#anyway progress is slow but I’ve been enjoying it immensely

[artistcheez]

Working on a short story series centered around Hobo Heart, in which Slenderman doesn’t exist but the pastas somehow end up clustering together as a community. Mainly features OCs and is an excuse to use up the random horror story ideas I wrote down but could never use for a longer form stand alone original story. It’s called “Freaks of Bear County” on AO3.

Anyway this is Toby as a middle aged man and resident redneck. He is for the most part stable but still has some feral raccoon energy in him and will throw down with god if he looked at his “family” wrong.

[baeddel]

i logged back in to shill my gf’s thing (listen to it!). love and miss you all, but god life is better without tumblr. how are you doing? how about i tell you what i’ve been doing?

first of all, i’ve been reading a lot more. with no timeline to scroll, i had to find something lazy to do in bed. i never really read a lot for pleasure before. i generally read in a very goal oriented way, to find support for an argument or to reference something. lazy, idle reading is a bit new to me. i’ve been reading Slayers, the light novels, which are really good. really funny, especially when it gets going, which made me think about comic writing. i read a bit of a ‘sex farce’ play from 1897—a ‘sex farce’ combines pornography and comedy in a live performance—La Ronde by Arthur Schnitzler.

according to wiki the most celebrated author of sex farces was a French playwright known as Georges Feydeau. who, after his first play was unsuccessful, took a year to himself to study the comic masters “Eugène Labiche, Alfred Hennequin and Meilhac.” who? maybe my French mutuals know them, i certainly had never heard of them. but of course, now i must study them. although i guess i’m studying my own comic maîtres, starting with Hajime Kanzaka.

why study them? well, i’ve been writing a lot more too. well, not writing more—writing much less than if i was ranting to you every day on here. but writing more fiction. you see, i’ve changed priorities a little bit. a lot of writers ‘reward’ themselves with other activites if they’ve done their writing, for example by saying, if i write 2k words today then i can use social media, so they can motivate themselves and get rid of distractions. whereas i generally did the opposite, treating fiction as a reward for completing my studies. as a result, progress on my fiction was slow, but i didn’t really mind because it was a side thing anyway. but now i’m not getting into arguments everyday i realized i’d like to finish more of my writing, and take on bigger fiction projects. so i’ve been doing the opposite, taking my fiction writing goals seriously and reading non-fiction in my spare time. as a result, i’ve started struggling a lot to hit my fiction writing goals, but i’ve read and even finished a bunch of academic books, at a pace i could never muster previously. oh Fortuna . . . i am reminded of Baudrillard’s quip that “[f]or a healthy distribution of energies, the best thing is to commit one’s cowardice in the service of a good cause and one’s courage to the service of the bad ones.” anyway, progress has still not been terrible. i’ve been tracking it in a spreadsheet. this month i wrote 11k words, at a pace of about 900 words per hour, and mustering about 1-2.5 hours of writing on days i do write. the problem is that there are many days i don’t. so i’m working on writing more consistently. if i can manage one writing session per day, then i’d be writing 27k-67k words per month. imagine that? gosh . . . it would be hard to do that, but after all when i started studying i could only suffer 2 pages per day, and now i average about sixty, perhaps more now, every day. so who knows?

i’ve taken a break from learning Old English. i just needed a break. and i’m going to reformulate my approach, focusing less on anki and more on translating. but i am itching to get back to it by now. especially because my fiction writing is tied quite intimately to my Old English studies. Old English and its corpus is a deep well, and without it writing my stories is like sucking on a dry spout.

i’ve been spending a lot of time with my girlfriends, which makes me happy. and, finally, i’ve been cooking a lot! i get spurts every so often, so i don’t expect it to last forever. but i’ve been enjoying it immensely. mostly pumpkin soup, i especially lovingly prepare the stock. it’s pumpkin season right now, so you should make a batch before they all go away.

and the best part? i don’t give a fuck what anyone on tumblr is arguing about today. you can have it. take care, fuckers!

[btsmosphere]

Crossfire | KTH

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

Moodboard Masterlist

~summary: The night your life blew up sent you on a collision course with the campus bad boy, Kim Taehyung. Though you were well aware of his reputation, it was his doorstep you ran to when you were bleeding with nowhere to go.

~word count: 5k

~gang!au, mafia!au, college!au, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating (warnings apply to each part individually, please read them)

~a/n: this week our gal gets some shit done and comes to a realisation due to Yoongi... also I am once again thanking everyone for supporting this story💜💜love you all,, n for those of you who haven’t heard I’m going to be posting a spooktober story soon so stay tuned...

“I want to help.”

Tae paused in the doorway, a steaming plate in each hand, staring at you with a dumbfounded expression.

“Huh?”

“I want to do something to help, you know, with the plan,” you eagerly pressed on.

“Oh,” Taehyung nodded, but a pout remained on his face as he kicked the door shut gently behind him, “the plan with Shinhyuk?”

“Yep.”

Nervously eyeing him as he shifted onto the bed, you waited for him to speak. Instead, he just passed you one of the plates and began to tuck in.

“Taehyung?”

“Mmm,” he hummed indistinctly, looking up at you, cheeks full of food.

“So… can I help?”

For just a moment, his bewildered stare  was all that greeted you and his chewing slowed.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, as if it was obvious.

“Oh. Okay.”

Admittedly, you hadn’t expected it to be that easy. As you began to eat yourself, Taehyung quickly went back to devouring his own meal without a second thought.

For once, the two of you were inside together during the day as it was the weekend and he wasn’t required for anything except a meeting, which was happening at his place anyway. With him here, you didn’t really need anything else to pass the time, but he had still vowed to bring you some more books soon, given that you had worked your way through the first pile completely now.

After last night, and if you were honest with yourself, even before that, any worry about being around Taehyung had faded away. Not only could you easily pass the time chatting, you very much enjoyed your time with him.

However, once you had both finished your food, it wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door announcing the arrival of the boys and the start of the meeting.

Only four had come as Jimin and Yoongi were out, doing ‘something’. You didn’t ask for details.

Taking the seat furthest from the window, hopefully hidden by Taehyung who sat beside you, you simply stayed quiet for most of the conversation. They didn’t need your input anyway; the plan sounded like it was progressing as well as it could be.

First of all, Jungkook and Namjoon confirmed the first members of Shinhyuk’s group they had managed to pick off, including the leader of a base inside his territory, though the rest were low-level: drivers, informants, dealers, fighters. Not enough to make his gang disappear by any stretch.

Not yet anyway, as Namjoon kept saying in encouragement.

As they resolved to keep digging through rival members, the real challenge was finding an in within Shinhyuk’s immediate circle – the ones who apparently were mainly stationed at what used to be your house.

“All I have is names,” Jungkook sighed, “even though I’m one of them, no one reveals anything about themselves.”

“Even the names might be fake,” Jin reminded him.

“I know,” Jungkook jammed his hands through his hair, “and there’s one – Jintao – he really doesn’t trust me. Makes it difficult for me to do anything. Always has his eyes on me.”

“Y/N can help,” Taehyung cut in then, causing four heads to turn sharply in your direction. You refused to squirm under their glares.

“Tae…” Jin was the first to speak, “it’s dangerous. I’ve been staking out Shin’s clubs and I’ve almost been caught so many times trying to talk to people-“

“She doesn’t have to go out on missions,” Tae reasoned, “a lot of snooping can be done from inside, and since she doesn’t have much else to do…”

“We have access to hackers, Tae,” Namjoon dismissed.

Biting your lip, you looked down. Since Tae had accepted your request to help so easily, you weren’t exactly prepared for this analysis. Perhaps it was stupid to think you would be able to assist these boys.

“She’s just as much a part of this as we are,” Taehyung surprised you with the ferocity in his voice, “she’ll be able to help. And I’ll let her even if you guys don’t.”

Namjoon in particular looked shocked by the younger boy’s unwavering words, but you watched in relief as he gave his assent with a nod, the others raising no further argument.

“What raids are coming up, Jungkook?” Hoseok brought the meeting back on track, prompting Jungkook to relay all the dates Shinhyuk had deals or attacks planned.

You listened as the boys decided which to focus on, though again they were frustrated by their lack of progress. Until Jungkook felt safe again, they weren’t going to counter any attacks, but they could make sure no one would be in the target properties to keep their allies out of danger.

Overall, the meeting left each of you feeling unsatisfied. This war with Shinhyuk was like having an unbearable itch while your hands were tied behind your back. You could only hope their careful preparation would eventually lend them the upper hand when they felt confident enough to retaliate.

With restless minds but nothing to do, Taehyung asked his friends to stay and a movie was agreed upon. As you had observed before, the boys relaxed remarkably quickly, and you were soon laughing with Hobi and Tae as you poured out snacks in the kitchen.

As you collected the packets, Hoseok returned to sit down. You and Tae had barely set foot around the corner when Hoseok let out a yell.

Startled, your head whipped around to find Yoongi standing silently in the doorway, leaning against one side, arms folded and a murderous expression.

“I didn’t see you there,” Hoseok breathed, laughing with a hand over his heart.

Before you could stop it, a snort escaped you, barely choked back, remembering exactly what you had said about Yoongi the night before. Luckily, you weren’t the only one, as you heard Taehyung beside you laughing through his nose, more successful at suppressing the sound.

“I hope there’s good news from the meeting,” Yoongi glared at you two, “I’m going bloody insane dancing around Shinhyuk like this.”

Everyone switched straight back to business mode around you, but you made the mistake of glancing over at Taehyung.

As soon as you made eye contact, neither of you could control yourselves and you had to fight to keep in your mirth. The dark warning glances from the other boys did nothing but fan the flames. Taehyung bit down on his lips as they threatened to break out into laughter; your cheeks ached.

Sinking onto the sofa, Taehyung looked pointedly away from you, shoving his fist into his mouth, shoulders still shaking.

With the tears brimming in your eyes, you didn’t care to listen to Yoongi as he talked about whatever he and Jimin had just come back from. When Jimin came in, a strangled laugh leapt from your mouth before you clamped it shut again, but you had set Tae off again.

The orange-haired boy across the room stared at you both like you were crazy.

“What’s your problem?” Yoongi’s sour face only made it harder to remove him from the ridiculous cartoon stereotype and Taehyung finally broke, guffawing loudly with his head thrown back, before falling against you and clinging to your shoulder, tears running down his face.

Shocked to find Taehyung’s head suddenly pressed into the crook of your neck, your breathless laugh was finally cut off. All you could do was stare down at him with a smile as he pulled himself together, wheezing dramatically the whole time.

At last, he seemed to realise himself and abruptly let go of your shirt. Pulling back, you were face to face for a second, expressions reflecting each other’s surprise, before he closed his mouth and turned back to Yoongi with a flawless poker face.

“Nothing.”

And then you were laughing again.

The prospect of Yoongi almost definitely hating you now didn’t bother you anymore. In the days following the meeting, you had begun to work through the list of names Jungkook had scribbled down of the members of Shinhyuk’s current inner members:

-Gi Beomho- has a Gwangju accent?

-Chaewon/known as Seb

-(Lee?) Minho

-Soonjae

-Jintao

Taehyung had told you his laptop password and you began trawling through the internet for any traces.

Though you were by no means a hacker, one of your friends at college, Jake, had once showed you a few things he knew how to do from his course in computing. Not to mention you were able to stalk someone very efficiently on social media from investigating the hot guy Lisa had seen on the street, or finding Soo’s mysterious girlfriend she refused to introduce to your group.

Now, though, there were no friends laughing around you as you tried to take apart the gang that was living in your house.

After your first afternoon of searching, nothing fruitful came up. When Taehyung had come back in the evening, you were more than happy to abandon the task and join him in your usual dinner routine, falling asleep soon after when you settled down together to watch a film.

But as the days progressed, you became more determined and frustrated in equal measure as you came across few things. You had worked your way through 3 people, giving up only after you had exhausted every avenue you could think to investigate.

Lee Minho took you even longer than the others to rule out, though you suspected from the beginning it was an alias since he shared the name with the famous actor, meaning there was an immense amount of unrelated material cluttering any path to finding the gang member, no matter what you searched.

Slumping back against the headboard, you set the laptop aside and flipped it shut.

Your attempt at working your way through the newest stack of books Taehyung had brought you was much slower than the first time around. Until he came back home, you barely took in the words.

At your side, a notebook containing the few possible leads consistently stole your attention instead.

You had managed to gain access to a couple of police reports on a Gi Beomho in Gwangju, but you would have to verify with Jungkook whether the photo was of the right person, or if you were barking up the wrong tree entirely.

When Tae finally arrived, you anxiously greeted him. Today Shinhyuk had planned his largest attack yet, on a shop that was a front for gang activity, and you knew all the boys had been on standby.

Taking in the scattered books, paper and laptop on the bed, his shoulders slumped.

“Nothing yet?”

“No, sorry,” you confirmed with a sigh.

“Don’t apologise,” he reached out and rubbed a hand along your upper arm to your shoulder. There it lingered, fingers slowly massaging for a moment.

“Were you hurt today?”

In only the short time since he came in, he had only squeezed out a smile once as he tried to reassure you.

At the shake of his head, you felt a knot in your chest release. But he still wasn’t happy.

“So what happened?”

“We didn’t go in at all. It was a lost cause,” he sat on the bed and kicked his shoes off without energy, “he shut the whole place down. It’s done for.”

With another huff, he fell back to lie on the bed. You did the same.

Weighty silence hovered over you both.

You had no idea how long you merely stared up at the ceiling, paralysed, before Taehyung moved. Slowly, he reached his hand out, fingers finding yours. As he intertwined your hands where they lay between you, you simply let your eyes slide shut, squeezing back.

“I know you’ll find something.”

Though you appreciated his support, he said it to assure himself as much as you.

Whether he could see or not, you nodded.

Just then, Tae’s familiar ringtone chimed in the silence. Pulling his phone from a pocket, he held it above him, checking the caller. Deciding it was worth it, he reluctantly pulled his had from yours to push himself up as he swiped across the screen and held the device to his ear.

Sitting up too, you could hear Jungkook’s voice crackling out from the phone.

“Hyung, I think I-I messed up-“

“Woah, Jungkook, what happened?”

“I was in Shinhyuk’s car, and I saw a file in there, he was looking through it, and it had you guys in it! It was labelled ‘bangtan’ and it’s full of information on everyone- I didn’t know he had that, but I just- I panicked, and I stole it, and now I have it but Shinhyuk’s leaving before me and he’ll notice it’s gone and- fuck-“

You caught Tae’s eye as you both listened in horror to the scared maknae.

“Where are you Kook?” Tae demanded, eyes breaking from yours.

“Um, at Y/N’s,” he replied, “the others are just packing away-“

But before he could finish, you had reached over and pulled the phone right out of Taehyung’s grasp.

“Jungkook,” you hissed into the receiver, “there’s two loose floorboards under my wardrobe at the back, they’re pretty quiet to move, can you hide it in there?”

“Uh, yeah,” the boy responded, “thanks.”

You lowered the phone to return to Tae, but suddenly brought it back to your ear.

“And don’t look at any of the stuff that’s already in there!”

“Oh- okay,” the boy sounded startled, but Tae seemed to find your miniature panic hilarious as he took the phone back and hung up.

Saying nothing, he wiggled his eyebrows and smirked at you.

“Oh, shut it,” you ignored the heat rising in your cheeks and shoved him lightly back onto the bed, where he only laughed louder.

“It’s not even- oh you are ridiculous,” you cried as he pulled you down on top of him, only making you turn redder.

In your embarrassment, you tried to wriggle away from him, pushing on his chest, but he grabbed your wrists, bringing you back down, grin ever-present on his face.

“Hey!” you protested, and then, “Ya! Stop! Tae-“

His hands reached down to tickle your sides, and you squirmed away from him again, only to have him follow, ending up on top of you as he mercilessly continued his attack, enjoying himself far too much.

“Ohmygod, ahh, Tae, please, aaaahahaha…”

Struggling, you writhed around, legs kicking out as you shrieked in protest before you finally reached his sides and exacted your revenge. He curled in on himself, giggling and apologising to get you to stop. You did, eventually, only to throw a pillow right at his face, though he easily caught it in the hands he had held up in surrender.

Both collapsing back onto the bed, you turned your head to one side, but you found he was already looking back at you. His laughter had dissipated into a smile which you returned.

“Thanks for helping out Kook,” he said earnestly, eyes boring into yours, “I told you that you would be helpful.”

This time, your heart soared with his praise.

You weren’t hopeful about finding ‘Soonjae’, or anything that could bring him away from Shinhyuk. Having gone through half the list already, the remaining two were the people Jungkook had the least information on.

Trudging through the morning, you were reluctant to take to the computer and be met with more inevitable defeat. Today you felt particularly tired, which didn’t help.

It was strange since you had slept for a long time, waking only after Taehyung had gone, leaving you missing his presence, even if you barely touched him while you shared a bed.

Nonetheless, you found yourself sifting through links and articles online, far from the first page of Google filled with celebrities and international news. With the little information you had on the man, you ended up reading through anything and everything containing the name Soonjae. Facebook profiles, comments on newspaper articles, a GoFundMe page…

Taking a sip of water, you scrolled idly to the bottom of the GoFundMe, which was for a child after all, no gang member, and read the ‘recent’ donations (the most recent being over a year old) and comments. Nothing.

Clicking on ‘show more’, you pulled up the full comment list and scanned through. For what, you weren’t sure. Most donations were small bits and pieces, but among the ones from three years ago, one was a little more sizeable. Along with it came an interesting comment: a woman called Sara was apologising for her ‘previous words’ and wishing the boy well.

You frowned as you read it. Though it was almost certainly unrelated, you were undeniably curious as to what she might have said to target an ill child.

Clicking next on the woman’s account, you decided to try and log in. After employing the password tricks Jake had showed you, you made it. The account had been created the same day as the donation was made on little Soonjae’s page, and appeared untouched since. You supposed this tangent had come to nothing, though you were certainly pleased with your skills after getting into the account.

Closing down the tab, you searched next for ‘Soonjae GoFundMe’. There was the campaign you had already seen, followed by a few that proved to be unrelated as well. You selected ‘next page’ with little hope.

Then something caught your eye.

About halfway down, the name Sara.

Quickly selecting the page, you found yourself on Facebook instead of GoFundMe, but what you found was certainly interesting. It was the same woman from the earlier page. This time she had posted a status:

If anyone on here donates to Soonjae’s fucking gofundme get ready to be cut out of my life XD cheaters don’t deserve your pity

That was certainly interesting. No wonder she had apologised to the boy – it also explained her big donation – probably given out of guilt.

But re-reading the status, you realised she couldn’t possibly be talking about the boy. Unless by ‘cheater’ she meant that he had cheated on a test in school, but you suspected that was not the case.

You clicked on her profile.

Her profile picture showed her holding a little boy that must be around ten, standing on a beach. Flipping through her older profile images, they stopped three years ago. Perhaps she had deleted all previous ones?

Only friends can see Sara’s photos

Only friends can see Sara’s timeline

“Not just friends…” you muttered, getting to work.

Unluckily for Sara, she had used the same password as on her GoFundMe, so you logged in easily.

The first thing you saw was that she reportedly lived in your city: a promising start. Scrolling through to three years ago, you saw only one other post close in time to her attack on Soonjae and his fundraising page:

Sara is feeling: heartbroken X(

That lead you nowhere, so you made your way back up her feed, seeing photos of her son and meals with friends. Few stuck out as anything but happy, all possibly related to the mysterious events of three years ago.

That’s right, delete your fucking facebook. I don’t need to worry about blocking you now XD

Sara is feeling: defeated☹: Just got out of court. Nrs

What was the point in all this? Just to prove something? Well you did, you proved I was right all along

Now you really were intrigued. You needed to find out what was going on, she was definitely linked to a Soonjae in your city, so you had reason to investigate further. Still, as you clicked on the messages icon, you felt very much like a trespasser.

Searching for ‘Soonjae’ at the top, two conversations were pulled up, both from three years ago. One with ‘Park Soonjae’ and one with ‘Help Soonjae’.

First choosing ‘Help Soonjae’, recognising the profile picture as the same image used on the GoFundMe, you read the exchange of messages.

Sara: What the fuck is this?

Sara: I can’t believe you’re pulling the pity card after what you’ve done

Help Soonjae: Excuse me?

Sara: You know what I mean

Help Soonjae: Ma’am, I don’t know you but please calm down. I will block you, this page is only trying to raise hospital funds for my son. I’d thank you to explain how this is ‘pulling the pity card’

Sara: Wait… Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!

Sara: I can’t apologise enough, I thought this was my husband’s page, he has the same name as your son! I didn’t check the page before messaging, I didn’t mean to offend you or your son

Sara: I’ll make a donation to your page to make up for this. I wish your son the best

Read 15:47

And that was the end of that. Wincing with second hand embarrassment, you quickly moved on to ‘Park Soonjae’.

