#and i get why people are fleeing or hiding their art but i am tired of the constant push and pull of fear around stuff

[l-la]

Ultimately I am interested in the stories and art people create. I want to see what people's minds come up with. I want to think about how they chose to design their characters, the lines and colours they play with. I want to know people are creating. Being. There's something so human about it.

I joke often I can't imagine not thinking about my characters and stories always in the back of my head, and I can't. I can't imagine what it is not to make or think about a sentence. Think about how I want to scribble out my next illustration.

I fear generative AI making for a populace that is easier to manipulate. Easier to convince of badly cloaked lies because they don't know how to read with any level of consideration for that.

But I also will not abandon the places and people that make up stories and art. They can make their poor mimicries, even bad ones. I hope artists and writers can protect themselves to the best of their own abilities. But I am not going anywhere. I want to be here, where people are making and telling and creating. In spite of everything.

[flowers-and-fichte]

TWO - MAGDA

A/N: Finally, we meet our second protagonist! While I do love Werner Künzle and how sweet and wholesome he is, Magda is just as lovely and I enjoyed writing her as well. Note that this story is not supposed to or meant to romanticize the war or the mass killings of millions of innocent civilians.

Warnings: See past two chapters. Warnings will pretty much remain the same.

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It is cold in Dachau.

I have no friends, and my family is either dead or dying. 

I am in so much pain, both mental and physical.

It hurts to move. I am tired, hungry, and freezing. 

One second I was an art student in Łódź, Poland, another I was rounded up with a few hundred other people and transported here, to Dachau, or as I know it, hell.

My only friend in the camp is a ten-year-old Soviet boy, Sergei, born in Leningrad. He has been keeping me company ever since I arrived here. His mother managed to escape, but his father was sent to a work camp in Poland. Both of his brothers are dead, so I have taken up the role of an older sister. He seems to enjoy that. I love him as much as I would my siblings, if I had any.

Over the course of the days, we, along with the other prisoners from our barrack, have been hatching a plan to escape. Our original plan was to hide among the dead bodies until they were gathered, but we figured that we would be caught or burned in the crematoria. Three of our fellow barrackmates escaped just yesterday, disguising themselves as SS guards and fleeing. They haven't been caught, from what I know. I chose to escape with Sergei, which is why we are sitting outside, naked, our backs pressed to the outer wall of the barracks we are housed in. 

"Do you have any thoughts?" I whisper to Sergei, who is shivering next to me in the snow. We had discarded the clothes we were given, which were lazily handed out and ill-fitting for the most part. My shirt was too big and Sergei's shoes were too small for his feet. So, we have to go with no clothes at all.

"We could hide under the bodies," I suggest. "I actually think it might work."

"But what if we die? What if we get buried alive?" Sergei wonders, pointing at the pile of corpses a few feet away. The sight of them is enough to cause me to tear up. No human being should live in the conditions that we are living in now. I don't know what made the Nazis think of this horrible lifestyle. 

I shake my head. "No, they don't pick up the bodies in the morning. But good point."

"We could do what those men did."

"What men?"

"The ones who dressed up as guards."

"You're too small, Sergei. They'll know you're only a boy."

"I don't want to be here."

I know he's right. I place my hand on his shoulder and tell him. "Me neither. But it's a lot worse elsewhere. If we were to be transported to another camp, we'd surely die sooner." I'm lying. Death is imminent at Dachau, just as it is at any other camp. But I try to get Sergei to think on the brightest side possible. "It is bad here, but I've heard stories of all kinds from elsewhere. There's a man at one camp who kidnaps children and does unspeakable things to them. There's a woman who kicks people and treats them like garbage, when she is really the one who deserves to be spat on. There's also a man who beats people with a whip until they are covered in scars. I know that Dachau is a terrible place, and we will get out, but thank God we are not surrounded by monsters like these." That seems to calm Sergei down a bit, but he's still nervous.

"We could dig under the fence," he suggests. A lightbulb turns on in my head.

"Of course," I chuckle quietly. "And we could hide bodies in our beds. That'll surely throw the SS off." 

"I can dig, and you can get the bodies," Sergei says. "Can I dig, Magda? Please?" I smile and pat his head. 

"Of course you can dig," I tell him, and he crawls over to the barbed wire fence and begins clawing at the snow-covered ground. I follow him and stop at the pile of bodies. I fight back tears as I lift a man and a woman over my head and haul them to the barracks. It pains me just thinking about what happened to them. They didn't deserve to die like this. No one deserves to die like this. 

I carefully cover the corpses with Sergei's and my blankets respectively and creep out of the barracks. By then, Sergei has dug a decent-sized shallow tunnel and is now working his way under the fence. "Come on, Magda!" he whispers excitedly. I ease myself into the hole and follow him as he digs. Thankfully, the guards haven't noticed us. I feel the barbed wire of the fence graze the skin on my back as I crawl. It is painful, but I make it out. 

We are free. 

I breathe a sigh of relief and hold Sergei close as I look for a further way out. It is dark outside, with the exception of a few stars sprinkled across the cold, black sky. Sergei looks up at me, a mix of joyful and nervous tears filling his eyes. I tousle his hair, lean down, and whisper against the side of his head, "It's all right, myszko. We've made it." 

My ears perk up at the whistle of a train. I stiffen. 

People.

The train is bringing people. 

People who don't deserve to die or do forced labor simply because they do not fill the stupid mold of what a person should be as stated by the Germans. 

They must have been deported from another country because trains don't often arrive here at night. I feel sick at the thought as soon as I hear that awful sound of the whistle. But at the same time, an idea makes its way into my head.

"Sergei," I whisper. "The train."

"What?"

"We can use the train to get out of here. It always goes back to get people."

"Okay!"

"Come on! We must be sneaky, though. Can you do that?" 

Sergei nods eagerly, and I grab his hand and we run as fast as we can to the train tracks. Thankfully, the officers don't catch us, but sadly, the unfortunate people aboard the train were headed to their deaths. I looked back at the entrance, a single tear sliding down my cheek before Sergei pulls me over to an empty car. I look around the inside of the car, and it seems fine. We quietly climb aboard and hide in one of the corners. We stay quiet, and when an SS guard comes to survey the inside of the car, he thankfully doesn't notice us and moves on. 

I silently instruct Sergei not to talk until we get off. He stretches next to me and falls asleep with his head in my lap. The car smells like rotting flesh and sweat, and it makes me feel nauseous. I attempt to ignore the stench for the rest of the long ride as I slowly close my eyes and feel myself drift off as well.

The train begins to move away from the camp, and I think to myself, "I am free! Sergei is free! We have cheated death and are now on our way towards further freedom!" I smile in my sleep for the rest of the journey, relishing in my newfound feeling of liberty. 

I don't know how long I slept, but I awaken as the train screeches to a halt. I stare out the door and realize that we are at a crowded train station in an unfamiliar city.

A train station. 

I eagerly shake Sergei awake and he looks at me with sleepy little brown eyes. I whisper to him, "We're in the city."

He immediately jolts upright and looks around. "Which city?"

"I don't know."

The train whistles again and everyone gets on. My heart breaks. If only I could tell these people to get off and tell the Nazis herding them on board to stop. But I know I'd die if I did.

Sergei and I disembark the train and we weasel our way through the massive crowd of people so that we won't be seen. Amidst the crowd, I spy a woman with an emerald green wool coat, which I think is one of the most beautiful pieces of clothing I have ever seen. I approach her and ask her if I could have it, lowering my voice to explain that I escaped from Dachau last night. She simply nods, tears forming in her eyes as she too realizes that she is headed for certain death. I bite my lip and whisper softly, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I pick up Sergei and button the coat around the both of us so as to avoid freezing to death yet again. As I race towards what I can only assume is a clothing store, I begin to panic. What if we get caught? No person in their right mind would be running around barefoot in only a wool coat. I have to think of an excuse.

I push open the door, careful not to let Sergei fall to the floor, and croak out, "Heil Hitler." 

The words alone feel like stinging in my throat. But I must say them in order to not be considered suspicious.

The owner looks up at me from behind the counter. He is an old man, small and fat with round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He has a half-halo of white hair at the back of his head, the ends touching his ears, reminding me of an old neighbor back in Poland.

He slowly approaches us, in a manner that seems as though he is afraid of tripping over his own feet, and asks, "What can I do for you, Fräulein?"

"My brother and I need clothes. We lost ours in a house fire recently, and we need some new ones. All we have is this coat, which we've been using to keep warm. Other than that, we have nothing." I smile to myself, as that sounds like a very convincing lie. I hope that he doesn't believe that there can't be a house fire in the dead of winter. Still, that was the only excuse I could come up with.

"I'm very sorry to hear about that, Fräulein," the old man says, sympathy filling his voice. "Is there anything specific you or the little fellow would like?"

"Just warm clothes, thank you," I answer.

"Very well then. Wait right here and I will measure the both of you." He walks behind the counter and produces a measuring tape before he looks up at Sergei and me. "Do me a favor and take off your coat, please."

I do as he says before remembering something.

I remember the last time a man touched me. The guards at Dachau would hit at us regularly, whether with whips or boots. It felt as though the devil himself was touching me. I will unfortunately never forget that feeling. It was one of the worst things I have ever felt.

The guards also refused to use our names. It made me feel sick to my stomach. They refused to acknowledge our humanity. They restricted us. I felt like I would never be free.

Thankfully, the old man does not notice my slight discomfort and measures us without incident. I breathe a sigh of relief as he shows us a series of clothes that are appropriate for the weather. I select a maroon sweater and a light brown wool skirt, along with a pair of burgundy leather high-heeled shoes. I keep the coat given to me by the woman boarding the train. Sergei takes a cream-colored sweater and a crisp white shirt, as well as dark brown wool pants and a pair of black leather shoes. We thank the man and he bids us farewell with a smile as we head back out into the city.

I run my fingers through my hair, which has since grown back after it was shaved off when I arrived at Dachau earlier in the year. My head froze and I was sure that I was to die, yet by some twist of fate, I didn't. It was now just below my chin in its usual wavy style. My mother used to say that its golden color reminded her of the wheat in the fields of her family's farm. I, however, always thought of the hue that the sun painted on the clouds in the evening. But whatever the case was, my hair had always been lauded as beautiful during my youth, and I relished in said praise.

Sergei and I wander through the city looking for a place to stay for at least a day or two, but we can't seem to find anywhere. I look at him and suggest, "Maybe we should try an inn or a motel. I'm sure they would take us. But we have to be careful. They could notice our accents."

The boy nods, and I whisper to him, "Can you speak German?"

He nods again.

"Good. We just have to find a way to survive until the war is over. I can pass as German with my hair color, and I can just say that you are my brother. We will be safe, I promise."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I take his hand and we continue through the streets, looking for a place to take up temporary residence in. No luck. We keep walking. Still nothing. 

It's then that I feel a gloved hand on my shoulder, and I jump at the person's touch. I begin to panic, thinking that it's someone from the Gestapo or the SA here to arrest me. But my nervousness is quelled when I hear a woman's voice whisper hurriedly in my ear.

"Come with me."

[soulmate-game]

Prompt: “How did you- No, nevermind, I don't want to know, plausible deniability and all that" with... hmmmm.... Dick? Yeah, with Dick!

Real quick, I think a few of you misunderstood. When I say 3-from-1, I mean I am taking your single quote and pairing, and using it in all three prompts, not just one. Maybe this first one will help explain. Here are parts 1 and 2, since I think I’ve gone long enough without giving you guys content. I’m still working on the last part for this prompt, but it should be done soon!

— Part 1: The Romantic One (so Dickinette)

Tom and Sabine had decided that maybe a break from Paris was in order. Nobody could tell if it was the maniac turning random citizens into superpowered villains every other day, the fact that their daughter had come home with a few bruises that suggested extreme escalation on the side of her school bullies, or how they had caught said daughter asleep against her mannequin— standing up and drooling all over her expensive fabric.

Paris was clearly not a healthy place for Marinette at the moment, and a nice month-long vacation to Jump City was just what they needed. It was similar enough, with its villains and heroes, that they wouldn’t get too whiplashed by the long change in scenery. But it was also a lot safer than Paris was at the moment, and without nearly as many frequent large-scale villain attacks that ended with half the city in ruins as other places (looking at you, Gotham and Metropolis). The lack of villains that took advantage of civilian emotions was a plus.

Marinette, for one, was extremely grateful for the change. Sure, she still had to teleport back to Paris whenever an Akuma showed up, but Jump City was so much easier to relax in. And the ability to see the city’s heroes just walking around in full costume during the day, just relaxing, was an unexpectedly nice thing to experience. Marinette, as it turned out, happened to have a similar taste for places to hang out.

Now, she never spoke to them. She tended to just smile at the sight of them and go back to her own business— she knew how annoying it could be when people always invaded someone’s personal life just because they were well known. So when she saw them every now and then at the best arcade in town, or at one of the few vegan-friendly restaurants she liked? It brightened her day a bit, and she was pleasantly relaxed for quite a while afterwards. It was like, despite never actually approaching them, she was still among friends for once. People who understood everything she had gone through over the past several years since donning the Ladybug miraculous.

So yeah, she was enjoying her time in Jump City. So much so that her parents extended the trip indefinitely, and went through all the necessary paperwork to open a second location for their bakery in the city. They liked it there too.

That led to Marinette standing in line inside of the bank, right after getting all her own paperwork to attend school in Jump City in order. She was already exhausted from all the waiting and general boredom that followed doing anything official in America, and it was already past sunset to boot. The last thing she wanted was to be around when a villain attacked. The bank was already about to close and she didn’t know if they’d call her up in time for her to do what she needed to do.

And what happens? A blue-skinned magician with clear insanity and far too much of a resemblance to an Akuma to give her any sort of comfort comes bursting in and robbing the place. Marinette could only sigh, taking out her phone and informing her parents about the change in plans with all the ease of someone who was far too used to these kinds of things to be healthy. Luckily, the Teen Titans burst in only a few seconds later— must have been on a stake out, she thought.

Marinette put her phone away, deciding just to watch everyone in action. It was almost surreal, seeing such a large team fighting with such fluidity and lack of arguing. They seemed like such a perfect team, it made her envious. Only Chat was a good partner anymore, Marinette dreaded the days she had to find another temporary holder because nobody was a safe choice anymore. But the Teen Titans? They were a beautiful sight to behold.

That is, until Mumbo set his sights on her. The only civilian who wasn’t currently restrained, panicked, or hiding. Marinette blinked.

Oh, she thought. I must have been so tired I forgot to react to anything again.

But Marinette was also too tired to care much about first impressions, so the second Mumbo grabbed her arm and tried to use her as a hostage, she Reacted. The Teen Titans could only watch as Marinette jumped up and over Mumbo’s head, dragging his arm behind him in the process, before slamming her other fist into the small of his back and sending him onto his knees. As he tried to twist away, she kneed his wand out of his hand and twisted his other arm behind his back before he could cast another spell. Right before he could say some magic word and turn the tables on her, he was met with her head hitting the back of his and sending him unconscious immediately.

Problem handled, Marinette let go of him and backed off, dusting her hands off before letting loose a huge yawn.

She turned to leave when Cyborg’s hesitant voice Called out: “Uh, Ma’am? You should wait for the police. They’ll probably want your statement.”

Marinette blinked, and sighed as her shoulders dropped in dismay. “Oh yeah. I forgot I actually fought this time. Sorry,” she sighed again before adjusting her purse on her shoulder and obediently walking further inside the bank, leaning against the wall to wait. That was when Robin approached her, passing a few glances between her and the now-bound-up Mumbo.

