#because the line between 'imagination doing its thing' and 'full on dreaming' can get quite blurred for me

[scatterpatter]

I think the funniest thing about the whole “not realizing instantly going into REM is a sign of narcolepsy or some other sleep disorder” is, on numerous occasions, literally timing myself on how quickly I can get myself to dream

And then realizing that Thats Not Normal and Most People Cant Do That

[messyo5]

The Return of The NPS Ranger (Just in My Head)

Whenever I feel like I don't know what to do with my life, as in career-wise, I always resort to USAJOBS and I scroll on there for between an hour or four hours. It depends on my sense of security in myself and my will to close the chrome tabs. I do this because one of the first jobs I can remember wanting so badly was to be a park ranger. I loved their neat brown uniforms with the shiny buttons, and how despite having clipped collars, they wore the polo and slacks like a t-shirt and jeans. I loved the way every last one I had met felt familiar and warm, although I suppose that might be because they are some of the first people I had met who matched my own mother's zeal for forestry and ecology. I loved the way they made me feel included and intelligent and made learning and showing off how I cared for the environment so damn exciting (which makes me sound like a hippie but there's worse titles to have, just don't get me confused with them, there's an overlap but we are most definitely not the same). Regardless, the rangers always left me with new ideas and facts and love and wonderment for the intricacies of the world that quite frankly, blew my tiny mind. I was 10 when my family had the traditional TV show arc of going out west from our suburban east coast city to a couple of the numerous parks in the wild deserts and prairies, but most notably, we went to Yellowstone. This trip was so mind altering for me, its one of those experiences that wakes you up. We all have those, for one reason or another we have experiences that wake up something in you that just was already there, but it was dormant, all it needed was a prod or a push or just a single line or thought to make it roar to life and paint your life in new shades of depth and thought and complexity that you had never before imagined. Seeing the architecture of ancient stone, ribboned plains and flats, crystalline pools of sulfur and bacteria, yeah, you could say I was a little interested. In Yellowstone I talked to a 17 year old girl with long dark hair and a voice like a chickadee. She was the driver for one of the yellow taxis for a tour around some of the park's geysers. There at one of the stops she made, while she was wiping off the silica rich water from the windshield of the car, she gave me advice that changed my world, I could start working as a driver for the national parks and get paid $12 an hour (more than I made in a year as a 10 year old) when I turned 16, and the NPS would give you housing and food allowance, which meant that I could work literally anywhere I wanted to and be independent while I was at it. Getting a job like that became my obsession up until I was ACTUALLY 16, then I had a job at a pizza place and was miserable with myself for that, but also realized that with the newfound American-Dream freedom of turning 16 and being able to drive, I valued the time and gas money I was given during the summer to see my friends. But because of that years have gone by and I still haven't worked for the NPS. But its always nagging me in the back of my mind when I think about taking a new job or different job for the year or over the summer. Something seems so fulfilling to go back to that passion, that thing that woke up a chunk of my being. That's why I find myself scrolling the NPS job listings for hours, contemplating all the different paths my life could take if I chose as far as Washington, Cali, Alaska, or as close to home as the Smokies. The people and places I could meet that would make me feel so full of wonderment and life, and more importantly, the little girls I could tell about the salamanders in Appalachia, watching in nostalgic warmth as her grin unfolds and she asks me to tell her more.

[casspurrjoybell-22]

Dream Eater - Chapter 12 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

"Alex, get your things," Damien orders as he unlocks our apartment and lets us in.

"We're leaving."

"Where will we go?" I ask, rushing to throw clothes in a bag.

He thinks for a moment.

"Back to Carnâk," he says.

"You know it already and we'll be relatively safe."

"What about that Oran guy?" I ask.

"Doesn't he still want to kill me?"

Damien doesn't answer immediately and continues to throw things into his travel bag.

"I can handle Oran. He caught me by surprise the last time. If he gives us trouble again, I'll be ready. Besides, he'll be more interested in the fact that one of his people is a spy than in picking a fight he can't win."

"You think that's what Maliel meant about an informant?"

"Yes. Possibly it's the same person who betrayed Sakariel. I'd give quite a lot to discover who they are."

"Why can't we just stay in the dead zones here on Earth?" I ask, unwilling to give up our current lives so easily.

"We could go to England like we did last time or Canada or something."

"No. Last time all I did was use a bit of power. This time I was forced to reveal my true form. It's like ringing a great bell. The reverberations will continue for a long time. Azael would be able to find us wherever we go."

"But not in Carnâk?"

He hesitates.

"Carnâk is protected in its own way. Azael may know we're there, but he and his people aren't welcome and can't enter that realm with anything but a full-on assault. He won't risk that."

"How long do we have?" I ask.

I've finished packing but I'm not quite ready to leave.

"A few hours. Travel between realms isn't instantaneous and Azael resides in one of the deeper hells. Maliel and Yakketh likely haven't even reached it yet."

"Then there's something I want to do before we go. It won't take long, I promise."

It's already nearly midnight but I knock on Dante's door anyway.

They answer, wrapped in a long purple robe and looking a little more disheveled than usual.

I see the reason in the form of two bodies asleep on the bed.

"Alex, darling. What are you doing here so late?" Dante asks.

"Sorry for interrupting your meal," I say, glancing at the bed.

"I came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? What do you mean? Oh. Hello, Damien. I didn't see you lurking there in the shadows."

Dante's opinion of Damien has thawed over the last few months but I still wouldn't quite describe it as warm.

"Dante," Damien nods.

To me he says...

"Make it quick, Alex. We don't have much time."

Ushering us inside, Dante wakes up their 'guests' and sees them out.

The man and woman cast us unhappy looks as they depart and I wonder if they think they've been replaced.

I tell Dante what's happened and what we plan to do while Damien wanders the apartment, admiring the paintings.

He hasn't seen them before and he's obviously enamored.

As I conclude my story, Dante casts a glare at Damien where he stands enthralled before their latest work.

It's the painting of me they began when I was staying here.

"So he used infernal power because a bunch of ill-behaved humans barely old enough to drink called you names and waved a gun? Honey, that happens to me at least once a week," Dante scoffs.

"You didn't hear what they said," Damien counters.

"You think I can't imagine? I'm sure I've heard worse in the checkout line at the mall. This world has gotten better, no mistake but it's still no paradise."

Damien frowns.

"Paradise is boring. And the humidity is awful. You'd hate it."

"Yes, I'm sure where you're from is much better," Dante smirks.

"No. It's hot as... well... Hell but at least it's a dry heat."

Abruptly, Damien changes the subject.

"Is this piece finished?" he gestures to the painting.

"Yes," Dante nods, coming to stand at his side.

They admire it together.

"It's a shame we have to leave. I'd have bought your whole collection and built a gallery just to house it," Damien says.

Dante looks surprised and a bit gratified.

"The shame is that you're taking my favorite subject to another dimension and may never bring him back."

"It can't be helped, I'm afraid. Alex, are you ready?"

I nod.

Tears sting my eyes as I embrace Dante for what may be the last time.

"Thanks for being my friend, Dante. I love you," I say into their shoulder.

"I love you, too, little bird."

Dante kisses the side of my head.

"I'm going to miss you."

I step away, vision swimming with tears.

Damien holds our bags in one hand and reaches for me with the other.

"Goodbye," I say and close my eyes as I step into Damien's embrace.

I see the glare of the blue fire through my lids.

Just as the world starts to spin and dissolve around me, something warm and solid collides with my back.

I almost open my eyes in surprise as Dante's voice speaks in my ear.

"Fuck this shit," they say.

"I'm coming with you."

********

"What the fuck were you thinking," Damien yells, as Dante gets to their feet and dusts off their robe.

"You could have killed us all."

We've landed in a large courtyard with high walls of smooth stone.

Dante casts him a look.

"Don't be so dramatic. We're all fine."

"Dante... your eyes. Are they okay?" I ask, worried.

They look at me.

"Of course. I'm not an idiot like some people."

I'm relieved and then almost as angry as Damien, though for different reasons.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" I ask.

"Shit, Dante. This isn't a trip across town or to another country. We're in another fucking dimension and you can't just pop back home whenever you please."

"I care about you, little bird," Dante says and shrugs.

"Also, I wasn't about to lose a potential new patron and my favorite muse in one go."

They look at Damien.

"It seems we have similar tastes in art. Perhaps you'd like to commission me for a piece or two."

"Damn it, Dante," I say.

"You can't just leave everything behind like that. Not for me."

"No, not just for you," Dante agrees.

"I was getting bored anyway and this Carnâk place sounds interesting. I'm ready for a fresh start."

"You're impossible."

Dante grins at me and then frowns.

"What's wrong with you, anyway?" they ask.

While Dante and Damien are up and about as though they didn't just cross dimensions, I'm still on the ground, fighting to suppress a bout of dizziness and nausea.

"It's the dimensional shift," Damien says.

"This is actually the best he's done so far."

"Really?" Dante raises a brow.

I glare and struggle to my feet but don't object when Damien loops a supporting arm around my waist.

"Come on," he says.

"Let's go let Allannan know we've returned."

********

We're welcomed back with open arms and Dante receives an especially warm welcome, artists being among the most revered members of Carnâk society.

To my surprise, the only person who seems unhappy to see us is Allannan's political partner, Deberon.

When she proposes providing us with a permanent residence in the city, he objects.

"Providing asylum to a fugitive and a refugee is one thing, Allannan, but this is like waving a declaration of war in Azael's face. He will know they are here and keeping the thing he wants most out of his grasp is not a responsibility Carnâk is prepared to assume."

"You worry too much, Deberon. If he threatens us, we have allies we can rely on who will come to our defense."

"Our responsibility is to Carnâk first," he counters.

"Or have you forgotten?"

"Please," Damien interrupts.

"If it comes to that, we will leave. There are other places... nowhere near as comfortable as your realm... but if we wear out our welcome here, we will go. Rest assured, we wish no harm to Carnâk or its people."

Allannan is pleased with this and Dante looks curious but Deberon's expression of nervous unease lightens only slightly.

My own feelings are mixed.

I like Carnâk and I'm glad Dante is with me.

But I've experienced enough bad dreams to recognize the start of a nightmare when I see it.

[8bitsupervillain]

Best Games that came out before 2022!

I thought briefly about combining the pre-2022 games with the games that actually came out in 2022. In fact I still plan to, but I figure I should separate the lists and include my mini-reviews.

10: Leisure Suit Larry (real caveat hours)

For the purposes of its entry here this is in fact most of the Leisure Suit Larry series. The old Sierra ones anyway. Is it cheating? Technically sure, but the thing about it is I can't really pick one out of the line up to be like "this is the best one." LSL1 is a decent little game, but it has aged rather poorly and the gambling section you have to do is the worst. LSL2 is not good in the slightest, and I hate it quite a bit in fact. LSL3 is good, I greatly enjoyed the story and like Passionate Patti as a character. LSL5 is maybe the best of the originals, but there are some hang ups I have with it looking at it with a modern lens (the blackface, I'm talking about the blackface). LSL6 is a pretty decent game with some really good jokes in it, but it also has some of the worst bugs, some of which can straight up lock you out of being able to finish the game. Love For Sail meanwhile plays the best out of the series but has some real aggravating moments where you have to be pixel perfect in your play. Also it has another similarly terrible gambling section just like the original Larry. I didn't play the remake of the first Larry this year but I can't imagine it does too terribly much to make it stand out from the rest.

I have to say though I greatly prefer the Sierra Larry games to the first attempted reboots that came out in the 2000s. I haven't finished it but Magna Cum Laude just seems like a really poor game that lacks the charm of the older entries. There's also Box Office Bust, but I'm given to understand that's somehow even worse, especially since you can't buy it from any of the digital stores, and I don't really want to buy a disc drive just to play Leisure Suit Larry: Box Office Bust.

I'm in full fanfiction mode here now, if they do make a new Leisure Suit Larry game I kind of want them to include a character like Passionate Patti. Wet Dreams Don't Dry included a small section where you play as Faith in between the two games so clearly they're not opposed to the idea of having a female player character in the reboot series. Then again, I'm also fine with them just leaving the series alone because I felt that Wet Dreams Dry Twice was a wonderful send off to the reboots. Also with the passing of Jan Rabson I can't imagine they'd be in too much of a hurry to make a new one. I humbly submit to you that I think they should try making a Passionate Patti game. Make a game like the Larry reboots, but have Patti be the main character, I think that could be good. Couldn't be any worse than Les Manley or Jerry Wanker.

09: Final Fantasy XIII

For a good decade or so I kept hearing the constant rumblings and grumblings about how Final Fantasy XIII was more or less a slap in the face for RPG fans. The hallway, the hallway, Pulse l'Cie, fal'cie, cieth, gotta read the in-game bestiary to get the lore, why does Hope gotta be such an emo boy, etc. etc. I quite liked this game, maybe I'd feel differently if I were a long-time fan of the series, but honestly this game really doesn't feel so bad as its years of reputation would lead one to assume it is. My only real complaint is playing the game on the normal difficulty makes enemies entirely too spongy, but kicking the difficulty down to easy made it feel a lot better. Not that it made it a cakewalk, I died a few more times than I'd care to admit. For all the harrumphing and furor I've heard in regards to the story I liked it, sure there's some realy pacing issues and nonsensical twists but I thought it was a good story. One of things I liked about it is despite her status as the cover girl Lightning really doesn't feel like she's the main character or hero of the story. I know she's given more plot relevance/made the hero in later entries, but here in XIII she doesn't really get that much more screen time than any of the other characters. You could just as easily assign main character/protag status to Vanille or Fang, hell even Hope or Sazh if you're feeling particularly brave.