Soon, you realised that the message history was long, but it all ended three years ago. You gave up on scrolling your way to the top, seeing that most messages consisted of ‘I love you’s and reminders to buy milk. The final conversation, however, gave you a lot more information.

Sara: What the fuck is this?

Then followed a screenshot of a GoFundMe page: Help Soonjae win Custody

Sara: You cheated. Maybe you should write that in your description.

Soonjae: Sara, I’ve told you I’m sorry

Sara: And I’ve told you that’s not enough. We are over

Soonjae: I can understand that. I just can’t understand why you want to keep my son from me!

Sara: HOW CAN YOU NOT TELL?!?!

Sara: I never want to see you again, and I don’t want kai to either

Soonjae: How can I make it up to you without going to court? I can’t afford the fees and you know it

Sara: You can’t ‘make it up’ to me. And it’s not my problem anymore if you can afford it or not. I’m blocking you

And that was it.

You wasted no time in opening Soonjae’s profile in a new tab, before taking a screenshot of the messages and logging out of Sara’s account.

Soonjae’s account was indeed deleted, confirming him as the target of Sara’s earlier status update. One search for new profiles under the same name showed no one promising. Your ‘breakthrough’ seemed more trivial now you had taken a step back from it. Without a picture of the Soonjae you had found, you couldn’t confirm if you were on the right target.

You had one last option, and searched for the GoFundMe Sara had sent a screenshot of. At last you found it, though it took a while as it had been declared finished and was from so long ago.

But, once you opened it, it turned out Sara’s screenshot hadn’t included the full photo at the top of the campaign. It had only showed a baby cradled in someone’s arms, but on the site, the full photo extended to show the man’s face.

This time, you did not scroll down.

You just stared.

There would be no need for Jungkook to verify if this was the right man. Those eyes had stared at you before from underneath a hoodie in your own bedroom not so long ago. And the hands that held his son had given you the wound in your side.

“Holy shit…” you breathed, taking a screenshot when you recovered from your shock.

Then you proceeded to scroll down. And it seemed like you had hit the jackpot.

The description had been updated, and the last lines read:

Thanks for the generosity. This page will be deactivated as I have now sourced funding from a private benefactor. Will update those who donated on the court result.

“Tae! Oh my god-“

You froze on the stairs.

On hearing the door opening downstairs, you had presumed Taehyung had returned, but instead, Yoongi stood in the hallway.

“Hi,” he said coolly.

“Sorry,” you murmured, but didn’t retreat back upstairs. Staring back at him, laptop and notebook clutched in your arms, you felt the need to share your breakthrough.

After a few seconds glaring at you, Yoongi moved away down the hallway. Taking a breath, you followed.

“Um, sorry, I thought you were Tae,” you spoke from the door.

“Ok,” came his short reply as he rooted in the fridge.

“Actually, er,” you pushed, making the boy at least turn around and acknowledge your presence, “I wanted to show him something. But… I can show you instead. You know how I was searching up Shinhyuk’s closest members, well, I think I found something.”

His unimpressed face vanished at least a little, and he nodded, taking a swig from the drink he had picked.

“Okay,” you placed the laptop on the island and opened the screenshots you had saved, “so I found this woman’s messages with a Soonjae in the city, they were getting divorced but he couldn’t afford the legal costs to fight for custody of their son.”

Yoongi leaned forwards to read the screen and you stepped aside, worrying your lip. Watching him read, you leaned against the counter to support your tired legs.

“Bastard,” he muttered.

“Pardon?”

“He cheated on her,” he said simply, gesturing towards the screen, drink in hand.

You hummed in agreement and flipped onto the second image.

“He set up this GoFundMe, but see how it says he then received funding from elsewhere.”

“Could be Shinhyuk, definitely,” Yoongi agreed, “I can send Jungkook this guy’s picture-“

“Actually, you don’t have to,” you cut in, “I, er, I recognise him. He was one of Shinhyuk’s that broke into my place.”

“Shit,” Yoongi breathed, turning to take a look back at the man on the screen, “good catch.”

“Thanks,” you couldn’t help but smile, “so… what now?”

Setting his drink aside, Yoongi bent over the counter and opened a new tab, sending the images to his own email, along with a final one of Sara’s details on Facebook.

“I think we have enough to work with. We can use the details for leverage and approach him.”

“Nice,” you couldn’t keep yourself from smiling. Even if only Yoongi was around to see it, you were just proud to have hopefully helped bangtan get another rival under their belt, and get closer to defeating Shinhyuk.

It seemed Yoongi had finished with the laptop, even though he hadn’t yet left the kitchen or even picked his drink up again. Awkwardly, you stepped closer to shut the laptop and slide it off the counter.

Taking a stride back towards the door, you hesitated.

“Well, erm, thanks, I’ll just- yeah.”

“Wait.”

You turned back around, surprised at just how small Yoongi’s voice sounded. Not knowing what to say, you waited as he stood shuffling his feet.

At last he cleared his throat and spoke.

“Listen, I’m sorry for, you know… trying to kill you that time,” he said. His voice was quiet, as if a lower volume would allow him to pretend he never said it.

“Well there’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear,” you chuckled.

“No, I really am,” he spoke stronger this time, actually looking at you, “I know I haven’t been the nicest and-“

“No, it’s okay,” you flashed him another smile, “I know you were just trying to protect Tae.”

He fell silent again for a moment, and you thought that might be it. But something was still on the tip of his tongue and he looked down, one hand coming to scratch his ear.

“I want to tell you I’m happy for you guys. You seem… well, really nice, and I know Tae thinks so too, and I trust him, so… yeah.”

Gulping, he looked up at you, trying to hide his mortification at the barrage of emotion he had just released. You just stared back at him, lost for words.

Maybe he had said something wrong?

“A-and, thank you for doing this work on Shinhyuk’s gang, it’ll really help us. What you did was really impressive-“

“I-I’m sorry,” you finally spluttered out, “what did you mean when you said you- you’re… you’re happy for us?”

Looking back at you, his eyes widened.

“Shit, are you guys not-“

You tried to swallow down any signs of how flustered you were, clutching the laptop tighter in front of your chest. Perhaps he didn’t mean what you thought he might-

“I thought you guys were dating. Shit.”

You couldn’t agree more with that last sentiment.

Just as you opened your mouth, without knowing what you planned on saying, you were saved by the bell. Or rather, the door.

Tae had finally come home. It would be an understatement to say he was surprised to find you and Yoongi together, in conversation too apparently. Hopefully Yoongi had finally quit his tough act and exposed his softness that Tae had insisted you would find eventually.

Yoongi was quick to inform Tae of what you had dug up on Soonjae. Taehyung put his hand on your shoulder, sending you a proud grin that made your heart race as he told you he knew you could do it.

The whole time you were aware of Yoongi watching the interaction, and you excused yourself as soon as you could, leaving the boys to themselves.

Practically running up the stairs, you were left panting as you closed the door to the bedroom. Just one short burst of speed had knocked you out, but that concern barely crossed your mind as you surrendered to the mattress, thinking only of what Yoongi had told you.

He thought you were dating? Ridiculous…

But then why had the suggestion got to you so much? Sure, you shared a bed with the guy, and you enjoyed being with him, and liked it when he held your hand or hugged you…

Fuck.

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[juliettalfacharlie]

Day 5, alt: "I'm sorry."

CW illness, vomiting, and injury. Shameless plug for the house I designed.

Kya awoke to the sound of violent retching, and she immediately threw off the covers and hurried down the hall. Lin had begun a new medication for chronic pain. A lifetime spent on the police force meant her body had been bruised and battered more times than Lin could begin recalling, and her spinal discs had worn out far more rapidly than others her age. She experienced pain and stiffness, which otherwise would have had a chance of being manageable, but she also had weakened muscle control and infrequent numbness in her legs. She'd been forced to retire years before she'd ever planned, and it had been extremely difficult for her to cope with.

Walking had become a challenge on the worst days, and even when she retained feeling in her lower body, she felt fiery pain in her back whenever she moved. The spine wasn't an area with abundant bloodflow, and healing couldn't repair collagen; Kya was absolutely miserable watching her struggle, unable to assist in any physical way.

Lin was nauseous in the late afternoon, a few hours after taking the pills. She'd insisted on sleeping in the guest room so she wouldn't wake Kya if she felt ill. Kya had firmly opposed, but Lin wouldn't be swayed. In the end, Kya gave in, hoping it was just because Lin believed she'd weather the illness better alone.

Now, standing atop the wrong carpet, looking into the wrong bathroom, Kya was filled with extreme regret over not fighting her more. Lin was leaning heavily on the sink, forearms supporting most of her weight. Her legs trembled, as she was clearly experiencing partial paralysis, and her chest shook with heaving breaths. The room was almost pitch black, like she hadn't had the time to turn on the light before she heaved into the basin.

"Lin?" Kya called, voice soft. She couldn't be sure if Lin was aware of her presence, incapacitated as she was.

Her girlfriend gagged though nothing came up. She grunted, trying to clear her throat. "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" she asked, uncharacteristically quiet. Her throat was horribly sore. "I should have gone to the treehouse."

Kya had moved to Lin's side, and she froze, horrified. "Losing an hour of sleep is nothing compared to you struggling without any support." she chided, wiping sweat from Lin's cool forehead.

"I shouldn't need support, it's only emesis." the younger woman countered, hands clenched into fists. Kya hardened, easily seeing through Lin's spiked boldness.

"If you're sick, I want to be there. Please don't try and hide it from me. I shouldn't have let you sleep alone." Kya murmured, carefully rubbing a hand over Lin's shoulders.

The metalbender shuddered, eyes fluttering shut. Her brows were pinched, and Kya couldn't tell if it was due to physical discomfort or a conflict of emotions. Lin had never wholly embraced being taken care of, and it had worsened immensely as her body began to break down.

Lin's muscles tensed, once again heaving into the sink. Her stomach had emptied itself of her lunch, and instead she coughed up a surge of bile.

The sting in her throat made her gag, gut twisting painfully. She swiped at the faucet handles, turning the tap on full blast.

Kya bent water around the basin, cleaning the sides, before she brought a globe of fresh water to Lin's face. Her wife opened her mouth and rinsed out the taste, then Kya also sent that down the drain.

Lin instinctively wiped her mouth though it was dry, before rubbing away the tears that had formed in the corner of her eyes. Kya shut off the water, keeping a small amount on her palm, and she raised her hand to Lin's neck.

The younger woman tilted her chin up just so, allowing Kya access to heal the irritation along her throat. It was a process that only took a few moments, and soon enough Lin was clean and well once again.

Lin struggled off of her forearms, pressing her palms into the counter as she slowly straightened her back. She exhaled in pain, eyes once again falling shut.

"Will you come back to bed with me?" Kya asked, and Lin nodded once, holding one arm out.

Wordlessly, Kya slipped under it, supporting some of Lin's weight as she stood fully.

The first steps Lin took were terribly shaky, knees and ankles not bending correctly, but Kya was used to the imbalance. She tightened her arm around Lin's ribs, helping her break through the stiffness. By the time they were in the hallway, Lin had more control over herself, and she stopped hanging off of Kya's neck.

The pace was slow, neither wanting to risk a misstep, but with tired minds the time seemed to pass by quickly anyways.

Kya brought Lin to the edge of their bed, carefully letting her sit. The earthbender's face was still tight with pain.

"Uh, would you mind getting the warming balm?" Lin whispered, and Kya quickly replied in the positive.

A mix of camphor and menthol seemed to the the only relief for Lin's back pain, as she didn't typically want to try ingestible pain reliever. This night was the first time she'd caved, though it clearly hadn't helped; Kya would certainly have a word with Lin's physician come morning.

Jars of the salve were kept across the house, and Kya grabbed the one kept inside the nightstand. It was most frequently replaced, as any niggling pain made it difficult for Lin to sleep.

Lin reclined and turned onto her side, back facing Kya. The waterbender unscrewed the lid, taking a healthy dollop onto her finger before she set the container on the bedside table. She slid her clean hand under Lin's t-shirt, pushing it up her back.

Neither woman spoke as Kya rubbed the salve into Lin's muscles, trying to ease some of the tension within. It was relieving that Lin had asked for help in the first place. When she was tired she was still prone to shutting Kya out, as she'd done at first, but a lot of progress had been made regarding clear communication. Lin's progressive decline had caused a hiccup in their seamless coexistence, though it never affected their relationship beyond a few hours of brooding here and there.

As the balm began to take effect, Lin's back finally relaxed. Kya felt the tension slowly ebb until she'd all but melted into the mattress, clearly exhausted.

Kya removed her hands, pulling Lin's top down to cover the balm. One hand lingered atop Lin's hip as she leaned in, placing a kiss on the back of Lin's neck.

"Thank you." Lin spoke, gravely and weak. When she cleared her throat Kya could imagine the pinched annoyance on her face.

"You're welcome. Of course, Lin," Kya responded, "All I want is for you to feel like you can rely on me for help." she said.

Lin slowly turned onto her back, taking Kya's hand in hers. "It isn't that I don't trust you. I hope you don't think that," she sighed, considering her words. She’d been silently working to articulate her feelings, not wanting Kya to ever doubt her role in Lin’s life.

"It's- I'm telling you, it's all me. I've always been against letting people see my... imperfections, or- weaknesses. Weaknesses. You know my retirement was hard, and spirits, the press. But what felt even worse was just, how.... you were so understanding, always. I'd have a bad day and you would simply work around it, like it was no big deal. You stayed with me during Vesak instead of spending it on the island, and I was terrible to you that day. I felt so much loathing for myself, and I still do. I'm so grateful to have you, but I- it's," she paused, a noise of frustration in her throat. It was hard enough to procure the words to what she was feeling, but she was also extremely mindful not to say something that could be taken harmfully. She went over her thoughts to weed out phrases that sounded ungrateful, or implied she didn’t trust Kya, as it was the opposite of what she wanted to communicate.

Despite the silence, Kya didn't speak; Lin was telling her, it wasn't a conversation. The metalbender needed to voice her thoughts without comment. Any words of affirmation refuting her statements only made her retreat. Kya was able to show Lin, later on, how she herself saw things differently.

"I never saw myself having this future. Not only the retirement part, however awful it's been, but our relationship. When we were younger it was because of our ages, but even when you came out I didn't think you'd ever look my way. While I wasn't romantically attracted to you, I always pictured you finding that perfect partner; brilliant, beautiful, selfless, adventurous, maybe even someone who shared your terrible sense of humour. Whoever it was, she’d have all of your wonderful qualities as well. I think- I’ve been putting far too much pressure on myself to live up to that, I suppose,” Lin was partially speaking aloud for herself at that point, voicing niggling thoughts and realizing their truth. “I’m sorry I’ve been difficult.” she mumbled, though it was the wrong thing to say.

Kya tsk’d, “You’re not allowed to apologize for being upset or feeling unwell.” she reminded firmly, and Lin squeezed her hand.

“I’m sorry I tried to hide from you, then. You don’t deserve that.” Lin corrected.

“I’m glad you’re speaking to me now. I know everyone copes in their own ways, and I understand your silence, but if you need help it’s pertinent I know,” the waterbender said, scooting closer to Lin’s side, “You’re aware of it, and I know you’re trying. I’m not upset.” she emphasized, and Lin turned her head into Kya’s chest.

“I love you.” she said, bringing their joined hands up to shoulder-level. Come morning she’d hopefully be able to explain more, but she’d exhausted both her mental and physical reserves. Sensing it, Kya’s other arm went around Lin’s stomach. She was halfway-sideways and halfway on her stomach, laying atop her girlfriend, and Lin enjoyed her warm weight.

“I know.” Kya replied, tucking her chin down on the crown of Lin’s head. “I love you too.” she murmured, finally letting her eyes fall shut.

[epochofbelief]

Breath Control, Chapter Six

An A Court of Mist and Fury College Swim Team AU

All characters belong to SJ Maas!

Feysand.

Warnings: mature content, cursing

Let me know if you want to be tagged:)

Enjoy! 

SIX

We pulled up outside the family house--an enormous, Colonial-style building, complete with six bedrooms, too many bathrooms to count, an enormous kitchen, and several living areas. My father had purchased it as soon as his business had started flourishing again in the middle of last year. I’d never understood why he’d bought such a large home for himself alone. I figured it was something about overtly displaying just how much wealth he’d regained to everyone in our home town. I didn’t concern myself with it too much; I’d never actually lived in the house anyway.

Nesta had for a few months before she’d moved down to Prythian to live near me and Elain. I’m pretty sure she’d lived on the opposite side of the house from my father to avoid running into him as much as possible until she’d saved enough money from her flight attendant job to get a place of her own. . . Out of the three of us, Nesta got along with my dad the least. 

Rhys charmed Elain instantly, asking her questions about her baking, her gardening, her nursing classes. He skillfully avoided all talk of significant others, for which I was grateful, and by the end of the car ride Elain was half in love with him.

Elain hopped out of the car as soon as she pulled onto the enormous bricked driveway. I remained inside with Rhys for a moment. I twisted around in the backseat to look at him. 

“Here is my final warning and disclaimer to you. I love Nesta, don’t get me wrong. But she will be a bitch to you. I don’t know how my father will act around. . .” I trailed off.

“Never brought a boy home, Feyre darling? I’ll try to pretend I’m not immensely flattered at the idea.”

Heat bloomed in my cheeks. “Of course I’ve brought boys home. You’re not that special.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Archeron. Let’s go meet your family.” 

If I was being honest, his eagerness scared me a little.  I took a deep breath and followed him up the front walk, bags in tow. Elain burst into the house and I timidly followed her through the enormous entry way, painted a pleasant cream above the dark wood flooring. Past the staircase and to the right, we found my father and Nesta in the kitchen talking. 

More like arguing, They weren’t yelling, though, which was progress for those two.

“I don’t like you working as a flight attendant, Nesta. You got an engineering degree for a reason, you know.” 

“I don’t care. Working on planes is much more fun. I get to see new places during long layovers or overnight stays. So butt. Out. Dad.”

Elain cleared her throat. Realizing they now had company, they both shut up rather quickly. I was grateful. I wanted to spare Rhys from the family theatrics for as long as possible. Even if things had been better between all four of us for the past year or so. 

“Feyre!” My dad exclaimed, unusually perky. It was probably for Rhys’s benefit.  He moved to hug me and I acquiesced, glancing at Nesta out of the corner of my eye. She shrugged.

“And you must be Rhysand. I have to say, I was quite surprised when Feyre told me she was bringing a boy home for Thanksgiving dinner who wasn’t Tamlin.” My cheeks were absolutely flaming at this point. I decided to stare at my shoes. 

Also, how could he mention Tamlin? He didn’t know a thing about our relationship except that we were broken up and I never wanted to speak of it again. Oblivious to all the embarrassment he was currently causing me, my father extended his hand to Rhys.

Rhys gripped it tightly, his crutch wedged underneath his arm.  I was pleased to see that his grip was firm. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Yes.” My father had suddenly become quite solemn.  “And what are you majoring in, Rhysand?” 

Oh dear.

“International Relations, sir.” 

“And what do you plan to do with that?”

And God bless him, Rhys didn’t miss a beat. “My father is an Operations Manager for a large global company. I plan to follow in his footsteps to manage a large company, particularly--”

I decided that that was enough. “Okay, Dad! I’m going to give Rhys a house tour. What time’s dinner?”

My father gave Rhys a look as though their conversation wasn’t over as I grabbed his arm and hustled him out of the kitchen.  

I forced Rhys up the stairs. “Oh my god. What right does he have to give my friends the first-degree as soon as he meets them? He didn’t try to parent me in high school, so why start now? It’s not like you’re my--”

“Boyfriend?” He smirked. “It was fine, Feyre. I know what I plan to do with my degree.”

“You shouldn’t have to answer to him.”

“Relax,” he said as he followed me up the second flight of stairs. “By the end of this week, your father will love me.”

He met me at the top of the stairs, seeing as I’d stormed up them and he’d had to carefully ease his way up with his boot and crutches. Barely a hand’s breadth between us, he stood with his back to the stairs as I stared up at him. 

“Why waste your time trying to make such a good impression?” I couldn’t take my eyes away from his face. I realized suddenly just how much taller than me he was.

“Consider it a long term investment.”

“Why invest in that?”

He edged around me and set off down one of the hallways. “Show me the house, Feyre darling. Isn’t that what we came up here to do?”

I could think of other things. The thought coalesced inside my mind, unbidden. I was the only one who lived on the third floor of this house. Those things I was thinking of doing . . . wouldn’t be difficult to accomplish here.

