that she cares for you more than anyone else."

"Why didn't anyone think about pointing it out to me? Was I really that oblivious?" 

"It wasn't our place to… to pry open a girl's feelings when she had no intention of letting you know. Not directly, at least," Marco stated. "She cares for everyone, but it was pretty clear she had a favourite."

"That's Jean and his entitlement," Connie replied. "That time she dated Porco, you and I saw how he did absolutely everything for her. For once, she was happy with a guy that wasn't us. But I knew that something was up when he opened up about the way he felt in their relationship… like he was competing against some unseen creature." 

Jean couldn't help but lower his head, dropping his eyes to his coffee as he tried to avoid his friend's claims. 

"Let me ask you something, my dumb little friend. Did it ever occur to you that she could have been absolutely happy with someone else if not for her great affection for you? She almost…" Connie shook his head. 

Your past relationship with Porco Galliard was a Pandora's Box you never wanted to open again. Now that Connie jimmied the box open, it forced Jean to confront the very same demons he sought to hide from everyone.

"I… I thought I was the one who knew her best. I was her best friend, after all. But that was the thing: we were best friends. Could I really afford to shatter something so important? One word could change just about everything."

"And how did you feel when Porco was doing just about everything you did for her when they dated?"

For Jean, it was simple. Simple yet complicated. "Why couldn't that be me?"

"Damn right, that could have been you!" Connie exclaimed, pointing a finger at his childhood best friend. "Don't give me this bullshit about our friendship changing overnight just because you two had feelings for each other either didn't want to acknowledge. It was going to change regardless and it was up to you two to make sure that things hold—" 

The small ping from Jean's phone lit up his screen, cutting through the conversation and drawing their eyes to the single notification that appeared across his wallpaper.

[𝚢𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 ✨: 𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔?]

"…?"

Jean and Marco were startled when Connie bolted from his seat and slammed his hands on their table. "Don't just sit there, Jean! Reply to her text! Better yet go say you'll see her now! For goodness' fucking sake, talk things over with her before it's too late!" 

— It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.

It was just like any afternoon after a day at work, but seeing Jean jog towards you as you sat on one of the stone benches in the park just outside your apartment made you feel like something truly has changed. With your most well-kept secret out in the open, it was only natural that the silence between you two was rather awkward. It used to be comfortable. However, in the quiet of that afternoon, part of you also felt absolutely freed.

"Hey."

"Hey," he replied, slightly breathless. 

"Did you run all the way here?"

"I… I did," he exhaled before finally taking a seat beside you after you gestured for him to. 

"I wanted to talk to you about that thing I missed the chance to tell you last week. Our editor-in-chief Zeke invited Pieck and me to start out in a new office in Marley. We have investors backing this expansion and Zeke wants to bring along his most trusted people with him," you started. "It's not a permanent thing, but the three of us will have to make base there for a while. You know, to build up readership in the country, find people to fill roles… Basically to run the office like we did when the Synergy was just starting out."

"I see. Sounds like you got your work cut out for you," Jean stated, slowly sitting back. "Which is why I've been thinking…" 

"Ooh, how dangerous. Jean using over 10% of his brain could only mean trouble," you replied with a laugh. Surely your friendship with him hasn't changed so much that you wouldn't be able to joke with him just like always. "Kidding, kidding. What's going on in that brilliant mind of yours?"

Jean fell quiet, a pensive look on his finely chiselled yet rugged face. He unclasped his hands and reached out for yours. "This might sound crazy at first, but what if I try to find a law society in Marley? I know I'll have to take a certification exam of sorts, but—" 

"You can't be serious about this, Jean," you stammered, nearly pulling your hand away from his grasp in indignation. 

"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He pulled you right back in. "I thought you'd be happy—"

"Jean, listen to yourself a little. Your plan is crazy! And the last thing I'd want is for us to get together now because you feel sorry for me and my unrequited love for you," you playfully bumped shoulders with him, only for you to rest your head on his arm. "I… chose to love you regardless of everything. It's not your fault you didn't like me that way and it's nothing to pity, either. I was just being honest, after all."

"What am I supposed to do now, then? My best friend is about to leave and I…"

When he opened his hand to release yours, all you could do was lay your palm over his own, smiling at the difference in their sizes. Hands that have led you everywhere whenever you were together.  