The only other major complaint I have with this game is when you do inevitably get down to Pulse I don't care for the sudden open-world the game gives you. I didn't particularly mind the game giving you a path to follow, so when it gives you this rather poor open world I was kind of trying to just rush through the section so I could get back to the story proper. Also the ratings after the battles I think don't add a whole lot to the experience. It's not like it's an action game where it can judge your combat proficiency like a Devil May Cry or similar. The combat system really feels like a single player version of a system from an MMO. Where you choose your attacks or spells and the game just does them automatically. That being said I don't mind the combat system, I think it's perfectly functional, even if I did find the summons to be slightly confusing to use (and I cannot for the life of me remember how it actually functioned, I played this way back in February). I'm eager to try the rest of the trilogy because despite how "the story is poorly handled" I want to see how the rest of it shakes out.

08: DJMAX Respect V

I enjoy rhythm games. I may not be particularly great at them but I find the simplicity of "push button to do good" of a lot of these types of games to be fun. Like so many people I fell face first into the clutches of Guitar Hero/Rock Band back in the day. I've always been vaguely aware of the DJMAX series, but never really bothered with it, until now! Is good. I like most of the tracks that are available for it, I'm not the biggest fan of K-pop but this has some really good K-Pop tracks in it that made me a fan of several of the artists. Also it's good to know that if I ever need to find a way to rid myself of several hundred dollars the DLC option is right there for me. Good game.

07: The Darkside Detective

A delightful comedy mystery adventure game. It leans heavy on the supernatural element, but I found it to be a delightful game. Some of the jokes are absolutely groanworthy, but I feel that none of the chapters of the game outstay their welcome. I think this might have been an episodic thing way back when but I'm not a hundred percent sure. It would definitely explain why the game is split into six separate cases (plus two extra ones you unlock after completing the main story) that largely have nothing to do with each other but I'm not sure that's the case. It's not a particularly long game, but I don't think that's really something to hold against the game. It just means that it doesn't get the chance to start getting annoying with blatantly unfair puzzles. More games should have the decency to not drag themselves out forever, and instead end before things get too bad.

06: Call of Duty Black Ops III (Girls' Frontline Mod)

Honestly if you asked me back in April if I would replay Call of Duty Black Ops III, much less had it be in my top ten I probably would've reacted negatively. Largely because I distinctly remember not caring for Blops 3 when I played it way back when. But then I stumbled across the Girls' Frontline mod for the game and I decided what the hell I'll give it a whirl. I'm really surprised at how much I like the actual gameplay it was a fun time to be had. I find that the combination of Girls' Frontline with the storyline of Blops 3 worked out really well. From what I understand a lot of the later story in Frontline lends itself well to the techno-conspiracy stuff seen in Blops 3. Also I feel that the use of the models from GF is the closest I'll ever get to my dream game of making a big elaborate espionage conspiracy game like this or a Metal Gear Solid and just having everyone be an anime waifu. The one time in the game it doesn't swap out the model for one of the Dolls is really funny to me. It's great seeing photo-realistic Robert Picardo standing with a bunch of anime girls.

05: Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance

I considered doing with Kingdom Hearts what I did with Leisure Suit Larry. I thought about combining them all into one entry and saying: Kingdom Hearts, all of em (except Chain of Memories). But the thing is I can absolutely point to an entry and say "this, this is the absolute peak, and pinnacle of the series. God I love it. I want to have sloppy makeouts with it." Dream Drop Distance is an amazing second place prize winner in this regard. Dream Drop Distance plays like a conglomeration of everything I love about the various Kingdom Hearts games just crammed into one very thrilling and masterfully executed package. The only aspect about the game that I didn't care for was some of the Flowmotion stuff because the environments in the game really don't lend themselves well to it. They're crying out for a more open environment like what would eventually be in Kingdom Hearts 3, not the pretty closed off arenas of DDD. That being said everything else about this game is just an absolute gem.

The combat is much more refined and feels better than the combat in Birth by Sleep, the focus on two playable characters kept the pacing of the game moving at a good clip. Then there's the boss fights! Some of the best boss fights in the entire franchise are located in this entry. I may have complained about the sheer soul-crushing challenge of the Rinzler and young!Xehanort fights but I can't help but admit that they are two absolute stand outs from across the series. Even with the fights I don't like I can tell that they took the lessons they learned from Birth By Sleep and 358/2 Days and made the bosses fit the restrictions of the handheld better than some from the past. It's something of a double-edged sword though there's at least one encounter that is entirely too clausterphobic for the big fight you have to do. And the less said about Spellican the better I say.

This was a great game and an absolute delight in setting up what was to come in the final installment of the current story arc. It is also in my opinion the game with the best realization for Xigbar since KH2, and wonderfully sets up what becomes of him in KH3. The only real complaint I have about the games technical aspects isn't even strictly to do with the game itself but with the weird implementation of achievements on the PC version of the game. For whatever reason Epic Games has the correct amount of play time listed in the library, but it does not show any of the achievements I unlocked during my time with the game. The same thing happened with the achievements in Birth By Sleep: A Fragmentary Passage, other than that though I had no problems with the game on a techincal front.

04: Tyranny

I do enjoy a good dark and edgy fantasy every now and then. I don't really look specifically for it any more because of the absolute glut of the stuff you can find out there. Tyranny is special in my eyes because it does the dark and edgy fantasy stuff really well and is written well enough that it never really stands out as just pointless edge just for the sake of it. Sure there are cartoonishly evil characters like The Voice of Nerat who just seems to be the embodiment of "lol random chaos evil murder. I'm so quirky." But the rest of the game is so well-written that it makes a character like that work. What I like about the game is that since you're playing as an evil overlord who is sent to oppress the masses the game doesn't make you undergo an arc where you realize Tunon (your overlord) is in fact a bad so you need to work with a token resistance to stop him. It lets you start as an evil overlord and stay as an evil overlord, it's nice and refreshing. I love how some of the conversations in this game are basically boss fights where you have to choose exactly the right choices or the conversation goes extremely poorly to the point where someone has to die. Sure there are plenty of times that combat is inevitable, but I appreciate when the game lets you talk down an opponent and convince them to join your side in overthrowing some other pawn of darkness. It's not the longest RPG in the world but I think it works to its favor. Since it's shorter it doesn't take as long to go through the multiple routes and see what the game has to offer in terms of story content. I wish that there could be a sequel one day, but given the accusations and everything against Chris Avellone I completely understand why that's not likely to happen. Still though this was a phenomenal game, and I highly recommend it to anyone who has a passing interest in CRPGs.

03: Return of the Obra Dinn

I always thought this looked like a neat thing. But for whatever reason I just never really took the time to actually play it. It's certainly not a typical scenario for a video game, go do some investigating to find out what happened to an entire ship's crew as an insurance agent. What I wasn't expecting was some of the absolutely out of left field events that occurred on the ship. I don't think anyone could accurately guess what leads to the ultimate downfall of the Obra Dinn. I liked this game a lot, there are some issues I have with trying to identify the differences between some of the sailors, but I think that's more down to me just being bad at recognizing the differences between some faces. It was always a massive boon when a character would have some sort of facial hair so I could tell the difference between characters. I love the voice acting in the game, hearing various European and Asian sailors yelling at each other brought a big smile to my face. I don't wish to spoil the mystery of the game, so don't take the relatively small amount of text I wrote about it to be an indictment of the game, this is most certainly well worth playing. Plus it's on the Switch now, so you can take the fun insurance investigation on the go with you.

02: Kingdom Hearts 2

I did very seriously consider making this just a "All the Kingdom Hearts minus Chain of Memories are great, and here's a brief summation." But I think that Kingdom Hearts 2 stands head and shoulders above the rest of the series as the best. It astounds me that they went from KH1 being a very good game and then after a brief foray into card battling made this absolutely stellar piece of gaming. Just pure unadulterated greatness poured into this game, I love it to pieces. I find the opening hours of the game where you play as Roxas to be a great change of pace to the first entry and it sets up very well just what kind of story the rest of the game will bring you through. The combat is a real swell time acting as a very strong Action RPG that just generally plays better than the combat from the first outing. While the boss fights might lack some of the more big bombastic set pieces from later entries in the series they stand out in this game for being simply better than the others.

While I love the plots and counterplots and counter-counterplots of the later entries I love how comparatively straightforward this one is to the others. Sure there's certain trace elements of what would go on to the rest of the Kingdom Hearts plots but this one sets it all up in an extremely satisfactory way. I like how some of the Disney worlds in this game have some gameplay changes, they're not all just go into Mulan and fight and fight and fight. For as many people have griped about it Atlantica will stand out in your memory for how different it is compared to the other words, for good or ill. I love how Tron world starts out with you in the lightcycle arena before it goes back to the old Kingdom Hearts combat. It just plain feels good to play generally, it doesn't have the basic combat system of the first game, and it doesn't over complicate it by having the magic and combat systems that you would eventually see in Birth By Sleep, Dream Drop Distance, and 3.

For years I was always curious why the fandom for Kingdom Hearts seemed to always single out KH2 as the best of the franchise. Having played the game I can completely understand why. This is quite possibly one of the finest action RPGs I've played. A definite recommend.

01: Pillars of Eternity

I didn't go in to this game with any real expectations. I just sort of went in hoping to find a fun little RPG to play during my down time at work. I certainly did not expect to be so thoroughly gripped by this game, this is such a masterfully written and immaculate game that I am surprised I hadn't played it at any point in the past seven years. Particularly I'm surprised because I apparently kickstarted this game nearly a decade ago. Guess that goes to show how loose I am with my money and the games on my infinite backlog.

When I started the game I thought it was going to be just sort of a typical by the numbers RPG with fine combat. And at the very start that's what I figured it was going to be, but then after everyone who is accompanying your character dies I felt a marked difference in what was to come. When you get to the first town with the massive tree just full to bursting with hung corpses I started to figure this might be quite different from what I figured it would be.

I find this to be extremely difficult to talk about because I want to just gush and spoil the entire story of the game. But I don't want to spoil anyone because I do genuinely think this game is well worth playing. While the gameplay doesn't strictly do anything unique it just plays as a very strong refinement of CRPG mechanics that I've seen in other games like Blackguards or Tyranny (which itself was a further refinement of the systems from Pillars). While for the most part the gameplay can boil down to "have your guys just dogpile and turbo murder every enemy" there are also moments that are basically conversation boss fights. Which makes the game stand out very strongly to me, I absolutely adore when games let you have dialogue puzzles to make it so you don't HAVE to engage some of the pivotal fights. I love it when RPGs remember that there's more to situations than just combat and makes it so you can roll a character who is a bit of a sweet talker.

Another strong aspect of Pillars of Eternity is that with the DLC they released they actually went to the effort to record new dialogue for the original cast that interacts with the characters you can recruit in The White March. They even made it so if you have characters from the White March DLC they can interact with important characters in early parts of the game, it just blows me away. One gameplay thing I was surprised by is when you unlock your manor base I thought the game was going to make it so if you wanted to upgrade it you'd have to drop what you're doing and hoof it back to base. It was a very pleasant surprise that you don't have to do that, it's just an menu you can use whenever you please to do most things with the base. There are certain actions that will require you to be at Caed Nua (your manor/base), but these aren't super pivotal choices.

That's another thing I adore about Pillars of Eternity, your quest that is so incredibly important to your party is basically an unknown to the rest of the world. The world keeps turning to involve the petty issues of a mad lord with his big town square hanging tree hoping and praying his unborn child isn't born a soulless monster. You keep having to collect taxes and pay your employees who guard your estate. Of course no actual time passes in the game, it all really just progresses when you do your in-game quests. I just find it neat that as your going on this big world-changing journey no one outside of you, your party, and those you're actively chasing after is any the wiser.

I love this game it was just a such an utter delight to play through and I'm eagerly looking forward to playing Deadfire.