Nope. No, no, no. Not an option. 

But as I followed Rhys down the corridor, I couldn’t help. . . wondering what it would be like. Kissing him, touching him, calling him mine. . . 

“Archeron! You coming? I don’t actually know where I’m going.”

I puffed out my cheeks. Shit.

We worked our way through all the bedrooms and living rooms on the second floor and finally made it to the staircase that led to my room, alone on the third floor. It was quite a spacious room, actually, with an amazing attached bathroom. What I didn’t realize was how Rhys would get up the extremely narrow staircase. Technically, the third floor had been something like the servants’ quarters a hundred years ago, now remodeled and modernized. But the fact remained that the staircase was much too narrow for Rhys to get up with his crutches. 

“You don’t have to see my room. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about it,” I said, glancing down at his foot.

He set his crutches against the wall. “I’m seeing your room, Feyre,” he said confidently.

I raised my eyebrows. “Well, okay then. Do you want to go first?”

“I can walk perfectly fine, Feyre. Chill.” 

“Boys,” I muttered under my breath. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just get your ass up the stairs.”

“Bossy. I like a woman in charge.”

“Get your ass up the stairs, Rhysand!” 

He chuckled. And began his slow ascent. It wasn’t that he was weak, it was that his boot was big and clunky and he wasn’t technically supposed to put his weight on it very often, according to Madja. On the narrow staircase, maneuvering the boot would be difficult. But he made his way up, giving me an extremely convenient view of his ass through his jeans as he climbed. I followed him until we reached the top and then squeezed past him on the tiny landing.

“Prepare to be amazed. My father ensured I had the room of my dreams even though I’ve never truly lived here. Parental guilt for not really providing for me all through high school.” 

Rhys stood, arms crossed, waiting. 

I sighed. This felt strangely intimate. I’d never had a boy in my room before. I mean sure, Tamlin had visited my dorm a few times but because he was older we had almost always ended up at his place at night. And my room wasn’t really “lived in” seeing as I’d never lived in the house. But it was mine, and I’d gotten to choose all the decorations, all the pictures… everything. 

“Okay.” I turned the door handle and stepped briskly into my room, eager to get this over with. 

Rhys hobbled inside, his gaze floating over the white-covered, four poster bed pushed against the far wall, two large windows on either side. His gaze floated over the dark wood floors, covered by a gray rug under my bed and a pale blue one under the sitting area, complete with a fireplace, couch, and two arm plush grey armchairs. It floated over my bookshelf, filled with all the books I didn’t have room for in my townhouse back at school. And landed on the grey walls, covered with paintings.

Every one of them painted by me. 

There were landscapes, and abstracts, and a few canvases covered only with my favorite book or movie quotes.  

He stepped into the center of the room and halted, turning in place, staring at the paintings. “Did you paint all of these?”

I leaned against my door. “Yeah…” 

He kept looking. 

“That bad, huh?” 

He tore his gaze from the walls of my bedroom. “What? No. The exact opposite. This is--these are-- These are amazing, Feyre. I had no idea you were a painter.”

“I’ve sort of run out of time for it in college. Haven’t painted since. . .” I hadn’t really painted since Tamlin and I had gotten together. “Since the beginning of my freshman year. I miss it,” I said, and suddenly felt the urge to march downstairs and into the garage to retrieve all my old paint buckets, brushes, and the canvases that I knew were waiting for me. 

“Wow. I’d pay money for one of these. You have an incredible talent, Feyre.”  His eyes alighted on the painting hung above my fireplace. “Is that your mother?”

I nodded, smiling a little. “I painted it based off of a picture of her my dad has. She died before I really picked up the hobby. But that’s her.”

“She’s beautiful.”

I nodded and decided it was safe to enter the room. My paintings were a part of my soul. And I realized that if Rhys had looked at them and insulted them, or worse, just skated over their existence, I would have been crushed. Thank goodness he hadn’t. I collapsed onto my bed. I was suddenly exhausted from the morning practice that felt like it had been days ago and the following four hour drive spent with Rhys. He limped over and sat next to me as I stared up at the ceiling. 

“This is why you were so nervous to bring me up here?” He asked softly.

I nodded. 

“Anyone would be crazy not to be impressed by your art.”

“It was kind of a weird hobby to have in high school. I mostly kept it to myself. Not sure why the kids at my school thought painting in your spare time was weird.”

He was silent for a moment, as though debating what to say. Then-- “Well I, personally, find painting in your spare time to be hot.” 

I sat up, my face coming within inches of his. If I moved forward just a bit, my lips would meet his. 

“Incredibly hot,” he went on. 

It was almost as if my body was leaning forward of its own accord.

“In fact, it might be one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard.”

I rolled my eyes. “Now you’re just making things up.”

He smiled and I might have melted a little bit.

“Maybe.” I could feel his breath on my cheek. Minty. Was there anything about him that wasn’t perfect? 

I leaned closer. Consequences be damned. We were inches apart, so close my eyelids had fluttered closed, when--

“Feyre! Dinner!”

“Shit,” he whispered.

I swallowed. “We should go.”

He nodded. “Mmhm.”

I led him back across the landing and down the stairs. I’d reached the bottom step when he swore (again) and---

“Shit!” 

I almost felt him trip before he stumbled forward, and I whirled around, gripping his shoulders in an effort to steady him at the bottom of the stairs. His hands reached out and grabbed my waist as he regained his balance. 

“You good?” I asked, breathing more heavily than I should have been. Heat flared up and down my body from where his hands had set themselves around my middle. 

“Yeah. Sorry.” 

He still hadn’t let go. I didn’t want him to. 

“Dinner. We have to go eat dinner. Your father probably thinks I’m doing unspeakable things to you right now, Feyre darling.”

Heat flooded my cheeks again. “Right.” And shaking my head, I released his shoulders and as I walked down the stairs to the kitchen, I chided myself for my weakness, for the desire to kiss him that had been growing steadily all day, all week. 

------

Later that night, after a tense dinner with my father, I came downstairs after my shower to find Rhysand and my dad shouting at the television together. Prythian University’s men’s basketball team was on the screen, playing some school I’d never really heard of. Rhys and my father were berating the referees as I took a seat on the couch next to Rhys--a healthy two feet away from him.

Just to be sure.

“I didn’t realize either of you were so invested in college basketball…”

Rhys tore his eyes away from the screen to gape at me, openmouthed. “You go to Prythian and you don’t care about our basketball team? They were in the top four in the country last year.”

I shrugged. “I’m just not that into it.”

“I can’t believe I’m friends with you.” He placed a special emphasis on the word “friends.” I prayed my father didn’t notice his change of tone.

“Hey!”

My dad chimed in. “Can’t say I blame him, Feyre. Neglecting to educate you in team sports has been the biggest regret of my life.”

“Oh, please. You’re both making me feel like public enemy number one in my own house.” 

Rhys poked me in the side and I hissed, then settled back on the couch for the next hour as the pair of new-best-friends shouted and raged and cheered at the screen until, in double-overtime, Prythian won out. 

“Thank God that’s over,” I mumbled, although I was secretly happy Prythian had come out on top in the end.

“I’m dragging you to a basketball game when we get back to campus. Athletes get free tickets. You know that right?”

“Of course I know that.” Nevermind that I’d never used that particular advantage.

My dad stood up. “Well, kids, I’m headed to bed. Feyre, Rhys knows where his room is, right?” He gave me a look. Then bestowed another, different look, on Rhys.

“Yes, Dad. Good night.” I narrowed my eyes and he (thankfully) departed quickly. 

That left Rhys and me, alone in the dark living room. Nesta and Elain had gone off to bed hours ago.  An awkward silence ensued. 

“Well,” I stood. “I guess I should get to bed.”

Rhys followed suit. “Yep,” he said lamely. 

As he crutched after me toward the staircase, I spoke up, just to break the silence between us that hadn’t been there moments before. “I can’t believe how fast you charmed my father.”

He chuckled. “I hate to be so predictable, but I am a man and I do love televised sports.”

I sighed. “I’m not judging.”

We made it to the top of the stairs and I walked him to his room. He paused in the doorway. “I really am grateful though, despite your rather unfortunate lack of interest in sports. Grateful you invited me here.”

“What are teammates for?” I said, remembering what he’d asked me on that night a month ago. 

He smiled a little, as though remembering that night too. “Good night, Feyre.”

“Good night, Rhys.”

It was difficult to refrain from inviting him up to my room to… just to have him near me. But I made myself turn away from him and climb the narrow staircase to my solitary bedroom at the top of the house. 

I’d just crawled into bed when a text came through on my phone. I lunged for the nightstand, knocking my phone to the floor in the process. Relieved that no one had been around to witness such a display of grace and decorum, recognizing how obviously desperate I was for Rhys to text me, I reached down, scooped up my phone, and pulled up my messages.

Tamlin Spring: I heard you took Rhys home with you for Thanksgiving

All the air left my body. 

Tamlin Spring: You never took me home to meet your family. I didn’t realize you were such a slut. Did a year with me mean nothing to you?

Tamlin Spring: I would take you back--if you got on your knees in front of me and begged 

Tamlin Spring: You were only ever good on your knees, anyway

Now it felt as though all the blood had left my body too. 

I threw my phone against the room. I sat up in my bed, face in my hands. I should just ignore his messages and leave it alone. He had no right to comment on what I was doing. Who had even told him I’d invited Rhys home with me for Thanksgiving, anyway? Besides, it was just friends helping friends. Rhys being here didn’t mean anything. It certainly didn’t make me a slut.

But as my phone buzzed again, and then again, as I tried to shut my eyes and shut out what he’d said. . . I couldn’t stop rereading his texts inside my head. Was I just a slut? A traitor for having these feelings for Rhys so soon after ending things with Tamlin?

He would still take me back? Like that was going to happen. But. . . I remembered what he’d said when he’d kidnapped me and forced me to drink…. Something about just giving me space, as though he didn’t think we were actually broken up...

But if he was telling me I was a slut over a text… He’d probably spread that rumor to the rest of the team by now. Along with a story about how I was a cheater too. After I’d worked so hard to stay out of the drama and sexual intrigue so abundant on my swim team. Against my will, tears leaked from between my fingers.

My phone buzzed for a third time and I dragged myself out of bed to retrieve it. I was determined to silence it and cry myself to sleep, but instead of another text from Tamlin, three from Rhys popped up.

Rhys: What was that bang? 

Rhys: I’m in the room underneath yours, I think

Rhys: FEYRE ARE YOU ALIVE

As I read them, another popped up.

Rhys: Don’t make me come up there

I started typing my response, telling him I was fine and to go to bed when a soft knock sounded at my door. I padded over to it and pulled it open.

“How did you get up here so fast?” I whispered.

“Texted as I walked. Obviously.”

“Well you didn’t need to waste the trip. I threw my phone at the ground.”

“Your phone is enormous. The bang caused the elaborate chandelier over my bed to swing ominously. I feared for my life.” He was teasing me. But then the smile melted from his face as he noticed what I was wearing. 

A large grey t-shirt that came to rest mid-thigh. And nothing else. I didn’t even have it in me to blush, I was so intent on not letting him see the tears left on my face. He looked down only for a moment, though, before his gaze settled firmly above my neckline. 

“Thanks for checking on me, Rhys.” I turned to go.

Slut. The word echoed through my mind. I was sure to return to the team to find myself at the center of all the gossip. What would Cassian and Mor think? Would they believe the rumors? We hadn’t been friends for long. I’d barely interacted with Amren and Azriel at this point. They’d surely believe the rumors. 

Rhys caught my arm, taking a few steps farther into my room. “Feyre. What’s wrong? Why did you throw your phone at the floor?”

I had no idea why I gave up so easily, but I brandished my phone at him. He took it from me and I stared at the wall beside his head as he found the texts from Tamlin and read them. 

“What. An. Asshole,” he said through gritted teeth.

“It’s fine.”

He gave my phone back to me. “No, no it’s not. He needs to leave you the fuck alone. He’s not your boyfriend anymore.”

Now I really did turn away. “I don’t need the encouragement, Rhys. He’s right, yeah? I’m just a slut. Moving on way too quickly.”

He raced around to stand in front of me. “No. You are not a slut. Your relationship is over. You ended it the right way. And for good reason, too.  Nothing he just texted you has an ounce of truth to it. You should block him and forget about it.”

I didn’t say anything, just kept my eyes glued to the ground. I didn’t trust myself to look at him. I’d probably try to act on my “slutty tendencies” if I looked into his violet eyes. 

Two fingers hooked under my chin and pulled my face up to his. “Feyre. I promise you. You’re doing nothing wrong.” 

I couldn’t stop the fresh tears that escaped me. How had a few text messages from an asshole managed to upset me so much? Or maybe I was crying in relief that Rhys was so vehemently disagreeing with what Tamlin had sent. Either way, the tears kept coming as he looked at me. And then, slowly--so very slowly--he removed his fingers from my chin and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me toward him. 

I stood there for a moment as he held me, arms hanging uselessly at my sides. And then I hugged him back, my arms coming up and over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. I slid one hand into his soft black hair. “Thanks for coming for me,” I whispered. “And I don’t just mean tonight.” 

He huffed out a breath. “Anytime.” 

I didn’t let go for a long, long time. Until I realized…

“Where the hell is your boot?”

He pulled back, his hands still resting lightly on my waist. “Uh…”

“Rhysand Night!” I whacked his arm. “You walked up here without your boot! Don’t you want to heal?!” 

He put his hands on his hips. It was then that I noticed he wasn’t putting a whole lot of weight on his injured foot. “I heard a large thump and came up here prepared to defend you from a murderer or something, and this is how you thank me?”

I pushed him backward, forcing him to take a seat on my bed. “I can kill my own murderers, thank you very much. Now sit. I’m going to get your boot right now.”

But he reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me roughly toward him so I stood between his legs. My hands came to rest on his shoulders to steady myself. “I’m trying to make sure you can train sooner rather than later, you know,” I managed to say, but the thrill at being so close to him like this was overriding nearly every other thought in my mind.

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” 

And then he kissed me. 

I was stunned for only a moment before my hands moved from his shoulders to thread through his silky black hair. His lips pressed against mine, so soft. His kiss was firm, neither too gentle nor too rough, and mere seconds passed before his tongue traced my lips and I opened my mouth, letting him in. 

His tongue swept in and he inched back on the bed, keeping his mouth firmly planted against mine, pulling me onto the bed after him. His size hit me again, then. I was so small compared to him. He removed his lips from mine and he eased me onto my back. Turning, he leaned over me and his mouth claimed mine again, this time slightly more eager, as his right hand moved from my hair, down my side, coming to rest at my waist. I kept one hand firmly entangled in his hair while the other ran down his chest. He was so damn muscular. 

I’d always been a sucker for swimmer’s bodies. 

He pulled away for a moment. “So…”

I let out an irritated squeak of protest, but he slipped a hand beneath my shirt and flattened it against my stomach. I shut up. 

“Earlier you said something about moving on too quickly.” His hand slid up a little bit.

“Hmm, I don’t recall…” I breathed, in a very futile attempt to hide how desperate I was for him to keep touching me, kissing me. More, more, more, I wanted.

His hand inched up, his thumb now caressing the skin just beneath my breasts. I was definitely not wearing a bra.

“What did you mean by that, Feyre darling?”

I tried desperately to suck down a breath as his hand slid up. . . 

“Aren’t you smart enough to figure that out yourself, Rhysand?”

“Rhysand? You cruel, beautiful thing.” 

His hand flattened against my breast and I lost all control as I pulled him down to kiss him again. 

He smiled against my lips, and the joy that flooded through my body as a result of his happiness was almost better than how good it felt to feel his hands on my body, his lips on mine, his weight against me. Almost… 

We stayed like that for quite a while, kissing, not going much farther, before he crawled under the covers, tucked me against him, and we fell asleep.

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

TAGS:))

@sleeping-and-books​  @musicalfae​

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Waiting For Dawn

Author: Kae @kaedeakamatsu

For: Philip @slickandsolangelic

Rating/Warnings: Parental Death Mentioned

Prompt: Flowershop AU. Bonus points for bedsharing, angst with a happy ending and hurt/comfort.

Author’s notes: I hope you enjoy!^^

AO3 LINK

Hinata is pulled away from watering the hydrangeas by a familiar little dog that careens into his legs with no warning and nearly knocks him to the floor.

Dropping the watering can — and dumping the water all over himself in the process — he tries to catch his balance, looking down at the adorable little Shiba Inu with wide eyes. “H-Hey, Koro, what’s got you all excited??”

Another familiar thing, this time a small laugh, rings out behind him. “Sorry, Hinata-kun. He was just so eager to see you, I had to bring him along.”

Hinata glances over his shoulder and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Riiiiight, he’s the one who wanted to see me. Sounds like an excuse if you ask me.”

His boyfriend chuckles once more. “Oh, have I been found out?”

Hinata can’t resist smiling as Koro begins to settle down. “It’s nice to see you.”

The quaint little flower shop where Hinata worked is where he’d first met Komaeda, where the two of them had become friends, and then later… much more. He’d been enamored with the mysterious stranger who was covered in band-aids and bruises, the one who remained cheery no matter what new misfortune had befallen him. The pretty boy who remembered his name and took his suggestions on which flowers to buy. The one whose eyes reminded him of the ocean on a stormy day, the one who’d shown so much kindness and warmth and light …

What was once a hint of a feeling had blossomed into something much more.

And he was still so grateful that Komaeda had felt the same.

But nevermind that.

“It’s nice to see you too, Hinata-kun…” Komaeda squats down next to him and pats his dog’s head. “…For myself and for Koro here…” He’s close enough that Hinata can smell his cologne, and he has to remind himself not to lean closer. ‘ Not while you’re on the clock.’

“If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll be done in just a moment,” he says instead of cuddling up to his boyfriend in the middle of the floor. “And then we can get going?”

Komaeda nods, still petting his pup. “Can I help?”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Hinata stands, abruptly pulling off his apron. “One sec.”

It doesn’t take long for him to finish up, and he meets Komaeda outside the shop with a new burst of energy in his step. “Ready?”

“Sure.”

They begin the walk to Hinata’s apartment, Koro trotting in front. Usually, this is the point where Komaeda would launch into a story about his day, or ask Hinata how he was doing, or start telling him what he’d learned in class. Usually, he would act as though he’d be bursting at the seams with thoughts and jokes and questions, so much to hear and so much to say that it had all built up and was ready to come tumbling out of his mouth the moment he had Hinata to himself.

But today, he was quiet. He looked at the sky above with a smile on his face, but it seemed… sad, almost. Wistful.

Hinata cleared his throat. “Are you, uh. Are you alright?”

“Hm?”

He hadn’t even heard him? This could be bad. “I asked if you were doing alright?”

“Oh, yes, of course! No need to worry about me.” Komaeda assures him with a bright smile.

…He doesn’t buy it. “Komaeda.”

“What?”

“I know you better than that,” Hinata insists, frowning. “There’s obviously something bugging you, so please just tell me what it is.”

Komaeda hesitates. “Well, I… I don’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill.”

“It doesn’t have to ‘be’ anything, it just… is what it is,” Hinata said lamely. “We’ve talked about this. I know you’re used to smoothing everything over, but you have to work with your emotions instead of pretending they aren’t there, right?”

“Just like Yui said, you mean?”

He nods. “Just like Yui said.”

Yui was Komaeda’s therapist. Although it had taken a while for Komaeda to open up to Hinata about his mental state and past trauma, it’d been a huge relief when he finally got it off his chest. And now? He even had Hinata come with him to a few sessions. Who was immensely proud of all the progress his boyfriend had made, even though he’d insisted it’d been baby step after smaller baby step.

“Fine,” Komaeda said suddenly. “Can I stay the night with you?”

“W-What?” Hinata almost choked on his own saliva.

“I-It’s not for what you think —” Komaeda started to blush. “I want to sleep with you, n-not… sleep with you. Although I can’t lie, I would like to do that too, someday—”

“Komaeda!”

“Right, right, off topic,” his face is even more flushed now.

“I’m lost. What does that have to do with…?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he said. “Please?”

He feels as though he’s missing something. Or a lot of somethings. How did the conversation get from whatever was bothering his boyfriend to this?

But he does know Komaeda, so he thinks he’s figured out at least this much. “You want to talk about it when we have some privacy. Right?”

“If you don’t mind…” Komaeda faltered.

“Of course.” Hinata takes his hand then, and gently changes the subject. “You know, there was this really weird customer earlier today…”

They’d had dinner, given Koro his bath, and watched their movie. Komaeda had remained somewhat subdued, but Hinata was understanding, and he didn’t mind filling in the silence when Komaeda needed him to. He even coaxed a few smiles and some laughter out of his boyfriend here and there.