"How did you- No, nevermind, I don't want to know, plausible deniability and all that,” he cut himself off mid-question, shaking his head. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s nothing all that special, Monsieur Robin,” Marinette assured, still amused. “And I’ve seen you do far more impressive things, I’m hardly that good of a fighter. My Maman has a background in martial arts, her whole side of the family has a minor obsession with teaching the girls how to fight,” she admitted with a small shrug. “It’s how we bonded, growing up. Every weekend she’d spar with me and we’d spend the whole day just training, and my Papan would bring food in every now and then when he wanted us to take a break. We don’t do it as often now, my Maman says she’s getting a little too old to spar all the time, but I still practice on my own.”

The vigilante blinked, not knowing how to respond for a moment. It was then that Marinette noticed the entire team had been listening, the police having already arrived and taking Mumbo away in cuffs. She blushed a bit, coughing into her hand in embarrassment.

“A-Ah, well. I wouldn’t have interfered at all if I wasn’t so tired, I’m sorry if I got in your way,” she began to babble, the usual nerves that came with having so many eyes on her kicking in. “I tend to space out when I’m exhausted, and so I kinda forgot to react when Mumbo came in? I just spaced out, and I got distracted watching you guys fight so well, and then he tried to grab me and I just… kinda… reacted?” Her voice got faster and higher as she spoke, until she ended her babbling by making it sound like a question. “I promise I won’t make this habit or anything, it’s just been a long day!”

“You…” It was Beast Boy who spoke up, eyes wide. “Did that while you were exhausted?! Woah! I’ve never seen anyone other than Robin fight like that when they were tired!”

Marinette knew her face must have been completely red by then, because it felt like her head was on fire. “I-it’s really not a big deal!” She started waving her hands in Marinette Denial, shaking her head like crazy. “P-probably just a fluke or something! I’ll just give my statement and get out of your hair!” She didn’t wait for a response before fleeing to the police out of sheer humiliation, and giving them the world’s fastest statement. The Titans tried to get her attention as she left, but her face was still one giant, ripe tomato and she just speed walked right past them without a word.

She didn’t even notice that she was followed home, or that she had a team of heroes watching her for a while before they completed their background search and left back for their own home. Or that Robin cast a glance back at her apartment several times as they left, questions crossing his mind too fast to recall all of them.

It wasn’t until a week later that Marinette saw them again, this time when she was at the grocery store. She let her shoulders drop when she saw them talking to each other in the middle of a random aisle, debating over which brand of a product to buy. Once again, a small smile crossed over her lips and she walked on by, fully intent on leaving them be and enjoying the aura of calm that their presence always seemed to give her. It was as she was calmly debating over which kind of fruit would make the best filling for the danishes she wanted to make, that a hand tapped her shoulder. She hummed, tearing her eyes away from the blueberries and raspberries to turn around.

“Yes? Do you need—“ she cut herself off when she saw that the person who had tapped her shoulder was none other than Robin himself, with the rest of his team giving her friendly smiles over his shoulder. She blue screened for a moment before shaking her head, sending him a small, confused smile. “Is there something you need, Monsieur Robin?”

“As a matter of fact,” he ran a hand through his unfairly fluffy hair as he gave her a far too charming, lopsided grin. “I hope you don’t mind that I did some research on you and your family after we met last week—“ Marinette almost laughed when she saw how his teammates face-palmed behind him and quietly groaned about how much tact he lacked. “—and I realized why your movements seemed so familiar. Your mother wouldn’t happen to be from the Cheng family in Hong Kong, would she?”

Marinette immediately lost most of her embarrassment, snorting. “You’re the one who did my background check, you tell me,” she teased. The rest of the Titans seemed floored by the fact that she wasn’t at all annoyed, insulted, or creeped out. “But since you’re asking anyway, yes. The group of primarily female martial artists in Hong Kong, the Chengs, is run by my Aunt. Why?”

Robin’s smile grew. “Well, it just so happens that they have one of the only unique combat styles that my mentor— Batman, of course— was never able to learn.”

Marinette actually did laugh now, connecting the dots as to what he wanted to actually ask. “Ah, because they only accept male pupils if they are blood-relations, non? Let me guess,” she crossed her arms and popped one hip, giving him a smug little grin. “You want me to teach you?”

“We have the best training facilities you have ever seen,” he bribed, eyes practically shining at the prospect of training in a new style of combat.

“I don’t doubt it,” Marinette got a little dreamy eyed herself at the thought. “And Maman can’t spar with me anytime soon… why not? I’m not bound by the Cheng rules after all, nobody can get mad if I teach you. And it requires a lot of gymnastic ability, which you clearly already have. Just one question,” she turned, gesturing to the fruit behind her. “Do you prefer blueberry or raspberry? I’m trying out a new danish recipe and don’t know which to choose.”

She did not miss how, as she was walking out with a few new acquaintances by her side and a few cases of blueberries, Cyborg whispered to Beast Boy:

“I can’t believe Robin actually picked up a girl when he led with the ‘we did an extensive check on your family history’ schtick!”

—*—*—*—*—*

Slam! Marinette’s shin collided with Robin’s waist while they were both mid-air, sending the vigilante flying to the ground, tumbling until he could gain traction and stop himself. Marinette, on the other hand, landed on the padded floor of the training room nimbly.

“Not bad!” She praised. “You’re picking it all up really quickly!” Robin scoffed goodbye-naturedly, smirking as he stood up.

“If you didn’t restrict me to only using Cheng-style, I’d have won,” he boasted. Marinette’s eyes shone playfully at the challenge.

“Are you sure? I restricted myself to that style as well,” she teased. “It is the best way for you to learn, after all.”

As per usual, the rest of the Titans were nearby either doing their own training or snacking as they watched. Nobody left Marinette alone when she was at the Tower, which she understood. Apparently they had had someone betray them in the past, so she understood being cautious around her even if she had been teaching Robin twice a week for the past two months. Starfire floated up, flying over to tell them both about how much more exciting this spar had been than the last few, but the Tamaranean was interrupted when Marinette’s phone let out a loud alarm.

Being who they were, all the Titans stiffened and were immediately at alert. Marinette cursed softly, pulling out her phone to see—

“What’s an Akuma Alert?” Robin, ever the nosy idiot, asked. Marinette clenched her jaw. This was not good. It was only nine in the morning in Jump City, making it three in the morning back in Paris. Marinette had hoped he wouldn’t decide to have a late night attack when she was in Titan Tower and essentially trapped.

Marinette looked up from her phone, looking around as everyone’s gazes grew suspicious the longer she stayed silent. Until, finally, she sighed and silenced her phone. She began to speak even as she unzipped her purse to put it away.

“It’s an alert from Paris. I’m sorry, and I understand if you do not wish to see me after this, but I must go.”

“Go where? Paris?” Raven asked, sweeping up to stand next to Beat Boy. If this turned out to be another Terra situation, the boy would need support again. Terra had torn his heart out, and Beast Boy had finally allowed himself to like Marinette and get close to her as a friend. All of them had. “How?”

Marinette clenched her eyes shut, mourning the friendships she was sure she had just lost. Maybe she should stick to the opposite side of the city from then on, so they wouldn’t have to run into her again. With that plan in mind, she drew the magical pair of glasses out of her purse and put them on, making Kaalki materialize.

The Titans stiffened, and Marinette felt her heart shatter a little. But she still called on both of her transformations, and left to save Paris.

She did not go back to the Tower. When the battle was over, she just opened the returning portal straight to the alley outside her apartment and went back home to sob into her pillow. She couldn’t explain what was going on, wasn’t sure they would even want to listen. And she and Robin had been getting so close, too.

But Marinette would not stick around after keeping secrets. She was certain they hated her, anyway.

She went out of her way to avoid them, not even looking their way when they passed by her apartment— on purpose, she was sure. She did everything she could to avoid them. But one day, she couldn’t. She was in the middle of trying to lose them in the alleys on her way to go grocery shopping, when a wall of black cut her off, shadows moving to pile up dumpsters and block her escape. Marinette shrunk in on herself— so they were finally moving up to using their powers, huh?

She heard Starfire drop down to hover behind her next, then the sight of a green hawk landing on a balcony nearby gave away Beast Boy. Robin dropped down from a rooftop, and Cyborg pulled up in the T-Car to block the entrance of the alleyway.

“Marinette,” Robin started, but she shook her head and cut him off.

“Robin, I’m trying to stay out of you guys’s way. I get it, I kept secrets and that’s not cool, I’m not gonna interfere in your fights, you don’t have to worry about—“

“Friend Marinette, we are not angry,” Starfire spoke up, flying over to land next to her. She put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. Her eyes widened, and the smaller girl gulped.

“You… aren't?”

“We hacked into Paris news and street cams after you left,” Cyborg admitted, crossing his arms before giving her a wide smile. “Why didn’t you just tell us you were one of Paris’s heroes? Did ya think we wouldn’t understand or something?” Marinette froze, and then her face grew red when realization set in.

“... Oh Kwami. I’m freaking out about heroes finding out my identity… as a hero…” she groaned as soon as she said it, her head falling into her hands as her friends laughed around her.

“Guess I don’t need that plausible deniability for the reasons I thought,” Robin joked, making Marinette glare at him.

“Don’t tease me, I’m too busy being mortified.”

“Too busy for me to offer you a room at the tower?” He asked, and Marinette looked up to berate him for continuing to tease her, only to stop and realize that his expression said he was completely serious. Her eyes widened in shock once again, and she opened and closed her mouth only for her voice to not work. Robin smiled, holding out one of his hands to her.

“Just for whenever you need a break. Judging by your reaction, your parents don’t know about Ladybug, right?” Marinettte winced at his words. She gave them a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her neck.

“No, back when we lived in Paris it was way too risky for anyone to know, even them. And now that we’re in Jump City, it’s been so long that…” she shook her head. “I don’t think they’d take it well.”

“Because they don’t understand,” Raven guessed, earning a nod and a small smile from the Parisian girl.

“And that’s why we’re offering you a room,” Robin continued, crossing his arms and giving her a confident, relaxed smile. “A temporary one, for whenever you need to drop by and be around people who understand you a bit better. Now, everything outside of the bedroom itself will still heavily monitor you for a while, but—“

“That’s fine!” Marinette agreed easily, beaming happily. “I get it, trust isn’t something that is easy to earn especially when it’s already been broken before. But the offer itself is already extremely generous, thank you!” Marinette lunged forward, tackling Robin in a tight hug. He laughed, returning the embrace.

“Dogpile!” Beast Boy yelled, of course transforming into a giant Saint Bernard as he leapt to start a group hug. His huge, furry body slammed Marinette and Robin to the ground, making them groan in pain and annoyance before Starfire picked all three of them up and started her own crushing hug. Followed by Cyborg wrapping his hands around the pile of superhero on the opposite side, and Raven… just kinda floating over to slump on top of the ball of teenaged heroes in the laziest hug ever.

Marinette didn’t stop laughing until her sides hurt.

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette had become a constant presence at the Tower, and Ladybug had even become an occasional member of the Team. She was officially labeled as a reserve member of the Titans, since her duties in Paris came first. But she was fine with that. She didn’t want to draw Hawkmoth’s attention to Jump City after all, but the few and far-between appearances she made weren’t too odd. It had already been a year and a half of her new life in America, on one of the weekends where Marinette found herself sprawled against the couch scrolling through Instagram on her phone, that everything changed. She heard the elevator door open, and took only a second to narrow down who it could be.

First; Kori was visiting Tamaran and wouldn’t be back for at least another week. Victor was working on the T-car and probably wouldn’t come back up for a while. Rachel was meditating, as always, and Marinette could still feel the magic aura from the floor above that told her that she had not moved a muscle. Gar was taking a literal cat nap on the kitchen counter. Only Robin was unaccounted for, since he had gone to Gotham to visit Batman for some “top secret Bat business” and could come back at any moment.

Deduction done, Marinette felt herself smile unintentionally. Her and Robin had become immeasurably close, and she had been pining after him for almost— well, since she first started training him all that time ago. So she sat up, ready to go attack her best friend and major crush in a hug.

“Welcome ba— WHAT THE FUCK?!” Marinette tripped over thin air like she hardly did nowadays, floored by the sight in front of her. Robin was a stickler for his identity, though the rest of the Titans weren’t really. She had never seen him out of uniform, including mask, in the entire time she’d known him. Never heard his real name.

But here stood a boy her age, with extremely familiar fluffy hair and strong jaw. Who seemed extremely conflicted and distraught, in a black hoodie and sweatpants. It was the glimpse of red and yellow under the fully zipped-up hoodie and the slip of black fabric he held in one tightly curled fist that solidified exactly who this blue-eyed beauty was. Marinette swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

Her yell had startled Garfield awake, who burst into his normal form and was staring at the scene equally wide- eyed. He made a few rapid gestures with his hands before choking out;

“I— I’m gonna… go see if Cy needs help,” before he scrambled away and into the elevator, flabbergasted. Robin didn’t say a word the whole time, just silently moving out of the way for the other boy.

Once Beast Boy was gone, the silence returned with stifling intensity. Marinette finally managed to clear her throat and get her thoughts in order.

“Are you okay?” She asked, because his well-being was more important than the fact that she was seeing his whole face for the first time. Because the fact that this was happening at all meant that something was probably very wrong. Just to make sure, she reached out with her Guardian abilities to read his aura— and yes, it was Robin. It couldn’t be anyone else.

But he didn’t look at all like their normally composed, erratic, confident leader. He looked like a young adult who had just had his world upturned and didn’t know how to manage it. He finally raised his eyes from the ground to meet her’s.

“... Batman got a new Robin… a while ago, apparently.”

Marinette sucked air through her teeth, grimacing. Yeah, that… that was a lot. “Come here,” she sat down and patted the couch next to her. “You clearly need to talk. We can even spar later if you want.”

He walked over, sighing and running a hand through his hair. “For once, I don’t think sparring will help. I mean yeah, I left Batman a long time ago because he wouldn’t take me seriously, but…”

Marinette understood. That was different than Batman giving his title to someone entirely new without even telling him. So she sat, and she listened as Robin explained all about his new adoptive brother, about the fight he had had with Bruce. Because apparently Batman was Bruce Wayne, but Marinette would shelve that headache for another day. At the end of it all, she hummed.

“Sounds like you need a new name then.”

“Mari,” Robin glared at her half heartedly. “That’s all you have to say? Really?”

“No,” she shrugged. “But I can’t keep calling you Robin, can I? But okay, you want me to be serious? It sounds like he was trying to do a good thing, getting Jason off the streets. Was he right to just give your moniker away with no warning? Of course not. But I don’t think he did it maliciously. If anything, I think this proves that Robin is a title for Batman’s sidekick to hold. And you’ve gotten way past that point in your life.”

“Well, for starters,” he said after a while. “My real name’s Dick.”

Marinette deadpanned at him, raising an eyebrow. “... I’m sorry, what?”

That got a snort out of him, and he smiled for the first time since he got back, running a hand through his hair again as he grinned at her. “Well, technically it’s Richard. Richard Grayson. But I prefer going by Dick.”

“Oh for the love of— good luck surviving Victor and Gar after you tell them that,” she warned, rubbing her temples at the mere thought of the chaos that was going to ensue. Rob— Dick— just laughed. But this time when he fell silent, Marinette didn’t immediately notice through her preemptive headache. But when she did, she looked up at him only to see him staring at her silently, an odd spark in his eyes. “What?”

“Well, if we’re admitting things and getting rid of secrets…” he started, leaning back a bit as his cheeks suddenly took on a pink tint. He cleared his throat, but met her eyes bravely. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while, Marinette. If, uh, if you want. To go out with me, I mean.”

Marinette sat there, out of order, for a moment as her brain refused to work. Dick panicked.

“I mean, I get it if you don’t. Dating in the team and all, probably not the smartest move ever. So I get it—“

“Shut up,” Marinette interrupted, her face entirely pink. “I just couldn’t talk for a sec. yes, Dick. A million times, yes I’ll go out with you. Holy crap how dare you catch me off guard like that you jerk,” she glared at him before the two of them broke, bursting into laughter and leaning on one another.