[fatalitylikeghosts]

teenage years are so interesting. it’s like everything you experience is everything to you. my high school friend group was the end of the line for me, my ride or dies. i couldn’t imagine a life beyond what we’d built together, spending every weekend and every minute after school just keeping each other company on the phone. we shared in each others pain and our pain was everything, world stopping, first priority. i cant count how many late nights i spent up, talking friends off the ledge, listening and feeling and grieving and burning with a righteous anger that screamed against a world that seemed somehow too small and too big to fit us in. i cant count how many nights i stayed awake in bed, crushed by the weight of emotions that didn’t make sense, thrown about by tides i didn’t understand but seemed to dictate everything for me. and that was it. that was the world. the school week cycle, afternoon shifts at the local coffee shop, a group of friends who i knew i would do anything for, who i knew would do the same for me. and we couldn’t wait to get out, to finish school, get out of our deadbeat towns and be real adults in the real world, but somehow even that was just a dream.

nothing really prepares you for when it ends. theres fire, and blood, and it burns as we try to shove jagged pieces back into places they no longer fit. the faces that were once family, that were once everything, are suddenly strangers, passing like ships in the night through a life you were supposed to share. your high school becomes just another building on the block, full of ghosts, and all the aspirations and dreams you once had never make their way off the launching pad. nothing really prepares you for that. of course nothing lasts for ever. of course those years were destined to end, but its one thing to know and another thing to experience and suddenly the world doesn’t look quite the same anymore. its so much bigger and you suddenly ache for the days when it was small, when it was angry and raw and yours. but those days have slipped through your fingertips like sand in the wind and all thats left is the memory of what it felt like to hold.

its a fresh start. you have no idea who you are, everything you thought you were certain of is turned upside down and you’re suddenly in free fall. the worlds moving by so fast you don’t even have the time to make sense of it as it passes. its anchor-less, its terrifying, and you wait for the moment where you can find your feet again and it never quite comes. instead, you look in, look back to the quiet corners of yourself that only you know and hope to god that’s enough to give you direction. and it is. bit by bit you piece yourself together through the pieces that have been there all along and the world’s not any smaller but you’re carving yourself into it and suddenly it doesn’t seem so terrible. you dont even realize how far you’ve come until suddenly you look back and theres all the distance between now and then.

everything is so intense at that age. its hard, it’s confusing, and it seems like no ones listening. often times i felt like “it gets better” was nothing more than a bandaid slapped lazily over a bullet wound, but there were some times when the message broke through. when it counted. when it came from someone with knowing eyes and an earnest heart. i’d cling to it, rope in a storm, blindly holding on in a white knuckle grip, devoid of anything but a desperate unknowing hope that they wouldnt be wrong. and they weren’t. because it does get better. the time that felt like everything suddenly becomes just a chapter in the long and beautiful story that lies ahead. theres a whole life ahead of you, a whole adventure waiting to be lived and it isn’t dictated by any of the expectations you once held yourself to. you’re free to question, to change, to shed the layers that no longer fit and find who you are, who you’ve always been.

and one day, suddenly, you realize you’ve grown up.

[asoulofatlantis]

I cant help but imagine trails characters reaction to a man saying this about his 15 year old son in a life and death fight " the pup left his home to chase his own dream once a bird leaves its nest he is an independent man a real man has the freedom to choose between life and death and a guy ( who cant interfere but wouldnt stop the father) asking how can you say that if this continues your son will meet certain death and the father remarking I can always have another son thoughts

Obviously most if not all Characters would not agree with this man or understand them at all. We see that even Shirleys father loves her so much that he did send someone to protect her even tho she didn't consent to that, making it clear that her life mattered more to him then her pride. And we are talking about the leader of the red constellation who saw his own brothers death as something to be proud of.

I mean, I could imagine someone like Duke Cayenne agreeing to something like that, but that man was nuts, meaning that only an insane man (or woman) would agree to this.

Also, we see with Rean and Vulcan and even more so Scarlett that Rean has no freaking respect for anyone who wishes to die, pride or not. On this man's watch, no one dies. And I would assume most of Class 7 as well as the Bracers and the SSS would be just like him.

I believe that Jeagers do believe in letting someone die for their pride if that is what the person wants, but not if it is their own child. Obviously, otherwise, Saras father would not have died for her.

I guess all in all, even among the people who think that pride is the most important thing they have - like the northern Jeagers - they would draw the line, when it comes to their own children.

And let's assume I am wrong about Sigmund and he would - if this is what Shirley whiches - let her die in a fight, to protect her pride, there would be a hand full of trails characters who would not let that happen if they had a chance to intervene, that is.

So let's assume the worst. Cedric gets killed and Shirley wants revenge and tells Sigmund and the Red Constellation to not step in no matter what, I do believe Randy for example is past that whole "Jeager pride" - thing and would intervene because - as much as he is embarrassed by her, you can see in that CS4 Swimming-Contest-Sidemission that he does care about her and is thus unlikely to let her die.

And I think that is in the end how it would go no matter what and no matter who. Even if there would be a father to think that way and a "child" that would ask for that kind of thinking, not many of our Trails characters would accept that and certainly almost no one would agree with it. For most of them, there is always a better way.

Might be a bit more complicated for people like Van tho, because I think his mindset differs quite a lot from most of our Liberl, Crossbell and Erebonia-Characters. But when it comes down to it, he would not let someone die in vain, so he would likely intervene as well, albeit with a little more hesitation.

[five-20-five]

Creation

Translations by EJ TL and Night Deer TL except *

Usotsuki

I only imagined your blushing cheeks

I'm always drinking a bucket full of moonlight / Really, it tastes like the night / A weak, transparent taste

I don't mind if you smile and reply "is that so," though

Night came, / And I'm admiring such a beautiful moon alone

I've forgotten your voice long ago / Both the memories and love inside me have died

I'm drinking love, by scooping it up with a bottomless ladle / Really, it's bland and I get thirstier the more I drink it

I want to hear your humming

I don't remember how your eyes look like

I'm not drawing the shape of your mouth

I can't even say a word / And nor am I waiting for you / I don't recognize your nose / I'm not imagining your cheeks

Even "goodbye" remains unsaid / And, like that, you're becoming the night

Spring Thief

It's really hot lately, so I was just waiting for a breeze

There's something stuck on my cheeks / When I look up, flowers are blooming and falling right above my head

Gently falling, we're now forgetting to even breathe / And it's too much work to even blink

Well, even today will turn into the past tomorrow / So I'm just waiting for the wind

That's why, we're now forgetting even our voices / And it's too much work to even say goodbye

There weren't that many people who went to see the cherry blossoms / And I couldn't smell spring in the air anymore

I wonder how much time is left? / I wonder how many more times I can still meet you in the spring...

There's no mistaking it; this storm of flowers scattering about right now / Is the spring thief

Today, still, time is being carried away by the wind, / And it's too much work to even stand up

Time is fluttering down as if it's leaving behind traces of the days we spent together

There aren't enough words out there to sing of love / It's too much work to even make them rhyme

There's no way things like words can convey the blossoming present

Only the two of us are here to watch the cherry blossoms / And I'm begging for the spring storm to not stop just yet

Just a little bit left / I can now count the ones left

Robbery and Bouquet

It's not like I don't have enough money / But the furniture store is far from the neighborhood

Things will work out one way or another, I thought / And so, I carried a kitchen knife with me

If we're not fulfilled in the slightest, / Then let's go snatch everything away

Dear god, if every last part of this world is really kind of its people, / Then it's fine to let us have just a little bit of it, right?

The flower shop next door is closed today / So I thought I'd just have to break in and steal some / And I waited for the traffic light to turn green

Just smile, stop putting on some serious look on your face and trying to act tough / Because the truth is, you're nowhere near decent, either

Just forget any common sense that doesn't bring in money already

Do you really think that one can understand another's pain?

One night, I came to understand / That no dream of any sort lies ahead of me

I never even once thought / That you'll be gone

Is there a difference between a robbery and a flower bouquet?

It's fine to let us be judged for just a bit, right?

Even though my hard work wasn't lacking in the slightest, / Nothing came out of it, everything was out of reach

I quit my job and I thought / That there is no relief anywhere

It's still better for everything to just end

Eat the wind* someanimeguy

Surely tomorrow's weather will rid the day of all the bad things

Today as well we'll buy away, we can't help being short on things after all

While putting on my shoes I daydream about whether the sky is high

Even you, even you / Never understood what that meant / And so I still think about your shy-looking face

This moment, eating the wind

The heart I put on the shelf is worth 15 yen, that's the only thing remaining unsold here

Surely tomorrow's weather will conjure up a line of customers even in a place like this

For a long time I've been thinking it over / Waiting for that plain white cloud / Astir in a windless spring

Today as well you'll buy away, nothing but incompleteness surrounds you after all

Only you, only you / Don't understand what I long for / So what, I ask, if this heart will not sell / For someone like me that's a beautiful thing

No one but you, no one but you / Understands your own wounds

Opening your mouth, you break into song / This moment you're eating the wind

Your song is all I hear / This moment, humming a tune, are only you

[rocorambles]

Ruined Innocence

Pairing: Fallen Angel!Daichi x Angel!Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Manipulation, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Tentacles-ish, Forced Bondage, Corruption Kink, Dacryphilia

Summary: Not everyone is what they appear to be and you learn that the hard way.

A/N: This is for @seijorhi 's Deal with the Devil Collab! Masterlist can be found here.

You don’t love the way older angels endearingly pinch your cheeks and fondly ruffle the top of your head, sending you off on your way as they go about their chores. But you love the freedom to explore that comes with your new wings and you flit around heaven, adventuring out to the corners of the beautiful realm, eyes sparkling and mouth open wide in wonder as you see visions and scenes you wouldn’t even have been able to imagine back when you were a human.

Most angels congregate with each other, floating and meandering together as they perform their heavenly duties, content with harmony and unity. But maybe because your newly purified soul is still finding its way, you feel antsy, a very human adventurous streak still driving you as you sniff out remote and quiet corners, eager to see what’s around every corner.

There’s not a hint of wariness or sense of danger as you trek around, squealing as you continue testing your wings. Maybe it’s naivety, but who can blame you? You’re in heaven. Why would you ever think anything or anyone would harm you here?

Little do you know the archangels whisper to each other, sentries standing guard at every known opening between realms as the threat of warfare and espionage increases between heaven and hell after a devastating betrayal by one of God’s own most trusted archangels.

Sawamura Daichi.

It’s a name and a face that God has striked from heaven’s history, wiping the minds of anyone outside his inner circle clear of to maintain peace among the realm. And it works. Maybe too well.

A handsome brunette amusedly smiles at the lack of fear and recognition in your face as you cheerfully greet him, not a care in the world as you perk up and fly over to him, curious about the strange angel you’ve never met before.

Daichi had only meant to sneak in and out, hopefully spy and return back to hell with any secret information he could get out of his old fellow archangels. But like an attuned predator, his attention had snapped at the pretty little fawn he had seen playing in the outskirts of heaven, so vulnerable, so far from the rest of your feathery flock. And his mouth had salivated, something dark and yearning inside of him as he imagined how delicious corrupting your soft and sweet soul would be.

There’s no lack of powerful, beautiful, sensual female entities in hell willing to warm his bed. Daichi knows from firsthand experience, rarely spending a night alone. Even eternity is too short not to indulge in the sins of the flesh. But a part of him misses the docile submissive natures of angels, the thrill of power he feels knowing how easily his more angelic partners would listen and obey to his every whim and fancy. Playing with your food is all fun and games, but Daichi’s always found the actual act of devouring to be the best part of any meal. And you look absolutely mouth watering.

It doesn’t concern you that you’ve never seen this handsome angel before. Heaven is vast and as a novice angel, you’re sure there’s plenty of feathery companions you haven’t met yet. You’re more pleasantly surprised by the fact that there even is another angel in your secluded nook of the realm. And you’re quick to get comfortable with Daichi (although you blush when he so quickly tells you to call him by his first name).

He’s kind and funny. You can tell he’s actually listening to your every word and not just politely nodding like most of the other older angels you’ve met so far. He has a certain vibrancy to him that you can’t pinpoint, something so much more raw and vivid than what you’re used to from the more austere and demure palette of the rest of heaven.

But you startle when Daichi suddenly reaches out and slowly trails his fingers along the soft velvety plush of your wings, eliciting a startled gasp from you and a strange stirring feeling inside of you.

“They’re so pure and white.”

You try to laugh off the way your heart is pounding, the way your body wants to instinctively lean in closer to his warm touch as he continues languidly stroking your wings.

“Don’t be silly, Daichi. I’m sure your wings are just as pure and white, just like everyone else in this realm.”

You’re confused by his silent smile as he continues lacing his fingers between your downy feathers, but you don’t think to question it, not when it feels so right to just melt in the soothing feeling.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you startle awake when someone nudges you, face heating in embarrassment when you realize you’ve fallen asleep quite literally in Daichi’s arms. But you shyly smile when he waves off your profuse apologies, playfully whispering that you can make it up to him by keeping your meeting with him a secret so he doesn’t get in trouble for slacking off on work to hang out with you.

Your lips are sealed and in return for your slightly naughty deal, your heart warms and your eyes sparkle when he somehow finds you almost every day. You’re tempted to make a game of it, wondering if you made more of an effort to hide if he’d still find you. But somehow deep inside you know he would, that it wouldn’t deter him at all. And that thought alone brings a smile to yourself.

Is this what having a soulmate feels like? Do angels even have soulmates?

You know marriage is still a thing in this realm and you can feel yourself falling more and more head over heels for Daichi, letting yourself dream and think of what life would be like married to him, by his side for all of eternity. It would be a wondrous thing. A life full of adventures, laughter, kindness, and warmth. A life where you know you could always depend on him and trust him.

So when he kisses you one day, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you in close, you don’t resist. Instead you sigh in bliss as you feel your lips meld against each other. He’s so gentle, so careful as he deepens your connection, coaxing you into following his lead as he maneuvers the two of you on the wispy cloud cocoon beneath your feet.

You feel so loved, so taken care of as he murmurs sweet praises in your ear about how beautiful you are, how soft you are, how sweet you taste. But when you find yourself horizontal beneath him, scandalously molded to his body, hesitation and apprehension have you reluctantly separating your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

His hand cups your cheek, brown eyes staring down at you in concern and you feel more at ease as you nuzzle against his palm, gently pecking the center of it, ignorant of the way brown eyes darken at the action.

He’s going to fucking ruin you.

“Can we- Can we slow down a bit? I love you, but we shouldn’t go any further until God blesses our relationship and we’re married. Right?”

It’s adorable how you know what’s right by heavenly standards, what you should and shouldn’t be doing. Yet there’s still a questioning lilt in your voice as you look at him for guidance, ready to take his lead and listen to whatever he says. You really are precious, aren’t you?