But now, with the movie over and the credits rolling, Hinata could feel the conversation coming. Because Komaeda was not getting ready to leave as he usually did during the credits. Instead, he remained next to Hinata with his legs hugged to his chest, chewing his lip as though he was preparing to speak.

Finally, Komaeda sighed and looked at his boyfriend. “I… hate being alone.”

“You’re not alone.” Hinata reminded him. “You have me now, and my friends really like you—”

“That’s not what I mean.” Komaeda bit his lip again.

“Sorry… I’m listening.” Hinata gently urged him on. “You hate being alone…?”

“My house is so huge, but it’s always just been me. Ever since I was little, anyway…” And then, quietly, he adds, “Today’s the anniversary of my parents’ deaths.”

“Oh.” Hinata’s mind goes blank.

“It’s a bit presumptuous of me, but I thought if you were willing, it would be nice to… not be alone right now.” he keeps his tone light and casual, but his eyes stay downcast.”I’ve been out all day, and the thought of going back to that huge, empty space makes me feel… very empty inside, too.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Hinata wrapped his arm around Komaeda and pulled him closer. Komaeda leaned into his chest and buried his face in the crook of Hinata’s neck, closing his eyes. Hinata rubbed his arm with his thumb and waited in case there was more.

There was. Murmuring into his partner’s neck, he continued on. “It’s silly, because it happened so long ago… I barely remember them. But before I met you, I was truly alone… so, so alone. And it’s been better because of you, but today —” his throat tightened painfully. “I started feeling alone again, and I thought— there’s no guarantee you’ll stay with me, either.” he was trying to hold back tears.

Hinata took his shoulders and maneuvered Komaeda to face him. “Hey… There are no guarantees for the future, that’s true. But no matter what happens, you and I will always be friends.”

Komaeda swallowed thickly and met Hinata’s eyes. “…Promise?”

“I promise,” he vowed. “And just so you know? I have absolutely no plans of breaking it off. Of— of breaking us off. I know we’ve been taking it slow, but… I just want to savor what we have while we have it. I… I should have said it before, but, Komaeda… I love you.”

His eyes widened. “You— You do?”

Hinata nodded seriously.

“I-I—” Komaeda stuttered breathlessly. “I love you, too.”

A grin slowly stretched across Hinata’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Komaeda was smiling back, his eyes now glistening with happy tears.

Hinata laughed quietly before poking his forehead. Then a thought occurred to him, and he looked serious once more. “There is no cycle,” He said firmly. “If something happens to me, it’s not a result of your bad luck, and it wouldn’t be your fault. So don’t even go there.”

“I won’t,” Komaeda promised. “‘Choose what you can do instead of focusing on what you can’t,’ right?”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “Feeling better?”

“I am,” Komaeda’s genuine smile was so beautiful to Hinata it was almost cruel. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” Hinata leaned in and kissed his forehead. “I’m always here for you.”

Komaeda, unsurprisingly, insisted he should sleep on the couch, but Hinata flatly refused, threatening to sleep on the floor if Komaeda wouldn’t stop being dramatic and just go the hell to bed already. So Komaeda gave in and the two of them laid in bed talking until they finally drifted off to sleep, Koro snuggling up to their legs. The next morning they would wake up to find Komaeda’s leg in between Hinata’s, and Hinata’s arm draped over Komaeda’s waist. Komaeda would laugh, Hinata would blush. They would make tea for Komaeda and coffee for Hinata before eating breakfast together. And then they would have their whole day— their whole lives—  in front of them.

But for now, they slept peacefully. Waiting for dawn.

[naysaltysalmon]

I’m back!

Upon my return from China, I noticed there were a lot of things weighing me down... that I can just throw the fuck out.

I could expound upon all of these in great detail, but it really would be pointless. And I wouldn’t be able to cover it all anyway. So instead I’ve decided to make a post of every icon I’ve used for my online persona over the years.

The reason for this is... at the end of the program I attended, we had an entire week of silent meditation. We weren’t allowed to talk or communicate with anyone in any way, including gestures, eye contact, or physical touch. So, during this time I had the realization that the stories I’ve been interested in have been my main source of comfort over the years. No person, place, or thing has felt more permanent to me than this.

However, permanence is an illusion, as the Buddhists say (I stayed in a Buddhist monastery in China, in case you’re wondering). My interests have changed over the years -- from the first fandoms I got obsessed with, to my interests now. I may still adore the series that I enjoyed as a child, but definitely not in the same way.

Coming home, I realized... I no longer want to attach my identity to one character or series. That’s why I’ve decided to make this post. I want to reflect on all the egos of my past, on what they have meant to me, so that I can let them go. I’ve been clinging to a folder of them for too long.

To anyone who’s been here since the very start of my blog, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. This is an acknowledgement of my transformation from then until now.

And so:

Breadward Elric. My first Internet icon, which I had for 2 and a half years from May 2011 -- 2013. My blog was originally entirely FMAB content, created in January of 2012, and while this format didn’t last the entire time that I had this icon, Breadward saw me through the majority of my early anime and video game obsessions. He jump-started my personality on the Internet as a fanfic author, a blogger, and an artist. I will never forget him... ;~;

Comrade Führer Tamama. I had this icon for 8 months in early 2013 -- early 2014. What can I say? Tamama’s passionate personality resonated with me, especially when he was finally able to be in control (in the episode this particular screenshot is from). Gotta get those cola oceans pronto!

Yokoso waga tainai e [Welcome to my Womb ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)]. I had a phase during the summer of 2014, okay. But I still love this maniacal snake’s crusty ass, fite me. I admire KagePro immensely for the popularity and development it gave characters in song format. Of course, favorite of those characters was Kuroha, a snake whose only desire was to keep granting wishes so that he could survive. Add a touch of murderous intent and you have the complete package -- I won’t deny he appealed(appeals) to my wild side -- okay moving on.

KeroTama hugge 👀. I had this icon for about 4-6 months in 2014 before the Hunter x Hunter phase hit. God, I shipped them so hard *facepalms* It was funny though, it’s like KagePro hit me like a hurricane during this summer and then I went right back to being KeroTama trash. Amazing.

Softly Smiling Pika. I kept this icon for at least 9-10 months at the end of 2014 -- early 2015, until I found Owari no Seraph. Kurapika was definitely my bae at the start of my HxH phase -- and in many ways he still is. The current arc gives me this sense of nostalgia of being a 15-year-old again, deeply in love but too in denial to see it. Watching him as a young adult, I see how far I’ve come, how I could have ended up... since I believed myself to be most closely alike with Kurapika at the time. And now I know that’s not the case... I remember debating between many other Kurapika icons and finally choosing this one because I dearly wanted to believe I too could find my happiness in the friends around me, even if it seemed all was hopeless behind the scenes.

Yuu babe. I had this icon for 4 months in the middle of 2015, I remember. Yuichiro Hyakuya was an underappreciated dorky genius at the time, much like how Gon is in HxH now, except... Now in the series... *deep sighs* *clenches fist* I still love his piercing citrine eyes and the dynamism of this icon/pose though.

Cuties T^T (MikaYuu edition). Mmm I kept this icon for a while, something like most of 2016, at least 6-8 months, probably more like 9 or 10. Looking back, I still wonder how/why the author was a fucking coward and didn’t make MikaYuu happen. We coulda had it aaallllll...... Anyway, this is when I was writing Ebony & Ivory, my most popular fic to date, so I was reveling in the reputation I gained from that. This icon was me accepting that while I was no longer friends with my best friend from middle school to 11th grade, I would still pursue my own happiness in the perfect relationship that I saw in MikaYuu. *nods* It’s fitting.

Caught Child². I shared this and the next couple of icons with a friend that I met online, who used the Gon equivalent. I think we shared this one for about 3 months of 2016. This is when I became re-obsessed with Hunter x Hunter and realized how much I had changed between 2014 and 2016. It’s an obsession that’s more or less carried onto now, and redefined my adulthood, as I see my progression as I refer back to HxH for guidance to this day.

Content Chompy Boye. I love this icon. I kept this icon for a long time, something like 5-6 months in December 2016 -- mid-2017. The colors of the background contrast with Killua’s white hair, pale skin, and dark muscle shirt... I still used this icon on other websites until just a few days ago (when I most recently changed my icon) because I thought it looked the best backdropped against the format of other websites. I love this scene in the series, though; while (human) Palm is chattering on about her worry that Gon and Killua will be able to defeat Knuckle and Shoot in time, Killua continues to eat without a care in the world. It’s a mood I feel at least once a day, whether while eating or getting a back massage -- as if that ever happens -- 11/10.

Pizza Devil Brat. I like this icon a lot and kept it on a few websites for longer too, but with the way I edited it, the green background becomes a little too headache-inducing if you stare at it too long, so 8/10 -- okay no more out of 10 ratings, this isn’t that kind of post. I believe I kept this icon for about 3-4 months in 2017 and possibly early 2018 as well. From the same scene the previous Kurapika icon came from, this remains one of my favorite scenes in the entire series for its serious undertones over the light happiness that underlies Gon’s, Killua’s, and Kurapika’s (and Leorio’s -- but he’s not in this scene) interactions with each other throughout the series.

Grumpy Gem Gremlin. I was sharing the last three icons with that friend, including this one, with the Phos equivalent (more or less). I think we only kept it for about a month or month and a half in 2017 or beginning of 2018 before switching to the next one. Cinnabar’s desire for a purpose and closeness to others despite her poisonous nature... is definitely something I can understand and relate to.

Sad Gem Child. Damn, I think we’re all still waiting for the day Gormie realizes Aechmea’s a creepy sugar daddy and dropkicks his ass into the ocean where the Admirabilis can decompose his cloudy body like he doesn’t deserve. When will Land of the Lustrous return from the war? I’m still waiting, Ichikawa. Anyway I think we kept this icon for about a month or maybe two in 2018, not long at all.

Gay Childe™. Look, this is one of the gayest scenes in the entire series and it’s right after my favorite episode(s)/scene(s) in the entire series (so far) and it’s not even acknowledged by anyone. Just. Holy Fuck. Anyway I think I kept this icon for about 6-8 months to cap off 2018. And this is where the Big Breakup happened, where my friend decided to choose an icon that deviated from mine, but I kept this icon for a lot longer due to what this scene means to me, placed after/during my favorite episode. ;v;

And finally, BoMH (Blood on My Hands) Pika. I used this icon for 8 months from the start of 2019 until just a few days ago (approx. 8 months). This icon was originally the cover for a Kurapika fic that I started back in 2015 and ended up discontinuing because it was pretty slow-paced, and thus unpopular, which made it become difficult for me to write. But I got all the way up to 97k words before I quit, simply because of the freedom and joy I felt in creating all the OCs that I fit into Kurapika’s journey as he searched for the Kurta eyes after the Yorknew City Arc. Looking back, I’m proud of the planning and commitment that I succeeded in undertaking with this fic -- it was about halfway done by the time I stopped writing it -- and I feel I want to return to this concept one day. Even if the arcs were pretty formulaic at times and, well, boring, I wanted this icon at the start of 2019 to be a new person separate from my recent past matching icons; a representation of my ability to reconnect with my past, but to no longer be afraid of it; to be proud of it, but still recognizing the not-so-good parts, laying it to rest by no longer avoiding it.

My icon now, as I’m sure you can see... is nothing like those I’ve used thus far. I definitely have no intention of moving away from anime or my past. I simply wish to redefine who I am in relation to them, rather than being defined by them.

...I’ve discovered a lot about myself over the past 2 years since college started, more than I ever thought possible. I discovered a lot while in China, too. And I need my online persona to reflect that in every form, as I’ve done every time there was a change.

Thank you all for being with me on this journey: for following me, for reading my posts, for liking my art, for talking with me and blowing up my notifications on every platform...

I’ll be pursuing the next chapter(s) of Human, TIDU, and other works soon. ^.^

[skeletorific]

The 'fight me' h/cs were so cute ahhh i was grinning the whole time i read them!! Thank you for doing my request!! If you have time, do you think you could do the same for SF Paps, US Sans and UF Paps?? Thank you again!!!

Yeeeesss!!!! Yes!!!!

SF!Papyrus: “no”

“sugar, come on-”

“Nope!”

Your boyfriend sighed, massaging his neck and getting up from the worn mattress he’d been sitting down on. “babe, I’ve got patrol in fifteen minutes and its cold as tits outside. gimme my jacket.”

“not a chance, bone boy.” You said, burrowing deeper into the blankets. “ it's freezing in here, and unlike you I’ve got skin.”

“that jacket’s my property, sweetcheeks” He growled in that way he knew damn well made you melt in his hands, but for once you were holding firm.

“come and take it, bitch” At this point, you were completely hidden by the blankets. Truth be told this was less about the cold (although you swore you could see your breath) and more about trying to get him to stick around for a little longer. Last night had been great, and you weren’t ready for it to end yet. Deep down you knew he had to go, but that didn’t mean you had to make it easy.

“sugar…” His voice purred, suddenly very close by your ear and only slightly muffled by the layers of fabric. “last chance…”

You resisted the urge to squirm with excitement. “not. A. Chance.”

The next few seconds happened so fast you almost missed it. Somehow he ripped the blankets off and pinned you face-up underneath him. Before you could even think to fight back his hands were shoved under your shirt, cold, boney fingers tickling every spot he knew was sensitive and leaving you helpless with gasping laughter. His legs pinned your own so you couldn’t kick him off, and just as suddenly as it started it stopped. You opened your eyes and saw he was already halfway across the room, pulling the jacket on with a smug expression. “see you tonight”

“Wait, Rus!” You sat up. He paused in the doorway, looking back with a cocked browbone.

Maybe you were just in a weird mood that morning, you weren’t sure. But you  found yourself running towards him. “fight me!” And you leaped in the air, arms outstretched towards him, trusting him to catch you…

He did. Rus had great reflexes. The next move felt just as natural,. You started pressing kisses all over his face, laughing softly and trying to silence his surprised grunts and murmured reprimands not to do shit like that. Eventually he decided to roll with it, catching your mouth with his own and holding you in a deeper kiss. Eventually he broke off, smiling crookedly. “see you.”

“see you.” 

He set you down on your feet and pressed one last kiss to your forehead before heading out the door. You went back to the room to get dressed in something warm. And plot vengeance…

US!Sans: “APOLOGIES!”

“No, sweetie, I keep telling you, its just ‘Sorry’. The name of the game.”

“MINE SOUNDS MORE SINCERE!”

“It's not really meant to be sincere, it's almost kind of sarcastic I guess?” 

“WELL, NOT THAT I DON’T APPRECIATE A COMPETITIVE JAPE BETWEEN FRIENDS, BUT THAT SEEMS UNNECESSARY.” 

You chuckled. “yeah, maybe a little. Can’t sting much more than watching you send my pieces back over and over.” This was the fourth time this round he’d done that.

Blue appeared to be masking a grin as he leaned over to kiss your cheek. “NOTHING PERSONAL, SWEETNESS.”

It was a slow, rainy day, and you and Blue were passing the time by going through some of the board games in your closet. Blue was enjoying himself immensely, even if he wasn’t familiar with most of them. 

You were having fun too, but it soon became pretty clear why Stretch had peaced out as soon as the first game came out. Blue had a competitive streak a mile wide, a decent strategic mind, and an ungodly amount of luck. In addition to all of that, he was unexpectedly merciless on the path to victory. Never enough that you weren’t having fun but you found yourself at the barrel end of more than your share of Draw Fours. 

Not that you resented him winning. Blue was gracious in victory, and in the end it was more about spending time together than the competition. But the constant loss awoke some inner mischief in you, and you started thinking about how to mess with him a little. 

The idea came to you while you were putting away the last game.

“SO WHY IS IT CALLED OTHELLO?”

“Honestly, not sure, maybe something to do with the Shakespeare play?”

“REMIND ME TO LOOK THAT UP. OR PAPY MIGHT KNOW.” He closed the box. “IS THAT IT?”

“well, all but one.”

He smiled and looked around for it.

“oh, this game’s not in a box.” You fought a grin, stepping away from the bale. “Its…kind of a wrestling game.”

“LIKE SPARRING?”

“Sort of.”

“OKAY! HOW DO WE START?”

“Like this. fight me!” You ran at him before he could process what you said and jumped. His body reacted before his mind did and he caught you neatly, staggering back a few steps while you giggled and pressed kisses in rapid succession all over his face.

He quickly recovered from his surprise and chuckled. “I SEE.” He started walking towards the couch, shifting his grip on you a little and returning a few kisses. “WELL, I HOPE YOU KNOW I INTEND TO WIN THIS GAME AS WELL.”

“Good luck, I’ve already got a headstart.” you said. 

The barrage of affection continued for a good couple hours.

UF!Papyrus: The two monsters collided off one another again and again, attacks increasing in intensity with each passing moment. their control was immense, but so was their ferocity. Probably neither of them were trying to kill each other but that was hard to tell from an outside perspective. When Edge had told you what was a safe distance was to spectate you had assumed it was just your boyfriend being his paranoid self, but watching them now you were glad for the distance. 

“freaks, right?” Red said, examining his knuckles next to you. “

They’re incredible!” 

“I mean, that’s one word for it.” He chuckled. “another is frickin overboard.” Despite his laid-back posture and bored expression you knew Red well enough to tell he was proud of his brother’s strength.

So were you. And despite the fierce expression on his face you could tell Edge was enjoying himself quite a bit. He loved fighting with Undyne. Though he didn’t enjoy his world’s violence as much as he pretended, sparring was a good way to burn off excess energy and put to use his strategic faculties like nothing else, other than puzzle building. 

In a way, you almost envied Undyne. Not that you were jealous. Edge was loyal to a fault and Undyne wasn’t interested anyways. But there was clearly a kind of relationship they had as a result of their sparring that you simply didn’t have access to. While you knew Edge valued your softness, you couldn’t help but speculate about what you were missing out on. 

Eventually they paused for water Red wandered over to harass them a little and talk, but you hesitated, pretending to hunt for something in Edge’s bag.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” His voice behind you made you jump and you turned around in a hurry, face slightly red. 

“uh, yeah! Sorry, was wondering if I had slipped my charger in there.” You said, rubbing the back of your head. 

He examined your face for a moment before appearing to accept it, taking another long drink from his water bottle.

You were being stupid. You weren’t being deprived of anything by not fighting him. Still, thinking about it too long had left you feeling oddly distant from him in that moment. You needed something to snap you out of it….

You glanced back. Undyne was engaged in some kind of argument with Red and was too distracted to notice what was going on over here. Edge hated you doing this kind of shit in public, but…

“Hey, babe?”

“MM?”

“fight me!” You leapt at him, knocking him to the ground. He just barely manages to grab you in time to stop you from being thrown off, and he yelped in surprise.

“HEY-MM!” You cut off the protest with a soft kiss. Eventually he broke off and started berating you for it but you just kept kissing all over his face, smiling wide as his cheekbones grew progressively reder and his protests slowly died off into grumbling, before he started kissing you back, with that small, secret smile you knew was just for you.

Eventually Undyne looked over and gave you a half-hearted lecture about PDA during training while Red made enough dirty jokes to set Edge off yelling, but you felt a warm spot in your chest.

You had your own kind of connection.

[anylessreal]

How are you and how's the fic going? 💕

Hiya, lovely! 😊 It’s going well enough. I’m not stuck on anything at the moment, so it’s just a matter of finding time to actually write. It’s slow progress, but progress is still progress, right?

Anyway, I’m in the sharing mood, so here’s a little snippet of a scene I wrote recently with no context whatsoever!

—

He’s in the bath when Louis comes home.

He’s in the bath, bubbles up to his chest, a single candle flickering on the window sill, and missing his boyfriend more than ever, when Louis comes home from the pub and gently knocks on the bathroom door.

“Harry?” he interrupts the peace that the night had brought. “Harry, I need to wee.”

God. Harry sinks further into the tub, his chin almost touching the bubbles and his knees poking out of the water. “Lou, I’m in the bath. Can you hold it?”

Louis seems to think about it for a moment. “Yes,” he decides. And then, “No.”

“No?”

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I’ve had a bit too much to drink. I promise I won’t look.”

Harry sighs to himself and swipes his sopping hair off his forehead, the ends still dripping down his temple. “Fine,” he says. “There’s nothing to see anyway. I’ve got plenty of bubbles.”

“Okay, good,” Louis says, and before Harry can prepare himself, cover his bits with his hands just in case, the door swings open and Louis strides inside and over to the toilet, already undoing his flies and reaching into the front of his trousers.

“Jesus, hi,” Harry says, turning away at once, the tips of his ears heating up.

“Sorry,” Louis says again as he starts doing his business, his back to the tub. “I really couldn’t hold it. I wasn’t expecting to drink this much, but Liam’s a terrible influence, and I just… needed to unwind a little. It’s been a weird week.”