They had gone through a lot. If the others found them slumped against one another on the couch, asleep and still holding hands, well they deserved the rest after the day they’d had. Now whether or not they deserved the many photos that had been taken to be held as blackmail against them? That was up for debate.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 2: The same prompt, but siblings this time

[morning-might-arrive]

Here’s the continuation of my last post. Thank you so much to everyone who liked and reblogged! This is becoming a lot longer than I thought, so there will be another part soon. Feedback is appreciated!

A series of misunderstandings involving a limousine and Spectra’s blog lead Jackson to the realization that he has way more friends than he thought.

Wednesday

Jackson sighed as he silenced his blaring alarm clock. 7:00 am. As he walked to the bathroom to get ready, he was suddenly struck by a memory.

“It’s nothing personal, normie. You just look like such a freak.” Manny told him as he shoved him off of the lunch table. Jackson looked towards the other mansters, but they said nothing. So they all agreed. Even Clawd. 

He cringed. He’d had to eat lunch in a bathroom stall that day. He looked at his reflection, desperately wishing he could change it. He sighed and got dressed. He had to leave early since he now had no car and his parents weren't home. He plugged his headphones into his phone. Holt had gotten them into this situation, only fitting that he deal with it.

Holt Hyde cursed under his breath as he walked to school. Although the weather was warming, mornings in March were still frigid. He sighed in relief as he approached Monster High.

“Heya there, sweetpea,” Operetta drawled in greeting as Holt waltzed through the front doors of the school. 

“What’s good, Oppy?” Holt responded, his usual loud and energetic self even at the early hour.

“Just peachy keen like always, hun. Say, you seen the Ghostly Gossip lately?” She asked.

“Nah, we usually stay away from that garbage ever since that story about us and Frankie. Humiliated the poor ghoul and almost tanked our relationship. It really ain’t cool what they're doin’.” He replied nonchalantly. 

“Oh. Okay. Well sugar, you know you can tell me anythang you wanna, right?” She continued.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks Oppy.” That was kinda weird for the rough and tumble ghoul to say, but honestly Holt was just glad their botched attempt at dating didn’t mess up their friendship. Oppy was a cool ghoul. 

“What’s the word, cool cats?” Came a new voice.

“Johnny!”

“Johnny.”

Johnny spirit sauntered casually down the main corridor of Monster High, and students jumped out of his way as if he had the plague. He put his arm around Operetta’s shoulder. “Hey, babe.”

Holt snorted. “I’ll never get why everyone lets you float around like you own the place.”

Johnny shrugged. “Guess they don’t have a choice. Besides, I never see you doing anything about it,” he replied with a bit of challenge in his tone. Holt rolled his eyes.

“You know you don’t scare us, Spirit. Anyway, it seems like Oppy’s got you on a leash without our help.”

Johnny bristled at that “Y’know Hyde, I’m gettin’ real sick of-”

“Why don’t we scamper on down to the catacombs and finish that new song we been workin on, sugarpie?” Operetta cut in. She really didn’t want to deal with a fistfight this early.

The couple walked away and Holt made toward the auditorium. He found the symphony on stage setting up and dashed up to join them, plugging his guitar into its amp. Jennifire was nearby greasing the corks on her clarinet. He huffed and sat down next to her.

“Another run in with the phantom pianist?” She asked, not even looking up.

“That guy is such a jerk!”

She chuckled and shook her head. “You boys are so easily provoked; I may never understand it. My brothers were just the same. He has done not to insight your anger.”

Holt really hated to admit it, but she was right. Johnny really didn't scare Holt, and he knew a little better than to try that tough guy act on Jackson. Plus, it was kinda funny seeing guys like Heath and Manny faint when he walked past them.

“Your emotions run like wildfire, I am very impressed you came to terms so easily with your end.” She continued.

Wait. What. “My what now?”

“Of course, it must be so hard for you to talk about. I am sorry.” A tear fell from her eye and promptly turned to smoke upon hitting her face.

“Jen, are you okay?” Holt asked, facing her.

She smiled. “Yes, I will be okay. So kind of you to think of me.”

“Okay, Okay, enough chit chat. Places people!” The director yelled as he approached the stage. Well. That was weird. Holt took his place in the stool beside the amp and looked up as the director began counting them off.

After an awkward hour of rehearsal, they were dismissed to second period. Holt emerged out into the crowd of students in the hall. Jennifire was nowhere to be found, so he made his way toward the art room. His Spotify playlist suddenly changed to a song by Pierce the Veil. He pulled out his phone to skip it and saw he had a message from Jackson. He scoffed. If D-low had told him what was wrong, would he be asking? JJ could be so oblivious. Maybe it was just a normie thing. 

He took his usual seat in front of his canvas and continued his painting for this week. 

“Psst, Holt.” he heard a whisper. He turned and met the shiny magenta eyes of retired popstar Catty Noir. “We’re turning up at Cleo’s place on Saturday, you in?”

“Yeah totally- oh, nevermind. We can’t make it, we kinda got a...thing that day.”

“Oh,” she said, looking kind of taken aback. “It’s that soon?” 

“What was that?”

“ I said I’ll see you soon!” she hastily corrected herself as she got up and turned in her painting, promptly leaving the art room. Man, everyone's acting off today. He touched up his work and quickly followed suit.

He basically had the rest of the period to himself, so he decided to riff on his guitar for a little bit. He couldn’t do it in the building anymore ever since that one time Headmistress Bloodgood caught him, so he moved to the front steps and set his bag beside him.

“Hey Holt!”

Holt turned towards the front of the school. “Frankie Fine-Stein! Where have you been hiding?” Her skin glowed a light mint green and her eyes sparked in the sun. Just as bootiful as ever. She sat on the step beside him.

“I was actually just in the library. I found this book about the original Jekyll and Hyde. It was way harsh; It said that Edward Hyde trampled a child in the streets of London, is that true?”

“Nuh-uh! Those stuffy normie’s didn’t like that grandpa’s were different so they dragged their reputation through the dirt!” Holt declared passionately. “Some of the people they charged him with killing didn’t even exist in the first place! Then they made Dr. Jekyll out to be a complete basket case and threw them both in jail! That is until they got bailed out by our great-great-grandma, Lucy.”

“Oh, man. I didn’t know any of that!” Frankie replied. She actually knew all about it, she had heard the exact same thing from Jackson before. They were both incredibly salty about the smear campaign launched against their great-great-grandparents that made their family flee to America in the first place, and you could hardly bring it up around them without a passionate rant. Frankie felt a little bad about bringing up something she knew was a sore subjet for them, but she had to make sure Spectra and the other ghouls didn’t get caught. It was for their own good, right?

Her phone buzzed in her lap and she glanced down. “Spectra got something, meet us back in the library.” Clawdeen. Frankie jumped up. “Sorry, Holt, I really gotta go.”

Holt watched her go in curiosity. He checked the time and quickly jumped up himself and dashed back inside the building. The only way to not be late now was to go through Section C, the so-called “vampires only” hallway. It really irked them when other monster’s used it, but he didn’t really care when it was either that or detention. As he made his way through he felt someone glaring at him, and met eyes with a large group of the former prep-school vampires. He braced himself, but instead of giving him grief like they usually did, they just let him pass. They were acting weird, but so was everyone else. Oh well, he didn’t really have time to think about it now.

Holt’s third period was Chemistry 2 with Mr. Hack. No thanks. Science was never his strong suit. Plus, there was seriously something off about this particular teacher. He just took a little too much pleasure in the cutting open of living things for Holt’s liking. He pulled out his phone.

“Keep an eye out. Today’s been weird, Bro.” He typed the message out and then disconnected his phone from his headphones. The world went dark.

Jackson blinked a few times. What was that ringing sound? “Oh, shOOT!” He bolted through the closest door- which just happened to be the right one- and took his seat as the bell finished ringing.

Mr. Hack passed out a hefty amount of worksheets to the class. “Okay class: no whispering, no talking, no looking around, no coughing or sneezing, no you can’t use the bathroom, and if I catch you on your cell phone the whole class gets detention. You have until the end of the class to complete the worksheets or it's a 0 for today.”

Everyone groaned. Good old Mr. Hack. Charming and likeable. Jackson tried to ignore the stares and whispers in his direction as he did his work. He knows he’s different, don’t they ever get tired of reminding him? Were they all paying more attention to him than usual, or was it just his imagination? He blazed through his work in about 20 minutes, it was just some simple thermodynamics equations. He looked up and noticed that Mr. Hack was asleep. Typical. Half the class were on their phones and the other half were talking amongst themselves. He pulled his phone out and saw Holt’s message.

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t just his imagination then, everyone was acting a little odd. Granted, every day at Monster High was pretty weird. Last week they had lost their school crest in a rollerblading contest and the school nearly toppled over, so maybe he could just ignore whatever this was.

The bell finally rang for lunch. He set his work on Mr. Hack’s desk as he jolted awake and practically ran from the room. He shot Clair a text

“Okay, transportation is set and decorations bought. Am I forgetting anything?”

“Measurements, goofy.” She responded almost instantly.

“Oh, right. I can get a tape measure from the woodshop teacher and get them during lunch.”

“Have you told the other monsters about Saturday?”

“No. I just don’t know how they’ll react, y’know?”

“Aren’t they always telling you about how you don’t belong? So why would they care?”

“Yeah you’re probably right. It’s just a difficult situation.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Let me know how it goes.”

Looking down at his phone, he didn’t notice Draculara until he bumped her as he passed.

“So sorry!” He exclaimed. 

“It’s alright.” She reassured him as she walked away. She made her way to the library where her friends were already gathered around in a circle. Spectra floated in the center.

“What’s this all about?” Draculara asked.

“While Frankie had Holt distracted, Spectra looked in his locker.”

“Well what did she find?” Cleo demanded.

“Just this. It appears to be a receipt for some kind of car rental.”

Clawd glanced at his phone. “Heath says Jackson is in the boys locker room right now taking measurements of himself and writing them down.” He told the group.

“Then what Spectra said is true.” Fraknie finally admitted. The room fell into extended silence.

“Well we can at least show Jackson he means something to us.” Draculara spoke up.

“Yeah,” Frankie agreed, “we can do something nice for him and Holt.”

“What are we going to do? Hijack the gym and throw a huge party during lunch?” Cleo asked sardonically.

“You’re on a roll Cleo! It’ll be closed tomorrow, but we can do it Friday!” Clawdeen agreed.

Cleo smiled. Very well then. Friday would be a day for the monster history books.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Stop the World

I’ve finally done it. I’ve finally come up with the dumbest soulmate au ever.

“Stop the World I Wanna Get Off With You” - The Arctic Monkeys

no tws, just nonsense

---

When Priss and Essi had bumped into each other at one of Jaskier’s school recitals they had sung a gorgeous ballad about love and faithfulness, outlining their future adventures together and reassuring both women about their mutual compatibility. It had been a lovely, soft thing that ebbed and flowed like the evening tide. It hadn’t been very long, but it was gorgeous.

The dance they’d done as they sang together was simple. They swayed back and forth across the floor in each other’s arms, smiles brightening both of their flushed faces, two heads of nearly-matching golden hair shining in the flickering candlelight, Essi’s skirts swirling against Priscilla’s colorful tights. 

Jaskier had been jealous of his friends’ early discovery, of course. He wanted nothing more than to meet his soulmate. Their song, whatever it was, would be beautiful! It would be fantastic! It would be something to cherish for a lifetime; he could feel it in his very bones. He and his beloved were meant for great things and he wanted to get started on their journey together sooner rather than later.

It was no surprise to anyone who knew Jaskier that once he’d obtained a degree in the seven liberal arts (with honors) from Oxenfurt University, he immediately took to the road. He hunted high and low across the Continent for his other half, crossing whatever borders necessary and sneaking into whatever parties or back alley gambling dens or theatrical functions he could to find out where his soulmate was hiding. He really did try everything, it seemed.

But Destiny helps those who help themselves, and Jaskier had been putting in a lot of effort. 

He’d been on the road nearly two years before that fateful afternoon finally arrived. He was hungry, tired, and disappointed in himself. None of his original songs were doing very well and his funds from home were running out. When he finally reached an inn that would let him play, the patrons seemed less than enthused about his presence. He knew he needed to perform anyway; he hadn’t eaten in nearly two days and he hadn’t bathed in the last week either. Jaskier’s morale was very, very low. 

Still, he needed some coin to survive. If not coin, perhaps the audience would be irritated enough throw some half-edible food his way, and that would be enough to get him to the next town. He strummed his lute and began his song, thrusting his hips and wiggling his eyebrows with every innuendo. Usually country folk loved the bawdy tavern songs, but Posada seemed to be an outlier. They hated it.

They hated him. 

After he’d finished a handful of questionable ballads he knelt to collect the rolls they’d thrown. When he lifted his gaze to search for a place to take inventory, his eyes settled on a figure in the corner. A man with a relatively young, handsome face and an old man’s silver-white hair. He was glaring down into his mug with an expression like coming thunder and his nose was flared in annoyance with something.

The handsome stranger was moonlight-draped in the middle of an unusually warm spring and Jaskier felt his heart filling with something deep and unfamiliar as he stared from across the tavern floor. The sensation bubbled up from the depths of his soul and flooded his entire being from head to foot, magma-hot and thrilling. Like jumping from a sauna into a snowbank. Like falling from a great height into chilly water. Like- Like-

It felt exactly like falling in love all at once.

Jaskier could hear an unfamiliar heartbeat echoing through the back of his head, slowly transforming into a drumbeat, and he prayed that the stranger would look up. Quietly, a man nearby whispered, “Open Sesame.”

“We’ve places to go,” he sang, surprising himself. The words had ripped themselves out of his throat, unknown and unbidden until the moment of their conception. Oh! It’s happening! The music picked up and got louder. It’s really, actually happening! 

Another line of song burst from his mouth: “We’ve people to see.”

“Let’s put ‘em on hold,” the villagers added, playing the part of Chorus harmoniously enough. The stranger in the corner was definitely looking at Jaskier now, his black-gloved fists clenched where they rested on the tabletop. The bard crossed the room in a rush, still singing, the predestination of their story taking over him: “There's all sorts of shapes that I bet you can make; when you want to escape, say the word.” 

The stranger’s jaw clenched in an effort to bite back his line of the song and Jaskier’s heart, just a moment ago so full of love and excitement over this development, crashed to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. His soulmate was fighting their Destiny. He was refusing to sing along. Still, the lyrics persisted, flowing through Jaskier again, instead: “Well I know that getting you alone isn’t easy to do…”

“With the exception of you, I dislike everyone in the room. And I don’t wanna lie but I don’t wanna tell you the truth,” came the gravelly, soft baritone from his mysterious partner. When the stranger finally looked up, Jaskier noted that his soulmate’s eyes were a lovely honey-gold, shot through with lines of ochre. The bard, already head-over-heels and now suddenly more besotted than ever, gasped and smiled his way through his next line.

“I get the sense that you’re on the move and you’ll probably be leaving soon.”

“So I’m telling you,” they sang together. The stranger rose from his seat, fist unfurling slowly as he gently, nervously took Jaskier’s hand in his warmer one. They continued in harmony, “Stop the world cause I wanna get off, with you.”

“Stop the world cause I wanna get off,” Jaskier began.

“With you,” the stranger finished. They gasped when the music stopped as suddenly and strangely as it had begun. Their hands were still joined, fingers intertwined.

A few of the peasants clapped their congratulations to the new couple. Most of them shrugged and returned to whatever it was they were doing before, nonplussed by the predestined meeting of two souls right in front of them. 

The world resumed its spinning and with it went Jaskier’s sense of stability. He stumbled forward, only to be caught against a broad chest by strong, capable hands. 

“Why don’t we sit down and introduce ourselves?” his soulmate asked with that gloriously deep, sexy voice. Jaskier nodded and allowed himself to be guided gently into a chair. 