“We’ll be together forever. So what’s the harm in indulging ourselves now if we know that we’ll be bound for eternity anyway? Consider it a little sneak peek. Surely God will be forgiving if we go straight to him after this and ask him to bless our union.”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

He internally smirks at how your eyes light up when he expresses his desire to be with you. To his defense, it’s not a lie. He truly does want you with him forever, although he doubts it’s in the way you’re thinking. He’s no mind reader, but he can imagine the scenes of soft radiant glowing days and peaceful strolls hand in hand that race through your mind when you think of love. Unfortunately for you, the reality you’re being sucked into is much darker and much more stationary. (He sincerely hopes you appreciate the costs and efforts he’s gone through to spruce up his bedroom and bed as much as possible for your long-term stay considering it’s the only place he intends for you to see for at least a few centuries.)

This time you welcome him when he swoops down to capture your lips once more, your arms gently wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull him down even closer to you. You bare your neck, easily following his silent commands as he trails kisses down from the corner of your lips to the side of your neck, gasping and arching into him when his tongue swipes a hot wet line at the junction of your shoulder.

You’re nervous as he coaxes you out of your delicate clothing and his cock twitches in interest at how you try to instinctively shield your body from his eyes, your arms crossing your chest, thighs clenching together. So different from the shameless females down below and he enjoys how it feels like he’s unwrapping an exclusive present as he eases your body, comfortingly kissing you as he guides your hands above your head and nudges your legs apart until he’s in between them.

You moan, writhing underneath him in a way that makes him groan as he sucks one of your nipples, rolling the other between his fingers. And he can’t resist how right it feels to grind and rut his clothed cock against your bare core, chuckling at how you whine and get flustered as he whispers to you about how wet you are, how much of a mess you’re making of his clothing.

You’re so sensitive, so reactive. He wonders if you could cum just like this, nipples toyed with and humping like wild beasts. You certainly look like you’re almost there and a mean smile splays across his face when he wonders what God would think if he saw his baby angel now, a lewd blissful expression blatant on your face, wanton moans filling the air. But time is limited especially when he’s not on his own turf and as much as he’d like to ruin you over and over again right here, right now, he knows he needs to deal the final blow.

He’s quick to shed his own clothing, firmly wrapping your spread legs around him as he finally sinks his cock inch by inch inside of you, throwing his own head back in pleasure as your tight wet walls wrap around him, eagerly sucking him in and clenching around him. It’s like you were made for him, made for this. And his eyes ravenously watch as you mindlessly blabber on and on about feeling full, feeling good.

He doesn’t usually like noisy bed mates, but you might be the one exception and he revels in your wails and broken cries as he begins to move his hips back and forth, observing how his fat cock obscenely stretches your pretty folds as he thrusts in and out. It’s impressive how you’re still hanging by a single fraying strand of consciousness when even seasoned succubi have succumbed into mindless pleasure-addicted messes from his cock. And he gifts the slipping clarity of your mind that recognizes him and calls his name over and over again with skillful circles around your clit, relentless until you’re thrashing and convulsing, practically screaming as you fall over the edge, pussy milking him and begging for his essence.

Who is he to deny you what your body wants? What your body needs? What he himself wants and needs?

So he finally lets himself go, sealing the deal with his own release, eyes twinkling in crazed amusement as his own wings finally flair out, revealing themselves to you for the first time as his body lances with pleasure. A sound halfway between a laugh and a groan escapes him as fear has you tightening around him and if he thought you looked beautiful before, you’re absolutely stunning now, shock and disbelief slicing across your perfect angelic face when you fully grasp the importance of his pitch black wings that shadow the both of you.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. I thought you loved me.”

There’s no point in pretending to be gentle now and he forcefully pins your body down, slamming his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, biting on your lower lip and lapping at the blood that drips from your now marred face. Delicious. So fucking exquisite.

It’s tempting to continue and as he pulls away to regard you, he can feel arousal swirling inside of him at the sight of glistening tears streaming down your face. But he’s curious about your reaction, eager to hear what you have to say about this utter betrayal.

“A fallen angel…I slept with a fallen angel. How am I ever going to face God now?”

You’re not even looking at him anywhere, eyes glazed over as you mumble to yourself, mind still trying to process everything. And as pretty as you are with agony and sickening realization settling into your features, he scowls at the mention of God, irritation swelling inside of him at how fast you are to think of Him over Daichi, the fallen angel literally still inside of you.

He’s swift in his punishment, reminding you exactly where you are and who you’re with right now as he sharply juts his hips in a way that forces a surprised shriek from you as his cock rubs against your still sensitive walls.

“God isn’t your problem anymore, love. Look at your wings.”

Every part of you still in denial screams at you not to listen, to pretend none of this has happened, is happening. You want to believe God can make this right, that he’ll surely forgive you. But as if you’re in one of those inevitable horror films you used to watch as a human, your head slowly turns to the side, body going rigid when you see the expanse of ebony feathers where heavenly white used to be.

Now this reaction is much more satisfying and Daichi inhales your fear, a cold smile on his face as he watches you flail, wings wildly flapping as you try to somehow shake off the color, praying that it’s all a lie, that it’s not entirely irreversible. But he pins your wrists above your head when you attempt to painfully pluck out your own offensive feathers, peppering humiliatingly affectionate kisses all over your face to placate you.

“Please stop. Isn’t this enough? You got what you wanted. Tricked the silly angel. Made me an exile, a monster. There’s no place for me in heaven anymore. So just leave me alone. Please.”

You shudder at the dark laugh that seems to echo in your ears with his face right besides yours, cringing when you feel his wings droop down to rest against your own in an action far too intimate for what the two of you are.

“It’s not enough, darling. It’ll never be enough. But you’re right about one thing. You’re no longer welcomed in heaven, so let me bring you to your new home.”

You barely have time to understand the meaning of his words before you’re being whisked away, strong arms holding you tightly to a broad chest, the air around you growing darker, heavier, warmer. And then suddenly everything is still and you gasp as you’re thrown onto a silky plush surface, scrambling to sit up only to freeze in terror as you take in the grand and imposing bedroom you’re in, cold realization of exactly whose bed you’re currently on and what realm you’re in sinking in.

“No no no no no...At least let me go to Earth!”

You make to lunge off the bed, but an eerily familiar body forces you back down, once comforting brown eyes now only making anxiety churn alarmingly inside of you.

“I know it’s hard to believe me after all the lies, but I wasn’t lying about one thing. I do intend to be with you forever, so get comfortable, angel.”

You recoil at the mocking sneer associated with the pet name, the ironic use of the word disintegrating any fight left in you when the true hopelessness of your situation makes itself known. And Daichi watches in satisfaction at how you don’t even twitch as black shadows coil around your wrist and ankles, pulling you into a spread-eagled position, leaving your beautiful naked figure on full display for him.

But as despondent as you are mentally and emotionally, your body is already well on its way to adjusting and molding to his desires and he hungrily eyes the way it betrays you, arching and silently begging for more as additional shadow tendrils snake their way on and around every inch of you, some tendrils beginning to make their way in your gaping mouth, your still cum-filled hole, and oh...maybe he should have warned you that he planned on training all your holes, but he does so love the way your eyes blow wide open when a curios tendril wiggles its way into your puckered hole.

“Consider this your new full-time job, angel. Can’t have you living here rent-free after all. Now be good while I’m away and try not to be so loud. Wouldn’t want anyone else to hear you and decide they want a taste of a new fallen angel. I guarantee you no one else down here in hell is going to be as patient and kind as I am. Welcome to your new forever home.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, not that you’d be able to utter anything remotely intelligible around your screams and moans and the tendrils fucking your mouth. And as he makes his way to another meeting with Satan, he proudly flaunts his pitch black wings, a thoughtful smile on his face as he thinks of all the plans he has for you.

[nerdyfangirl67]

That Thin Line - Criminal Minds Reader Insert

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!reader

Warnings: language, mentions of a hate to love relationship

Word Count: 1450

A/N: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins September ‘Enemies to Lovers’ challenge, with the prompt - “Those things I said to you...I just wish I could go back and stop myself from ever saying them.” and the prompt is bolded in the fic.

In the three and a half years you’d worked with the BAU team of the FBI, you’d made quite a few acquaintances, team partners, and even friends. But in that time, you’d also managed to make an enemy in one team leader, SSA Aaron Hotchner. It wasn’t a decision you consciously remember making - to hate Aaron Hotchner, but it was one that had a seemingly large effect on the course of your life. Even from the start, he’d treated you as if he couldn’t get away from you fast enough, as if he would rather be anywhere else than talking to you, as if you were the most irritating person he’d ever met.

And of course having sensed that, in some childish way, you’d felt the need to treat him the same way. You’d come up with any reason to piss him off, whether it was arriving three minutes late to the jet (something that you found irritated him immensely) or ‘accidentally’ knocking over a stack of paperwork from his desk when he called you into his office to reprimand you. You spoke quietly around him, knowing he couldn’t stand having to lean in and focus on your words simply to hear you. Soon your life became consumed by this petty, hate-filled power struggle between the two of you. 

Eventually though, that thin line between hate and love became too blurry for you to recognize. When you voluntarily irritated him, it was no longer because you knew it would get a rise out of him, but rather because you knew it meant he would have to look you in the eyes with that subtle glare to get you to stop. Ignoring him no longer gave you the pleasure it once did. Instead, it caused your heart to squeeze in your chest in a way that actually hurt. The underhanded comments, which once had brought you such a sweet feeling of success, morphed into some sort of lackluster, under-the-breath attempt at an insult simply because you couldn’t find it in you to truly try and hurt Aaron. 

Yet despite your lack of enthusiasm in the ‘game’ between the two of you, Aaron continued forward with endless vigor. His words seemed to only get sharper, each one cutting a little deeper. Every time he gave you the cold shoulder, it felt like a small part of you was being ripped away and tossed aside. And his sharp reprimands hurt more than you’d ever admit.

The day you realized that you were actually in love with Aaron, something inside you broke. That future you dreamed of having someday vanished in the wind because you knew that he’d never love you, just as you knew that you’d never be able to bring yourself to love someone else. You tried to continue on, pretending what you felt for him wasn’t love, but rather a thinly veiled version of contempt. The last thing you wanted was to have a team full of behavioral analysts know that you were in love with the one man who hated you. But it was all a lie and finally, you couldn’t bring yourself to continue on lying anymore.

---

You knock on his door, your heart in your throat as a rough voice calls you in. You push open the heavy wooden door, your eyes falling on the figure bent over the desk just as his eyes lift to yours, the whiskey amber depths sending an odd shock of warmth through you. Despite what you were about to do, you couldn’t bring yourself to be upset because you’d get to look into those eyes, eyes that were looking solely at you, one last time.

“Y/L/N?” His voice lacks its usual gruffness as you come to a stop in front of his desk. Your fingers trail along the grain of the wood desk, delaying the inevitable for a moment, simply because you wanted to soak up as much of him as you could before it was too late. You wearily take a seat before he can ask you to, your heart speeding up in your chest.

“What brings you here?” He inquires, his hands coming to rest on the top of his desk. You suck in a deep breath, wondering if there was enough time for you to just turn around and leave, pretending that you didn’t have anything important to say after all. You take a moment to brush those thoughts away before you speak.

“I quit, consider this my two-week notice.” You state firmly before Aaron can even open his mouth to speak. Having said what you came to his office to say, you push away from your chair and make your way towards the door, trying to make a hasty retreat before he could say anything that might make you change your mind. The vice that had settled around your heart squeezes tightly, the lump in your throat growing bigger with each step towards the door. 

“Y/L/N, wait.” His voice is sharp, causing you to stop in your tracks. You don’t turn around though as it takes everything within you to keep the tears from falling. “Y/N…” His voice is softer and much closer. You suck in a deep breath as you turn around, his use of your first name having worn you down quite easily.

His eyebrows are drawn in, a pensive look taking over his features. “Can you tell me why before you storm out of here?” 

You let out a sigh, rubbing a hand across your forehead. “Honestly Aaron, I don’t know what to say anymore. There’s only so long someone can take being truly hated by someone, especially if the feeling isn’t reciprocated.”

“What are you talking about?” His eyes are dark with something you couldn’t name, a rigidity settling in his shoulders, making him appear even more intimidating. 

“What the hell do you think I’m talking about?” You hiss out before you brazenly jab a finger in his chest. “You, Aaron, I’m talking about you.” You let out a harsh laugh. “You hate me and I can’t take it anymore.” You trail off as you turn back to the door. His voice stops you for a second time.

“I thought that if I pretended I hated you long enough, maybe I would. I thought hating you would be easier than acknowledging that I had feelings for you...strong feelings. I thought that I could keep myself from loving you, but I see now that that was never going to happen.”

Although his voice is soft, there’s an underlying tone of regret to his words. “Those things I said to you...I just wish I could go back and stop myself from ever saying them.”

You quickly drag a hand across your face in an attempt to wipe away the tears that had started to gather in your eyes. You can’t find the words to answer him as the emotions well up in your throat, threatening to overwhelm you. What were the right words to say that every brush-off, every cold, emotionless greeting, every ignored question hurt you just a little bit more? How do you tell him that despite the way you’d acted towards him, the last thing you’d felt for him was contempt? In fact, that was the furthest thing from what you felt for him.

A hand grips your shoulder, slowly turning you around and your eyes find his. His eyes are soft as he looks at you, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently cup your jaw. He leans forward and whispers, “I love you Y/N and I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting every day I let you think that I felt anything less than that for you. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to show you just how much you actually mean to me.” 