“A bit, yeah,” Harry nods, staring down at the bubbles. With just the one candle going, it’s too dark to see anything beneath the water anyway.

“Do you do this a lot?” Louis asks, finishing up.

“Do what?”

“Light a candle? Run a bubble bath?” He flushes the toilet and goes to wash his hands, glassy eyes meeting Harry’s in the reflection of the mirror, his tie loose around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

“When I need a moment,” Harry shrugs. “Usually there’s more wine involved, less people asking to use the toilet. Sometimes there’s Travis.”

“Yeah?” Louis throws a lazy smirk at him. “He can fit in there with you?”

Harry pokes his toes out at the other end, blush heating up his cheeks. “We make it work.”

“Better than the backseat of a car, I guess.”

“Both are pretty good, actually,” Harry says with a quiet laugh.

“I wouldn’t know,” Louis answers, drying his hands on a towel. “I’ve only had the pleasure of the first.”

And then, to Harry’s immense horror, he sits down outside the opposite end of the tub and leans his head back against the wall.

“How drunk are you?”

Louis lets out a breathy laugh and starts pulling off his dress shoes. “It’s been a weird week,” he says again with a glance at Harry. “Just let me enjoy the fact that my interview wasn’t complete shit. I think they might have actually liked me.”

“I told you they would,” Harry rolls his eyes and flicks a bit of water at Louis over the edge of the tub.

“Hey,” Louis frowns, the lines of his face all loose and languid. “Don’t get me wet, I’m still in my suit.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t sit outside my bath, then,” Harry suggests. He checks the bubbles, makes sure they aren’t going anywhere. He’s lucky he only stepped into the water five minutes ago.

“I’m too drunk to be alone,” Louis tells him. “For the first time in a week, I’m not sad as fuck, and I don’t want to be alone. Is that alright? Can I just, like, sit here for a bit? Is it alright if we talk?”

“Yeah, it’s alright,” Harry says, because he’s been alone all day, and maybe he’s not sad as fuck tonight either, he’s just a little sad, and listening to Louis’ drunken rambles could be good for him. “Can you do me a favor, though?”

“I’m not going to give you a foot massage, if that’s what you’re asking.” Louis nods at the toes sticking out of the bubbles.

Harry gives them a wiggle. “What’s wrong with my feet?”

“Nothing,” Louis snorts. “I’m sure they’re lovely. I’m just not touching them.”

“But they’re clean,” Harry says with a quiet laugh.

“What do you want from me, Harold?”

“Could you bring me a glass of water?”

“That’s it?” Louis asks, already getting back to his feet, black shoes held together between two fingers. He wobbles on his way up, has to grasp at the tiled wall for support, but he finds his balance in the end. “Remind me never to drink with Liam again.”

[queen-scribbles]

On the Subject of Siblings

@pillarspromptsweekly​ fill #19: Family. In which we get Illani sibling interactions and I get mad at myself for giving Tavi a “Yeah, they’re all dead” backstory. 

(Oh, and Casius is pronounced “Cash-us”, so when she called him Cas, it’s actually “Cash”)

Tavi was nine when the twins were born. The change from only child to older sister would have been enough of an adjustment on its own. There being two of them to one of her was just an unnecessary complication in her opinion.

Not that her opinion on this topic mattered much. She’d had no input on the subject of siblings, and while she didn’t resent the twins, there was no denying their arrival flipped things topsy-turvy. She didn’t mind; Malachi and Casius kept Mom busy enough it had taken her three whole weeks to notice Tavi had started wearing the lanky neighbor boy’s hand me down trousers instead of dresses, the cuffs rolled up or cut off to make them the right length. And even after Mom noticed, she was too frazzled to actually do anything beyond lecture. Tavi did not stop wearing the trousers, but she did start helping more with the twins. Casius grabbed her nose, Malachi pulled her hair(when he could reach), and both of them were saying her name shortly after Mama. By the time they were three, they were following her like little strawberry blond ducklings, and trying to climb her at every opportunity. It was very difficult to fend them both off at once; when she peeled Casius off, Malachi made progress and vice versa. They weren’t afraid to use this to their advantage, so these attempts usually ended with a defeated Tavi sprawled on the floor with two victorious toddlers sitting on her. 

“They just love you,” Mom laughed when Tavi grumped about peeling little brothers off herself like leeches.

“Can’t they love me from a distance sometimes?” she pleaded, but it wasn’t until they were six and learned to read that she got her wish. Maybe more than she bargained for. It took Malachi a while to get the hang of reading, but both boys enjoyed it immensely, and Tavi found herself duckling-free a large portion of the time. She enjoyed it. Usually.

                                        <<>>  <<>>  <<>>

Bare feet pounded against the ground, laughter trailing back like a standard as dust clouds rose around bony ankles and tan fingers tightened around their prize.

“Khellin, that’s mine!” Malachi’s tone was that wonderful swirl of plaintive exasperated irritation only family--specifically, troublemaking little brothers--could provoke.

Tavi rolled her eyes as she watched her brothers run rampant loops around their house, the neighbor’s house, and even back into the woods a couple times. She really should stop them. There would be complaints, and then Mom would lecture, and her lectures were always inclusive; all four of her children got an earful. Except for the couple times Tavi had started fights. She’d gotten a private dressing down for those. Probably because her parents knew Khellin looked up to her and they didn’t want to put ideas in his head.

On the other hand, Tavi mused, smiling as Khellin shrieked with laughter, this little nook on the roof was her only place for solitude no one in the family had found yet.. She wasn’t sure she wanted to risk sacrificing it.

“Khel, give it!” Malachi demanded.

Tavi winced. This really was unfair to him. Even at six, Khellin could almost keep up with her. Neither of the twins stood a chance against him in a footrace, especially one where he could use the terrain in his favor.

Just b’cause you and Khel are kindred spirits doesn’t mean you have to take his side in everything, a little voice whispered in her mind.

Tavi sighed and started to scooch out from behind the gable. That was true. She waited until the boys had looped into the woods again and slid down the roof, deftly catching the eaves. It was an easy drop to the roof of Mom’s gardening shed, and from there to the ground was barely five feet.

She was waiting when Malachi and Khellin came pelting out of the woods and back to their yard. Khellin saw her and tried to swerve away but Tavi reached out and caught his arm. “Uh-uh, not so fast.”

Malachi stumbled to a halt, breathing hard and leaving muddy streaks across his face when he tried to wipe away the dust and sweat. “He... He...”

“Slow down, Mal. Catch your breath,” Tavi advised, before turning to Khellin.  “Hylea’s wings, what did you take?!”

Khellin stopped half-heartedly tugging against her grip long enough to give her a lopsided smirk from under his dusty mop of hair and hold up his other hand. In it rested a sticky mess congealed around what was probably supposed to be a piece of fruit.

“He took my candied apple from Mestre Verzano!” Malachi finally managed, raking hair out of his eyes.

“Khellin.” Tavi had to fight a smile at the unapologetic grin that manifested itself across his face.

“He said not t’ touch it, I said he coul’n’t catch me if I did, an’ he laughed at me!” Khellin retorted indignantly, sticking his tongue out triumphantly at his older brother. “I had to proof him wrong!”

“You know Mom’s gonna make you give him yours now, right?” Tavi pointed out as Khellin’s fingers curled once more around his prize.

His face fell. “Don’t wanna.”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you took his.” Part of her cringed at how much she sounded like her mother. Tavi knelt down next to him and whispered, “Give him yours an’ I’ll buy you an extra one.”

Khellin’s eyes lit up. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Tavi nodded. “But only after you give Malachi your apple from Mestre Verzano.”

His shoulders slumped and he kicked the dust a couple times, but finally nodded. “Okay.”

                                       <<>>  <<>>  <<>>

Of all her brothers, Casius was the last one Tavi expected to ever get in a fight. So when she caught him in the washroom, glasses cracked, bruise darkening his cheek, and back of his wrist pressed under an extremely bloody nose, there was really only one thing to say.

“What the fuck happened to you?” she demanded.

Casius winced. “Language, Tavi.”

“No, fuck that.” She stepped into the room and closed the door all the way.  “What happened?”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “Nothing.”

“Bulls-” She stopped herself before blurting her third curse inside a minute in front of her fourteen year old brother. “That’s not nothin’, Cas.”

“Cendo and Marceno took exception to how much better I did on our test than them,” he mumbled grudgingly. “They waited until after class to share their feelings with me.”

Tavi snorted. “Real civil of them. Is this all they did, or is there more?” She tipped up his chin. “Lemme see your nose.”

“It’s not broken, I swear,” Casius insisted, pulling away and wincing.

“Well, something is, with that reaction,” she retorted

“Um...” Casius stumbled, paused. Finally, “Marceno may have kicked me in the ribs once. I don’t think they’re broken, just sore.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m gonna kick their fuckin’ asses.” It was hard enough for Casius being a few years advanced in school and lacking friends his own age. For his classmates to react like this to a fucking test grade...

“No!” Casius grabbed her arm, streaking red against her skin. “It’ll make things worse if it looks like I need my big sister to protect me.”

Tavi forced herself to relax, largely to assure him she wasn’t about the go deliver a pair of well deserved ass kickings. “Ignoring bullies rarely fixes things, Cas.”

“I know.” He sniffed, checked his nose to see if it had stopped bleeding. Upon finding it had, he soaked a rag in the basin and started cleaning off the blood. “But I can handle things myself.”

“You sure, duckling?”

He grinned lopsidedly. “You haven’t called me that since Khellin was born.”

Tavi shrugged, gesturing for the rag so she could clean the spots he’d missed. “You and Malachi stopped followin’ me like  ducklings. An’ I figured you were too old.”

“...I’ve kind of missed it,” Casius admitted as he leaned his head back. “Not so much I want you to start using it again, or anything...”

She grinned, carefully swiping at the last traces of blood. “But it’s part of my job as your big sister to embarrass you. Duckling.”

He managed a weak smile and groaned. “Gods, please don’t. I have enough trouble making friends as it is.”

“Oh, fine. Since you asked nicely,” she teased. “But are you sure you can handle-”

“Yes.” He nodded firmly. “I can take care of it myself.”

“Alright. I’ll let you handle it. But if you change your mind and want me to kick their asses, just say the word. An’ I work with Cendo’s father sometimes, so I can just tell him what his kid’s been up to, if you’d rather.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Casius said. “But I think I can handle them. Um, can you not say anything to Mom and Dad about this? They’ll worry, Mom’ll fuss, and that’s all sort of pointless now.”

“Unless you’re planning to tell them you walked into a door or somethin’, I think they’re gonna notice anyway,” Tavi pointed out. “But sure. I won’t say anything.” It was very hard to not go knock the stuffing out of the bullies in question, but she did trust that Casius could handle himself, and besides, he had to develop the skills eventually. Still, if it took too long, she was going to do something.

A couple days later, Marceno and Cendo both wound up in the school infirmary briefly due to a “mishap” involving Arkemyr’s Dazzling Lights. The teacher, the healer, and the school all viewed it as an accident. Learning new spells, mistakes were bound to happen, no one had been seriously or permanently hurt, it was clearly an accident. Tavi might have agreed, if Casius didn’t relay the news looking like the cat who ate the canary.

                                       <<>>  <<>>  <<>>

“And where are you going?” Given his split lip and the guilty look in his eyes, Tavi was pretty sure she could guess the answer.

“T’clean up,” Khellin mumbled, sucking on the split lip as if he could hide it.

“In my washroom? ”

“It was closer?” he tried, clearly not expecting the excuse to work.

It didn’t. “You got in a fight again, didn’t you?”

“What was I s’pposed to do?” he protested, defiance creeping into his tone.  “Tomas was picking on the stray that lives behind the bank again! She has kittens, I didn’t want him to hurt her!” Khellin gestured passionately as he spoke and Tavi caught his wrist, examining his bloody knuckles.

“Khellin...” she sghed. “I really gotta teach you how to punch or you’re gonna break your hand.”

He grinned, but only briefly thanks to his lip. “That would be good. I don’t think Tomas is gonna stop ‘less I make him. ‘Cause, y’know, no one cares what happens to strays.”

“If you’re that worried about her, you could bring her here,” Tavi suggested, tugging him toward her washroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Y’know, my of the house is separate enough she wouldn’t bother anybody, an’ I like cats.”

“I, um, tried already,” Khellin admitted, perching on the edge of the chair. “Got them all settled in a nice little nest in the back antechamber thingie, since you never use it, left the door cracked so the mom could still get out to wander. When I checked on ‘em in the mornin’ she’d carried all the kittens back to where they were before. Ow!” he yelped as Tavi cleaned the blood off his knuckles.

She frowned. “Wiggle your fingers.” He did, but winced in the process. “I gotta teach you how to punch. ‘Specially if you’re gonna appoint yourself protector of strays everywhere.”

“Not ev’rywhere,” Khellin protested. “Just our town.”

“That’s still a tall order,” Tavi chuckled. She reached into the cabinet under the washstand for a small roll of bandages. “If I wrap that up right, we can tell Mom and Dad you cut it fallin’ out of a tree. They’ll fuss, but at least you won’t hear one of Dad’s speeches about violence not bein’ the answer.”

Khellin laughed and held out his hand. “Okay.”

“And try again with bringing the cat and her kittens here. This time, shut the door and just bring them food. Maybe if Mama Cat sees she doesn’t need t’ scavenge in order to eat, and that her babies are safe, she’ll stick around.”

He nodded. “We can try it, I guess.”

“But first things first, after dinner I’m at least showing you how to throw a good right hook.”

Khellin grinned. “Deal.”

                                       <<>>  <<>>  <<>>

Tavi stood staring at the pile of ash and embers and charred beams that used to be her family’s home, not sure if the tears spilling down her cheeks were from the ache in her heart or in her burned hands. Probably both. She blinked back a fresh wave as a breeze blew past and she could have sworn she heard Khellin’s laugh.

But that was impossible, because he was dead. So were her parents. And Casius. And Malachi. And someone had tried(and very nearly succeeded) to add her to that list.

She wouldn’t let them. Out of sheer spite, sure, but also for her parents and her brothers. So she ran.

The first night skulking in the woods, too paranoid to risk staying at an inn, Tavi started whittling. Trying to keep her mind busy and fingers moving. When she finished, the resulting figure was crude, rough, clearly a beginner’s attempt, but undeniably a duckling. Tavi looked at it, blinked back tears, and tried again. And again. And again, until the finished product was relatively respectable. 

She still kept the rough, childlike carving buried at the bottom of her pack for a long time.

[callioope]

2018 To-Do List

I have Quite a Few fandom things that I want to do; this is mainly a to-do list for myself, but in case some of you are wondering why I haven’t responded to asks and tags and comments -- which, btw, i see! and am grateful for! and i *will respond* -- this is what I’ve got going on.

Also, as a point of reference, NaNoWriMo took up my allotted Hobby Time in November, and then two fics (a prompt and the Secret Santa fic) and caring for a sick dog took up December time, so I feel immensely Behind, which I know is silly because fandom is a hobby, but it just so happens that making lists is another hobby I enjoy, so, anyways.

My To-Do List:

Respond to Asks (there are a number of them, including another Anon prompt which I have been mulling over, yes)

Respond to Tags (memes and such; you know I love tag memes and I will do them it just takes time because I am slow and I overthink things)

Respond to Comments (I’ve already started going through a bit; have more to do tomorrow)

Catch up on my To-Read list, boy is it long because I (mostly) stopped reading fic in November (ok yes I did read a few if I thought they’d be quick reads; I had to do something on the train)

Catch up on Secret Santa fics... srsly there are so so so many that look good and I want to read them all and I’m not going to promise that I’ll read them all bc that’d be really ambitious but I’m telling you I want to

...Write! 

Works in Progress

A New Hope Is Coming (ASoIaF/GoT AU) I wrote like 25k for this? And I’m super burnt out on it. Not sure when or if I’ll pick it up. I liked it better to just write random excerpt drabbles, and made the mistake of trying to write it as a whole fic.

The Last Jedi critique I said I was going to write this from a bunch of different angles but I had to focus on my Secret Santa so I didn’t get to it. It’s all outlined. I just need to flesh it out and make it less rant-y.

How to Lose a Spy in 10 Days (RomCom challenge) Yooo this is like so overdue. Most probably my next item

if we should live after A post-Jakku fic I’ve been idly writing on post-it notes when I should be working. About Cassian and Jyn learning to move on after the war. Sort of a follow up to if i wait (will you stay). I think. Kind of early to tell. I started writing this months ago but. NaNoWriMo.

sometimes i wish for falling (skydiving modern au) Heyyy I joked about this back when I went skydiving in July, but I actually want to write it.

Untitled project a mystery project, still in early stages of development.

Aladdin AU expansion ahahha is this actually happening? who knows

[bentchcreates]

Start Here, Stories of First Encounters 

Let me just say this right off the bat, I’m giving this 6 of 5 Stars! First of all, the editors and my co-authors deserve the 5.5 of 5 Stars. This is my favorite book this year, cheesy for me to say, but it is! I’m giving a half star more for my own story because I’m very proud of this, okay? :P I’ll talk more about that on a separate blog post, haha.

To begin, I want to thank the editors (and our PM, Hi Mina!) for coming up with this anthology. The intros by Ron and Brij, in itself, were already strong messages to those who are looking for contemporary romance that represents Filipinos of this time, LGBTQIAP or not. It perfectly put out the reasons behind the conception of this anthology, as well as the hope that this sparks a flame towards more Queer Romance and Queer HEA in Philippine Literature.

1. In the Moonlight by Agay Llanera

This was a sweet start to set the tone for the rest of the stories. It’s an awesome sequel to my other favorite, Another Word For Happy. And like what I said in my review for AWFH last year, Caleb seems to have been made after my own heart.

I wish I was exaggerating, but the indecision, the awkward reaction to ‘the kiss’, the hyperawareness to the smallest of things, IT ME! When I was Caleb’s age, at least. LOL. And I’m sure a lot of gay people (maybe not even gay people, everyone, really) will find it relatable one way or another.

What Caleb is better than me, though, is his courage towards the end of the story. He did something I never would’ve been able to do. And I hope when others read this, they’d be inspired to be braver, too.

2. Come Full Circle by Bobbi Moran

I love me some slow burn romance and huhu, the slow burn in this one killed me (in a good way!).

This short felt quite episodic as the characters are shown through different stages of them finding themselves – and eventually, love – but that slow progression allowed me to really root for them to be together at the end.

I found the attention to detail fascinating (especially the architectural ones when Alana and Marion went on a holiday) but what I loved most about this is the accuracy of tiptoeing in a relationship when one is still unsure where the other one stands. I mean, relationships are already complicated without the whole guessing-and-hoping-the-other-one-plays-on-the-same-team narrative, but add in sexual confusion (and tension!) and you’re in for a wild, but nonetheless more interesting, ride. This story tied to a full circle satisfyingly.

3. Gorgeous by Motsie Dapul

This is probably my first F/enby romance and it certainly lived up to its title. This might also be the first fiction story I’ve read using the singular they/them pronoun and while it took me about a minute to re calibrate my [faulty] sense of grammar, it wasn’t jarring and it told Jays and the MC (I’m not 100% sure she was named, I need to reread the story, stat!)more genuinely for me.

It is also somewhat a variation of the enemies to lovers trope which is always interesting. I’m happy to note that there is grovel. :) 

I think what I want to focus more about this story is how something that happened years ago, something that seemed small and irrelevant to you, might mean a whole different world to another person. And simple things like words said haplessly, or actions that weren’t well thought of in our youth, could still impact us as adults no matter how much we’ve changed in the time in between.

This story tells and awesome story of discovering one’s self, discovery of love, and acceptance of the MC’s past, present and future with Them. :)

4. Shipping Included by Danice Sison

Can this be any cuter?? <3 <3 <3

I will admit that I didn’t get all the KPop references but I know those who are knowledgeable (and obsessed) with oppas will appreciate and enjoy this.

Done in alternating POVs between the protagonists, David and Kiko, the story’s strength lay on the well-rounded characterization of the heroes, as well as the kids who made their meetcute extra cute! There is a glimpse of what it must be like to be a Filipino KPop fan while also focusing the spotlight on those who don’t share the dedication but support their loved one’s hobbies nonetheless.

The Kuya and Tito may not be in their girls’ fandoms but Kpopocalypse gave them (all of us, really) a different reason to swoon and make fingerhearts at each other.  

5. Delubyo by Barbie Barbieto

This is beautifully written.

This was the first work from the author that I’ve read and I loved it so much, it made me seek out her other work. Haha. The style and flow of words are smooth and easygoing, it hooked me up real quick.