"I think your best friend would want you to choose yourself because lately, she realised that all you've ever done was look out for her," you said softly. "Even though you like another girl."

"You mean Mikasa, right? I—"

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Jean. I don't need it."

The two of you sat there, a brief moment of silence before he asked.

"When's your flight?" 

"On the 17th." 

The 17th. "That's my—"

"Your oath-taking ceremony, I know. I'm sorry I can't be around for that," you replied with a small smile. "I know you'll do great. As for me, I'll manage. No need for you to worry about who'll take me to the airport since Sasha and Nicco offered to, so I'm all covered."

"I see," he nodded. "Don't worry about my oath-taking, too. Connie said he'd be there. I'm actually more worried about you and your flight."

"Don't worry about me too much, okay? Have a little faith in me."

"I'm sorry… But you know I'll always worry about you. It's like a job at this point in time now. Call me the CEO of worrying about my best friend," he chuckled, slowly turning in your direction to see the very same softness and fragility that endeared you to him from the very beginning. "I'll miss you." 

But when you turned to him, all he could see was the strength in your unclouded gaze as you looked into his brown eyes. "And I'll miss you. Terribly."

Your facade finally broke when his long arms drew you into a long and tight embrace, your steely resolve crumbling in his hold.   

"I love you, Jean. Always have," you cried into the crook of his neck. "Thank you for letting me choose myself first this time."

"And if you were to ask me After all that we've been through "Still believe in magic?" Oh, yes, I do. Of course, I do."

~ ten months later.

"And after nearly a decade of dating each other, hotelier Sasha Blouse and cruise ship executive sous chef Niccolo [Abbandando] have tied the knot at their beloved passion project, The Hunter Hotel and Resort, in the presence of their beloved and adoring family and friends. That very place stands as a testament to the couple's fidelity to each other and to their community, a place where people from near and far can gather to take a break from the intricacies of their lives and indulge themselves in amazing food meticulously prepared by an executive sous chef of The Founding Queen…" 

Still decked in her elegant wedding dress, Sasha could only squeal in delight at the piece she read from the latest Eldian Synergy, where you wrote an article to commemorate the opening of their hotel and restaurant and their wedding. "Beautiful. This is a work of art!"

"I'm so glad you liked it, Sasha," you replied as your newlywed best friend pulled you into an embrace. "Congratulations. I hope you and Nicco have a blessed and blissful married life."

Following the church ceremony was a wedding reception at The Hunter Hotel and Resort carefully planned by the newlyweds. The menu was composed of many of the bride's favourite meals prepared by the groom, including wood-grilled barbecue, lobster tail with smooth mashed potatoes, and banana creme brulee.  

While you and Jean walked down the aisle together as a bridesmaid and a groomsman earlier, your short conversations were mostly made up of pleasantries and silly banter that was commonplace in your friend group.

The reception was gorgeous, perhaps a tad bit too excitingly lavish for Sasha's tastes, but seeing her guests enjoying the celebrations made her extremely happy. However, in the midst of the merriment, one of the bridesmaids in emerald green was scribbling away in a corner, coming up with the next big hit for the local magazine.

"Are you perhaps the Managing Editor of The Marleyan Synergy? I could've sworn I've seen your face before," a familiar voice cut through your thoughts, a wine glass filled with sweet rosé gently pushed in your direction. From across the table sat one of the groomsmen in a pressed white dress suit, his golden necktie tastefully loosened.

"I'm pretty unforgettable if you ask me," you replied, setting your pen down on the table. "How have you been, Jean?"

"Been good. Handled a few cases here and there," he nodded at you. "And you?"

"Been good," you echoed, your serious facade slowly breaking as your painted lips curled into a smile. "Come on, Jean. It's not like we haven't been talking through text and on Facetime for the last ten months."

"Haha, you're right, you're right," he beamed at you. "Did you know that Mika knows your editor-in-chief? She calls him 'big brother'. When she mentioned it just recently, I was only able to make sense of it now."

"You didn't know that Eren from Connie's block in uni was Zeke's little brother? And that he and Mikasa were childhood friends?"