Without a second thought, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips melding with his in a hurried passionate kiss. You let all the things you’ve never said pour from your lips to his, your fingers grazing the back of his neck before you bury them in his hair. Your breath mingles with his as you pull back, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

His warm whiskey brown eyes are swimming with emotion as they latch onto yours. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” You whisper as you lift a soft hand to brush lightly down the side of his face. “And how long I’ve wanted to tell you that I love you too.” 

He bends enough to press another light kiss to your lips before his face brightens with a rare smile. “I’m glad you finally did.” 

“Me too.” You whisper softly, “Me too.”

Tagging: @madamsnape921​@thisiscalm-andits-doctor @captainxholmes @alesaab @hotch-meeeeeuppppp​ @fanf1ctionwrit1n​

[makeste]

but I just feel too tired to be fighting

this is a follow-up post to what I said in my recap the other day about this arc being the Deku Angst arc, as opposed to the Villain Hunt arc or the Deku SIXQUIRKS Exhibition arc. I feel like the fandom discussion tends to focus on the flashier parts of the chapters -- the sexy villains and the new quirk reveals and the Shindous -- each week, and so the quieter emotional beats sometimes get overlooked, especially since the character arc here is playing out in little bits and pieces over time rather than all at once.

this has always been a very reactionary fandom, and there’s a tendency to judge the chapters week to week without ever going back to look at how they all fit into the big picture. so I figured I would try to attempt that, and basically go chapter by chapter here to look at what exactly Horikoshi is setting up and how it all fits together.

so let’s start with the end of chapter 306, which is when the arc officially kicks off. specifically with the very last page:

this is imo one of the best pages Horikoshi has ever drawn. I got the sense that this was a scene he’d had in his mind’s eye for quite a long time, and that he was excited to finally get to this part of the story. it’s extremely effective as both a chapter-ender, and an arc-opener. like, look at this:

it establishes the initial premise of the new arc -- the world is in chaos, and Deku is now seemingly on his own

it leaves the readers with a number of questions. why did Deku leave U.A.?? is he really on his own now?? why does he look so beat-up and exhausted?? what is he up to?? what is the world like now that all these villains have been unleashed and the heroes have been decimated?? and most importantly of all, what the fuck is going to happen next??

it pays homage to some of Horikoshi’s comic book influences -- Batman in particular

it dramatically hits us with that “THE FINAL ACT BEGINS” and lets us know that shit is getting real now

that’s some good shit. so much so that I think people tended to overlook the other notable thing about this page amidst all of the initial excitement and discussion and speculation about where the series was headed. and that is the fact that the final panel in this chapter is NOT the panel of Deku standing above the city. the very last panel, the one that this chapter actually ends on, is instead the close-up of Deku’s face. his face, which is covered in shadow; and his eyes, which have dark circles under them and are prominently missing the usual flecks of light that give him his signature “sunny optimistic shounen protagonist” look.

not to mention this last line here, which is a call back to the very first time we saw the 14-year-old Deku way back in chapter one.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Horikoshi chose to throw this reference in. nor is it a coincidence that THIS is the scene he actually chose to end the chapter on. what this does is show us the drastic shift in Deku’s emotional state of mind, and his attitude towards being a hero. he’s gone from being thrilled and excited to being jaded and exhausted. he’s matured, but at a great cost. it’s always been his dream to be a hero, but “be careful what you wish for” is a popular adage for a reason. and right now he looks the furthest thing from happy.

and this is the emotional beat that Horikoshi chooses to end the chapter on. this is the panel that closes out the War arc, and begins the final act. to me the message could not be clearer -- this arc will be about the exploration of Deku’s character, and his struggle as he tries to live up to the expectations that have been placed on him as the Last Holder of OFA and quite possibly the World’s Only Hope.

it’s a character arc that builds on a lot of the things we’ve already learned about Deku over the course of the series, such as the fact that he is reckless, and that he focuses on others often at the expense of himself. but more importantly, it’s an arc that finally expands on the dark side of what has up until now been a net positive for Deku -- the power of OFA. up until this point, despite its ups and downs, it’s been a boon for Deku overall and has allowed him to pursue his dream. but now we’re finally reaching the point where the monkey’s paw part of the OFA blessing/curse finally starts to come into play. OFA gives Deku more power than he could have ever dreamed of, but it also comes with a built-in destiny that he can’t opt out of whether he likes it or not. AFO is on the loose and out there trying to destroy the world. and now everyone has pinned their hopes on this sixteen-year-old kid, and the question of whether or not the sixteen-year-old kid is ready is apparently not one that anyone feels inclined to ask (possibly because they’re afraid that the answer might be “no”).

he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. he has to do it, because there’s no one else who can. that’s the kind of pressure that is on Deku now.

and on that note, we begin the Deku Angst arc.

chapter 307

this in hindsight was mostly just a set-up chapter to better establish the current state of the BnHA world at large (spoilers: it’s not good), while also providing an answer for one of the big initial questions of the arc -- namely, “what happened to all of those villains that AFO released from Tartarus?” these are important things to touch on, but the pacing could definitely have been better, and the bulk of the chapter was dedicated to providing fanservice to all of the Shindou fans who spammed the most recent popularity poll (which, whatever lol). anyway, so this was the sole chapter thus far with absolutely no Deku development. thankfully the arc picks up from there.

chapter 308

on to the next one! this was the one and only chapter thus far which I think actually qualifies as an “exhibition fight.” this was definitely all about showing off Deku’s current powerset, as well as introducing us to another of the SIXQUIRKS. however, there was Deku development here as well, most notably in this scene:

this is the scene that got a lot of people speculating that this arc was going to focus on Deku hunting down all of the old villains. but I think people got so caught up in that speculation that they overlooked what this scene tells us about Deku’s mindset. and yes, there is new information being revealed here, and it’s not just a rehash of the stuff we already knew. like yes, we know that Deku was shaken up by the recent encounters with Dabi and Tomura, and we know that made him start questioning why villains become villains in the first place, and all that good stuff, and that’s great. however, there are two additional important things that this scene helps establish for us.

the upcoming battle with TomurAFO is weighing heavily on Deku’s mind. this is something that will become a recurring theme in this arc. Deku is thinking about this constantly. the question of what to do when he finally encounters TomurAFO again is knocking incessantly at the back of his mind, and this won’t be the last time it comes up.

Deku is using these villain encounters as test runs. can Tomura be redeemed?? is he just being stupid and naïve?? or is this really something worth attempting?? the interesting thing about this is that Deku’s resolve to save people is usually so strong and unwavering that it’s more than enough to overcome any doubts that he might have. but this time it seems like the repeated objections posed by the Vestiges and Gran Torino have really gotten to him. it’s possible I’m just reading way too much into things, but to me it really feels like Deku’s recent attempts at Talk no Jutsu were meant to do more than just show his growing awareness that the line between heroes and villains is thinner than he once imagined. they’re also serving as trial runs for the real test, when it finally comes. if he can “save” even a villain like Muscular, there’s hope for him being able to save Tomura as well. and so that moment when Muscular rejects him out of hand is all the more disappointing to him, even if it wasn’t really unexpected. basically it wasn’t the answer that he had been hoping for.

aside from those little notes though, like I said, this was unquestionably an exhibition fight first and foremost. which is fine; we needed to establish where Deku is currently in terms of strength, and it was also just fun to see him kick some ass, ngl. in terms of story purpose this chapter was similar to 219, which showed us how Shouto and Katsuki had powered up after getting their provisional licenses. people who don’t care about those characters might argue that these fights weren’t necessary, but as someone who stans all three characters hard, I would disagree! but anyways, moving on.

chapter 309

in contrast to the previous chapter, this chapter focuses more on establishing Deku’s current mental state, as opposed to his physical state. and this is what we learn:

(1) Deku is ~technically~ being shadowed/accompanied by All Might and the Hawksquad (but in practice he’s avoiding them).

(2) it was Deku’s own decision to leave U.A., and he did it because he didn’t want anyone else getting hurt in order to protect him.

and finally, (3) Deku’s game plan is to stop Tomura and All for One before they reach full power.

this last part is very important, because it means there’s a countdown in effect. as far as Deku is concerned, there’s only a finite amount of time before TomurAFO becomes unstoppable. which means that he’s not only under “gotta get stronger” pressure, but time pressure as well. he doesn’t have the luxury of taking his time and training in safety. he’s being rushed now; this is do-or-die.

this chapter is also the first in this arc in which we get to see Deku’s expressions without the hood covering up his face, and what we see is very telling. as previously stated, the light is gone from Deku’s eyes. he keeps his expressions very neutral, and the only time we even see a hint of a smile is when he hugs his mom in the flashback, and it’s clear from the dialogue (“it’s okay, I’ll come home to you”) that he’s doing it for her sake in order to comfort her.

but aside from that, this is very much not the Deku we’ve grown accustomed to. this is the chapter that really establishes his current mental state imo. above all else, he’s afraid that more people will get hurt because of him, and so he’s distancing himself from everyone around him. and he’s also morbidly preoccupied with the inevitability of having to face TomurAFO again, and soon. the chapter ends on the flashback of Gran giving him his cape, and telling Deku that “killing can be another way to save someone.” there’s a lot on this kid’s mind, to say the least.

chapter 310

this chapter opens with a gang of civilians who are trying to open fire on a nice fox lady whose only crime was walking around in the rain at night. Deku intervenes to save her, and it’s the first time in this arc that we see anything close to the “old” Deku, who just wanted to save people with a smile.

but it’s bittersweet, because all the lady can talk about is how scared she was, and how horrible everything is right now. and so Deku, who feels responsible in a lot of ways for everything that’s happened, just feels that much more pressure to somehow make things right again.

there’s also this extra throwaway line which is especially heartbreaking:

“I can’t afford to be around anyone.” fucking ouch. just reinforcing once more how incredibly isolated Deku is right now -- not by choice, but because he feels like it’s not safe to let anyone else get close to him. and so he’s out here running around this dystopian cityscape in the middle of the night in the pouring rain all on his own, and neglecting himself to the point where All Might practically has to force a bento on him.

but does he complain? of course not. because his focus is never on himself. instead, when he settles down to eat, his thoughts immediately drift back to, guess who...

it’s that time pressure once again. “unless I draw out One for All’s full power, I can’t stop any of this.” it’s just nonstop, I have to get stronger, I’m running out of time, I have to do better, and constantly thinking about that inevitable confrontation.

Deku is a thinker, you guys. and when left to his own devices he will overthink, every time. his mind will run in endless loops while he mentally works his way through all of the possibilities. and that’s one of his greatest strengths, don’t get me wrong, but at a time like this it’s also one of his greatest weaknesses. it’s just so fucking easy for him to get stuck in his own head, in his endless rambling thoughts and analyses. and without anyone else there to help distract him, or help him focus, he’s become fixated on his mission, and it’s slowly consuming him.

this, incidentally, is also the chapter in which we finally see Two and Three’s faces, and learn why Two in particular is so reluctant to lend his power to Deku. he appears to be the lone holdout at this point, so stay tuned on that, because I don’t doubt this will wind up being crucial to Deku’s future development, however it winds up playing out.

chapter 311

this chapter flips back to the Hawksquad for the first half, so we get a brief respite from the ongoing Dekuangst. right before we switch back though, we do get confirmation of something we had pretty much already guessed:

like, that much was already apparent based on what we’d seen (the bags under his eyes; the fact that he refused to sit still in any one place for very long even at night), but it’s always nice to get the official confirmation so that people can’t dispute it lol. so yeah, Deku isn’t sleeping much. and not eating much either, if all he’s getting is the occasional bento from Dadmight. so basically not taking care of himself at all, huge shocker there. but this is something that’s important enough to the story that Horikoshi took the time to point it out in the dialogue, in addition to all of the visual clues we’d already gotten.

and just in case we needed to drive that point in any further, this chapter ends with the appearance of Lady Nagant! like yeah, no shit Deku isn’t getting much sleep, what with him having to fend off racist civilians and hired assassins every five fucking minutes. smdh. can he live??

chapter 312

so this is the chapter that properly introduces Lady Nagant, who maaaay or may not be one of the primary antagonists of this arc?? like, it’s really unclear right now tbh, but she gets hyped up by Hawks and AFO, and has a flashback and a mysterious past and a weird trump card (where did you go, Overhaul) and all that good shit, so yeah? one can hope at any rate.

but anyway. so to his credit, Deku’s first thought is to retreat, but he quickly abandons that plan once he figures out Nagant’s location. this is played off like a logical strategic decision at first, but the subsequent chapter quickly makes it clear that Deku’s decision to take the fight to Nagant is less rational than he might have you think.

chapter 313

so yeah. last but not least, the most recent chapter, in which Deku’s real reason for targeting Lady soon becomes apparent:

what’s more, it quickly becomes clear that he miscalculated and probably would have been better off following Hawks’s advice, seeing as he promptly gets himself shot, and subsequently realizes that AFO gave Nagant an extra quirk, something he hadn’t taken into account. but instead of cutting his losses and running at this point, he doubles down instead and not only breaks out Smokescreen, but also the Third’s quirk which he has never even used before.

it’s worth noting that both En and the Third start telling him to chill at this point, and warn him that what he’s attempting is too dangerous. but tbh if they were expecting him to listen, they haven’t been reading the same arc I’ve been reading. once again, Horikoshi makes it clear that Deku has one thing and one thing only on his mind right now.