“I’m Jaskier,” he smiled. The bard noted the heavy sheath leaning against the wall. It held two swords, each with a distinctive handle. His soulmate wore heavy black armor even in the midst of an unseasonable heatwave, and the wolf medallion around the man’s neck shone in the midday sunlight. Jaskier’s heart picked up its already frantic pace and he beamed. “You must be Geralt of Rivia, the infamous witcher!”

“Yet you do not flee,” the man raised an eyebrow. He was looking at Jaskier the way small animals looked at particularly boisterous children. Like he was curious but ready to run at any wrong movement. 

“Why should I?” Jaskier shrugged. “You’re the one I was made to be with. Why shouldn’t I be with you?”

“You just said yourself that I am Geralt of Rivia, infamous witcher.”

“And?”

“Infamy doesn’t do bards well.”

“No,” Jaskier smiled shyly. He held everything before him: his heart, his meager belongings, his education, his talents… He just hoped it was enough to tempt his devilishly handsome, silver-haired soulmate into giving him a chance to prove himself. “But love does.”

[the-river-person]

Mistral Sans is now Community Shared

To echo the words of @undertaleauoc, Mistral is "open for use" without the need to request permission from the creator (me) though I’d like to be tagged and credited still. Mistral Formerly named: Sans Age: 10 to the power of 100 years (technically a little more than that by now, but the number is so huge that it's no longer relevant.) Gender: Male Appearance: Appears much like Classic Sans, except for the silvery-white crystalline formations growing all over his body. These can get quite large if he hasn’t removed them in a while, and are often quite sharp to anyone with flesh instead of bone. He makes an effort to keep the Kenón from growing up over his head and face, or from completely encasing his body, but it's difficult to keep up with since it grows faster whenever he happens to be in the Void itself. He wears a long brown overcoat, gloves, and long black trousers, mostly in effort to hide the Kenón as much as possible or keep the sharp points from cutting people by accident. He also keeps a red bandana around his neck, something given to him by Papyrus. His eyes never went back to their original state after the Void-Sickness. Instead of dark hollows with a white iris, they seem to be a pale grey, like a well of deep nothingness. Backstory: Mistral’s Universe is based upon the question “What would happen if the Human just never stopped the Resets, but went on forever?” And the resulting Tale that followed was one of mindless repetitions for time out of mind as the Human would Reset in order to prevent the Underground from being destroyed. Eventually the human, who was no longer human, stopped when Sans suggested a different means to preserve their Universe without killing. This Underground has a deep history of worship and lore that surrounds their Angel, and Sans played the role of Judge, a historical job where someone representing the Angel’s Justice would be called upon to make an absolute Judgement upon anyone or anything. The King called upon him to bring his judgement upon the entire Underground for their part in everything. Formerly a scientist under his Uncle Gaster, he helped come up with the “Solution” which the entire Underground was inoculated with to help them remember beyond Resets. He himself was a victim of the Void poisoning like that which affected Gaster’s Followers and was only saved from being wiped to a blank slate by Gaster’s efforts. A fragment of Kenón (Void-stone) and determination was placed in his soul, causing the crystals to spread from it. In later years as the Underground thrived despite the Resets, he pushed himself to get another degree, this time in psychology, and eventually became a practicing therapist/psychologist (as well as the Underground’s willing delivery boy. He liked being able to see and talk to people all the time, and get to know things.) Upon the destruction of his Universe he was thrown into the Void with his Uncle Gaster, where they were rescued by the mysterious River Person. They met with Ink!Sans who explained the Multiverse and gave them the means to travel it. Now they travel from Universe to Universe, or sometimes wander the Void itself, or the Anti-Void. Gaster (now named Majuscule) is searching for his children, and Sans (now named Mistral) is helping while searching for the Ship his brother escaped with and whatever survivors of his people there might still be. Personality: Mistral is old. Though he was in a mindless forgetful repetitive state for much of the Resets, and has few memories of his own childhood beyond what Papyrus reminded him of, he is significantly mentally older than most of the other Monsters from his Universe. The determination in his soul (along with the Kenón) makes him very strong willed and much more powerful than he was before. It also gives him a minor energy boost. His years as a scientist specializing in studies of the Soul and Physics, as well as his later degree in psychology and practice as a therapist, make him a fairly discerning person who is easily approachable and can talk about a number of different subjects with ease. Despite his actions during the Genocide Routes, he is a much more mentally stable person (possibly one of the most stable Sanses out there from what I see) and is very much a pacifist, refusing violence altogether and choosing to let his words and mind guide him out of trouble, or his teleportation to let him escape danger. Because of his refusal to consider physical violence, even in his own defense, his skill in using fighting magic has atrophied. He can no longer summon the blasters at all, and his bone attacks are weaker. His teleportation on the other hand is much stronger and he can do it more often without tiring too much. The other effects of his refusal to fight means that he must proactively avoid confrontation whenever possible. Mistral uses his knowledge of how people think and act to guide his interactions with others, putting even Monsters from the Fell Universes at ease with well timed and thought out humorous comments, as well as just generally being willing to listen and try to see from the point of view of other people. He can tell puns, but they usually sound a bit forced, like he memorized them somewhere and was just waiting for a point to use them. Very rarely he’ll come up with the perfect one on the spot and be absolutely thrilled with himself. More often he uses dry humor, throwaway lines, or Hyperbole.

His willingness to try and defuse the tension caused by aggressive Monsters he’s dealing with can sometimes backfire on him and serves to make the Monster even angrier and more violent. Mistral will then flee, not wanting to fight them, but often marking himself as guilty or suspicious in the process when this happens with an authority figure who has confronted him for his presence.

The Kenón crystal growing all over his body tends to freak people out as well, which is why he hides it as much as he can beneath the overcoat, gloves, and bandana.

Like all skeletons of his Universe, Mistral has a great knowledge of fonts and writing systems, punctuation marks, ciphers, and typography. It is a very important subject to them as it very closely ties with how they see themselves, their identity as a person. This may be rather strange to skeletons from other Universes who do not share this background. A similar problem comes when skeletons from other Universes find out how strongly he and the Monsters of his world believe in the mythical Angel of Mount Ebbot and often pray to them or swear by them (or use “Angel” as a swear).

He’s also very interested in the concept of Identity and how it can change over time or be altered by events in your life, and how names connect to the concept of identity.

Can I use Mistral in my comic/story/animation/etc?: Sure. He’s a wandering type character, so it's likely he’ll show up in countless Universes and places all over while searching for his brother and his missing cousins. Sometimes he’ll be with Gaster and sometimes not.

One thing to note is that his story will have a continuation, so if in your story you detail events that involve him beyond just a brief meeting, chat, or background character… Just be aware that it's probably not going to be canon to the story I’m planning for him (though if we take other Multiverses into account it could be canon elsewhere).

I would like to insist that you tag and credit me on his use (Credit is good. Tagging me makes it so I can come see your wonderful creations).

Can I ship Mistral with this other character/characters?: Yeah, why not?. Canonically he’s aesexual and only very passingly interested in the idea of romantic relationships. But sure, ship him with whoever you like. Just know that it's not canon to this Multiverse.

While I would still like to be tagged in stuff that involves him. I know I can’t stop nsfw art/writing and other things of that nature from happening, much as I might like to. But be warned, If I see it or am tagged with that, or am sent asks of that... I will block you. Fontcest, Incest ships, child ships, or smut in general will all get you blocked instantly.

Canon height and weight: 4-5 feet high (same as Classic Sans). Weight was trickier. He’s a skeleton. A human skeleton is only about 15% of your body weight. So classic is probably somewhere around 16 or so pounds. But Mistral is covered by continually growing crystalline structures of Kenón. Since the crystal is heavy but spread out and somewhat kept under control, it probably only doubles his weight, making him 32 pounds.

Canon strength: Mistral isn’t a fighter. His attacks are weak because his desire to actually fight is nonexistent, even if he has to defend himself or others. But his actual physical strength, as opposed to his magical attacks, sees a significant increase to that of your normal Sans. The Kenón crystals actually increase his defense by making his bones stronger and more crack resistant, and his self healing is well equipped to deal with most breaks, though they’re still quite painful.

He also has increased endurance for longer physical or magical activities so long as combat or confrontation isn’t part of it.

Since he weighs more, he can’t jump as high as a Sans who weighs less (not that it's a huge difference. He’s only 32 pounds. Plus his strength can mostly make up for it by pushing himself off harder when jumping.)

Is it okay if I draw him with another gender, age, height, or sexuality?: Go for it. Have fun. Tag and credit me. But remember that it’s not canon to THIS Multiverse that I’m working in.

Canon Birthday?: September 16th (though he hasn’t celebrated in a LONG time. He probably doesn’t remember his last actual birthday party. Papyrus might though…)

Font?: Used to be Comic Sans. But now it's Mistral (upper and lowercase).

Original AU: Aeontale by

a_river_is_a_liminal_space

(or the-river-person. basically… me)

Can I send Asks for more details if I need or want them?: Yes. My askbox is open. I’ll answer what I can. I’ve put everything I can think of on here, but inevitably there’s always something missed in things like this. So ask away.

[officialleehadan]

Yelp Rating

Hello darlings! I hope your week is going well. Right now I'm admiring a lovely sunset out my window and thinking how lovely this October has been so far.

Today's story was brought to you by Mae! Thank you for all your support, darling. Here are some spooky October ghosts for you!

Prompt: This Old House, historians come to the house and love the ghosts.

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“I don’t know what everyone is talking about,” Kevin read aloud to his living room full of eager ghosts. “While the beds were great, the showers were frankly decadent, and the breakfast was delicious, we didn’t see a single ghost during our whole visit. 10/10 for comfort and service, but 0/10 for ghosts.”

“Oh, I remember her,” Henry spoke up when Kevin finished reading the review. “She was rude. Kept saying how trashy she thought the decorations were.”

“We agreed it would be the best for her not to see any of us,” Franklin agreed cheerfully. “You always tell us that supply and demand makes for a better marketing scheme.”

So far, renting out a room here and there in Mallory House had been shockingly lucrative, and surprisingly satisfying. Kevin had been dubious about letting the ghost hunting team into his house, but it turned out to be more than worth the trouble. With a cook, one who specialized in interesting historic food, hired on full-time, the house had a guest almost every weekend. Kevin worried that he and his ghosts would get tired of the constant company, but so far, all of their guests had either been easily scared off after a single night, or thrilled to get to chat with the ghosts.

There had been no less than four historians come to talk to the ghosts. Mostly to Elizabeth and William, but also to Franklin, and even shy Prudence, who rarely came out of the attic where her spinning wheel still sat.

Speaking of Pru…

“Prudence, this is one from that lady who wanted to talk fibers with you. The one with all the questions about historical wool suppyand handling,” Kevin told the shy young woman, no older than twenty, who fell victim to the Spanish Flue only a few short years after Franklin’s suicide. “I was nervous about meeting with a ghost of all people, but Miss Prudence Connal was one of the sweetest young ladies I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting. Her spinning wheel, lovingly restored by the house’s owner and only living resident, is a work of art. Wonderful service! If I could give more than five stars, I would. My next visit is already booked!”

“She was nice,” prudence murmured. She couldn’t embroider, not anymore, but her spinning wheel still had enough of her essence and love in it to function for her, provided that someone else assured a good supply of wool, carded and ready for her. If Kevin had to guess, that job wouldn’t be his for very much longer. Not if Pru made friends with the local fiber-crafts people. “I’m glad she’s coming back for a visit. She promised to bring me some of that lovely alpaca wool she was working when she was here.”

“Sounds like she liked you as much as you liked her,” Kevin assured Prudence. She still needed some encouragement now and again. “Okay, next review- ah crap. Elizabeth, it’s that guy from last week. Told you we hadn’t heard the last of him.”

“I didn’t touch a hair on his head,” Elizabeth protested, although they both knew exactly who the guest in question was. “And I caught him trying to steal three of the silver forks.”

Elizabeth might be willing to have guests, but she would never tolerate thieves.

“I don’t’ know if it’s good special effects or drugged coffee,” Kevin read the review for Elizabeth, who was smiling and not at al repentant. “But the walls of my room started bleeding. When I got up for the bathroom around two-am, I looked in the mirror, there was someone behind me. When I turned around, there was nobody there. That’s when the lightbulb in my bathroom exploded- is that why there was glass everywhere when I went in to check on him?”

“The lightbulb was me,” Franklin admitted with an also-not-very-repentant smile of apology. “We saw it in that ghost movie we watched two weeks ago.”

“Seems to have worked. Anyway, ‘about that time I realized that there’s a reason why kids hide under the bed when they’re scared. Went back to bed, but kept waking up as blood dripped onto my face from the ceiling. When I woke up the next morning, the sheets were pristine. Guess I believe in ghosts now, but there’s not enough money in the world to make me go back to Mallory House ever again.”

“Oh good,” William said, no doubt the one the man saw in the mirror. He was usually the one who did for the male visitors that Elizabeth wanted to scare off. “Even if he did try to come back, we would have to decline. It’s no good when the guests try to pocket the silver.”

“I’ll make sure to put it in the disclaimer,” Kevin sighed. The disclaimer about the house, which now included waving the right to sue for ‘nightmares, mental trauma, or injury sustained in fleeing the premises’ was growing longer for every objectional visitor who came through looking to prove that the ghosts weren’t real.

They were real.

They didn’t like being doubted.

Kevin was making a fortune.

So really, pretty much everyone was happy. Okay, the skeptics weren’t so happy, but they all paid the nonrefundable fee for their stay and breakfast, so Kevin really didn’t care what else they did. The bad reviews were almost as good as the good ones. At least most of them screamed about the ghosts, which were Mallory House’s big draw.

“That’s all the new ones,” Kevin said and set his tablet aside. “Now, who has ideas for what to do for Halloween?”

+++

This Old House:

A haunted house isn’t the usual first choice for a fixer-upper, but Keven likes horror movies, and doesn’t mind when his ghost throw things, as long as they don’t damage the new paint.

Experienced Home-Buying

Living Negotiation (Subscriber-Only!)

White Roses and Deck Railings

Bats at Twilight

Difference of Opinion

Art Treasures of Old

Malicious Smile (Subscriber-Only!)

Family Night (Free on Patreon!)

Stay Creepy

+++

More Stories!

+++

[ktspree13]

Surf & Turf pt. 2

Warnings: brief mentions of cutting, small allusion to suicide, domestic violence, mention of murder, illness, concussion, mention of pedophilia, underage characters Word Count: 1,486 Summary: AU inspired by commission for @slamncram by @juls-art and a prompt on the thorki discord server. Prompt: slow burn surfer thor au where loki is spending the summer with laufey and his family at like. their summer home.  and they’re pieces of shit yk.  and he just hangs out at the beach all sad and alone and he sees thor, watches him because it’s pretty interesting and thor keeps catching him peeking.  starting up a summer romance and then trying to figure out a way to keep it going past august. ________________________________________________________________

He was sitting on a bench at the boardwalk, staring out at the beach when it happened again.  The mind-numbing pain followed by throwing up the entire contents of his stomach into the trashcan next to him.  Then came the piercing ringing in his ears and a tilt to the world before he curled up on the sand and passed out for a few minutes.  

The first few times it happened, there were people surrounding him, wanting to take him to the hospital, wanting to call the police, but he’d learned how to hide, how to manage.  

That day on the beach, he’d come home with puke on his shirt and Laufey had beat his head in.  When he was almost sent to the hospital the next day, returning to that damn Winnebago empty handed, his father hadn’t been much happier, slamming Loki into the metal shell of the RV, forcing him to sleep outside in the sandy dirt.  Not that he had such great accommodations inside…

It hadn’t been much better the past two weeks.  He walked around in a fog most days, had an episode like this one every so often.  

This time, when he woke up, Thor was sitting on the bench and he thought his life was over.