Add to that is Pebbles’ odd four-month relationship rule which I thought was mean at first, but actually makes so much sense and is understandable from someone who’s constantly afraid to put her heart on the line. Still, I don’t tolerate it. (I loved this so much, I’m super invested and I want to have a talk with Pebbles bec huhu, the poor ex-girlfriends! LOL)

I love the progression of her feelings towards Gabrielle, told brilliantly somewhere in the middle of the story – after that awesome beginning! It made the ending such a relief and a source of immense kilig!

6. The Other Story by H. Bentham

*sly grin emoji*

7. Blooms and Hues by Ella Banta

I loved the softness of the themes in this short story, reminiscent of Gay YA fiction I used to devour in college (from foreign authors like Brian Sloan, Alex Sanchez, John Hall, etc.) and the short films I still find on YouTube from time to time.

It is a lovely addition to this anthology, despite not being heavy on the romance like the other stories, especially since being queer in this country, love, relationships - and matters of the heart in general - are less likely to be this soft and dreamy. (At least during my time as an actual young adult. IDK, maybe kids these days are allowed this gay tenderness we weren’t given access to. It wasn’t even such a long time ago, I mean…anyway, that’s not what this review is all about. I got distracted. lol)

The artistic MC and LI are adorable. And flowers! I’m never not in love with stories where flowers come into play.

8. Another First by Yeyet Soriano

I admit that I felt scared to continue with this once it was established that Jess, the MC, is in a long term relationship at the beginning of the story. I dislike scenes with messy break-ups due to cheating, but I soldiered on and was greatly relieved that this didn’t go that way.

I liked that the characters acted like the adults that they are and that this did not turn into a rehash of popular love-triangle telenovela plots. I especially loved the part where things had to settle down and fall into place for all characters (Jess, Lili and even Matt) separately at first – on a personal level – before the romance could be resolved. It showed a healthy depiction of self-discovery and acceptance a little bit later in life.

9. Luck from the Skies by Katt Briones

This one I’ve actually read before the book came out and ugh, rereading it second, third and fourth time did not make it less wonderful! The characters have supporting roles from Katt’s other book, Chasing Mr. Prefect, but the timeline here is before that book’s time.

I liked the fictional artista/modeling angles and the progression of friendship between Chan and Asher towards a romantic ship (#ChaSher5everr!!!). The rainy weather theme is also very Filipino and how it plays in the advancement of the plot is just brilliant! And kilig! So kilig!

Sab is defineitely a scene stealer (I love bestfriends!) but since the romance was so strong in the first place, she didn’t overshadow my boys. LOL.

Also, prepare to crave bulalo!  

10. Lemon Drop Friday by Brigitte Bautista.

“Here goes [Brij] again, making a mess [with my heart]”

When I was reading the review copy and got to this point in the book, I stopped for a full day before I started this story. Part of me knew I would breeze through it and I didn’t want the book to end just yet. And I was right.

Brij did it again! Made me fall in love with her mastery of words and then made me cry because this was so good and so satisfying.

I was highlighting passages throughout the book (for review notes) but with this one, I couldn’t even stop to highlight words, I just wanted to fully immerse in that universe and feel the love, and the fear of rejection, and the ultimate HEA where these messy girls finally, finally got together!

I have a favorite quote (aside from the mis-quote above. Lol)

“If she looked at me a tad longer, she would figure it out.”

Argh! MY HEART! I loved Tala’s POV so much! It’s quirky and funny and honest and SO relatable. I’m done talking about this because I WILL SPOIL IT FOR EVERYONE so please get the book and read it! :P

To end, again I want to thank everyone who worked (and continue to work hard to promote) this book! I cannot fully express into words how important this is to me, as well as to others who might need these stories in their lives (whether they know it or not). I hold this dear this not because it is among the first queer books from #romanceclass, but more because all were written with wonderful skill and heart. Each story offers something unique for the reader who might be reading queer for the first time as well as someone looking for themselves in the written page,

We yearned so much to be represented well. We craved for stories we can connect to on a deeply personal level. We waited for our happy endings, in fiction at the very least.. This is definitely the beginning of us getting all that. And more.

Blurb:

There’s a first time for everything. Gatecrashing a KPop concert with an oppa in a business suit. Taking shelter from the storm with the girl you’ve been meaning to shake off. That kiss that blurs the line between friendship and something more. A one-night stand (or, is it?) with your best friend from across the hallway.

Dive into these 10 stories of first encounters – unapologetically queer, happy endings required, with a smattering of that signature #romanceclass kilig. Whether you’re recalling your own firsts or out there looking for one, there’s a story in here for you.

So, go on.

Turn the page.

Start here.

Edited by Ronald S. Lim and Brigitte Bautista. Featuring short stories by Agay Llanera, H. Bentham, Ella Banta, Danice Sison, Yeyet Soriano, Barbie Barbieto, Katt Briones, Bobbi Moran, Motzie Dapul, and Brigitte Bautista. This anthology contains M/M, F/F, F/NB romance stories with happy endings. Some stories have a high heat level.

Release Date: January 27, 2018

Book Cover Design: Dani Hernandez

Additional Photography: Alexandra Urrea & Chachic Fernandez

Buy Links:

Pre-order Start Here on Amazon: bit.ly/rcStartHere Order Start Here on paperback (PH only): bit.ly/StartHere-PrintPH

Add Start Here on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/37880247-start-here

Author links:

Katt Briones: @kttbri (Twitter& IG)

Ella Banta:  @gabbie_ellaine (Twitter) , @ellamaepot (IG),  gabrielluna.wordpress.com (blog) , https:// www.facebook.com/ ellabantawriting/ (FB)

Agay Llanera:  http:// amzn.to/ 2k2gj34.(Amazon)

Yeyet Soriano: @ysrealm (Twitter & IG) @Yeyetsorianowrites (FB), www.yeyetsoriano.com (blog), yeyetms@gmail.com

Danice Sison: @hastyteenflick (Twitter)

Bobbi Moran: bobbimoran26@gmail.com

Motzie Dapul: FB.com/atemozzarella, FB.com/atemozzarellastories, @atemozzarella (Tumblr) , mozzarellastories.wordpress.com (blog), motzie.dapul@ gmail.com.

Barbie Barbieto: @barbiebarbieto (Twitter),  barbiebarbieto.com (blog) 

H. Bentham: this is me. heh.

Editors: 

Brigitte Bautista: @brijbautista (Twitter & IG), brijbautista.wordpress.com (blog)

Ronald S. Lim: @tristantrakand (Twitter), ronlim20@gmail.com

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

Slow down! - chapter 1

What on earth is this??? Aish is actually writing heartrate fanfic for once??? And not turning it into a complete mess??? Well today is the birthday of my honourary fandom little sister Elise @colourfulheroes and she challenged me to write heartrate slow burn (don’t ask why, long story), so today seems like a good day to start!! (And also I got my revenge by challenging her to draw Kimax and she did and IT’S REALLY CUTE) (And sorry if this is terrible omg I had like zero motivation or ideas but it’s gonna get cute later on I swear)

And also on AO3 like always

“I bet you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you here today,” Max said to his two classmates standing in front of him. He had dragged them all the way to the airport for this, and neither of them looked very happy about it. They would be even less happy when they found out what this was for, and he knew it.

“Don’t use the word ‘bet’ in front of this idiot unless you’re prepared to face the consequences,” said Alix, pointing a finger in Kim’s direction.

“Don’t be stupid,” Kim snapped. “You know perfectly well that Max is extinct from any of my challenges.”

“Extinct? Are you sure that’s the right word?”

“Whatever! You know what I mean!”

“Anyway,” Max said loudly, stepping between them, “I am going to be on holiday for the entire duration of the summer holidays, and therefore I won’t be around to prevent you two from strangling each other. So in order to save you both from either death or a hefty prison sentence, I am issuing you a challenge. One that will hopefully keep you from committing murder until I get back.”

“If you’re gonna do that ‘who can be quiet for the longest’ thing again then I may as well tell you now that I’m not taking part,” Alix said.

“No, not that. This challenge is something unique. Between now and the eight weeks when I get back, you are going to be doing something rather more intellectual for once.”

“Oh good, ‘cause I’m way smarter than Kim.”

“Will you be quiet and let me finish? Anyway, by the time I get back, I want you two to have written something. A story. It’ll have to be at least 30,000 words. And you can’t just write about anything, either. It’ll have to be…” He took a deep breath, knowing his friends were going to hate this. “…fanfic.”

Kim laughed. “Fanfic? That’s easy. I could write a million words about that dinosaur from Jurassic Park taking over the world and eating everyone. This is gonna be awesome.”

“Actually, you are not going to be writing fanfic about Jurassic Park. You are going to be writing fanfic about real life people. Specifically, this class.”

“Oh, you mean like Nathaniel does?” Alix said. “That’s still easy. He once wrote me a story where I beat up Kim, it was awesome. I could totally do something like that.”

“There are actually even more requirements to this fanfic,” Max said, internally preparing himself for some very aggressive reactions. “It will have to be what they call a ‘slow burn’ fic. You know, a fic about the slow and natural forming of a romantic relationship.”

The reactions followed very quickly. Alix stepped back saying, “Ew ew ew ew ew!” while Kim put his hands on his hips and said, “Max, if you’re trying to get me to learn how to be nice to people or something, there are other ways of doing it!”

“I’ve already made up my mind, you’ll have to do it,” Max said. “Unless you refuse the challenge, in which case the other person will win by default.”

“Fine, I’ll do your stupid challenge,” Alix said, glaring at him. “But I’m gonna write it about Marinette and Adrien. I’m not the only one seeing something between those two, right?”

“Well I’m writing mine about Marinette and Adrien too, so there!” Kim said.

“Actually,” Max said, fully preparing to be punched in the face at any moment, “I’ve already decided who you’re going to be writing about. It’s going to be… well… you two.”

For a few seconds they just stared at him in disbelief. Then, to his immense surprise, Alix burst into laughter. Well, to be fair this was a rather preposterous challenge he was issuing them. It made sense that she would find it absurd enough to laugh at. It was better than being punched, anyway.

“Max, that’s impossible and you know it!” she said. “For starters, I’m actually asexual, so–”

“I know perfectly well that you’re ace, considering you make puns about it an average of 3.5 times per hour. But that doesn’t mean you can’t like someone, does it? Anyway, all that matters is that you two have to be in a proper, willing, romantic relationship by the end of the fic. It doesn’t mean you have to be 100% in love or that you have to write smut or anything. You’ll just have to be creative.”

“This is stupid!” Kim whined. “Why would I ever even think of… you know… ugh, no! She’s so tiny and annoying and weird!”

“And she can also hear you perfectly well,” Alix said, stepping around Max and hitting Kim in the arm. “But for once you have a point. Max, this is impossible. Unless these fics end up ridiculously out of character.”

“I wouldn’t suggest doing that,” Max said. “At the end of the eight weeks, I will read both fics and be judging on how well-written they are, how in-character they are, and how realistically the relationship has developed. And please keep it T-rated at most. I don’t want to have to pour bleach into my eyes.”

“But Maaaaaax!” Kim pulled on his shirt sleeve. “Why are you even doing this?”

“I’m hoping it’ll teach you two the long-lost art of getting along with people in a polite, civil manner. And if you’re working on a non-violent challenge all summer, with all your annoyance directed at me rather than each other, then you might actually not kill each other. It would be nice.”

“Well I’m not talking to her all summer then, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, and another thing,” Max said, wondering if this would be the final straw that would get him punched after all. “I’m sick of you two constantly being at each other’s throats at school too, so you’ll have to learn to tolerate each other by the time I get back. Meet up once a week and show each other your progress on your stories. That way you can also make sure that the fics you’re writing won’t end up too similar. I’d like a bit of variety to read through, thank you.”

There was another silence for a few seconds. Then he quickly stepped away when he saw Alix curling up a fist.

“You know, Max, you’d better hurry up and get on that aeroplane before I commission Nath to write a fic about your tragic death…”

“And you’d better not have any more rules for this challenge!” Kim added, folding his arms. “Honestly, if I stop considering you my best friend after this then that’s completely your fault!”

Max shrugged. “Hey – you can always just refuse the challenge, that’s still an option.”

“I never forfeit a challenge!”

“And I’m not surrendering to this idiot!”

That had been just what he expected to hear. He picked up his luggage and started walking off. “Good luck then, and see you in eight weeks!”

The furious expressions on his friends’ faces as he left caused him to wonder if he was even doing the right thing. Or if this would even work! But he had to try. Those two being rivals was just constantly giving him a headache. They needed to learn to get along somehow, so why not this? Hopefully this wouldn’t backfire terribly.

Kim sat at his computer desk with a blank document open in front of him, thinking hard. What was he even supposed to write? He had never been good at creative writing. The only things he liked to write about were action stories, where people were going on adventures and fighting aliens or whatever. Not some stupid sappy love story about himself and the only girl in his class he would never consider in a million years!

But this was a challenge, wasn’t it? If there was one thing Kim was good at, it was winning challenges. Okay, so he had never actually won a challenge against Alix before. But there was always a first time for everything. This time he would actually try hard, and actually win. He was best friends with Max, the cleverest guy in school, so surely that intelligence must have rubbed off on him. This couldn’t be too difficult.

He typed a few words.

Once upon a time…

Now what? He was already stuck. His brain kept reminding him of all the cool things he could be doing right now – going to play basketball with Adrien, going to Marinette’s bakery and playing video games with her, going for a run, anything! Even doing homework was better than this! Why should he waste his time on something so stupid? He wasn’t like Nathaniel, he didn’t enjoy this kind of thing!

Wait… Nathaniel! Of course! That guy was an expert at writing stories about the class. He was always being creative – drawing little comics, writing drabbles, all that sort of thing. It would be easy for him.

Would getting his help be considered cheating? Well, Kim didn’t care. It wasn’t like anyone would find out. At least this way it was a win-win situation. Nath would get to have fun writing more fanfic, Kim would have time to do whatever he wanted and only have to meet up with the tiny pink goblin once a week, and he would probably end up winning the challenge. Perfect!

He picked up his phone and called Nath’s number. Luckily he still had it after having to do a class project with him one time.

“Hello?”

Nath’s voice was always so quiet and hesitant. Kim just didn’t understand how anyone could be like that. Wasn’t it more fun to be loud?

“Nath, I need your help with something,” he said. “Something really stupid and weird, but uh… basically, I want to commission you to write a fanfic.”

He could almost hear Nath smiling on the other end. “A fanfic? Okay, I’m listening…”

Alix, too, was sitting in front of an empty computer document, banging her head against the screen. Was she going to get akumatized again? Hopefully. That would be way better than this.

Honestly, if Max wanted her to get along with Kim, there were better ways to do it! He could have just dared them to be friends with each other. That would work. Maybe that way Kim would stop being an annoying jerk to her all the time. Why was he like that, anyway? He was probably just jealous at her for always beating him at his own challenges.

Well, she would beat him at this one too, no matter how stupid it was. Now she just had to get her brain to come up with ideas!

There was once a really stupid guy called Kim, and he for some reason fell in love with the coolest girl in his class, and she dated him for like one day. The end.

No, that wasn’t 30,000 words. And it wasn’t exactly “slow burn”, either. Ugh, she just hated writing stupid romantic nonsense!

Okay, so being ace didn’t mean she didn’t get attached to people. Of course she did. And if she was attached enough to someone that she would willingly jump into a volcano for them, then dating them was no problem. It would make them happy and she’d get to hang out with them more – where was the downside? If she liked someone enough then she would do it, even if stupid lovey-dovey stuff was not her thing.

But just not Kim, of all people! Couldn’t it have been anyone else in the class? Anyone at all? Even Chloé? Kim was just the worst! He was so annoying! Always picking on her, always challenging her to more of his idiotic dares and then being a sore loser when he inevitably lost…

She just couldn’t think of any good things about him at all, no matter how hard she tried. In that case, how was she supposed to write a fic where she actually ended up liking him? It was impossible with a guy that horrible! She needed to get someone’s help with this. But who?

Marinette? No, Marinette was friends with Kim, she would tell him that Alix was totally planning to cheat on this challenge, and that would be humiliating. Adrien? No way, Adrien was far too busy with all the stuff his father was making him do. Juleka? Rose? Both of them were just a little too sappy. Alix did not want to have to gouge out her eyes after reading the fic.

What about Lila? Lila was always making up stories about her life, things that seemed a tiny bit far-fetched but mostly believable. That was just perfect! A slightly far-fetched but still in-character story was exactly what was needed.

Alix picked up her phone and sent Lila a message.

Hey, can we meet up at some point? I need to ask you a favour.

Lila always kept her phone on her to keep in touch with all her adoring fans, so the reply arrived quickly.

Of course! What did you need me to do? :)

How to put this? Something like ‘Well you’re a liar so you’ll be good at writing cheesy fanfic’ would not be tactful. She’d have to be a bit more subtle.

I need your creativity to help me out with a challenge. You’re pretty much the only one who can help.

There, that was better! And Lila seemed to think so too.

Sure, I’ll help you, whatever it is! This reminds me of that time I helped Jagged Stone write a hit single. Let me know when you want to meet up!

The Jagged Stone thing was almost certainly a lie. But then again, that was a good thing. Lies and creativity were just what Alix needed right now. Maybe she would win this challenge after all!

[estephaniacasa-blog]

This is the Sound of Settling

I actually can’t believe where this life is standing. 24 years and there’s still no distinctive correct answer. I’m not sure if there was ever any reason to believe I would know the moment I would feel like I’m not young anymore. I always felt that “age” was irrelevant anyways. And of course, in thinking so, I never left myself to doubt it. There are many thoughts similar to this, where I was so stubbornly sure I’d left no room for error, that I didn’t allow myself to contemplate or prepare for the idea that I could be a little mistaken. 24. That’s big to me. For some reason, I was able to slide right past my 23rd. That’s not to say I wasn’t uncomfortable with every birthday I’ve had since “teenager”. I could probably attribute my comfort with 23 to drugs. But nothing eases my mind from this year.

Less than a week. It’s goddamn surreal . I recall so many moments where I simply studied the clock. “Endless.” But it’s hard to even give consideration to something being “endless” now. Everything is so absolute, yet it’s unpredictable until that “absolute” arrives. Some days I’m full of optimism, appreciating that I’m enjoying things and people. And on others, that joy is simply pointless, as what effect will it really have? Even when I’m sullen, though, I’m constantly seeking companionship and beautiful connections and friendships, as these things are the most effective at slowing down this windmill of a mind.

Oddly, those same reasons would probably scoff at the idea of my mind “slowing down” with them. The immense amount of thought I’m “fondling” (I drew a blank on what word to use there, I ended up using fondling. Marijuana.) constantly is likely irregular. But if I’m being honest, I can’t say that I’d trade this perceived understanding I’ve gained for even momentary peace of mind. I’m actually actively avoiding getting personal in this fucking free writing because I’m afraid to even be honest enough with myself to state some things, as I wouldn’t want to be inaccurate, and sometimes “personal” constitutes as emotional. Emotion is not necessarily something I don’t experience, but likely less heavily than most.

That’s not to lead you to believe it’s always been that way. But, alas, I’ve somehow grown into a logical (mostly) and unsympathetic asshole, per sé. So, when something happens to be thought-consuming enough to actually affect my usual train, I’m not necessarily good at logically processing it anymore. Now, don’t you get presumptive and assume that means I tend to express these rare occasions irrationally. Believe it or not, I’ve grown to just avoid. I’ll fall silent, “suffer” whilst “acting” unaffected or merely stop investing thought as immediately as possible.

It actually works out well for me, though it certainly does also have the ability to affect people I care for. I can involve myself in an “argument” or misunderstanding, cause emotional reaction from merely stating my factual “feelings” (damn me and these quotation marks) without gauging the extent, because to me it’s ineffective to state anything but your actual thoughts when you affect someone. So, in doing just that, I offend emotionally. The compromise on whatever I’ve “done wrong” when being confronted would be a form of dishonesty, as I am firmly set in continuing to exist “freely” as it makes me happy, and I‘m not brought joy by causing any grief.  And I’m honestly not willing to compromise on those brain-clearing moments of happiness.

People certainly expect me to, and I can’t deny clearly understanding their stance. It simply doesn’t cause me to want to change, or even seem apologetic. I am fully aware this makes me sound goddamn awful, and fuck I might be. But I am always very clear that this is the way I am. I think. But of course these happiness factors fluctuate, and I do understand that me changing habits or routines may be unfortunate, but the risk was made clear.