of course. once again it all comes back to this. hunt down AFO. it doesn’t matter that he’s exhausted. it doesn’t matter that he’s just been shot twice. it doesn’t matter that Hawks, despite knowing what Deku was capable of with his OFA abilities, specifically warned him away from this one person only. it doesn’t matter that even the Vestiges are trying to tell him you’re going too fast and you’re trying to do too much and it’s too dangerous.

he just doesn’t care. long story short, the only thing that matters to Deku right now is tracking down and defeating TomurAFO. and as the person who knows him best once so aptly put it, “he doesn’t take himself into account.” and therein lies the major challenge of this arc.

and so this is where we’re currently at now. and this has been a very long post, but if nothing else, I hope I was able to get this one point across: there is absolutely no way that Deku will be able to defeat TomurAFO as he is now. not a chance in hell. somehow he’s managed the uncommon feat of waging a war of attrition against himself, which is really quite an accomplishment. he’s not taking care of himself, and he’s refusing to listen to sound advice from the people surrounding him, and is trying to skip ahead to the final boss battle before he’s ready, because the guilt and pressure from feeling responsible for the current situation are eating him up. the only way that the world can go back to normal is if he can defeat AFO; therefore he has to do it as soon as possible, because time is running out and everyone is counting on him. this is who Deku is. and this is what inevitably happens when his saving mentality is taken to extremes, and left unchecked.

anyway so to wrap up this post now, I do think this arc is a lot more cohesive than it’s gotten credit for thus far, and Deku is the glue holding it all together. I for one am loving the exploration of his character and all the subtle little angsty touches as we build up to the big moment, whenever it finally comes. just keep in mind though that if his decisions right now seem reckless and short-sighted, it’s because they’re supposed to seem that way, because Deku is not in a good mental state right now. the cracks are finally showing in our perfect protagonist, just like everyone has been wanting this whole time. he is just a kid. he is doing his best. he is trying far too hard to do his best, and it is hurting him so badly, but he doesn’t even realize. this arc is not an endorsement of the Angsty Nomad Hero lifestyle, lol. it’s the exact fucking opposite, and I think it’s being wildly misinterpreted with all of the emphasis on “oh look at that, he mastered another quirk with no effort”, as opposed to “oh look at that, he is shutting down emotionally and is a few more missed nights of sleep away from a complete and total breakdown.”

tl;dr the overarching storyline of this arc is all about Deku slowly falling apart due to his trauma from Jakku, and the subsequent pressure that was put on him by the Vestiges with their whole “GUESS WHAT, YOU’RE THE LAST USER OF OFA, THAT’S RIGHT, IT’S ALL ON YOU BUDDY” pep talk. and mark my words, things are not going to go according to plan. something is going to go terribly wrong here. whether it’s something happening to All Might, or AFO setting up a trap for him, either way Deku is being set up to fail in a major way. unless of course, someone (or a group of someones) manages to intervene first, and possibly stage an intervention or something. it’s what he needs right now, but idk if Horikoshi is going to make it that easy.

anyway, but in other words, the point of this arc is not to show how much stronger Deku has gotten and how he doesn’t even need his friends anymore. it’s the exact opposite -- the point of this arc is to show that Deku needs his friends now more than ever. that in spite of OFA and all of its mystical trappings and fancy SIXQUIRKS, Deku can’t do this alone. he needs his friends. that’s the core message. and right now, we are at the “I can get by on my own” part of the story. and the part we are all waiting for, but which is coming -- I guarantee it is coming, you guys -- is “the thing is, you don’t have to.”

and that shit is going to slap hard you guys. and I for one can’t wait. but until then, enjoy the angst.

[dancingamongstdust]

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 1)

Ben Drowned

You had promised, sworn on your very life, that you wouldn’t laugh. It was an oath. One to be taken very seriously.

“Using your hand to muffle the sound still counts as laughing.”

Part of you felt really bad but that made you snicker even harder. Your best friend, at the very least, did appear extremely shaken about the entire thing. She sat on the edge of the couch with her arms crossed. Dark bags had formed beneath her eyes and her attention seemed unable to stray from the Nintendo 64 that sat between you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “But you have to understand how this sounds. You’re telling me that you’re being haunted by a literal video game.”

She pulled her legs to her chest. The amount of weight that she had lost recently couldn’t possibly be healthy. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Have you considered talking to a psychiatrist?” you offered. “Or perhaps selling this game?”

“He would kill me.”

You picked up the Nintendo 64 and stared at the main menu of the game. It looked pretty normal to you. You fiddled around with the settings to turn the music down. “I really think that talking to somebody about this would help.”

“That’s what you don’t understand,” she said. “I want to stop playing. I want to speak to people but all that he wants is for me to continue trying to beat the game. There’s no way to win! The entire thing is rigged!”

“Have you looked up a guide?”

She groaned. “Nobody’s going to listen to me.”

An awkward silence fell over the room and you shifted around in your seat before offering some coffee. She accepted but the kettle had barely been boiling for a few seconds when her phone chimed happily.

“Oh look, he wants to play now,” she muttered. She thrust the device to you. “Take a look for yourself.”

The notification had come through an app called CleverBot. It was a very simple ‘hi’ message that didn’t really seem all too haunting. You opened it up and clicked around the app for a little. “Looks like just a chatroom,” you said. “Why’d you download this?”

“I didn’t. I just woke up the one day and it was on my phone.”

You closed the app and returned to the home screen. It immediately reopened and the same message popped up again. An identical thing happened the second time. And then again.

“This looks like a virus,” you said. “It’s probably best to uninstall.”

Clicking on the button made the icon disappear for a short while but it was quick to reappear. This time, when the chatroom opened itself, the message had changed to simply say ‘rude’.

You pursed your lips. That was suspicious enough for you to understand her potential worries. “I don’t think that it’s haunted but you should probably take it to a professional to have it wiped or something. And maybe consider less porn in the future?”

Your joke fell flat but it died when the chatbot began typing. Not too long after, another message had come through.

‘I don’t hang out in such places.’

“Can…” you trailed off. “No, there’s no way that they’ve hacked the microphone, right?”

‘Don’t need to hack in to hear what you’re saying.’

The colour drained from your face and you quickly glanced towards your friend. She didn’t seem panicked, even when you showed her the message. If anything, her expression was resigned as though this was a regular occurrence.

You didn’t get too much time to respond when a horrible static sound came through her phone. The screen began flashing and blurry images raced across it. A distorted version of the Majora’s Mask theme song started playing. It felt like your ears were bleeding. Scared, you threw the phone to the floor and, with a shattering crack, everything stopped.

For a while, you stared at it but then she said, “He’s going to be pissed with that.”

There was a chime from somewhere on your right. Your own phone’s screen lit up. Nervously, you reached over to check on it.

A single notification stood there, from an app called CleverBot.

‘You Shouldn’t Have Done That.”

Bloody Painter

The park was busy this time of day and filled with an awaiting audience – whether they were interested in watching the performance or not. Many seemed to appreciate it though, taking the flyers handed out by your group.

It was nearing midday when you ran out of pamphlets. You stretched and pushed your hair away from your face, relishing in the feeling of sun against skin.

Your gaze drifted across the park’s patrons before settling on one that you had been watching since the beginning of your performance. He didn’t look up much. A sketchpad sat on his lap and tousled brown hair hung over his face. You hadn’t caught his attention once but he had certainly kept yours.

“Can you hand me another lot of flyers?” you asked one of the other girls with her.

She handed them over and you put on your best grin before making your way to the tree he was sitting under.

He looked up when your shadow fell over his sketchbook. His work was considerably abstract and nothing that you could identify with ease. There weren’t too many colors though.

“Hello!” you greeted cheerily. “I don’t mean to bother but what did you think of the show?”

He blinked up at you. “I didn’t see it.”

The man was a master of deadpan but you didn’t allow your smile to drop. You lowered the flyer and sighed, “That’s a shame. It’s so rare that we have attractive people at our shows… you should consider coming to our actual performances sometime. Everybody loves musicals.”

He didn’t even react to the compliment. No smirk or even a blush. It was as though you hadn’t spoken one word.

“I’ve seen your face before,” he said. “You do this kind of thing quite often. Don’t you get tired of people staring at you?”

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t be in this line of business if I was too self-conscious. When they stare for too long, I like to imagine that it’s because I’m the most beautiful person they’ve ever seen.” Running your fingers through your hair, you offered him your most dazzling smile. “And if you remember me, that’s a certain compliment.”

“You can take it whatever way you want but it doesn’t mean anything.”

It was tempting to give up. Flirting with cute boys was only entertaining when they responded with… something. This boy just stared.

“So you’re an artist, right? You’d have a good point of view on whether or not I’m actually pretty.”

“My opinions on people are rarely accurate.”

His response made you uncomfortable, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. Something of a warning twisted in your stomach. A light had lit behind his eyes but it didn’t seem like something you wanted to tie yourself to.

It appeared it was time to give up your pursuit. “Well, I really should get going. Perhaps I’ll see you at the next performance.”

His eyes drifted to the pamphlet that you held. “Were you planning on giving me that?”

“Offering it but you don’t have to –“

“I’ll take it,” he said, putting down his pencil and holding out his hand. “Your show wasn’t too entertaining but I enjoyed watching the performance you just put on. Rather like a peacock strutting its feathers.”

So he wasn’t oblivious then… just teasing. You had no idea if it showed his genuine interest or if he was merely taunting now.

With a slight scowl, you passed it over. He tucked it into his sketchbook and then closed it, standing up. He was scrawnier than you had anticipated but he still had a considerable height – holding at least a few inches over you.

“Thank you,” you said.

He left without another word. You rolled your eyes and made a point to ignore any thoughts about him for the rest of the day. Perhaps you shouldn’t have given him your information… after all, that flyer had your full name and everything.

And you knew absolutely nothing about him.

Candy Pop

Hospitals were the worst places in the world.

They smelled too clean and looked too false. You generally avoided them as much as possible unless it was absolutely necessary. When a close family member found themselves locked within the walls, unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to stay away.

You wrinkled your nose as you walked into the room. The sterilized smell burnt you.

Most of it was what you had expected but the young, child-like scream made you jump and nearly drop every gift you were holding.

Your aunt jumped up from her chair beside the hospital bed. “What’s wrong?!” she asked, fussing over your cousin.

She was barely over eleven and had badly injured her leg during a biking competition. Your mom had told you that everybody in the family was going to visit her, encouraging you to go together in order to drop off some gifts.

“I’m sorry,” the little girl said quickly. “I don’t like balloons and I thought… it doesn’t matter. Sorry.”

You moved them behind you a little, trying to block her line of sight. “No, no, I should have asked first. You could have been allergic to latex or something and then I’d be feeling really bad about it.”

“She’s been particularly on edge thanks to these awful nightmares,” your aunt explained.

“Nightmares?” you asked.

The little girl seemed pale at its mention, pulling her blanket up to her nose and watching everybody wearily. “They’re just bad dreams,” she said. “You said that they couldn’t hurt me.”

Her mother hurriedly rubbed her shoulder and offered a warm smile. “They definitely can’t,” she reassured.

“Are they about the fall?” you asked.

“Sometimes.”

You settled down in one of the chairs as your own mother began speaking to her sister. They were able to discuss everything from the colour of grass to what they thought would be the best country to live in. You weren’t particularly interested in what they were saying and, after a while of trying to chirp in, you just let the lack of sleep catch up to you.

Your dreams came to you quickly, faster than usual and sharp in an uncomfortable sort of way.

You found yourself standing in a large field. The sky was grey and the grass tall enough to reach your knees. Everything felt bright. It hurt your eyes to stare at anything for too long.

Normally, dreams didn’t feel as such, but you were certain that this was one. There was no purpose to where you were. No inclination to walk in a specific direction or try to understand what was happening.

Just confusion.

You took a step forward and a soft wind wrapped around you. It brushed through the grass, dancing around the trees. Something was watching.

You turned and two, glowing lights floated above the ground.

Slowly, mist gathered around the two spots. As you stepped back, it began to solidify – quickly forming a more recognisable shape. The figure tilted its head to the side and a slight jingling sound filled the air. It stepped forward then and the glow faded from its eyes, revealing just what stood before you.

He was a jester, though certainly more modern than the old king’s versions. Blue hair hung around his shoulders and his entire outfit jingled with hundreds of bells. A smile graced his face and he stepped forward.

You moved away.

His smile disappeared and his eyes narrowed. The mist appeared again and he vanished into it.

You looked around frantically. He was gone. The wind picked up unexpectedly, howling in your ears. You raised your hands to shield your face and something grabbed your wrist. Before you could turn to see, you hurdled away from the meadow and awoke spluttering for air.

“Are you alright?” your aunt asked.

In the corner of your eye, you swore you saw a blue jester but, when you turned to look, he was gone. “Yeah,” you said, rubbing your chest. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Your made eye contact with your cousin and swallowed thickly. The look on her face said it all.

Clockwork

Every night, without fail, you saw her sitting there when you arrived home from work.

She always wore the same thing and, initially, you had thought that she would play on her phone for hours at a time. It didn’t appear that she had a phone, however, as you came to realise. Whatever she was holding was circular and fit perfectly within the palm of her hand.

You mentioned it to the building manager the second time she was there until like two in the morning. He had said that they thought she was homeless but, as far as they could tell, she wasn’t dangerous. You reassured him that your worries weren’t about her presence due to any perceived problem but he had just nodded.

She never moved while she was waiting. Not even to adjust her weight or brush the hair from her face.

A few of your neighbours used the very eloquent reasoning that she was merely crazy.