His stomach lurched again as he coughed bile up, weakly.  He tried to get his body to move, to flee, but he was just so tired and uncoordinated right now.  He’d been too tired to cut, even, since he’d met Thor, and most days that felt like a lifeline.

“Hey, easy.”  Thor had his hands up again, like he was in the wrong here.  Trying to be non-threatening, Loki guessed.  “I really think you need some help, Loki.”

“Mmm fine,” he mumbled.  “Tired.”  Loki coughed, trying to clear the awful taste from his mouth.  He’d gotten some of the bile on his shirt and would probably catch crap again.  “...Dad’s being shirt again.”  He wrinkled his brow.  Something in that sentence wasn’t right, but it hurt to figure out what.

“You aren’t fine,” Thor growled, lowly, like he was mad at him, a stranger, but trying not to be obvious about it.  “I think you might have a concussion.”

Loki laid there at Thor’s feet for a few more minutes.  It was a weird, tense silence.  “What’s it to you?” he asked, wiping his face from the bile and tears.  The headaches got to painful sometimes.  “I stole your wallet.”  He felt like he should point out the obvious.

“I gave it to you,” Thor sighed.  Loki could hear him take a deep breath before letting it out slowly, like he was trying to calm himself down, like Loki’s response made him so upset he had to work to respond.

“I fuckin’ stole it you pussy,” he shot back.  “Just forget my face, Thor.  Forget me.  I’m only supposed to slip in and out of here.  We’re leaving when the tourist season is over.”  He was probably revealing way more than he should.  “Grow a pair and let me go,” he groaned, working to sit up.

The sun was sweltering today.  He should’ve found a drinking fountain awhile ago.  Stolen a few wallets by now.  He shouldn’t be talking with blond surf gods who wanted to help him.  Thor put a bottle of water down in the sand next to him.  It was dripping in sweat, just like he probably should be.

He ignored it for a little while, but the longer Thor sat there, pointedly not leaving, the longer that water sat there crying, wore him down.  His eyes welled up, stinging as he wiped them again, his dirty long sleeve clinging to his scars.  He snatched up the water, struggling with the cap for a moment before he pried it open.

“Just go slow.”

He couldn’t help it.  When the cool liquid hit his tongue, he gulped it down, drinking faster and faster until he could feel it getting torn from his hands.

“Jeezus, Loki!”  Thor held the refreshing elixir out of his reach as he sat there, panting.  “I said go slow, or you’ll throw it all up.”  He watched Thor’s throat bob as he swallowed.  Noted the way he bit his lip staring down at Loki.

“Are you some kind of pedo?” he shot at Thor.  The blond stared back with a look of shock and revulsion on his face.

“Why would you even say that?”

“Because it’s true!  Some 20 year old playing savior to a minor—”  Loki coughed, stomach roiling a little.  Ok, maybe Thor had been right.  “Trying to fuck some tight young ass is more like it.  He steals, he won’t narc.  No one would miss him…”  Loki coughed again, throwing up a little of the water.  Thor was silent.

For a long time neither of them spoke.  But Thor did hand the water back, and Loki drank much slower, moving to sit on the bench, finally, stare out at the ocean again.

“Am I right?”  He was almost afraid of the answer.  He mostly didn’t want it to be yes.  He surprised himself by wishing Thor was actually just a good guy.

“I’m only 17.”

“How much cash you got?”  He took another sip.  “I might let y—”

“You’re sick, Loki.  You need a doctor.  I would never take advantage of you like that.”

He watched as Thor swiped a thumb over his eye.  He felt a little guilty.  He’d actually made the jolly green giant cry.

He leaned his head on Thor’s shoulder, letting himself believe for just a moment that he had a real brother in this world.  Someone to look out for him and take care of him.  A real home.  That he’d just done some kind of suicide jog with Thor and he was resting on the beach with him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, feeling Thor’s arm wrap around him.

“I’ve watched you all summer,” Thor confessed.  “Even when it was hard to find you.”

Loki took another drink, staring out at the water.  It really was a beautiful place.

“You don’t have to go back, you know.  I have a hideout you can stay at.  A buddy of mine built it when we were young.  It’s secluded, fully stocked.  No one would find you if you didn’t want them to.  Or you could come to my place.  My parents would be ok with it.  My mom could take a look at your head.  Or I could take you to the hospital...”

He let Thor talk himself out.  It was a new feeling for him, someone wanting to help and not seeming to want anything in return.  Strange.  The last person to do that was his mother.  And Laufey had beat the hell out of her before she died…  Hence the Winnebago.

“What do you want Thor?” he sighed.  He was just so tired.  And hungry.  He drank more of the water, slowly. “I just want you to be safe, to not have to live like this, to—”

“Why me?  Do you do this for all the street urchins?”

“Well, no—”

“Then why me?  What do you want?”  He sat up, staring over at Thor with a fire in his eyes.  He needed to know.  He needed to know what strings were attached, because he didn’t want the rug pulled out from under him.

“I like you, ok?”  Thor blushed, like he was ashamed of himself.  “Maybe I should pay better attention.  Maybe I should be helping more people like you.  I don’t know.  But I saw you.  And I wanted to help.”  He sat there, like a dejected kid who just learned Santa Claus wasn’t real.  Sad, pathetic, lost.  And Loki had to believe him a little…

He finished the water.  “How much cash do you have?” he asked, still feeling that fog inside his head.  “If you got a few hundred the bastard might not beat me tonight.”

Thor handed over a brand new wallet.  He could tell pretty quickly that there was more than a few hundred inside.  It also contained a key and an address.  Loki wanted to cry in that moment.  He couldn’t go right away.  He still had his things in the Winnebago.  The lone photo album he’d kept hidden all those years.  The only photos he had of his mom, and him.  The few times he was happy.  He didn’t want to leave it behind.  One last night and maybe he’d leave for good.

Thor handed him a bottle of gatorade.  He hated the stuff, but...electrolytes, he guessed.  He sipped on the sugary beverage as Thor handed him a sandwich, too.  “How do you drink this stuff?” he asked, scrunching up his nose in distaste.

“Open cap, pour in mouth, swallow.”  Thor grinned, mimicking drinking for Loki.

“Asshole,” he rolled his eyes.  But for the first time in a long while, he smiled.

[b0osblog]

Mafia Blood- Chapter 1

ayyyyyyy! It’s ya boi!.... *coughs* so how you been?.... yeah sorry for not posting in a while.... I kinda get sidetracked... BUT! I now have a story. I’m about 3-4 chapters in writing it (cause i suck at writing with a really short time period so I want to be ahead). Its on the BBS! But I hope you enjoy it. It’s a Mafia-Monster A/U (Idea credit to @hiyometoo). I would like to put a disclaimer as well. There will be some serious themes such as suicide, abuse blood, death. If you are uncomfortable with this, this story isn’t for you. Adding to that. this is a story. I do not view these people or the relationships between them to necessarily be who they are in real life. But I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. I don’t really have art for it but I’ll be working on it! If you want to do art or get inspired by it, by all means draw it if you wish! @ me if you post it so I can see it! I love seeing people draw and different art styles! This story isn’t the best but I hope you guys enjoy anyway. This isn’t a Shipping book either, even if some of the writing seems to suggest so. It’s more so hinting at future friendships as such. One more thing before I let you guys get the story. I’ll be posting the story chapters once a month (on like the last Sunday AEST). Anyway I’ll let you guys read it and judge for yourself! I hope you guys are having a good day/night and I’ll see you soon!

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

Chapter 1

Every river leads to an ocean. Stars do burn out. So yes, everything ends. But do you want to know a secret? Everything- and I mean everything, begins again.

                                                                                                             -Eric Van Vuren

It was a quiet night for the casino. There were still a lot of people but not as much as there usually was.

“You sure everything is in place?” Ryan’s concerned voice was quiet as he hid behind the pillar.

“Yes Ohm. All you have to do is get people to use their cards over their cash. Everything will be fine.” Wildcat spoke slowly and quietly, as if he were distant from the mic while making sure Ohm heard everything.

“OK… Here goes nothing…” Ohm airily said.

“Good luck man. We’re rooting for you.” That’s all Ohm heard before the line went dead.

"OK… no pressure at all guys. No pressure at all.”

He felt that something was up. It almost seemed to quiet of a night, especially with what he had to pull off. He walked out from behind the pillar, taking a deep breath and putting on his best-selling smile. Eyes were felt on the back of his head but he ignored it. Looking would only make him seem suspicious. Ohm did however peek out the corner of his eye. He saw a demon. He seemed to be missing an eye but Ohm didn’t look for long enough to be sure though.

He continued his trek towards the bar, shaking his head as he neared, trying to clear his mind.

“Hey Del! Sorry I took so long! Things got a little out of hand on the phone. Hope things didn’t get too busy while I was gone!” Ohm’s voice was bright, but had an edge to it.

Delirious gave him an understanding nod, his blue eyes glowing behind the hockey mask.

“No problem man. Just make sure you focus on whatever it is that’s happening with your fam.”

“Thanks. I’ll… be sure to do that.” He gave a grim smile a jolt uncertainty gripping him.

He shook his head again and slipped behind the bar and began to serve people, charging them on card.

It was made a lot easier considering Delirious was working the opposite end of the bar. It raised more red flags in his head but he continued anyway.

‘He was family. They wouldn’t betray him… would they?’

Delirious had been occupied talking to an owl like man. One that Ohm recognised to be Vanoss.

‘What was he doing here?’

A demon of sorts sat in front of him downing the shot of vodka he had just ordered His eyes- well eye- narrowed on him slightly.

“Hey floppy ears! That owl shit over there that you keep looking to, why does he get to pay with cash? I gotta pay with card.” The demon asked curiously, peering at him suspiciously.

One eye had a scar in the shape of a jagged edge 'x’. He wore a dark suit with the dress shirt collar flipped up like he was some sort of popular person. He held a lazy-confident sort of smile despite the serious demeanour he held. His dark brown eyes hiding something, though Ohm couldn’t tell what it was.

“Sir, you haven’t paid for the last two rounds. It would be easier if you-”

“You think I’m that drunk that I don’t remember paying? I-”

“Look sir. I’m sorry. I just thought it would be easier for you. Instead of you fishing out cash and me having to get the change. If you’d-” He was cut off by the demon standing up and leaning on the bar, a somewhat sinister smile on his face.

The look in his eye showed something else, it almost looked like regret.

Some people looked over at the disturbance but looked away almost instantly.

‘What was their problem? They looked so scared.’ Ohm thought as he glanced back at the red man in front of him through his blindfold.

“Don’t pull the innocent act with me bunny-boy. I know who you are! I know who you work for!”

Ohm’s ears flattened down against his head. He didn’t like the name, a small frown formed on his face as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes. I work for Mr. Frank Patterson. He owns this casino.” There was an edge to Ohm’s voice, causing monsters to look his way and shaking their head rapidly, their eyes screaming ‘no’.

“No. No you don’t. My father wouldn’t hire anyone from the mafia. Especially from Wildcats’ side of things.”

“Sir… I don’t kno-”

“Bullshit!” The demon now had hold of Ohm dark vest, pulling him closer. “Tyler sent you, didn’t he Ryan.” There was a dark sinister side to his voice but there was something else, as if he were almost afraid of something.

“I swear to god I have no clue what you’re talking abo-” Ohm was cut off by Delirious speaking up, who now had a firm grip on his left arm, the demon on his right held the opposite.

“You will remain silent for the rest of the journey.”

A feeling passed over Ohm; it felt like his voice box had closed up and a weight pressed on his chest, making him want to take deep breaths but remained from doing so. He tried to speak but no sound could be heard, leaving the three men in silence.

“Finally the dumb bunny is quiet.” The demon sighed in a relieved kind of way.

Ohm narrowed his eyes, a scowl scrunching his face up.

‘He’s really starting to sound like Wildcat…’

“I wouldn’t mistake Ohm for being a ‘dumb bunny’, Cartoonz. I don’t even know what power he has, so I’d be careful what you say.” Delirious’ voice held a sharp and serious edge to it.

Ohm looked to delirious, confused.

‘He hadn’t figured out his power?’

Cartoonz grumbled something under his breath as he moved to get behind the bar, jerking Ohm forward harshly, towards the exit as he did so.

They neared two Corvettes, one black and the other an azure blue.

“In.” The demon growled as he opened the passenger door to the black Corvette and shoved Ohm forward.

Ryan stumbled but caught himself before sitting calmly as the door was slammed and the demon stormed towards the driver’s side. He shouted something to Delirious before opening the door and throwing himself into the seat with a scowl.

“I know you won’t be able to reply but you can nod or shake your head. If you lie, I’ll know.” Cartoonz sounded agitated but also curious.

The car roared to life and before Ohm could blink they were out of the carpark with a screech of rubber and a trail of smoke following.

 They were currently on a highway to nowhere, well from what Ohm could only assume. Cartoonz was staring intensely at the road ahead, while the blue car stayed close behind them.

“Ok, you blindfold wearing dipshit. Is Wildcat planning on trying to over throw my father?” Cartoonz questioned.

Ohm looked thoughtful for a moment. He knew that if he lied he’d probably get his assed kicked, but it was the same vice-versa. He came to the conclusion of telling the truth, it being the lesser of the two evils. Ohm nodded his head yes.

“Was he planning on doing it in the near future?”

Ohm nodded again.

The demon cursed under his breath. “Really starting to wish Del didn’t bind your mouth shut permanently for the ride… how on earth am I going to get the time frame of the attack?”

Ohm stared thoughtfully at the demon before holding up 1 finger.

“What the fuck are you doing? Threatening me?”

Ohm shook his head.

Cartoonz looked to be in serious thought.

“What are you trying to do then?”

Ohm rolled his eyes under the blindfold and slapped his head.

‘Is he really that stupid?’

“Are you giving me a time? Day?”

Ohm gave a quirt nod.

Cartoonz gave him a side long look.

“You’re being awfully open about this…” Cartoonz looked suspicious.

Ohm shrugged but held up the figure again.

“OK… you are giving me a time span right?” There seemed to be a softer edge to his voice, like something changed in his head.

Ohm nodded.

“OK… week?”

A shake of the head.

“Um… please don’t say it’s a day.” A light panic seemed to tint the demons voice.

Ohm looked at him curiously.

‘Despite him being an ass… he seems to really care for his family.’

Ohm shook his head.

Relief flooded the demons features and his grip lessened on the steering wheel.

“OK then… a month?”

His heart was pounding. He had one more chance to falsely lead them, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do so.

Ohm looked away and nodded. He could deal with Wildcat’s anger.

And worse come to worse, he could flee to Moo’s group.

Cartoonz slammed the steering wheel harshly. “When we get there you’re gonna tell me exactly how and where he plans to do this. Or your neck will find itself bleeding.”

Cartoonz gave him a look that said it wasn’t an empty threat. But there was also something in his eye that told him that Cartoonz wouldn’t actually enjoy it. Ohm only nodded and looked ahead, his eyes beginning to droop.

“Get some rest. I want you to be able to recall every detail of the plan and not be sleepy. ‘Cause you forget shit when you’re sleepy.”

Ohm nodded, he was feeling tired and besides, if he was going to die, he wanted to catch up on some sleep before then.

He rested his head against the seatbelt, letting sleep numb his body.

“I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

It was the last thing he heard before falling asleep.

[waywardnerd67]

Burning the Past

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Description: Dean struggles with the aftermath of a decision the Reader makes.

Warnings: Angst (I think… my first go at writing angst), fluff at the end, depression, mentions of self-harm, suicide attempt, abusive parent

Word Count: 2263

Song Choice: “Numb” – Linkin Park

A/N: @rosethesupernaturalhunter Rose500challenge. “Numb” by Linkin Park is a very personal song for me. This song and music video explain a great portion of my teenage life dealing with Major Depressive Disorder and Self-Harm. This story is personal for me as well. It is a piece of fiction based on real events in my own life dealing with depression, self-harm, suicide attempt and a verbally abusive father. Please read warnings before reading since this may be triggering for some people.