"That was a finer detail I missed. If this were a case, I probably would have tanked it. I always wondered why Eren hated my guts. Hated how I was always around Mikasa in general," Jean laughed. "I suppose it takes one to know one, making us cut from the same cloth. It was just like how I disliked your ex-boyfriend hanging around you all the time."

You watched how his expression changed from pensive to hopeful, a twinkle of wonder lighting his brown eyes as he steadily held your gaze. 

"I've made my peace with Mikasa, if you're curious. Turns out that girl's been hiding some serious feelings for her childhood friend, too. Funny how our common ground both became our launching pad to reach into the unknown," he started, not at all missing a beat. "I just wanted to say that I've never felt sorry for you even for once when you finally made your feelings known to me. More than anything, I felt terrible that I couldn't respond to you in the way you deserved. I was so scared of things changing between us that I tried to deny it."

"Jean…"

"You know, I got the scolding of my life when I came home to Trost after my oath-taking when my ma heard all about what happened between us," he said with a low laugh. Yes, Jean vividly remembers the way his mother hurled the Yellow Pages at him after he opened up about your feelings for him and how he had such a hard time determining how exactly he felt for you. 

"How could you be so blind, Jean-boy? You could be Trost's finest lawyer, but you're sloppy with your relationships! You always looked at her like she placed the sun in the sky—"  

He determined that he could go a day without even seeing the lovely Mikasa, but it always drove him nuts whenever he never saw you. And between you and Mikasa… he was pretty damn certain your conversations were always more fun. That was the beauty of knowing someone forever, he thought. Everything seems natural at this point in time.  

"I'm certain about what I feel for you now. And I'm not asking you to get together with me yet. That would be asking for too much too soon. If it's all right with you, maybe we can start—"

Wait, what exactly is happening? Somehow, the noise of the party was drowned out by Jean's confession, one that came a little bit late but still came regardless.

"From the very beginning?" You interjected, your smile uncontrollable at this point. 

"As friends."

"We already are, remember?" You replied, slowly getting up from your cushioned seat. "Are you still afraid of things changing between us?"

He followed suit, shaking his head at your question. "Not anymore."

That corner of the party was yours. That very moment was yours to make as well. Standing beside you in that very corner was the very same Jean you've been hopelessly in love with for the last 20 years. Only this time, you weren't so hopeless anymore.

"Good. I suppose doing this wouldn't bother you anymore."

You slipped your hand into his and gently tugged him down your way for a kiss, one that tasted of sweet rosé, a little bit of courage, and absolutely no regrets. 

"Twenty years is a long time, Jean. Are you really sure you want to start things over again?" 

There he saw it, the warmest and most amused smile on your face, the one he's always liked. From the very start.

"Now that you mentioned it, I think you're right," he said, his smile as wide as yours now that your embarrassment broke through your feigned confidence. "Wanna go on a road trip or something?" 

"Oh?" You quirked a curious eyebrow at him. "Where to?" 

"Home." 

But with your hand in his now, there was no need for any road trips. You've been home the very first moment he pulled you close, all those years ago. 

*Cue Sasha's bouquet toss and reader catching it because it was specifically aimed at you lol.*

Author's notes: Hello! Before everything else, I just wanted to say thank you for picking up this fic. It's one of my newer works and has a very special place in my heart. After a lot of thinking, I decided to crosspost this fic here on Tumblr and I am hoping it will receive just as much love here. ♡ — I use "Otome" as a placeholder for "Y/N" because I thought it looked much nicer in the stories I write. The term "Otome" is from otome games, or maiden games, and in this piece Otome would literally mean maiden, or Maiden-chan, which pretty much means Y/N. — I initially had something in the works for Levi back in 2021. I never really got around to developing that one and instead shifted my focus to Call it Magic. I think boyfriend material x lawyer Jean is pretty neat! (He also kinda reminds me of my own boyfriend.) I didn't actually include a lot of lawyering here since I actually have no idea. I recall my boyfriend wanted to take up law before but his mother didn't like it for the same reason I wrote here lol. Unlike Jean, he didn't exactly pursue it in the same roundabout way. I have very little to say about this except apologies for the angst, and this may or may not be the last time I write something for Jean. Hopefully the right inspiration strikes and I find the motivation to bring out another fic in the chiller lol! ~ Mari / SongsOfAdelaide ♡

✦ Original Tumblr post ✦ AO3 link ✦