Occasionally, you heard children from the area parroting their parents. Rumours abound that she was a ghost who would attack anybody if they spoke to her. You scoffed each time it was said but many believed the stories.

You were arriving home late one night when you spotted her sitting in the usual spot. It was strange for you to feel anything beyond exhaustion on the nights when hospital jobs ran too long but this time, a strange anticipation settled itself in your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Are you okay?”

Her hair was dirty and her coat looked as though it hadn’t been washed for years. Now that you were close, you could make out what appeared to be dried blood on her shirt.

“Go away,” she said, shaking her head from side to side.

“I have medical experience,” you responded. “And I know some good places to stay in the area. I can –“

“Good for you,” she sneered. “Leave me alone. You’re going to make me miss it.”

The object she was holding was an old pocket watch. It looked like something you would find in an antique store and pay insane amounts of money for. Though, it didn’t appear to be working. The clock hands sat at a set time and didn’t move in the slightest.

“I want to help you if that’s okay,” you said.

She forced out a laugh that sounded as though it physically pained her. “You want to help me?!” she cackled, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Isn’t that sweet.”

You stumbled away from her and clasped a hand over your mouth. Her face…

Her mouth was torn to pieces, jagged cuts that ripped through the skin there and had been crudely stitched back together. But that wasn’t the worst. No, the worst part of it was her left eye that had a pocket watch shoved into the socket and forcefully stitched there. The injury flared red with infection and pain.

“What’s wrong little doctor?!” she cawed. “No longer feeling like saving the poor girl you found on the side of the road?”

You steeled your resolve and straightened. “I’m still willing to offer help if you need it,” you said in your strongest voice. “That injury is severe and needs attending to if you want to save the eye.”

The eye was definitely gone and she knew it as well, scoffing at your offer. “No chance of that. Why do you people like pretending that you care?”

“I do care.”

She responded with a mocking expression and stood unexpectedly. “Sure you do.” She tapped the front of the pocket watch with her nail. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get to work. I nearly missed it thanks to your nagging. I’ll see you tomorrow, doctor.”

And she marched off into the night.

Dark Link

The vase that you were holding was beautifully polished and almost brand new. As you lifted it, something rattled around within.

“Why are you selling this for such a low price?” you asked.

The woman was middle-aged with a falsely high voice and bright, darting eyes. “It was a gift,” she said. “But I decided against keeping it. I wasn’t sure how low the price should be but it’s not like I’m losing any money.”

You decided against buying it, thanking her and walking away quickly. While you were looking through a few pieces of jewelry, your arm was grabbed and a small object pushed into your chest.

“Here you go!” you friend chimed. “Consider it to be a late birthday present!”

You took the game cartridge and examined it closely. “Zelda, again?” you asked. “I’ve already tell you that –“

“Yes, yes, I know that they’re not your thing but if you haven’t tried all the games then how are you meant to know there isn’t just one that you like?”

Sighing, you took the game and dropped it into your purse. It was dirty and definitely well used. A bit of black paint flaked off on your fingers.

Another game for you to keep in your cupboard and not look at again until months later when you were asked about your opinion on it. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t have the console you needed and the simple answer of ‘just buy one for cheap’ wasn’t always available.

But in the coming weeks, you quickly realised that this wasn’t just another game.

At first, the things that went wrong were too minor to even pay attention to. Electronics started breaking frequently until the point where you had replaced your stereo twice in a week and no longer had a television. After that, you started feeling sickly and uncomfortable whenever you were in the house. A feeling of imposing nature settled upon your shoulders.

You spent more time away from home, staying away for as long as you could. When you tried to dogsit for your brother, the pup wouldn’t even enter the house.

It was late at night when you woke up in a cold sweat. Nausea coiled in your stomach and your heart was beating at the speed of light.

At first, you had no idea what had woken you.

And then you heard the rattling.

It was coming from the next room over. As though somebody had taken hold of your desk and was shaking it as roughly as they could.

You scrambled for your phone but it wasn’t there. It was sitting in your office.

You took a deep breath and slowly stepped from your bed. Your head felt fuzzy, as though you weren’t able to wake up properly. Every step was slow and lethargic.

Stumbling toward the door, you gingerly grabbed the handle. As you opened it, your mind caught up with your body and you remembered that you shouldn’t just burst in on a potential invader.

But it was too late.

The person, for it had to be a person, stood in the middle of the room. Its body was so dark that it blended in with the shadows surrounding it. Two bright red eyes shone, illuminating enough that it showed some of the creatures ashen features. It had sharp features that were definitely human. Though as you stared at it, you knew that it was anything but.

It smiled and began turning into small squares, pixelating into the air and disappearing into something behind it.

You flicked on the light as fast as you could but it was gone. Sitting in the middle of the desk, the black cartridge seemed to emit its own darkness.

Dr. Smiley

The building was beyond restoration, crumbling and derelict. You were sure that it hadn’t been occupied for at least a decade. Perhaps even longer.

For months now, you had been going through the motions to have everything approved and organised. You had gotten clearance, hired the workers, discussed things with any neighbours, and even paid extra for the best machinery to get everything done quicker.

And now they were refusing to do anything.

“I’m sorry, and I will compensate for the time wasted, but my men are saying no,” the on-site manager said. “I know you’re not from these parts but we’ve always known there’s something wrong with this building. Rumours and superstitions abound and I wouldn’t blame my men for not wanting to anger a ghost.”

“They’ll be pissing off something far worse than a ‘ghost’ if they continue refusing to even go in there,” you snapped.

He glanced towards his workers and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Once he left, you turned your attention to the house. Why anybody would have wanted a house in this location was beyond you but now that you had inherited it, you could see potential.

Although the entire place was probably crawling with all manners of disgusting flora.

Perhaps you could use that to get the health counsel to do the job for you.

They will still talking and you could see the weariness on their faces. Sighing, you stalked your way to the front door and pushed it open with one hand. It creaked with the effort.

You stood with your hands out towards the men. “I’m going to walk this entire house!” you called. “And if your ghost doesn’t accost me while I’m there, then I’m going to be expecting you to all get on with it, alright?”

Nothing immediately jumped at you when you entered. The door struggled to open and it swung shut on its own accord. If that was the haunting that they were talking about…

A roach skittered along the floor in front of you, darting under a derelict sofa stained with an unknown substance. Several of the windows had been broken so it wasn’t surprising to find that graffiti and markers had been used to etch various names into the walls.

You walked through a destroyed kitchen, passed a bedroom with a smashed crib, and even kicked open a door that led to a filthy storage room.

No ghost jumped out at you.

Problems started presenting themselves when you walked down one of the hallways and pushed open a bedroom door. The entire room felt set apart from the rest of the place with almost-new curtains that had been drawn shut. Blankets covered the bed, dirty but still there. You immediately thought somebody may be squatting there but your concerns changed when you noticed the wall.

Black mold. It crawled its way up the side, covering most of what had once been white wallpaper. You brought one hand up to shield your mouth and stepped out, slamming the door closed.

If there was an infestation then you had to get the health department immediately. This was –

Your thoughts were interrupted by something grabbing you. Panic filled your mind as a sharp weapon was pressed against your throat.

“Well now, I just know that you don’t have an appointment,” a voice said close to your ear. “I don’t like trespassers.”

Thinking on instinct, you threw your head backwards as hard as you could. There was a satisfying impact followed by a loud yelp of pain. The weapon around your throat moved away so you kicked the guy in the shin and bolted for it.

The house felt bigger while you were running but nobody came after you. You didn’t hear any footsteps or other sounds of a chase.

Bursting through the front door, you winced at the bright light. The house hadn’t seemed nearly that dark until compared to the outside.

You collided with one of the workers in your rush and nearly knocked everybody to the ground.

“What’s happened?”

“It was that ghost, I’m telling you.”

“We warned her, boss.”

You cleared your throat and straightened up, making eye contact with each man individually. “There is no ghost,” you said. “Only a squatter who I shall deal with using police force if needed. However, I do believe any construction will have to wait because I saw an excessive spread of black mold within the house.”

They all spoke amongst themselves, discussing options. You glanced back to the house and allowed your attention to find its way to the bedroom window. Though fleeting, a masked face peered out at you from within.

Eyeless Jack

In many ways, what happened that night was your boss’ fault.

Having just finished working a double shift that ended at almost 1 in the morning, you were exhausted upon returning home. You walked past the neighbouring apartment with only one thought on your mind – sleep.

It was then that you heard a thump coming from within the house, followed shortly by a muffled scream.

Tired, you had to pause to register what was happening and, by the time your brain caught up, your heart was in full-on panic mode. You slowly reached into your pocket and dialed the emergency number as slowly as you dared, whispering into the phone and being reassured that a police presence would be arriving shortly.

Your neighbour was a young man though, just out of rehab and beginning to make his way through life. The longer you stood and waited for the police, the guiltier you felt.

So you reached into the pot plant and pulled out his spare key. After a short while of building yourself up, you unlocked the door and crept inside.

It was dark with the outside world shrouded via heavy curtains. You could barely make your way through the unfamiliar apartment and you didn’t dare turn on the light. Damn, you were extremely tired.

Part of your brain suggested that you had imagined the whole thing. It was a byproduct of a sleep-addled mind or something. That would be embarrassing to explain to the police and to your neighbour. Would you get charged for breaking and entering or could you blame it on your tiredness?

Your doubts didn’t get much further than that because somebody grabbed you from within the room.

A horrible iron-filled scent attacked your senses as you took in the bedroom. It looked like your neighbour was tied to the bed though he wasn’t moving. Somebody stood behind you, their breathing heavy and their grip strong.

They pushed your wrist closer to your back, preventing you from wriggling free of their grip. A blade, small and yet sharp, pressed against the side of your throat.

“Trying to play the hero, are we?” snarled a voice. “Have you called the cops?”

The blade pressed against your skin and you quickly spat out a yes.

“Probably right before you came in, if not earlier… I’d have enough time to kill you but then you’d be an absolute waste. Nowhere to stash a body around here and they’d comb the entire area if you were missing…”

“I didn’t mean –“

You were shoved forward before you had a chance to react. In the dark, you couldn’t make anything out and you hit the wall unexpectedly. Now, far enough away, you turned and tried to make out the face of your assailant. He melded in with the shadows and you ran your fingers along the wall until you found a light switch.

The lights flickered on and you gasped.

He wore a dark blue mask, a black ooze dripping from the eye sockets and onto his hoodie. There was no reaction to the lights. Not even a blink.

“Don’t you want to beg for your life?” he asked. “The other one pleaded nearly constantly until I shut him up.”

“You killed him…”

“He isn’t dead, just unconscious,” the man scoffed. “I try to avoid killing them, if I’m able to.”

“The police will be here soon,” you warned.

“Oh I know. That’s the only reason that I’m leaving this very minute.” He made his way over to the window, never turning to stop facing you. The bedroom window slipped open without a sound and he began climbing out. “I’d keep my doors locked if I was you. Plenty of unsavory characters live in these parts.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Glitchy Red

Your younger cousin squealed excitedly, holding the game to her chest in joy. “I love it so much!” she said. “I can’t believe I used to think Pokémon was for babies. At first when the music randomly cut out, I did think it was super weird but I’ve gotten used to it now.”

“I don’t think it’s meant to do that,” you chuckled. “But cheap versions, you know?”

It was good to see that your last-minute gift hadn’t gone to waste. You had been worried that the present’s fun would be lost on your video game-hating cousin but she had actually decided to give the game a shot. Now you had somebody in the family to speak to which was extraordinarily exciting.

“What are you meant to say to Red when he asks you whether or not he’s a joke?” she aske unexpectedly. “I know that if you say no, he goes away, and I’ve been too scared to try the other option.”

You frowned. “I don’t actually remember that part of the game.”

“Really? But it happens so often.”

When she realised that you really hadn’t encountered anything like that in the game before, she told you to wait a minute and came back with her game.

“There was one around here,” she said, loading in. “Just give me a second and I’ll find it.”

You stayed much later than you had originally intended to that night. The two of you played through a lot of the game, waiting for the moment when Red would break the fourth wall and demand to know about your opinions on him.

It never came.

The game ran incredibly smoothly. It was quite odd. There weren’t any hiccups along the way nor horror-style glitches. The music didn’t even cut off which was apparently rare accourding to your cousin.

After a while, she sighed and handed it to you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why it’s not breaking. I’ll go make us some food.”

You continued playing while she was gone, enjoying the memories that came with the game. It was as fun as you remembered until about five minutes after she left. The music just shut off unexpectedly and, no matter what you did, it refused to come back at all. Any other sound effects worked fine though.

“So you’re just programed to break when only one person’s in the room?” you joked.

Perhaps that was a bad choice.

Unexpectedly, a loud static erupted from the console, so ear-aching that it felt like your ears began to bleed. The game took on a horrible red tint and Red appeared on the screen, a dialogue box appearing beneath his blackened form.

AM I A JOKE TO YOU?

Horrified, you immediately shut down the game and threw the cartridge as far away from you as possible. You raced at full speed into the kitchen, nearly knocking several things over along the way.

“You have got to throw that game,” you wheezed.

“What? Why?” she asked.

“There is something really fucked up with that game…” you said. “That thing with Red is absolutely not meant to happen. It felt like he was staring into my soul. You have to throw it out the moment you can. I will buy you another one but do not keep that.”

“Oh, alright,” she said, seemingly confused but nowhere as shaken as you were.

A faint static came from the living room, sending shivers down your spine.