**Please know that if you are dealing with any kind of mental health illness you are not alone in your struggles. There are many people who are out there ready to listen and help. There are many organizations out there as well including IMAlive and National Suicide Prevention Lifeline . If you don’t feel comfortable talking to someone from there then my blog is always open for anyone who needs it. As Jared Padalecki once said, “If you’re out there and need help, please seek it. Be proud of your valiant day-to-day struggle. There is no shame in needing support.” 

Dean Winchester set the bottle of whiskey on the floor next to him. Leaning up against his bed with the same song blaring in through his headphones. He glanced down at the journal opened on his lap running his fingers over the delicate handwriting. Her handwriting. Her words. Her tormented soul. He never knew she was this bad. He never knew how dark it had gotten inside her head. From his point of view, (Y/N) was happy, joking, bubbly woman he admired. She was strong, courageous and a badass hunter. He should have paid more attention to her. Noticed the little things that were different in her actions, in her words. He gripped the bottle holding it up to his lips letting the amber liquid warm his insides and with a thud set it back down. He picked up the journal and reread the last few entries she had written. 

Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow

Every step that I take is another mistake to you

Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow 

“May 11th – 1:32am

I can’t take it anymore. My father’s words are floating in my head more and more each day. “(Y/N), concentrate on your target! If you can’t focus then you die!” “You’re worthless. You’re useless. Why did I ever have you?” “Get up you, lazy pig! The longer I wait the longer your training will be.” Now that he is gone, all I have left are those words. No matter how many times Sam and Dean tell me what a badass hunter I am, my father’s words ring truth in me. I’m supposed to save everyone. I’m supposed to kill the monsters that haunt people, but I’m too weak. I’ve done a great job hiding my true feelings from the boys but I can tell Sam knows something is up. He won’t say anything to me, but I can tell by the way he looks at me. Dean acts no differently around me, which is comforting. I wish I knew how to express my feelings to Dean. Confide in him the thoughts inside my head. If anyone could understand me it would be him, but I’m afraid that my head may be too dark even for him. I’m alone in this and I need to deal with myself alone.” 

I'm tired of being what you want me to be

Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface

I don't know what you're expecting of me

Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes 

“May 20th – 6:10pm

I met a hunter today that knew my father. It took everything in me not to scream out loud as this man talked about how great he was. “Your dad was a great hunter. One of the best, just like John Winchester. It’s good to see you are following his footsteps and becoming a great hunter as well.” All I did was smile and nod. Luckily, Dean swept in and saved me from hearing more from the man. Nowadays it takes all my energy to put on my happy façade around Sam and Dean. I thought writing would help me get my feelings out but it doesn’t anymore. I even went to get art supplies while Sam was getting some supplies in town. I always used to feel better after painting, but nothing is getting these feelings out. I thought sparring with Dean would help but I just felt useless as he defeated me repeatedly. I feel like I’m drifting and I’m losing faith that I will ever get better. There’s was only one thing that made me feel better and if the boys ever knew what I was doing then they would be so disappointed in me. Just the thought of seeing Dean’s disappointed face makes me tear up. I never want to disappoint him but I just can’t take the pressure building up inside me anymore. I have to let it out somehow and this is the only way I know how too.” 

Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control

'Cause everything that you thought I would be

Has fallen apart right in front of you 

“May 26th – 3:24am

The feeling of pain releases all my tension. It is so hard to describe how causing myself pain makes me feel better if only for a few fleeing moments. It’s getting harder to hide my scars from Sam and Dean especially on my arms. Dean noticed I took his red and black flannel shirt to wear. I told him it was my favorite of his and I liked how big it was on me. Which is all true, but also the sleeves come all the way down past my hands easily covering the marks and scars on my arms. Sam caught me the other day walking from the shower room to my room and saw the marks on my lower legs. I quickly told him I had been walking in my favorite spot and got a little cut up from stumbling. Thankful he couldn’t see the marks up close or he would be able to tell they are too straight for random cuts. It’s not only that either. Sam noticed me not blocking Dean’s punches or kicks when we were sparring. I played it off that I had no idea what he was talking about, but honestly, I like the bruises. I can push on them causing small amount of pain to ease tension in a pinch. I hate that I’m using Dean like that but it the end it helps me. I wonder how much longer I can keep this façade up around them. I’m needing a release more and more throughout the day and hunting with the boys doesn’t give me the privacy I have in the bunker. They will suspect something if I ask for my own room. Speaking of hunting I need to try and sleep since we are leaving in two and half hours. Here’s to trying to keep my dark thoughts at bay. 

And I know I may end up failing too

But I know you were just like me with someone disappointed in you

I've become so numb, I can't feel you there

Become so tired, so much more aware

By becoming this all I want to do

Is be more like me and be less like you 

“May 28th – 10:54pm

Dear Sam and Dean,

By the time you come back I should be gone, hopefully I did not screw that up. I should have never came hunting with you this time. I screwed up. My father always told me if I wasn’t focus I would get dead. I haven’t been focused and today that cost a little girl her life. I’m just a huge disappointment to everyone and you both are better off without me. I can’t feel anything anymore. I’m just floating through the motions and I don’t have the energy to do that anymore. I don’t have the energy to do anything anymore. I would apologize for leaving you like this but I know it won’t help either of you process this. Please don’t blame yourselves for this happening. You both were amazing partners and friends. There’s nothing you could have said or did to help prevent this. This was a battle I had to fight on my own and I loss. We all know that happens, it just so happens this battle was within myself that I loss. I expect you both to burn everything of mine with no exceptions. You both will move on from this sooner than you think. I will just be a faded memory in the back of your mind that one day will fly away. 

Sam, please make sure Dean doesn’t do anything stupid to try and bring me back. I know you won’t do anything stupid, but keep an eye out on your brother. I left my copy of Grimm Fairytales on my desk in my room. I want you to have it since one of my fondest memories is the two of us discussing it. 

Dean, I love you. I have loved you since the moment you and John showed up at my house that cold December night. What started as just a teenage crush on an older guy changed the moment you dropped everything and came to my side when my father died. I fell in love with you and I always knew I would never be good enough for the great Dean Winchester. You deserve a woman who is strong and fearless. That is obviously not me, but I want you to know that I love you deeply. 

Goodbye.

'Cause everything that you thought I would be

Has fallen apart right in front of you

Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow

I've become so numb, I can't feel you there” 

Dean watched as his tears darken the pages of her journal. The images of finding her flashing in his mind. Hearing Sam scream for him from the bathroom and seeing her laying in the bathtub. The metallic smell hitting him like a Mack truck. Sam wrapping her arms with towels and for the first time seeing the damage she had caused to herself up and down her arms and legs. Scars neither of them knew about that had healed and been opened again. To see her normally vibrant lips being ghostly white. Sam calling an ambulance after finding a faint pulse. The only thing Dean could do was hold her and wonder who did this to her. Watching the paramedics working on her and not being able to leave her side as he rode in the ambulance while Sam followed in the Impala. Once at the hospital, the harsh reality hitting them both that she had done all of this to herself. As they waited for the doctors to come out and talk to them Sam handed him (Y/N)’s journal letting him read what he just had. Seeing Sam crying openly as he walked away made Dean’s stomach churn. Then he read her letter and his world stopped. 

Dean jumped out of his thoughts feeling a hand on his shoulder. He pulled off his headphones as he saw it was Sam stand there. “We should get going.” He simply said as Dean nodded. He closed her journal setting it on his bed and shut off the song she had written the lyrics down at the end of her letter. He grabbed her favorite flannel of his out of his closet and laid it next to her journal. He gathered his coat and her items walking out to the library. Sam was setting a few things of (Y/N)’s in a cardboard box. Dean set his shirt and her journal in the box along with everything else that was hers from the bunker. Sam taped the box shut and the brothers went to the Impala making the trip out to an opening in the woods (Y/N) loved the most in Kansas. As Dean drove he remembered the last time he and (Y/N) had come out to this her favorite spot. They laid on top of the Impala’s hood looking up at the stars. His arms around her as she gazed up into the night sky. She looked so peaceful and happy. He knew then he was in love with her and was going to tell her but then Sam called with a case. The moment lost. 

Sam and Dean gathered all the wood they could to build a pit. Sam placed the cardboard box in the center of the pit. Dean opened the back door to the Impala helping (Y/N) out of the backseat. She pulled her sleeves down over her scars on her arms and wrists. It had been six months since she had tried to take her life. In those six months she went into treatment for depression and self-harm and the boys would visit her every chance they got. When she was released from her program she began going to a support group making friends to keep her accountable not that she really needed too. Sam researched everything he could about depression and self-harm. He talked with people online who had loved ones dealing with the same issues and found many ways to help (Y/N) constructively. Dean never left her side for too long. They never talked about their feelings for one another but everything between them had changed. He laced their fingers together as they walked over to the fire pit. 

(Y/N) decided she wanted a fresh start once she moved back to the bunker. “Dean, I really don’t think you need to burn your shirt. I have all good memories of it.” She chuckled as he shook his head. “Nope, you said everything from the past and that includes the shirt.” She rolled her eyes but he noticed her smirking. Sam lit the end of a large branch and handed it to (Y/N) saying, “Burning the past.” She looked over to Dean who nodded, “Burning the past.” (Y/N) walked over to the pit and threw the branch onto the box immediately lighting it up in bright yellow and orange flames. “Burning the past.” She whispered as Dean put his arm around her shoulders and Sam held her hand. As bright as the flames were, they stood in front of, so was her future and for the first time she felt hopeful to see what was in store for her and the life she was given a second chance to live.

[italicwatches]

Comic Girls - Episode 06

Aaaargh. Bureaucracy makes one’s life a living hell. But, phone calls made. Now I just have to…make more of them tomorrow. …Great. Just…Just great. Anyways how about that anime? It’s Comic Girls, episode 06! Here we GO!

-We begin with…A blood moon rising once again! Be careful, Kaos! Wait, am I even in the right show? …Yes. So Kaos is in the baths, when she has a newtype flash of insight about her manga. She has it! She…She…She just saw someone out there! Hanging from a noose?! KYAAAAAH

-So tiny Kaos screaming causes the others to come running, and they see Kaos as nude and tiny as the day she was born but also Koyume doesn’t see…Oh god.

-Oh god she’s coming! SHE’S REAL

-Opening! Complete with an intense mood whiplash from the legit horror.

-So Koyume and Kaos come out to look more thoroughly, and can’t find a damn thing…It was probably just a trick of the light. Better to write it off and just get some ice cream. Though Kaos is still pretty freaked out of possibly seeing an evil spirit.

-And then as they’re in the house, the sky turns red, and the Ringu ghost is upon them again! Kaos goes FULL PANIC and hides behind Koyume, as the terrifying ghost girl steps forward and Kaos ends up fleeing into Ruki’s room because A GHOST IS TRYING TO KILL HER! With all black hair in a white dress and you can’t see her face and AAAAAH

-Okay, okay, calm down, it was probably nothing…Wait where’s Koyume?

-Koyume screams! SHE’S BEEN CAUGHT BY THE GHOST

-Wait Koyume is friends with the ghost! THIS MIGHT BE EVEN WORSE!

-Actually know this is just the spooky goth Fuura-senpai. Fur Suzu, a horror specialist. Who has come back to the dorm to see her dear friends! And she is fascinated by little Kaos’s excellent screams. …Kaos is no less terrified now that she knows Suzu is made of meat. Especially when Suzu comments about her lovely long hair and how it’s said that long hair connotes spiritual strength, and oh the ghosts would love you, aaaand there’s our episode title. Suzu, I think you broke Kaos. Also, Koyume is way too into being snuggled by this spookily cold goth if it means relief from the summer heat. But then, Koyume’s middle name is “way too into”.

-New day! Kaos is trying to think in the stark light of morning, and figure out how to avoid Suzu. OH GOD SHE’S RIGHT THERE. Apparently Suzu actively likes to sneak up behind people when they’re using a mirror just to fuck with them.

-And later, she brings by cookies. In the shape of skulls and severed parts. Or later, she brings by a skeleton! And a mouth full of fake blood. Oh wait, I’m sorry, it’s a dessert treat made to look like fresh gory brain. That’s much less freaky.

-And she puts Kaos to work, posing her with Mr. Bones. Kaos wants off the ride, but Suzu is loving her screams and it’s making such good poses! Aaand then she passes out. Which is about when Ruki and Tsubasa come to the rescue, and Tsubasa has what I am certain are costume prayer beads bought at an anime convention, as she just babbles good sounding words and Suzu is kind of enjoying the idea of Tsubasa purifying and exorcising her.

-Tsubasa please quit turning the spooky goth more gay. You’re causing a ruckus.

-So while she has Suzu pinned, everyone get Kaos out of here! NOW! So eventually Kaos is sobbing into Ruki’s lap as they hide out in Ruki and Tsubasa’s room. But Suzu has taken a liking to Kaos’s screaming and panic. How can they fix this…Ruki, you had to deal with her when you were here, right?

-…Right. Even when sleeping. Or bathing. Or trying to hide. Suzu was always there, always on her like a problematic moral lesson in a slasher movie. She eventually ended up putting the horror of it into her dark romance miniseries The Stalker’s Wife, just to clear her head…But Kaos doesn’t even have the brain-juice to do that. She’s just cowering, terrified, in the corner. So there’s only one way to ditch Suzu…and it’s to make her feel bored. She’ll leave you alone once you’re no longer a fun toy.

-So as night falls, they barricade the door to Ruki and Tsubasa’s room, and prepare to make their grand last stand…The skies turn black, and then to red, as the blood moon rises once again. Furious red rain comes down, and scarlet lightning splits the sky, as Suzu comes seeking her prize! She bangs on the door, demanding her Kaos-chan…

-When a bolt of lightning strikes close enough for the thunder to be deafening, and Suzu panics, screaming as a woman possessed to let her in! She’s terrified of the thunder! Terrified and lonely…Lost without her own roommate, who got out of the game…So alone…So cold and alone…!

-The wind breaks the window, Suzu’s fingers pierce the rice-paper door, and basically everyone just starts screaming at each other. But some real earnestness comes out of Suzu, who knows she’s weird, knows people are afraid of her, and she’s so very alone because of it…

-And Kaos, suddenly feels a flash of empathy. She knows that fate all too well. She knows exactly what it is, as she slams open the door, standing before the crying Suzu…Who then promptly steals her away into darkness. Dammit Kaos, you’re too kindhearted.

-Also she notices how big Suzu’s chest is, and dammit Kaos, you’re too thirsty. But as the lights come on, and the wind clears Suzu’s hair out of her eyes, Kaos sees not a terrifying spooky goth, but an adorable goth-girl who she kind of wants to fuck. Well shit.

-New day! Kaos and Koyume are trying to get to know Suzu better and more calmly in the light of day…And Suzu is finding all this normalcy a bit overwhelming. While Ruki works, and reflects on how Kaos just seems to have a way to bring out the vulnerability in otherwise mature girls…Feeling like you have a rival? No, nooooo, nnno! Shut up. Uh uh. Sure thing. She’s just glad that Suzu has someone who gets her…

-SUDDENLY SUZU IN THE MIRROR

-Ruki screams.

-Episode 06: I’ll Go Shave All My Hair Off!

-Another new day. With another face. It’s…Ah haaaaa. The cosplayer from before, Miharu! Who’s not one of the editors, but their beautiful teacher lady! Her secret otaku life is still safe! And now she’s going to head out.

-Cut to the dorm, where Tsubasa got like zero sleep. She went up in the readership rankings, which is good, but also more pressure, and she doesn’t know what changed…And if she falls asleep in class, oh, it’ll be the worst.