I am not what I would choose as a partner, but I would absolutely desire to know a person like me. (That sounded both cocky and self-deprecating simultaneously.) Unfortunately, I am fluid. My thoughts move forward and so do my inclinations. It’s fortunate for those who are dependant on my “affection” and companionship, and unfortunate for those who are just unable to continue accepting my self-perceived progression. Certainly not stating these people are in any way less deserving or that they’re inferior, just that if they are offended by my distance when thought-provocation in a positive form becomes stagnant, or negative, that we will struggle to remain compatible conversationalists, and conversation (through being vocal, or body language) is the key to life for me. I live to have to contemplate something inquired, and to be required to provide feedback. Not just conversations, so many words are empty. I mean the ability to expect something more than a forced conversation filled with small talk and wondering what is being discussed.

People who have thought-provoking minds are phenomenal to me. Whether it be provoking intellect, a rare tinge of emotion, humor, or almost fucking anything. Coming to a monotonous point in any friendship is a very clear and good reason to discontinue wasting both’s precious tic-toc.

For some reason, (I can explain it to you if you really wanna know, Stephanie) some are satisfied with continuing unvarying companionships, and are offended when you suggest what I’ve explained. Why do I even fucking think it’s important to elaborate this to myself? (Answers own question) I guess it’s because I think fully contemplating my thought process is slowing my waste of thought (LOL) or just clearing it up to myself in black & white. (Making sure I’m able to comfortably justify each standpoint to myself.) And I can.

You may see this and be able to personally classify it as “emotional.” Make no mistake, I am merely ascetic. I cannot settle with the inability to express my accuracy, even if only to myself. (Insanity) I “feel” that I want to bask in joyful and stimulating experience, and it would be a disservice to someone if anyone pretended to be satisfied with the previously mentioned bland interaction. Is that cleared up, Stephanie? I think I’ve cleared it up.

Continuing…(OMG I know)

When I earlier mentioned provoking thought and reaction, I stated that it could be verbal or with body language. Even that may have been to specific (Goddamnit I’m contradicting my ‘clear’) But we’ll go with it. Body language is so fucking major. When I’m referring to it, don’t think I’m alluding to any specific movements or a fucking movement rubric. I’m trying to accomplish the opposite. What provokes a reaction is curiosity, and nothing does this like the ability to captivate with simply the way you exist.

Nobody can perfect this skill, as no one existence is going to affect everyone even remotely similarly. But you will meet people who are captivating. Now when it happens, there’s really no question. If you don’t know if you enjoy a presence after you’ve invested effort, you don’t. NEVER settle for avoiding ‘loneliness’. Wasting this time proves detrimental, as lack of interest merely proceeds negativity. This negativity hinders happiness, and greatly reduces your time with joyful surroundings and goal for progression. Instead, focus energy and time on this joy. Surround yourself with those who heighten your mood and knowledge, as well as curiosity.

HERE IS THE CATCH.

When you choose to be a brash cunt, you choose to risk this “nasty” emotion shit. Because everything you stated is true. Sometimes that person that fails to provoke curiosity is you. And sometimes the brash cunt doesn’t want to waste your time. And you’ve got to be willing to risk accepting that, what you’ve “ridiculed.” That wave of “gross” (also known as em[barf]otion) can happen to you, too. Because even though you’re encouraging this mindset that is ultimately beneficial for all involved, you’re not past being on the end that’s pained.

(Refer back to the first page where you told yourself you should leave room for error, question entire existence)

So, when it does happen, deal with your emotions healthily. Grieve, but do so briefly and discreetly. Embrace time with yourself, and know that as fucking banal as this may sound, happiness comes from within, and you will be happier alone and thinking than continuing to entertain stagnancy.

You merely must realize that this “pain” is so very temporary compared to the continuance of failing at an impossibility. And you just might find someone who can’t divert their eyes from your curious glances, hungering to learn something. Never getting too comfortable. And never forgetting to gain knowledge.

[lechevaliermalfet]

Experiential storytelling is awesome, you guys

I’m currently hip-deep in Mass Effect Andromeda, and enjoying myself immensely.  So let’s talk about something else for a bit.

One of the things I really like in games is what I call experiential storytelling.  I can’t think of a name that’s less of a pretentious mouthful, sorry.  To explain what I mean, let’s talk for a bit about something completely different: Watchmen.  I promise I’m going somewhere with this.  (WARNING: LONG)

Now, there was a reason why neckbearded comic book guys worldwide got grumpy about the Watchmen movie, and it wasn’t because their Lord and Savior Alan Moore has a hate-boner for his works getting adapted.  Not just because of that, anyway.

(To be fair, Alan Moore probably has perfectly valid reasons for not liking his works being adapted.  But, after having seen V for Vendetta prior to even knowing there was a graphic novel it was based on, and having loved every minute of it, I feel like his being irritable over these things is maybe sometimes out of proportion).

The thing that makes Watchmen great isn’t that it’s a wide-awake-and-screaming vivisection of the superhero genre of comics (though it is that, and that’s certainly a part of the whole phenomenon), but because it really is a story that could only be told the way it was told, and with the impact it was told, in comics. I have to imagine that there were legions of film critics who settled into their theater seats in anticipation and, when the ending credits rolled, just sort of went, “That’s… it?  That’s what comics fans have been having weird, sexless orgasms about since the 80s?”  And the answer to that is, well, no.  It’s not. Not quite.

Part of what makes Watchmen great, what really carries it beyond being just a really clever deconstruction of superhero stories in general, is how it’s told.  

Watchmen leans on the strengths of comics as a storytelling medium to tell its story by doing things only comics can really do.  This isn’t really a new phenomenon, of course.  If you talk to film students about this sort of thing, they’ll call it ‘filmic language’, which refers to the sort of functional vocabulary movies have built up – ways of using camera angles, lighting, rapid cuts and long shots, panning and close-ups and focus and God knows what all to place unstated but very present emphasis on whatever’s happening onscreen.  It’s how (for instance) horror movies create tension and surprise – it’s how they scare you even when you know something scary’s coming.

Watchmen uses ‘comics language’ to do pretty much the same things.  Just a single example: It makes (at times) rapid jumps back and forth between two unrelated events to underscore the ways in which they’re thematically related, with passages of dialogue or narration in one scene used to comment on the events of the other.  You can’t do this in a book (at least not to the frequency and extent that Watchmen does it) or in a movie.  In a book, it would create so many asterisk breaks you’d have more white space than text on the page.  In a movie, it would require literally dizzying cuts.  But the sense of timing in comics is different.  Events can happen quickly, which is communicated by the placement and sizing and shape and content of panels.  Yet at the same time, you have all the time in the world to unpack what you’re seeing, because it’s occurring in a self-progressed medium.  Time and timing in comics both expands and contracts at the same time.

There’s a scene in the comic where Doctor Manhattan reflects on how interlinked the events are that got him to where he is.  It’s all out of chronological order, because in his current state of being, he doesn’t really perceive time in the same linear way that we do, and so because the whole scene is from his perspective, it’s also out of order.  Much like a certain other doctor I know of, to Doctor Manhattan, time is a lot of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey… stuff.  But time and timing in comic books are unique. You can speed up and slow down with whiplash-inducing change in a comic, and it can all be perfectly fine if you do it right.  In movies, you’d call it sloppy editing, dock a star from your review, and go on about your day.  In a book, you’d shake your head and wonder whether the editor – if there was one – forgot to take their medication that day.  But thanks to the unique sense of pacing of the medium of comics, this works, and is in fact relatively easy to keep track of.  This isn’t just a neat side-effect of how comics work; it’s a part of comics language.  It’s a storytelling tool.

Watchmen was one of the first comics to lean so hard on the structure of the medium to help it tell its story.  And so of course it was a superhero story.  What better story to tell in such a uniquely comic-book way than the genre comic books are, rightly or wrongly, best known for.  I’m not nearly expert enough to say for sure whether it was the first comic book to do this, but Watchmen was probably the first to do it so often and so self-consciously.

The short of it (since we’ve gone over the long) is that, just like part of what makes a great novel truly great is the way the words seem to ring in the mind and capture images and thoughts and feelings with exactitude and an almost poetic flair, a good part of what makes Watchmen truly great is the way it’s constructed to capitalize on the language of its medium.

I’m a firm believer that video games have the same potential in their own right.  Hence this post.

Now, I’m not in any way trying to indicate that I feel this is the One True Way that games have to tell their stories.  As much as I like to bag on, say, Hideo Kojima for directing his Metal Gear Solid games like he wishes they were movies, I do actually enjoy games that use cut scenes and full-motion-video to do most of the legwork in their storytelling.  Mass Effect does pretty much the same thing, after all.  There are the bits where you’re running for cover and shooting everything that isn’t you, and then there are the deeply affecting story and character parts, and seldom do the two overlap in any really meaningful way.  And the series is probably in the running for “personal favorite new-ish franchise of the last decade” for me.

Also in the running for that consideration would be the loose “series” comprised of Demon’s Souls, the three Dark Souls games, and Bloodborne.  The lattermost especially.

I recently finished Bloodborne, though I can’t really say I’m done with it; @el-draco-bizarro is perpetually amused at how much my relevant Pinterest board has blown the hell up with Bloodborne art and images.  It’s still on my mind in a way that even the Souls games haven’t quite managed.

I’ve read a lot of people comparing the Dark Souls games to the original Legend of Zelda, with their higher focus on combat, the abandoned, hostile-creature-infested world, and the sense of loneliness and isolation. I’m not going to say the comparison’s invalid.  Personally, though, after a lot of thought, I tend to think that the Souls games and Bloodborne are a lot closer to the Metroid series.

Full disclosure: I am a pretty big Metroid fan.  Some gushing may ensue.  My Pinterest board for that has likewise gotten ridiculous.

Honestly, in writing, it’s hard to pin down the difference between the Zelda series and the Metroid series.  The main problem is that the games just feel different in a way that’s not at all easy to pin down.  It used to be easy, kind of.  Zelda games were top-down oriented and emphasized ever-increasing ability to navigate the world (via the use of an expanding array of tools and weapons) and some non-linear exploration, whereas any given Metroid game was a side-scrolling platformer which emphasized ever-increasing ability to navigate the world (via direct upgrades to the character’s weapons and personal abilities) and aggressively non-linear exploration. In the move to 3D, the line separating these franchises got awfully blurry, thematic differences aside.

But Metroid as a series has always thrived on its atmosphere of loneliness and a sense of eerie menace.  Its settings frequently have you traversing the ruins of ancient civilizations without ever really explaining any of them.  They’re just there.  There were people who lived here once; they’re gone now; that’s it.  The settings are part of the window-dressing.  They exist to create atmosphere and a sense of quiet abandonment and loss.  The explanations, when present, are never really comprehensive.

Of course, in reality, Bloodborne and the Souls games are all very much their own thing.  It’s reductive to say “Like Metroid but...”  At the same time, it’s tempting to point back at predecessor games, to say “it’s like X, but with a dash of Y, and a hint of Z, and…”  It forms a useful frame of reference for people who might be unfamiliar, also, and it’s interesting (to me, at least) to dig into a game and try to figure out just exactly where it came from, as an idea.  Nothing exists in a vacuum, after all.  And it’s hard for me personally not to be interested in this sort of thing when I’ve gotten to see so much of the medium of video games develop and evolve throughout my life.

Like with the Metroid series, the storytelling and mechanics and progression are all welded so firmly together in Bloodborne that you can’t really spot the joins any more. They all feed into each other to create a whole and singular experience.  

Bloodborne doesn’t go out of its way to tell you its story.  It is, in fact, very aggressively about letting you come to it.  There are a small handful of brief cut scenes you’ll run across in a single play through, and the rest of it is up to you to piece together from context.

Some of this context comes from atmosphere.  The story of Bloodborne is going on all around you, from the crumbling urban decrepitude of Yharnam where you start the game, to the terrifying, exposed openness of the Nightmare Frontier, to the venomous-reptile-infested swamp at the bottom of the Lost Woods that is rendered with such loving attention to nauseating detail that you can smell it – fucking smell it – despite being displayed in a strictly audiovisual medium.  

These things all tell a story in hints and implications, one of dark, horrifying secrets, and a system that was never very stable in the first place and is now entering the final stages of breakdown before everything flies apart.  It starts with your nameless character seeking a cure (The ‘Pale Blood’, which is never actually explained, but like so much else, there are hints as to what this refers to) for some unnamed disease, and winding up trapped in a falling-apart Victorian-ish city that is wracked with what looks for all the world like a lycanthropy plague.  From there, it eventually takes a hard left into Lovecraft territory.

Some of the storytelling also comes in the form of item descriptions.  I know this sounds weird, so let me explain a bit.

Pretty much any item you find in the game, whether it’s some consumable thing like a firebomb, or a weapon or other piece of equipment, will have a description with some flavor text.  “This sword was originally forged by so-and-so, who got eaten by things best left to the imagination” or “This coat is similar to the ones the first Hunters to protect Yharnam wore, back in whenever, at the direction of so-and-so,” and on it goes.  Just brief little snippets to give you some context, much like the flavor text on cards for Magic: The Gathering.  Except it kind of goes beyond flavor, here, because a lot of this stuff actually helps to hint at what’s going on in the world. And maybe that seems kind of unfair, because after all, you’d have to go looking up the item descriptions first of all, and second, you may very well miss a lot of items (it’s that kind of game). 

Well, there are lots of loading screens.  I mean, the game has to load every time you die and this is basically a Souls game, so even if you’re an actual sorcerer, you’ll be dying.  A lot.  

So, so much dying.

So the loading screens show you the descriptions for random items.  The developers do this in all the Dark Souls games as well, of course.  It’s not unique to Bloodborne, that just happens to be the one I’m most interested in talking about at the moment.  At first, it seems just innocuous.  Like, okay, at least they’re giving you something to read while the game loads. It beats the hell out of staring at a small animated icon in the corner of the screen, which is what most games do. But then you realize that… no. No, this is actually important.  This is something you should be paying attention to.

And I mean, why wouldn’t you?  It’s right there.  This is about as in-your-face as storytelling gets in Bloodborne or any of the Souls games.  (Well, Demon’s Souls has slightly more conventional cut scenes and doesn’t do the item description thing, but every work has a rough draft).

And aside from the environment and the item descriptions and all the million subtle details that you notice in your progress through the game, even the game’s mechanics get in on the storytelling action.

An example: Bloodborne has an expendable resource called Insight.  It’s meant to represent the degree to which the player’s AFGNCAAP recognizes the more illusory aspects of the reality in which he or she finds himself.  It can be gained by using certain items, and can be spent in a certain place to gain access to some rare equipment.  However, you also gain Insight whenever you first encounter any of the boss enemies, and a little more when you defeat one, which follows from the narrative.  It’s a concrete measurement of how much about the setting your character understands, based in part on how far you’ve dug into said setting.

And it gets better!  The higher your Insight, the more you literally see about the world.  The appearance of your enemies will be altered in ways great and small (and almost always for the more disturbing, typically involving eyes where eyes absolutely do not fucking belong).  You begin to see just how much the world is held together by the will of creatures that would earn a grim nod of approval from H.P. Lovecraft.

This is gaming language.  The use of the game’s environment, its mechanics, the very way in which you progress through the game, to tell a story.  Most of these methods are perfectly natural in games, and make them engrossing, enthralling, compelling, immersive, etc.  Whereas they would be clunky and ham-fisted at best in a book, and are (I’m convinced) a large part of the reason why even story-heavy and highly cinematic games like Silent Hill make for disappointing movies (though to be fair, the Silent Hill movie was bad for more reasons than just the difficulty of adapting gaming language well).

The interesting thing is that none of the Souls games have an especially complex story, nor does Bloodborne.  The plots are mysterious and secretive, but not especially complicated.  But what makes them gripping is not just the mystery of them, or even the compelling world they’re set in (though God do those help), but the simple fact that you are a part of the story.  There is something about being more than an uninvolved observer, about being an actor within the world, that bridges a kind of gap, and makes even the relatively uncomplicated mysteries of a game like Dark Souls or, say, Shadow of the Colossus seem profound and gripping.  

That’s gaming language, too.

[ecotone99]

[SF] Something something immortal guy. Working title

Hey guys. Wrote this while bored at work. Feel free to shit all over it lol. Go for the classic criticism sandwich. Yes my formatting is HOT garbage. Hope you enjoy.

The last thing you think of when you become immortal is the end. In your newfound perspective the end ceases to be a consideration. When people think about being immortal they tend to only think ahead to around the time they would have naturally died. The end you never think of is the end of the world. I gained my immortality in 1944. Now here I am 374 years later floating amongst the remains of earth. Our home. Obliterated by a planetoid larger than our moon. You couldn't imagine the chaos. The fear. Our people with all our technology, and power thought ourselves the rulers of all creation. Yet even with all that we were no more powerful than the dinosaurs before us to prevent our destruction. Even as an immortal I wasn't immune to the fear. The worst part was how long we knew it was coming. A long range satellite telescope caught a random glimpse of it moving through the stars. The first few weeks after its discovery were a mad dash by governments to keep it quiet while they tried to stop it. Every attempt failed, and then they went public two weeks before impact. There was a lot of rioting. Some people just didn't do anything. They just shut down. I didn't know if I'd survive or not, so I did my best to try to comfort those around me. A few days before impact we could all see it coming. Looming over all of us in the sky getting closer by the minute. In a last ditch effort the nations of the world came together and launched every nuclear missile we had at our disposal. What we watched that day in the skies above the earth I doubt will ever be replicated on any world. When that failed to even slow it down everything stopped. People stopped rioting, looting, and fighting. It seemed almost at once that entire world resigned itself to its fate, and gave up. Then it was just over. It made ground just off Chicago in Lake Michigan. I was standing on navy pier watching it. There were a few people who had come as well. Beyond us few the city was deserted. It flash vaporized all the water in the lake. The old couple and young man with me were both killed instantly. After that I don't know what happened. There was the most deafening noise is ever heard, and a wall of ash and fire. Then blackness. While unconscious the impact had shattered the earth. It was over when I woke up. I wondered if anyone else had survived, but quickly abandoned that thought. It's an terribly numbing sensation to realize that you are the last of your kind. It's a crushing loneliness that cannot be described. I curled into a ball and floated for a while. After a long while I decided I had to go somewhere. Over the course of my long life I had studied the stars intently. I can't even tell you how long it took me to find it, but I decided to head towards Proxima Centauri. The closest star to ours. I figured it was my best bet. So I found a piece of debris, and crouched on it then pushed off with all my might. At first I thought I was making good progress then I realized it takes a very long time for light to get from there to earth. Luckily I had spare time. As I floated farther and farther I found myself looking at where I was coming from and not where I was going. Was I being homesick, or just realizing everything I had ever known was back there? I'll tell you sometime if I ever figure it out. What I can tell you about is the view. Looking back on our solar system was a sight to behold. To steal a quote from the hitch hikers guide to the Galaxy. (Cause lets be honest. Who's gonna sue me for plagiarism.) Space is big. Really big. You just won't believe how vastly, hugely, mind bogglingly big it is. I realized that Proxima Centauri was a long ways off so I thought I should check out our solar system first, but quickly abandoned the thought. Once I very painfully made landfall on one of the 9 planets in our solar system. (I love you Pluto) I wouldn't be able to leave. Cause I'm no Matt Damon. So I'd either have to get very lucky, and find some crazy alien stuff, or wait for the planet I was on to explode in some way. Both those options weren't appealing, so I opted to keep on trucking to Proxima. I'm gonna go ahead and skip all the boring parts or you'll be reading this for the next few millions years. A few interesting things of note did happen. Seeing a comet in the night sky is always very pretty. Seeing one pass you by, by only a few dozen meters is awe inspiring/terrifying. The other discovery I made very quickly. Space for those of you readers who've not spent time in it. Is cold. Really, really, Fucking. Cold. At least the solar winds are nice and toasty. Rich with skin searing radiation. So let's run down the list of things I have. Ruined clothes Melted phone Body so cold my balls are snuggled up next to my heart. A very long trip ahead of me. One sock. Could be worse.

Let's jump ahead to me leaving the solar system. After blowing a kiss to Pluto. I continued on my trip to Proxima. Now. Let's do some math, Proxima is 4.2 light years away. Earth to the solar rim is about 9 billion miles. One light year is 5.879 x 10 to the power of 12, miles. So I'm about 4.1998 light years away. Only took me about 250 years I think. So I should be there just in time to watch the star die and collapse into a black hole. Wonder if that would actually kill me...You can kiss my ass Steven Hawking you dead genius prick. Busting holes in my very well laid out plans. I gotta think of a way to pick up speed.