-To school, where the girls run into their stern but beautiful Nijino-sensei and Kaos is letting her thirst overwhelm her nerves. …Dammit Kaos. She even drew a cute and beautiful teacher based on Nijino-sensei…Who hears them whispering about something, and did she hear her name? Oh god, they know her secret! They know she’s a secret otaku! Basement dwelling trash! A weirdo! A real freak! She hides, and tries to listen in…

-As the girls critique Kaos’s new character design and try to figure out how to give it that last little pop. You’re going for cute, but she needs a bit of that gap moe. A little splash of something different between how she presents herself and how she really is…Ruki’s mind goes to the erotic, like she’s super serious but secretly wears sexy lingerie! And Miharu hears that and just goes beet red. WHAT WERE YOU GIRLS TALING ABOUT???

-Okay, class. Calm down, Miharu. Just teach the girls like normal. Just teach your class. Just teach the girls and every…Tsubasa is already asleep. At least PRETEND to be here to learn! And so she hauls Tsubasa out into the hall, to ask why she’s so very tired…Of course, Miharu is suspecting it’s late night otaku behavior. And Tsubasa cannot, possibly, ever, admit that she’s drawing manga. Are you staying up late at night, Tsubasa? Um, well, er, you see…

-And finally, Koyume leaps out into the crossfire to try and save her senpai, and tries to take responsibility! Koyume you’re not even in this class.

-By lunchtime, Tsubasa’s trying to wake up with caffeinated drinks, and they’re trying to figure out a plan that doesn’t involve admitting that Tsubasa draws manga for a living. …Also Kaos please put your thirst away and focus. I swear to god getting this girl to function is like dragging a dog away from a boneyard, full of squirrels, that are made of bacon. The metaphor kind of got lost there.

-But Tsubasa has no options. Not least because Wing V must be kept secret. None can know that Wing V is just a high school girl who grew up reading Jump…Also everyone quietly realizes that Tsubasa actually still thinks that pen name sounds cool. Oh god she’s a dork. Look, at least stay awake through the next class, okay?

-And Tsubasa tries to stay awake…by…drawing instead of working or taking notes. Which Nijino-sensei finds! Oh god it’s all over! They’re doomed! They’re all going to be expelled or forced to quit their jobs or BOTH! And Nijino-sensei, at the end of class, doesn’t just take Tsubasa aside, but all the way out…to…the…roof?! This looks less like a scolding and more like a confession, Nijino-sensei. And out here, she wants to know, very seriously…

-Are you also a fan of The Dark Hero?! Wait what now. Miharu’s been a fan since the very first chapter! She’s a huge fan of Wing V’s work! And this…This is so good it almost looks official! …Yes. Fan. Fan of Wing V. Exactly. That’s it. What do you like about The Dark Hero, Nijino-sensei? It’s the art, and the story, and the cute protagonist! …Cute, not cool and badass?

-Yes, he’s like a spunky little brat, but he’s got such a good heart despite his acting out, she just wants to discipline him and clean him up into her own little handsome man! Wait you didn’t hear that. So Tsubasa had never considered this layer of appeal to her hero, but also Miharu asks if Tsubasa ever goes to fan events and stuff. Um, well, you see…

-And that’s when Kaos comes and runs out, and…Reveals that Tsubasa is…Is…!

-Oh shit I thought it would be like some fakeout. No she really just straight up revealed that Tsubasa IS Wing V! …Miharu doesn’t take it well. In fact, she rolls to disbelieve. She refuses to accept this possibility! But with no option left but the truth, Tsubasa reveals her manuscript she was working on just this morning…

-And Miharu is overwhelmed by its brilliance! To see the raw work of her favorite mangaka before her very eyes, here, at this school! To be standing before greatness! She is humbled, to her very knees to beg forgiveness! And she can only ask, if Tsubasa was there for the anime event at the amusement park last week…

-Nnno. She just happened to go to the park that day to, you know, go to the park. OH GOD MIHARU’S SECRET IS SAFE. And Tsubasa has to admit that she can’t ever go to that stuff. So many people think Wing V is an older man, since she pulls on such classic tropes and styles, and so she’s got to hide herself for now. So, please keep her identity secret. …But…It really, really was something special, to actually stand before a fan.

-And Kaos is watching the whole thing and sees the gap moe she was looking for! She can USE this! Also soon all the secrets are out. Well, some of the secrets. Nijino-sensei gets to learn they all draw manga, though I imagine not what, say, Ruki does. I don’t think her heart could take discovering that she has Wing V and Big Boob <3 Himeko in her class. And she hears they all, live in a dorm together…wait…wait wait wait.

-That night she calls her good friend who runs an artist’s dorm and THREE OF YOUR GIRLS ARE HER STUDENTS YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING! She could have, well, not gone easy on them, but…The point is you should’ve told her!

-To Kaos’s latest submission meeting. Where she has a pitch built entirely on gap moe, on girls who are far more gentle and kind than their various intimidating demeanors would depict! From the spooky but cute ghost girl, to the stern teacher who’s a secret fan of cutesy shonen manga. These are great characters…Where’s the story go?

-Story?

-…Keep working on this and come back next time, kiddo. ababababa

-Credits! WITH SPOOKY SUZU HIDING IN THE BACKGROUND THE BLOOD MOON RISES ONCE AGAIN BE CAREFUL KAOS

Oh, that was fun. That was ridiculous fun. Suzu is incredibly spooky…And is going to be in the next episode OH SHIT MORE SPOOKY GOTH. …Hell yeah. Look forward to that next time, in episode SEVEN of Comic Girls! Wait for it!

[lovelylunarwriting]

College Roommates!GyuHao

College Roommates!GyuHao 

WHAT A PAIR 

Minghao went into college thinking "I just want a roommate that is chill and I'll be fine" 

Mingyu went in thinking "I just want a roommate that won't steal my stuff" 

Both of those wishes were not granted when you put these two together 

Hao: "it's three in the morning, why are you playing mariokart" 

Gyu: "I'm trying to beat every Grand Prix in one day, wanna join?" 

Hao: "why not, it's not like I needed to finish a paper anyway" 

Gyu: "Wait are those my earrings???" 

Hao: "ah I am foreigner, I can't understand" 

Gyu: "so they aRe mY eARRinGs, I thought I lost those!" 

Hao: "well ya lost them now. And the cup, I just blue-shelled your ass" 

Gyu: "I'm so freaking done with you I stg" 

Naw but Mingyu will be doing really random things at late hours, or try to do something very quietly because it's late and then make a huge amount of noise and wake up Minghao 

Minghao is unamused at first but he gets used to it and whenever he hears a giant 'CRASH!' at two in the morning he just thinks "oh Mingyu is probably trying to do a handstand or something" and goes back to sleep 

When they get their morning Starbucks together (because you know they do I will fight someone on this) Minghao is like "hey man. Did you die last night like what happened" 

Mingyu always tells him exactly what he did and it gets more and more ridiculous tbh 

"I tried to do a handstand" (Hao: "I fuckin knEW IT") 

"I thought I could summon Jihoon from a Ouija board but I got freaked out and threw it out the window" 

"I thought I'd take up art and make pottery but the pottery wheel was not only very loud but really hard to use??? So I gave up after five minutes" 

"I misplaced my hairdryer so I tried to use a Bunsen Burner instead and the end of my hair is a lil too toasty is ya catch my drift" 

Hao: "I may or may not have your hairdryer" 

Gyu: "I WOULDN'T HAVE BURNT MY HAIR IF I HAD IT" 

Hao: "NO ONE ASKED YOU TO LIGHT YOURSELF ON FIRE" 

Random Starbucks Employee: "excuse me but could you keep it down, you're disturbing other customers" 

Gyu: "..." 

Hao: "can you believe them, like the audacity to tell us, paying customers, that we're too loud?" 

Gyu: "yeah I know right we weren't even screaming yet" 

Basically it's meaningless (and usually funny) quarrels between each other, but 98% of the time it's them together vs everyone else 

They look out for each other and if a person is talking shit about one of them, the other WILL intervene 

Mingyu would be like "hey that's really mean and here's 3157 reasons why Minghao's great" until the person gets bored or loses interest and leaves. Or they get shook by Mingyu towering over them and nope out. 

Minghao would be more like "if I ever hear you talking shit about Mingyu again, I'll kick your ass so badly that you won't be able to physically speak ever again" *person runs away, grabs their passport and flees the country* 

So even though Mingyu is a curious yet clumsy giant and Minghao borrows things without asking, they end up getting over these differences and become the best of friends 

Mingyu, being a culinary major, is always in the communal kitchen making something because boy can EAT 

Minghao is totally okay with this because free food for him. And he doesn't have to live off ramen forever like the rest of the kids on campus 

But like if people know Mingyu is gonna cook, they flock to him because he can't say no if they ask him for some bc "wow someone wants my cooking, I'm so flattered" 

And Minghao is like "bro they just want an easy meal" but Mingyu is not discouraged by reality 

These two still want a majority of the food for themselves though so they sneak down to the communal kitchen either really late at night or deadass early in the morning and make mass quantities of food to last them the next handful of days 

Mingyu usually does all the cooking (and insists that he should because it'll taste better), but Minghao always comes with him because he's worried about Mingyu being by himself when no one else is around 

Like Minghao knows that Mingyu is clumsy and what if he decides to do a headstand, and instead of knocking over their bookshelf like last time, he breaks his neck? Minghao's thinking "if he wants to do something dumb I can at least stunt him and/or call an ambulance immediately after" 

But one time Mingyu is like "shit I forgot the <random ingredient>, I'll go run to a convenience store. Watch the rice" 

And Minghao does watch the rice, but Vernon sent him a snapchat of Hoshi drunkenly doing a cartwheel into one of the campus fountains and Minghao was like "I bet his snap story is full of Hoshi doing embarrassing things- blackmail collection time" 

So he watched his phone. And not the rice. 

He didn't even realize it was burning until the smoke detectors went off. VERY loudly. Across the whole building :') 

He's thinking "shitshitshit everyone in this dorm is gonna hate me" so he runs outside and hides behind a random bush 

All the people in this particular dorm are groggily shuffling out of the building and wondering who is to blame 

Because let's be real, 9/10 times when smoke detectors go off, there's no fire. It's either someone curling their hair and the steam sets it off, someone vaping, or someone burning food. 

Mingyu comes back after the majority of the residents of their dorm are outside and he's just like "fiRE!? Where's Minghao?!?" 

He power walks through the crowd looking for Minghao until he finds DK and is like "bro wtf is going on??? is there a fire??? have you seen a skinny Chinese man anywhere??? Why are you smiling at 3 am under these circumstances???" 

DK is like 1.) someone burnt food, idk who tf was cooking •and Mingyu is both relieved because at least Minghao isn't dying in a fire right now but also its pretty much their fault. But DK continues. 

DK: "two- there's no actual fire from the food burning, Seungcheol put it out with a fire extinguisher. three- I haven't seen Minghao but if you want someone to help you look, Jihoon's your guy. He's ridiculously observant. And four- have you seen Vernon's Snapchat story?? Lmao look at naega hosh vs the school fountain" 

Mingyu watches the video of Hoshi cartwheeling into a fountain and is only comforted a little because he just wants to find his best friend 

Mingyu is a lil intimidated by Jihoon because Jihoon has constant resting bitch face and an aura of "I'm tired and don't want to be bothered by anyone" 

But he goes up to Jihoon and is like "plz halp I can't find my wife" -and Jihoon is like "your wife???? Is that supposed to be Minghao?? Okay let's go look" 

It takes Jihoon a hot second to find Minghao crouched under a random bush, and to notice Mingyu with a bag of ingredients 

Jihoon puts the pieces together and drags Minghao out of the bush and takes them both by the ear, dragging them up the front steps of the building so that everyone huddled outside can see them 

Jihoon: "these are the assholes that set off the smoke alarms. I have a 6 a.m. class and I'm sure you all are peeved about this so to make up for it, these two are going to buy everyone coffee in the morning" 

*Half hearted screams and cheers from the crowd of tired students* 

Seungcheol the RA is like. "Not really sure if we can enforce this but I'm all for peer pressure so everyone write down their orders of what they want from Starbucks" 

And that's exactly what everyone does and Mingyu and Minghao end up paying like 3-4 hours later that morning 

Minghao may or may not have spit in Jihoon's coffee while no one was watching 

After this fiasco they've learned that when they cook at unreasonable times in the morning or really late at night, they should never leave Minghao to take care of the food 

•Mingyu makes him chop the vegetables as punishment but then lectures him for doing it wrong and ends up taking over and just doing it himself 

This dynamic duo seems like they should be completely dysfunctional but they have a lot of fun, even if it's complete chaos

[kamakshamaggo-blog]

A page from my journal💙

Once again I am lying here on my bed staring aimlessly at the ceiling. My ears are focused upon the vibrations that hums into my ears as they have been so many nights before. The covers are pulled tightly to my throat, cloaking my body as a armor. It seems like only yesterday that I was growing up at home,playing, giggling and basking in the love and adoration of my family and friends l. It seems there was no bad luck then. I realize and am awaken to the fact that I am only 17 and I frequently feel lonely and devastated. When I notice bairns playing catch me if you can, hide and seek around me and I'm just stuck into : want to know how to get an A in your final exams, tests and last minute cramming and mugging. I ask myself why and where this lifestyle has befallen me. The harder I try to answer my queries, the further away the answer seems to run and hide from me. In the distant past, my life was that of a perfect picture , a flawless piece of art. But now I feel tired. But being defeated by the test of life is not and an option I consider or give place to. There is a reason we people face different trials of life. 'Either do or die' No I didn't coin this phrase so no applause for me please. I wish that I had seized my childhood more carefully instead of letting them flee from my mind like a thief in the night. There are too many people who share same circumstances as of me men, women, teens and old alike. Yeah I am not alone. So I have decided that I'll hang on and not let go just yet.......

[dazzledbybooks]

May Sage & Alexi Blake will be revealing art from The Cursed Crown every month leading up to the December 1st release! Today’s art comes from Haloren1st! Check it and an exciting new excerpt out now! Title: The Cursed Crown Author: May Sage & Alexi Blake Genre: Epic Fantasy Illustrator: Gabriela Dea Julia Typography by Sylvia Frost from The Book Brander Boutique Release Date: 1st of December About The Cursed Crown: My lips hitch up an inch as the hulking, slender man bends down to whisper in my ear. “A divided kingdom without a leader is weak. You will fall. You will fail. You will all die without my kindness, little girl.” He expects me to falter, shiver, and drop my gaze to the ground like the flock of gentry buzzing around him. My eyes widen in feigned dismay. “Kindness? Why did no one think to tell me you had any?” I have to allow him that one concession: Rydekar is fun to tease. He doesn’t even smile. I don’t think anyone has taunted him. “I have none. You will beg nonetheless.” I just may, in his dreams. And in my nightmares. No one was ever born less suited to ruling than Rissa, the thorn of the seelie realm—a half-fae so wild she’s spent the better part of a hundred years in the woods. For all her flaws, she’s the last of the high court bloodline, and the southern king seems to think that’s reason enough to slap a crown on her feathered head. He needs her to unify the seelie forces. She needs him to forget about that nonsense. In an effort to aid her people without condemning herself to a lifetime of misery, she sets off on a journey to find the one person with a stronger claim to the throne than hers: the cursed prince. Sealed in the mountains of the Wilderness, under many spells, the heir of the first seelie queen is the only royal strong enough to protect the fae lands from their immortal invaders. Surviving the untamed tribes and awakening a thousand-year-old prince seem a lot easier than ruling an entire kingdom where everyone hates her very nature. And her choices won’t come without consequences. Pre-Order for a Limited Time Sale Price! Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082FS6S5V Apple: https://apple.co/2I0tPNh Nook: http://bit.ly/398w8tQ Kobo: http://bit.ly/2wLAs3E Exclusive Excerpt: The first time the high king sent hunters after me, I terrified them, drowning them in the depths of their worst nightmare. I can get rather bored in the forest, and their fear entertained me for a day or two. The second time, I was less kind. Instead of a handful of men, he sent two dozen. Half returned home, none of them whole. I am no simple beast foreign kings can summon at their leisure. I am no weakling to bow to the will of another court. I am a nightmare. Half a nightmare, if one wishes to be technical about it. No one does, however. The folk like to conveniently forget that I am part gentry. Half a nightmare. Half a child of the Court of Sunlight. Entirely wild. I didn’t expect a third assault. I should have. I may have met Rydekar Bane only once, but it’s enough to understand what kind of king ascended to the throne of Tenebris. A single rider enters my woods this time. Just one man on a pale horse. Yet I bristle. The stems growing inside my veins, sprouting out of my pores, crawl along my arm, protectively wrapping me under their thorns. I feel the feathers on my shoulders flutter. One rider on a pale horse, yet I am afraid. It isn’t in my nature to fear anything. My instincts aren’t prepared for it. Am I to flee like prey? Am I to remain to await my fate? Prepare to fight? I’m so lost I end up doing nothing at all. I’m still perched atop the sturdiest branch of the ash tree I’ve claimed as my home when he appears, standing alone. Rydekar. Somehow, I never expected that he’d come in person. Not here. The first time we met, it was in the dazzling light of the Crystal Keep, right at the core of Court of Sunlight. I was but a child, but already, I knew a predator when I saw one. I knew a fellow monster, too. A hundred years have passed, and nothing has changed at all. He wears layers of black, fashioned in a parody of a court outfit. He cannot fool me. His clothes are light and easy to move in, yet reinforced with spells and iron casts. This is a set of armor if I’ve ever seen one. His hair falls in waves, coating him in a golden halo. Of the number of weapons in his arsenal, his beauty is perhaps the most insidious. From the way he smiles at me as he saunters, there’s no doubt that he knows how to make use of it. “I see you’re tired of sending underlings for me to play with,” I say lightly, eyes closed. Rydekar chuckles. “They tell me you’re a tricky beast to hunt, precious. I thought I’d give it a try. I rather like the chase.” I don’t doubt it. “What do you want, Bane?” I will not call him king, highness, or anything of the sort. His dominion ends at the border of my woods. Rydekar is lord in the south, on unseelie territory. The Darker Woods are on seelie land, and answer to no one. No one except me. “What does any fae want?” “A beating heart for dinner? Endless, boundless entertainment? No, I know.” I glance down at him. “Better clothes. Well, I don’t share my tailor. Find your own.” His laugh is music, another trap meant to endear him to me. “Power, Rissa. I want more power.” I roll my eyes. “And you’ve come here to seek it?” I gesture around me, to the peaceful clearing. “Come down, precious.” His voice is sickly sweet, wrapping around me like a cloak. He aims to seduce me, and if I were any weaker, he might manage, too. Weaker, or stupider. “I’m quite content up here, thank you, Bane.” He sighs with a feigned sadness that makes me smile. “I would prefer not to be forced to make you obey me, Rissa, precious.” I laughs so hard I nearly fall off the branch. “Make me?” No one has ever made me do anything, not as a child, and certainly not now. Some tried. Pixie nurses, imp maids and an endless stream of tutors hired to bleed the wilderness out of me. That I now live alone in the woods shows just how proficient they were in their endeavor. “Make you,” he repeats, ever so softly. “I would prefer for us to have a partnership, if we could. But I’ll get what I’m here for either way.” “Will you, now?” I practically purr. He’s so very delightful. I haven’t had this much fun in an age. I do leap down from the tree, if only because I want him to regret asking for it. He saw me as a child in the Court of Sunlight, back when I hid the nightmare within me. There was only a hint of me showing through, back then. Now, I’m another creature. In the light of the moon, my complexion is sky blue, like that of a drowned corpse. The feathers grow right out of my shoulders, like the twisted twigs on my arms and legs. Back then, I wore long sleeves, hiding what I am as best I could. I’m dressed in a midnight spider silk so fine he might even see through it in this light. Rydekar’s violet eyes take me in, from my dirty, bare feet to my eyes, stopping on every feather, every thorn. Then he smiles, takes one step forward, and snatches my hand before I can recoil. “There you are, precious.” I’m so stunned I let go of my power, and feel the nightmare drain out of my skin. My hand is as warm as his, and has returned to the shade it dons when I’m not defending myself. It’s just like his. The twigs and flowers have retreated back inside my veins, and my feathers still. In this moment, I hate him. He’s taken my shield without any effort. “What do you want?” I repeat. This time, it sounds like a threat. Rydekar is done smiling. He’s dropped the pretense, his eyes flashing with a raw need. I am getting a glimpse of the monster beneath his mask. “You,” he tells me. “Where you belong.” I snatch my hand back. He dares? He dares! I’m about to lash out, pushing every drop of magic in my blood to maim him. He concludes his insult. “On the throne of Denarhelm.” “You’re a spineless, worthless waste of space.” He shrugs. “I’ve heard worse.” “Get out of my woods. I’ll gladly flay you alive if you stay.” And I mean every word, though killing him here would start a war. “Unlikely, but I’d enjoy your attempt.” Attempt? I could—and would—end him with little effort. I imagine freezing him in place and extracting every drop of pain and agony from his mind. “Alfheimr is raising an army, Rissa. Now that the strongest among us have left, we’re vulnerable. Hundreds of thousands of men are arming themselves, and they’ll march on your kingdom first. It’s easy pickings. I could claim it tomorrow if I so wished.” “There is no throne of Denarhelm,” I reply, gritting my teeth. The seelie kingdom has long been divided into the thirteen minor courts. The last high queen ruling over them all left the throne vacant for good reasons. While I do have her blood in my veins, even suggesting that I could claim it is preposterous—and cruel. The Court of Sunlight didn’t even want me to take my father’s place upon his passing. I hadn’t harbored any desire to rule, but the rejection had cut deep. The thirteen courts would never bow to me. I could make them, if I so wish. But I don’t. My lips hitch up an inch at the thought of forcing the thirteen courts to their knees. I’m so lost in my fantasy, I don’t see the hulking, slender man bending down to me until he whispers in my ear. “A divided kingdom without a leader is weak. You will fall. You will fail. You will all die without my kindness, little girl.” He expects me to falter, shiver, and drop my gaze to the ground, like the flock of gentry buzzing around him. My eyes widen in feigned dismay. “Kindness? Why did no one think to tell me you had any?” I have to allow him this one concession: Rydekar is fun to tease. He doesn’t even smile. I don’t think anyone has taunted him. “I have none. You will beg nonetheless.” I just may, in his dreams. And in my nightmares. “Get out of here,” I repeat. This time, to my surprise, he complies, walking back to his silver-white warhorse. “I’ve said my piece. When the time is right, send word. I’ll arrange for your coronation.” I’m confused and out of sorts. He’s leaving, after all this? I don’t understand him. What would he have to gain if I do as he wishes? Wanting a stronger enemy in the north doesn’t make sense. He looks back at me, and smiles one last time. “You were right, you know. I’ll steal your tailor.” That’s a promise and a threat. I don’t doubt he knows I make my own clothes. There’s no one else around, and nothing much else to do with my time. Without another word, the infuriating high king of the unseelie is gone. Stay up to date on teasers and teasers with The Curse Crown Facebook Group! About May Sage: May Sage is a USA Today Bestselling romance writer dabbling in different genres, although the readers who follow every series know they’re all related. When she isn’t writing, she spends her time with her German Shepherd, her two Savannahs, and her black rescue cat, in England. She loves reading, ballet, running, and cake. Mostly, cake. Follow her on Facebook or join her newsletter for the latest update. Connect with May Sage: Website | Facebook | Newsletter | Instagram Connect with Alexi Blake: Facebook | Twitter

http://www.dazzledbybooks.com/2020/02/the-cursed-crown-special-promo.html

[hotcocosharing]

Glory Days Part 24 (IM RP AU- Shun & Midi)

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23

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Toshiaki’s POV There’s no doubt in my mind at all I want to do is comfort Eri like she deserves - but I’m hesitant in being unsure of how to showcase my true intentions. Do I like this girl? I think so. Do I regret the kiss we shared? No. Can we at least be friends? I wouldn’t want to lose her. Do I care at the fact her makeup is ruined? Not at all but I’m hoping to respect her wishes. The gentle sounds of sobbing and tears falling cause my heart to clench. My stomach starts to twist and churn uncomfortably. I can tell that everything she’s spilt out has been harder than she expected which makes me bite my tongue at the fact I want to be sure that any word which comes from me is thought about - proper - caring. “Look… I..”, I manage to pathetically get out after scratching the back of my neck; my hand slowly finding it’s way to her back where I rub gently between Eri’s shoulders; afraid that the touch may break her. “Friends I can do - I mean… you’re, you’re a special girl from what I’ve learnt about you so far and it would be a shame to lose you.” Just as  I exhale about to further explain, or better still trip over my own words and fall into a web of awkwardness that I’ll strangle myself with, Eriko’s name is called out by an unfamiliar voice which follows a knock at her door. “Should I—-”, I enquire yet Eri seems to have already bet me to what I was about to say, pushing herself up onto her feet to rush straight over and half hide behind the door as she opens it; allowing me to catch a glimpse of someone I haven’t seen before standing on the other side. Rikiya’s POV On my way over; the simple thought of Eri I just couldn’t shake - was she ignoring me because she didn’t want to see me? Was what Shinichi mentioned true? Her father wasn’t fond of me? Kicking at the ground during my walk after I was able to weasel an address out of my friend who just didn’t seem to even want to give in to the slight begging I was prepared to lower myself down to - frustration pulsed through my every nerve unsure of what would happen; what could happen - what I should think or do. Stopping a few times across the college campus I wasn’t entirely familiar with, I snapped and broke  a few flowers, mostly roses and lavender which formed a bright red and purple pretty bouquet. It wasn’t much, but even the thought of giving flowers to a girl made me blush. Arriving at the address I was given, it’s a swift knock at the door which comes out a little more overconfident than expected as I call out the name of the girl who’s been consuming my thoughts for the last few days. “Eri!” Within seconds the door is answered and I can sense the animosity of which I’m about to step into. There’s another guy in her apartment already - my back straightens a little at the idea of another man consuming her attention but I try not to let it get to me. He’s possibly just a friend. He’s possibly more. Maybe someone she’s known for a lifetime. I don’t know and I don’t plan on jumping to conclusions like most people do. “I’ll give you two some space but, Eri - text me the details for this charity ball you mentioned earlier.” The words and not so subtle way of fleeing without a goodbye from the other guy causes my face to contort with a half scowl and half eyebrow raise as he slips his way out past me. Everything seems to have overwhelmed the younger girl and caused her to spill her emotions out in silent sobs which instantly kick in some kind of protective instinct I have; dropping the flowers I collected onto the small table by the front door, and as hesitant as Eri seems to want to play and be, eventually pulling her into my chest. “You ok?” Unintentionally what I saw seems to make her sob a little and my hold around her tightens as she buries her face into my chest. “Why are you crying babe? You’re going to ruin that beautiful face of yours.” Stepping back to create some space between us; I crouch down a little to look at her face to face and wipe her eyes dry. No tears will be falling on my watch - unless of course they’re tears of joy. “Babe - what happened? Am I hurting someone? Was it the guy who just left? I swear - if he hurt you.” Eri’s reaction is further fueled by sobs and whimpers and eventually the smallest chuckle that she tries to hide. Rubbing his back and playing with the ends of her hair, I whisper that I’m here for her and that she doesn’t have to talk until she’s ready. Whether it took 15 minutes, 15 hours of 15 days I’d be more than willing to wait.

Shunichiro'a POV

After being in my arms for more or less half an hour, Midori and I eventually head back to her dorm where Eriko and Toshiaki are nowhere to be found. Midi has ordered me to wait on the couch while she goes change, a quiet tune hangs in the air as she hums quietly. She’s excited and this makes me excited too and a bit nervous. Wiggling in the couch, the scent of flowers drifts past my nose and I smile when she stands shyly in front of me with a mini yellow dress.

“I hope this is okay,” she says quietly.

“Fits you perfectly.” The feel of her nervous breath against my skin makes me grins, next we’re out the door and everything else happens in a flurry.

Her mess of dark hair being played with, fingers hesitating and trembling as they gently brush across her smooth cheeks and shoulder. I keep fidgeting in my seat, closing the gap between us and pushing myself onto Midori’s sweet tasting lips. I never realize how much I longed for this simple contact that’s filled with such innocence, one not yet stained by lust or desire.

Midori has been blushing this whole time, I could feel her cheeks burn up and it only results me to scoot closer with more kisses till our food eventually arrive and interrupt our inseparable bond.

It’s a little after seven, and on a Thursday night no less, the place is still packed. Mostly patrons surrounding the bar and few couples by the window seats. It never ceases to amaze me how passionate Midi is when it comes to food, dessert, pizza and beer that’s all it takes to crack a smile from my girl. “I’m so glad you two drop by the library,” I chuckle as Midi takes a big bite on her pizza, sighing dreamily (over a pizza!)

“Oh me too.” She replies with her mouth full and quickly covers her lips, “I hope things work out in their end too.”

I nod, knowing that’s easier said than done. Eriko may want to change but changing the fundamental is almost impossible or else life lesson itself wouldn’t be that valuable. Most important of all, Toshiaki has experience enough pain for a life time, once was quite enough.

“I can’t believe we almost blow this over.”

And that’s when Midi pauses, almost hesitantly puts her food down and cups my cheeks in her shaky palms. Now, my heart literally fly to the moon and back, and swell up so much in my chest like it would burst any second.

Losing myself completely in Midori’s grip, everything replay in slow motion- how we met; the awkward double date; her overly drunken (but very sexy) state; our first fight and now here we are.

There is no rush. It feels natural, like she and I are meant to be.

“So Midori, would you be my girlfriend?”

Eriko’s POV

It’s definitely taken more than 15 minutes for me to calm down, I take a deep breath as the last of my tears dried up. Rikiya has been a sweetheart, listening to my hysterical crying and sobbing over another guy. I couldn’t quite recall my exact words but they surely wouldn’t be nice for him to hear with something along the lines of:

“He doesn’t want me.”

“He hates me, he must hate me more now.”

“He kissed me, I poured my heart out and he didn’t even tell me how he feels. Friends, he could do friends?”

“I’m soooo stupid!!! I’m just some dirty slut ..”

“STOP! ERI!”

A warm gentle touch on my cheeks is seriously dangerous, Rikiya’s caring tone and intoxicating scent is far too tempting for me to handle. He deserves better, so does Toshiaki, they all do. People like me don’t get appreciated, we are disposable, replaceable and easily forgotten.

“Eri, don’t cry over a guy who doesn’t see the real you. You are perfect the way you are. It’s his lost, not yours.”

It would be so much easier to let go, to fall into a set of strong arms or being melted into sweet kisses and irresistible touches. Lust doesn’t solve it all but it could numb my pain, it would be so much easier and familiar yet I find myself stepping back, keeping distance and choose a hot bath over intimacy.

“Thanks for the flowers, they’re lovely.”

The distant calling of my name and not so gentle slaps on my cheeks bring me back to my senses, lying on the bathroom floor, looking at an extremely worried and breathless Rikiya, wait why am I naked again?

“Babe! Thank God, you’re okay! You scared the shit out of me! Eri, who fell asleep in the bath! That’s it princess, you are not leaving my sight!!”

In one swift motion, I’m lifted up and allowing myself to be lost in Rikiya’s arms. I’m tired, exhausted from crying. I hardly cry and I certainly don’t like wasting tears on men, draining my energy and pride over one guy is enough. It’s easier this way, to be cared, appreciated, spoiled and loved by Rikiya- the bad boy in everyone’s eyes but the knight in shining armour in mine.

For once, I’m sharing my bed with a guy who lays next to me all night long with only his arms wrapping around me, simply being here for me like he has promised.