I came up with a risky strategy. If I keep pumping my arms straight ahead of me in my current trajectory I should increase in speed little by little. The risk is that I could alter my angle by a few degrees, and that could mess up my approach vector for Proxima. It doesn't sound like much, but a few degrees of difference in angle across a span of light years can result in me missing by billions of miles. Well after thinking for a few days on the pros and cons of my new plan I decided to give it a shot. With very calculated pumps in slow succession I made sure to keep my eyes on my target. With nothing to use as a reference I really didn't know if my plan was working. I'll just say it did. Kinda. I eventually worked myself up to the speed that voyager was moving at. Which is pretty damn fast. Again, kinda. It would still take millions of years to get to Proxima. My only hope was to get picked up by something or crash on some rock with intelligent life on it.

Turns out the scientists back in the 20teens were right. There was in fact a 10th planet in the solar system. It was just a lot lot farther out than they thought. I immediately changed course and aimed for this planet. I'll be honest. In all the science fiction movies, video games, and books I've seen in my life I gotta tell you this was the most foreboding planet I've ever seen. It was black. But it was an unnatural black. The kind of black you put on something you don't want to be found. I glided in silence towards the planet lost in thought. What would I find there? Life? Ruins? Would they be friendly aliens? I know that since it's their planet I'm technically the alien but shut up its my story. As I moved towards it it dawned on me how immense the planet was. By 2120 civilian space flights were pretty common, so I've seen the earth from space. This planet was massive. Dozens if not hundreds of times the size of earth. Finally after what felt like forever I could feel myself being pulled towards the planet. It didn't occur to me until about ten seconds before I hit it that this planet might have an atmosphere. Then I hit it. Hard. All my possessions burned off. My phone, shirt, pants, even my precious sock. Falling out of the sky stark naked at terminal velocity. Not as fun as it sounds. Once I cleared the black skies I was blown away by the amount of lights, and buildings I was seeing. I was so happy. Finally I'd be able to come into contact with someone, or something. That something turned out to be the ground. One splitting headache, and quick climb out of my crater later, I took the time to look around. I walked around for a bit and didn't see anyone. The buildings were pretty pristine. Was everyone on a lunch break? Maybe I can get them to come to me? I yelled as loud as I could a couple of times, but nothing. It was unsettling to say the least. All the buildings stretched way into the sky, so maybe no one lived on the ground anymore? I think there was a cartoon like that a long time ago. Anyway. I picked a building at random and went inside. The doors wouldn't open at first. It took me some time to wiggle them open. As soon as a crack opened a gust of air blew out whipping the doors open and knocking me on my ass. Swearing as I picked myself up I took a step inside. And no it's not what you were thinking. No dead bodies that have been in there for years and years. It was empty. And clean as a whistle. I walked around looking for anything familiar when I found a trio of doors next to each other with tubes rising above them into the ceiling. Raising my hopes thinking they would work I hit a button. To my great delight stuff happened! So that's a win for me today. It took about 15 minutes for it to arrive but there it was. An elevator. The buttons looked familiar enough so I pushed the one that I guessed would be the penthouse. The elevator rose quickly, but I knew it would be a while so for the first time in a few hundred years I sat down. And god damn did it feel good. I realized as I sat down that i was still naked. Kinda forgot about that. New mission. Find, or make clothes. Don't want humanities first contact to go south due to errant dick.

I hit a random button stopping the elevator a few floors short of the top. Again, nobody was there. But there was furniture. I think? It was growing out of the ground like it was molded from the floor. Weird organic shapes. But sitting proved easy enough. The seats were enormous. Way larger than I could ever hope to accommodate. But if there's seats they must have been organic life right? I can't imagine machines lounging around, so my spirits rose. Now if only I could find any of these guys. I hope these guys had curtains or something. I'm getting tired of being naked, and my butts cold. I'm hungry, but at least I don't have to worry about starving. Success! I found clothes. Hopefully. I think it might be some sort of battle suit or something. It's a jet black liquid that was suspended in a clear tube. Every other tube was empty except for this, a very sinister black, and purple one. When I touched the glass it slowly moved towards my hand. I didn't seem evil in its movement. It moved with a sense of want. Like it wanted companionship. Well I hit buttons below the tube till it opened and the black stuff slid onto the floor without a sound. I crouched down, and reached out to touch it. It mirrored my movements exactly. It felt soft. Softer than anything I've encountered. As soon as I touched it ran up my arm, quickly spread over my body. I didn't really panic since it couldn't suffocate me, so I just let it do what it was going to do. It slowly wrapped around my head, and once it had a full seal on me parts of it started to harden and change shape. The shoulders bulged up and out. My legs became almost completely covered in what seemed like armor. It was pretty awesome to watch. The not so awesome part was the pressure I was starting to feel pressing in on my boys. It started to crush me, and when I started to beg the suit to stop while sounding like a soprano singer it relaxed. After everything had settled I decided to test out the suit. It moves with me really well. Like it's not even there. I feel more capable with this thing. Powerful even. I quickly discovered I could run faster, jump higher, and was much stronger. Felt like those PF Flyers I wore as a kid. Now that I had some clothes on I popped back into the elevator and headed to the top. The door opened and there was a barricade. After moving the stuff out of the way I wandered into the room to find no one. Which is confusing the hell out of me. Why barricade the way in to protect no one. And no one before me has made an attempt to get through the barricade. I explored the floor. Mostly one big hallway so far, but I'm not seeing any signs of a struggle. No broken windows. No holes in the walls. Zip. What were these people trying to keep out. I found another much sturdier barricade at the end of the hallway. Took a while to make a hole in it. I'd never be able to without the suit. On the other side there was a massive atrium. It had to be the size of a football stadium. It was completely empty except for something in the middle. After jogging towards it for a few minutes I realized what it was. Bodies. A big pile of bodies. Torn up, gnawed on bodies. Then I realized the barricades weren't about keeping something out. But keeping it in. I started to go back for the entrance when I started hearing thunder. I stopped for an instant when the hud of my suit blasted me with a warning. Before I could finish reading it I found myself flying through the air and slamming into the wall with enough force to be embedded into it. I should remind you that I was close to the center of the ring. I flew a good 300 yards into a wall. I never even saw what hit me. But it was ungodly strong. I pried myself free from the wall just in time to see what hit me.

I'm not a xenobiologist, but I know that this thing wasn't natural. Something seriously deformed this thing. Being immortal pretty much tosses fear out the window. In my entire life I've never known this kind of fear. The creature was tall. At least 12 feet tall. It was horribly deformed. Bones were jutting out of it all over its body. It didn't have eyes. None that I could see. It looked like it grew a couple sizes very quickly and the seams just popped while staying alive. It roared again and again. I know the sound of pain when I hear it. This creature wasn't happy about its current state. Part of me wanted to help the beast, but the very large pile of broken shredded bodies told me that wasn't super likely to happen. I'm gonna have to think about this for a minute.

I'm fucked. That's my breakdown on this situation. Fucked.

I've tried to leave three times only to find myself leaving new me shaped holes in the walls. After that I tried to approach the beast. New hole. Back away to the wall, meet opposite wall. So far the only action that doesn't get me flying lessons is sitting still. I've been here for 2 days, and I gotta say. This planet isn't winning any favors from me. I'm getting annoyed prying myself out of the damn wall. I may be immortal but shit still hurts. The creature hasn't moved an inch since it last hit me. It's currently about 400 yards away glaring at me. I think. No eyes makes it hard to tell. Anyway. I think I'm gonna do what my uncle did when he got drunk. Yell incoherent shit, and hope it pans out. I stood up, and started walking slowly towards the beast. The beast, being the jerk off that it is roared and rushed to reintroduce me to the wall. I kept my pace, and when the creature was 20 meters from me I started yelling. "STOP!!" I bellowed as loud as I could. The creature thundered to a halt right in front of me. Head inches from mine. "That's better. No more hitting you hear me!?" No response. "Well at least you didn't hit me. Ok. What we are going to do now is I'm going to cross this room and find out who that pile of horribleness is. Ok?" Again. No response. I'll take that as an 'yes', so let's get going" I took my first step, and nothing happened. Step two, nothing. I got all the way to step 33 when there was a flash, and I woke up face down a few inches into the floor. "Ok. That's fucking it." I pulled myself upright. Looked over at the creature. It was about 12 yards away. Judging by the groove in the floor it hit me in the back of the head, and I skidded along the ground coming to a halt in my crater for nap time. "Hope you're proud of yourself big guy, because now I'm gonna take it out of your ass." I started sprinting towards the beast. If this thing can die then I'll win. No matter how long it takes I will outlast it. The beast was on me in a matter of seconds. It leapt into the air one arm cocked back, ready to crush me with crazed fervor. I jumped towards it, cannonballing straight into its gut at full speed. I heard the grunt of pain come out of it with satisfaction. Before I could celebrate however it's mighty arms wrapped around me. It turned in mid air, and with all its strength and weight; drove me into the ground. I gasped in pain as the air was forced out of me. It then grabbed my ankle and tossed me like a garbage bag. I slammed into wall hard enough I bounced out of my crater. Picking myself up i could see the creature getting ready to charge. I shouted at my my suit. "Cmon! It's coming! I need a weapon!"

PROCESSING... WEAPONS ACTIVATED... WARNING! AMMUNITION DEPLETED.... WEAPONS RESTRICTED TO SWORD, GLAIVE, SPEAR... "Fine whatever just give me the spear!!!"

-SPEAR ACTIVATED-

Suddenly a spear started forming on my arm. At least a foot long pole did. As soon as I pulled it off of my forearm it extended to the perfect length for me. The tip turned into a wicked point. Even being immortal I wanted no part of that blade touching me. Quickie interruption. In case you're wondering. Over my long life I took up the age old art of "hit stuff really hard." Ive master several disciplines, and many weapons. It's pretty easy when you have multiple lifetimes to work on it. But over that entire time, I gravitated to one weapon above all others. And that my dear readers. Is the spear. I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming. Enjoy the show.

This time with more confidence I charged the beast again. It snarled in rage at my refusal to die like the rest of its visitors. It punched two neat craters into the ground before charging me. As it entered striking distance I pole vaulted over the creature, and swiped a great slash down its back. Bright blue congealed blood oozed out of its wound as it howled in agony. I snapped out my spear sending the blade deep into its shoulder. Twisting the shaft I widened the wound preventing it from closing. The beast was defenseless under my onslaught. The blade danced around me as I cut, stabbed, and slashed countless wounds into the creature. Blood pooled at its feet, but I couldn't deal a killing blow. The bones protruding all over its body prevented my spear hitting its final mark. I'd have to bleed the creature dry. While readying my spear for another thrust, with speed I thought no longer possible its fist came fast and low, crashing into my chest; rocketing me across the room into the wall. I lost my spear as I was flying. Pulling myself from the wall I began frantically searching for it, before spotting it almost midway between the two of us. "Really?.... Seriously. Fuck this planet." "Suit. If you can hear me. I need speed. All you can give me. I have to get to that spear before that thing." -PROCESSING- -SPEED INCREASED TO MAXIMUM ALLOWANCE- The suit changed around me. I could feel it making my legs stronger. Longer. Better suited for high speed. "Oh ho ho. I am never taking this thing off!" As I pressed off with my foot I felt the ground crack, and splinter under the new force of my speed. I was almost passing the spear before I realized where I was. I grabbed the spear, and held it tight. Thinking of a plan. The beast was stunned by my newfound abilities as well, it's head tilted towards one side as it stared at me. It quickly regained its composure, and set off once again to try and kill me. But with my new speed it was no match. If I couldn't cut through its bone I'll have to punch through it. I willed the suits strength into my arm, and threw the spear as hard as I could muster. Spinning as it flew the missile was a blur in the air. It slammed into the beast's chest as it ran at full speed. Combined with the spears speed the bones protecting its chest gave way as if it were tinfoil. The blade pushed out of its back, and with a gurgling growl; the beast slumped to the ground on its side. Lifeless. Panting hard I dropped to my knees and threw my fists into the air in victory. "YES! No more hitting the god dammed wall!!!" I fell back and relaxed for the first time in days. Laying down I took in just how amazing this suit is. I think I might have survived even without being immortal. The impacts definitely hurt, but I know it was much less intense than it should have been. With that moment passed I hauled myself onto my feet, and went to retrieve my weapon. With a quick grunt of effort I pulled the spear free. Placing it against my arm the shaft shortened, and sank back into the black material. "So cool. Alright now. Time to check out this pile of shit that started this mess."

The pile had been there a while. There wasn't much to discern from the bodies. They were all mangled beyond my ability to mentally put them together in any sensible way. What I could figure out is that this species was tall, has 2, or 4 arms. They also unlike the beast sported 2 sunken eyes. Perhaps the creatures mutation spread grew bone over the eyes? They didn't seem to wear any clothes, but then I noticed they are all modified in some ways. Some have hands replaced with mechanical ones designed for combat, while others have they're entire heads replaced with improved optical capabilities, and I'm guessing improved cognitive functions. The biggest one was the most modified. All but it's head had been replaced. It's chest was caved in, but it was easy to tell that it was once very formidable armor. In all honesty this looks like a combat squad. There's about 8 of them. The ring area was not pristine when I got here either. My guess is this creature was lured here, and while this team was trying to kill it whilst others barricaded the hallways out, presumably before moving to the higher floors. That might be what happened here. These creatures arrived, and moved up the buildings driving people higher, and higher as they evacuated. But that didn't make sense. The lobby was utterly unmarked. If I were defending a building, you hold the entrance while the others escape upwards. "Well there's only one way to find out. Back to the elevator." Once back into the elevator I pushed for the top floor. As it started to rise it dawned on me that any survivors running from that beast might not be happy about the elevator going up. "Spear" I said quietly, and the spear unfolded once more from my arm. I stepped to one side of the doors for good measure. The elevator glided to a silent stop, and the doors slid open. Well no gunfire, so that's a plus. But momma didn't raise no fool children. I stuck my hand out, and instantly pulled it back in after a gunshot rang out, a split second later my yelp of pain followed. The armor caught the bullet, but God dammit that hurt! Plus side. At least I'm not alone. Let's hope these trigger happy guys speak English. "Hold your fire!! Friendly!! I'm not that beast!" That's what I said anyway. What came out of the suit was pure gibberish. "Oh god if you're translating, please be translating properly." More gibberish rang out from the hall. Suddenly a voice rang out in my head. "Where is the creature?!" Gotta tell ya. Hearing a voice in your head that doesn't sound like you is trippy. "Dead" I called out. "I fought it for 2 days before spearing it through the heart." I held the spear out into the doorway wiggling it for emphasis. "You lie!" The voice hissed. "Our best warriors fell to the beast." "You mean a few floors down in the big room?" A flurry of voices rose up. "He saw the room, and made it out! He must have killed it!" Said one. "Lies" called the first. "It's more likely this creature saw the beast and fled before it could reach him" I decided to interrupt. The past few hundred years of being utterly alone gnawed at my patience until it was at an all time low. I wanted to talk to someone, and not get thrown into the wall for my troubles. "Listen. I will take you down there. We can both put our weapons down, and see for ourselves. Deal?" The murmuring intensified. "Fine the voice called out, but if you lie, you are dead where you stand." Buddy if only you knew.

A shadow entered the elevator. Quickly followed by a towering figure. Easily 10 feet tall. The man thingy had dark blue skin. Almost black out of the light. It looked down on me. It's deep eyes studying me. It's eyes were spectacular to look at. I found myself staring. They were jet black, but with white light swirling within them. It introduced itself. "I am Forsciun Xelalmos" (For-she-un Ze-lal-mos) of the Shalore people. Who are you?" I steadied myself. "I am Connor Flamewright. A human from the now destroyed planet earth. The third planet of this system. I am the last of my kind." "We know of this planet. We've tried to communicate, but our calls went unanswered. What happened to it?" It was hard to know where to begin. I hadn't thought about it at all in at least 200 years. "It was hit by a planetoid larger than our moon. We tried all measures to stop it, but nothing worked." "And how did you survive where your kin did not?" "An accident long ago left me immortal. Are you familiar with this word? Immortal?" Forsciun nodded. "I take it this was how you killed the beast?" I nodded. "It was very strong, but with my immortality, and this suit I found, I was able to overcome the beast." Forsciun put his hand to his chin thoughtfully. Then he stepped into the elevator, and pressed the button for the floor I just left. "Show me. If you speak the truth we have much to discuss." I twirled the spear, and slid it back into my arm. "Alright then." The elevator descended in silence for what seemed like eternity before Forsciun spoke. "This suit is of our technology. How is it you are able to use it?" I looked down at the suit, and began to wonder that myself. "I found it by itself in a tube. It seemed to like me, or desired to be used, and after drifting through space for close to a thousand years then free falling naked onto your planet. I just wanted to find some clothes."

We stood in silence the remainder of the ride down. I wasn’t sure what Forsciun was thinking, but I’m sure he was working out how to kill me if I was lying. Whatever happened to these people, it had left them with extremely cautious of the unknown. Once we reached the floor the beast was on I led the way through the barricades towards the atrium. Once we reached the opening I pointed out the remains of the beast. Forsciun couldn’t believe it. He sprinted forwards reaching the dead brute quickly. After examining it in silence he began to survey the room, taking in all the holes in the walls and floor that the creature so generously helped me make. “How long were you here with it?” “Just over 3 days.” He nodded thoughtfully. “These creatures are extremely dangerous. They drove us up our towers away from the streets. Once trapped at the top we were cut off from the rest of our people. We don’t know how many of us are left.” “I wandered the streets for some time calling out. I never heard, or saw anyone.” Forsciun shook his head sorrowfully. “That does not bode well. We managed to kill some of these things, but they were so resistant to our weapons. As if designed to be our destruction.” I could feel his pain, and understood his feeling of helplessness. Wanting nothing more than to save your people, but being powerless to do so. I wanted to help him, and his people. “Do you think if we spread the word of how I killed it we could help save the people still living?” “Possibly.” he murmured. “Not all of my people are warriors. The majority of our military is gone. We used to be able to see the fighting from the windows. Explosions in the distance. Fighting in the streets.” He trailed off. “It’s been some time since we’ve seen that. They either retreated, or were wiped out.” I activated my spear and pounded the pommel on the ground. “We’ll find your people. And slaughter these creatures wherever we find them.” Forsciun lifted his head, and stood straighter. “Thank you earther. For too long I have been concerned only with survival. I had long since given up the notion of being able to save my people. We need to go, and gather my men. We will push the next tower!”

As we returned to the elevator I began to ask Xelalmos about this world, and his people. I discovered that Forsciun was in fact not a name but a title. It meant commander. I high ranking member of their military. “We call this world Krionis, but it is not our home world. Our home world Shalore was located in what your people referred to as the Triangulum Galaxy. We spread far and wide across the galaxy. We held sway over the cosmos. We thought ourselves the rulers of all creation.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “The universe as it turns out. Enjoys putting people in its place. We were settling a new world when we encountered a virus. A long hibernating virus. By the time the first people started to die. It had already spread across the galaxy. A quarantine was set around Shalore. No vessel was allowed to enter within 30 light-seconds of the planet. Many tried to escape the virus by returning to our home, but all were destroyed. In the end our leaders decided that all of our kind that lived on Shalore would be put into stasis, and sent out among the stars. To colonize new galaxies. Our ship brought my ancestors here. To the edge of this galaxy. As we left Triangulum we received news that the blockade was broken, and the planet fell. Our ships would be the last of our kind. That was over 200 million years ago. We reached this planet, and quickly adapted it to our needs. But the universe was not through with us. 20 years ago these creatures started falling from the skies. Devouring, and destroying my people. Which brings us full circle.”

The elevator beeped and the doors to the top floor opened. “That’s a hell over a story. I’m sorry to hear the story of your people.” Then it dawned on me. “Wait a minute. How do you know what we call the galaxies?” “As I mentioned earlier. We’ve known of your existence for some time. In our attempts to make contact we learned much of your people. You were a prosperous people. You advance with a pace not often seen in the universe. Given a few thousand years, and your people would have been a power to behold.” My head hung low. “Would have.” I said to myself. The human race was essentially extinct. I would I guess last forever, until something finally wiped me from existence. At least I would be able to tell the stories of my world, and travel the cosmos letting all know of my people. That was a small comfort. Xelalmos put his hand on my shoulder. “Worry not Con Nor. There is battle ahead. We must prepare. Come. Meet my men.” He moved ahead of me, and walked towards his men. The one I would learn to know as Keez glared at me the entire time Xelalmos explained what he saw, and the coming plan. His team consisted of 4 Including himself. Xelalmos would lead, his second in command Niivu welcomed me congratulating me on my kill. If his commander trusted me, that was enough for him. That left their doctor, Marq. When they said his name I assumed they were having fun with me. They didn’t believe me when I said “mark” was an common name on earth. Marq assured me that it was indeed his name. Finally we come to my biggest fan Keez. Keez was what they called an Arcturant. Basically a walking fortress. Covered in thick armor with heavy weapons mounted on his shoulders. Fearless devastating, and a personality to match.

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