Hobo Heart

Tears flowed down your face despite your best attempts to remain composed. “I’ve known for a while now,” you managed to say.

Your ex-boyfriend seemed shocked, though not entirely upset about your admission. “How long –“

“Since last week,” you said. “Though I’ve heard it’s been going on for considerably longer.”

He shifted his weight and took a deep breath. You recognised this behavior from the past, already hearing the words you knew were coming. The apologies and the false regret, the promises about not doing it again, and then the eventual guilt-tripping. If you heard the latter, you weren’t sure your resolve would hold.

“Goodbye,” you said firmly.

“Wait!”

You ignored the calls, making your way home at a steady place. A few people offered you concerned looks so you rubbed away the tears and took a few deep breaths.

Several months of your life had been completely wasted. You had put so much time and energy into a person who didn’t care one ounce about you.

Just great.

You turned onto your street and made your way to the house across from your own. The woman who lived there was always busy and she only came home to feed her dog before disappearing again. Thankfully, she trusted you to spend time with Bruno.

Bruno came racing over to the gate and jumped up for head scratches. He was a beautiful Afghan Hound with a dark coat and bright eyes.

“At least I know that you’ll always be by my side,” you said, running his fingers through the dog’s fur.

A tear slipped out and you quickly rubbed it away. You dug around in your bag and took out a couple treats, offering him.

A second bark brought your attention to the street.

Standing there, a small white dog with a scruffy coat stared up at you. It looked friendly enough and, after cautiously checking it out, you crouched down and gave it a treat.

“Hello,” you cooed. You gave the pup a few scratches and smiled. “How are you doing, hm? No collar? But you must have an owner because your coat is all groomed and soft. Did you get out or slip your leash?”

You looked around the streets to see if anybody. Nobody jumped out so you gave the dog another treat and brought it into the garden with Bruno to protect it from cars.

The two barked and played with little issue and you messages friends and family about the events of the day.

It was about half an hour later when the air was starting to get chilly. You stood and the small scruffy dog began barking excitedly. Its tail whipped through the air and it jumped up against the fence. A man wearing a white hoodie was standing down the street. You glanced at the dog, scooped it up and made your way to where he was.

“Excuse me,” you said. “I think that I found your dog.”

He turned to look at you and you startled slightly at his rather unusual face paint. A white skull was painted onto his face, similar to something you would see at a college convention.

He glanced down at the happy dog and sighed. “So that’s where he got to.”

“I’m sorry if you were looking for him. I took him off the street to protect him from any cars or anything.”

“It’s fine. He always shows up eventually,” the guy said. “You can just put him down. He’ll follow me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Then he turned and started walking away. You hurriedly put the dog down and it immediately bounded after him, falling into step directly beside him. They disappeared around a corner and you returned to your own house.

The day had gotten much warmer suddenly.

[jigujellee]

PROOF -> life is full of changes, but jennie is one of things that managed to stay the same.

jennie x reader fluff word count: 1.3k warnings: none

a/n: inspired by and dedicated to my dep la <3 you know who you are! just a short one that i've been thinking about for a while, so please enjoy!

though considered to be such a mundane activity, taking a shower is one of your favourite things to do. the way the hot water runs down your body, dripping down towards the drain as steam fills the washroom. it calms and eases your nerves after a long day of sitting in 3 hour lectures, and you could honestly stand in there for hours just staring into space, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.

but whoever was sending you hundreds of texts within the minute was ruining your lovely shower time.

sighing, you grab the shower handle to turn it off before yanking the curtain to grab your towel. you start to dry yourself off, first rustling your hair before patting down your body and finally wrapping it around you. you wiped down the fogged up mirror and then reached for your phone that was sitting on the edge of the counter, stopping the music that you barely got to listen to since your phone was going off every second.

you didn’t need to question who was texting you. she hasn’t stopped texting and calling since you broke up with her last week. she is your ex-girlfriend, roseanne. after almost a year of being together, you decided to call it quits but clearly, she wasn’t taking it very well. up until now, she’s been trying to get a hold of you and is doing all she can to try and get you back, but you were so tired. the relationship was just adding stress onto everything else and you realized it’s something you can’t handle right now, so you finally ended it.

there were at least 60 something messages from roseanne, all being along the lines of “answer me”, “let’s talk about it”, and numerous “i miss you’s” but you didn’t bother responding as you felt that nothing would be resolved if you talked to her.

stepping into your bedroom, you toss your phone onto the bed and make your way to the closet to slip on a tshirt and sweats. you groan at the sound of your phone vibrating again, thinking it’s another text from roseanne but when you pick it up, it wasn’t a message. someone replied to your instagram story, and the name alone allows a smile to make its way onto your face.

manducheeks16 replied to your story: you don’t eat tomatoes, who are you and what have you done to y/n??

jennie kim, who once was the love of your life. but regardless if she’s your girlfriend or not, you know deep down that she is indeed your soulmate.

the two of you fell in love as kids, constantly making empty promises to each other, planning your dream wedding and imagining what it'd be like to live together. but unfortunately, all good things come to an end and your relationship was one of them. you were going to different high schools and both of you knew long distance wasn’t something either of you could maintain, especially at the ripe ages of 13 and 14. the last day of school was painful for both of you, and even your friends started to tear up as they watched the two of you hold each other in a final embrace, your eyes filled with tears that stained your cheeks and clothes. despite breaking up, you and jennie promised each other that you will keep in touch and that you’ll always be there for each other, making this the only promise you both managed to keep.

that is until you met roseanne and she denied you any contact with jennie. there were countless arguments that occurred because she hated whenever you talked to jennie, and even when you explained the fact that there was nothing between you and jennie anymore, roseanne never listened to you and made you block her. at the time, you were afraid to lose your relationship with roseanne and agreed to her request. looking back, you regret doing that. jennie is a huge part of your life and the fact that you easily blocked her just because someone asked you made you angry not only at roseanne, but also at yourself. however, after breaking up with roseanne, you were able to unblock jennie and now this is the first time you’ve texted since then.

with your feet kicked up on the coffee table and a mug of hot chocolate by your side, you finally reply to jennie.

it’s just character development I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ are you proud of me?

manducheeks16: haha, i’ve always been proud of you, y/n &lt;3

there's a warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach after reading her message. you were relieved that even after blocking her, she wasn’t mad at you for doing so.

manducheeks16: oh i was gonna ask, did you block me?? what a jerk😠

never mind.

i can explain! give me your number again and i’ll explain the whole thing.

and that’s what you did for the next few hours of the night. after giving you her number, you facetimed her and started talking about everything, from how school was going to your families and friends, and eventually to the whole thing with roseanne.

when you first started talking to roseanne, you told jennie about it. the both of you tell each other everything, so it was natural that you’d tell her about roseanne but jennie was skeptical about her from the start especially because you were 4 years older than roseanne. so for 20 straight minutes, jennie kept teasing you about how you didn’t listen to her in the first place.

“what did i say y/n? didn’t i tell you from the get go that i didn’t like her for you? yet you were out here telling me you loved her so much and that she was the one, like okay we get it, you're a simp” jennie explains, her eyes rolling in annoyance.

“yeah yeah, whatever, don’t be so annoying kim. let’s not forget how i completely disapprove of your current boyfriend but you don’t see me rubbing it in your face”

“that’s completely different you moron!”, she says before the two of you burst into laughter. conversations like this were the ones you missed the most. you missed your best friend and your soulmate, and you internally slap yourself for letting someone take you away from this.

3 hours and another mug of hot chocolate later, both of you started to get sleepy. the conversation would occasionally fade out as you both were trying to stay awake, but you noticed it’s taken a much softer and less goofy turn from here.

“hey y/n?”, jennie asked tiredly. you simply hummed in response.

“what do you love about me?”

“i love everything about you jennie. you’re funny, you’re smart, you’re beautiful. you’re everything i could ever want in someone” jennie giggles in response but is followed by a sigh.

“i don’t know y/n, i don’t think i’m all that”

“are you kidding? jennie, even if we’re all grown up now, i still see the girl i fell in love with as a kid”

“it’s hard to see that honestly but, here you are proving that i am still the person i was back then. and that's all the proof i need”

“well, i hope you’ll start to see yourself through my eyes one day. because all i see is an amazing human who deserves nothing but the best”

when jennie doesn’t reply, you pick up your phone that was just lying on your chest, and you're met with a black screen so you figured jennie's already asleep. you hope she heard what you said, because it’s true - no matter what happens between you and her, all you want is for her to be happy and you wish that one day, someone will come along and love her as much as you once did.

you smile at the thought of jennie falling asleep. shortly after, you get up to shut off the lights in the living room and walk back to your bedroom. as soon as your back hits the mattress, you find yourself slowly going into a deep slumber. before completely knocking out, you say goodnight to jennie but you don’t bother ending the call because falling asleep on the phone together was something you both loved doing as kids.

“goodnight y/n, and thank you” jennie says faintly, and you smile because it means she did hear what you said earlier.

[yyxgin]

7 days (lee minho)

pairing: lee minho x gn reader genre: fluff, best friends to lovers au, college au word count: 3.7 k  warnings: swearing, mention of alcohol in like one sentence listen to: 7 days - nct dream requested by: anon

synopsis: you confess your love to your best friend for a whole week before he finally takes it seriously.

THINGS YOU SAID MASTERLIST 28) things you said in the dark

MONDAY

Lee Minho is your best friend. Now, Lee Felix would disagree and say you’re in love with him, and your roommate might be right, but you’ll never actually admit it to him. You managed to hide your feelings for the older boy for far too long now and you’re not just going to lose your streak for nothing, right? 

Wrong.

Well, it’s not your fault that you have to break the little promise you gave to yourself. It’s all on Lee Felix and his pathetic bet. You should have known better than to make bets with a short Australian boy, but you guess even your brain has its dark moments and this was surely one of them.

“I bet you’ll forget to take out the things from the dishwasher before I come back from my afternoon class,” he prompts to say while putting on his shoes in the hall, glaring at you after a small argument you two had over who is the dirtier one in your apartment (it’s obviously Felix. He just can’t stand the truth). 

“Oh yeah? What are we betting on, then?” you mock him, pouting in annoyance. 

“If I come back and the dishwasher is still full, you’ll have to confess to Minho. No excuses.” he spits at you, putting on his coat and taking his backpack from the floor, looking like an angry cat. 

You snort at his comment. “As if,” you roll your eyes, “okay, deal. And if I don’t forget and you lose this bet, you’ll have to clean for the whole year alone. I’m not helping in the slightest.” you bark at him, watching him open the door and snickering at your proposal.

“Right. Okay,” he nods his head, getting out of your shared apartment, “deal.”

Now, this was a huge deal for you. It was important for you to win this bet, because, well, you hate cleaning. And on top of that, you can’t just confess to your best friend out of the blue, right? That would be horrible. Everyone would have thought you paid much attention to your task and that you actually did what you had to do-- take the dishes out of the dishwasher for once. It was easy!

Well… you see… Friends were on the TV. 

Isn’t that enough of a reasoning for you forgetting? No? 

Okay, right, maybe you do have a memory of a goldfish. But it’s totally not your fault that the episode that was running was just your favorite and Felix’s afternoon class wasn’t as long as you thought it was going to be!

Needless to say, Felix came home to a full dishwasher and a shit-eating grin on his face announcing his victory, bringing you back to your senses.

“Oh no..” you curse under your breath, fear in your eyes.

“Do it. Now,” he orders, “call him. I can’t believe you actually forgot.” he shakes his head, laughing to himself, “oh, well, I did think you would, but something inside of me still had a little bit of hope.” he shrugs, watching you nervously sweat under his gaze.

“I can’t!” 

“It was a bet, you little bitch! Do it now or I’m telling him!” he yells, motioning to your phone and glaring at you for the thousandth time that day, making you take it with shaky fingers and a deep sigh coming out of your mouth, dialing your best friend’s number, because truth be told, maybe you do fear your roommate just a little bit. He is short, but full of angst and rage for this world and you didn’t want to be the victim of that.

“Hello?” Minho asks, making you tremble even more with the reality hitting you.

“M-Minho?” you call into the phone, biting on your nails as you put your phone on speaker so Felix can watch you do the biggest mistake of your short life.

“Yeah?” he asks nonchalantly, making your heart skip a beat.

“I love you.” you deadpan, hearing the other side of the line get silent. It’s not an outcome you predicted, but it’s not the one you would like to hear either. 

After a while, there’s a short snicker coming out of the speaker followed by a teasing question that makes you instantly roll your eyes. “Who doesn’t?”

And you chose this as your object of interest? You huff, instantly getting irritated as all of your nerves leave your body. “I love you, Minho.”

“Did you drink?” he asks, “I mean, I know it’s only like 4pm or something, but with you and Felix living together, you never know…”

“No, I didn’t drink anything. I’m completely sober-” you prompt to say, getting cut off by your best friend again, his voice coming out in a rushed statement.

“Okay, I have a class in like 5 minutes and I haven’t gone out of my apartment yet, so please don’t get wasted and I’ll see you soon, bye!” and with that, he gives you no time to answer as he ends the call, leaving you sitting shocked in your living room with a silent phone in your hand and a moment to take in.

“So... I guess it went good?” you mumble, raising your eyebrows at your roommate that just shakes his head at you.

“You’re gonna try tomorrow again. I’m not letting you go before he takes your confession seriously.” 

“Felix-”

“No excuses.” he glares.

You had to clean out the dishwasher that afternoon anyway.

TUESDAY

You decide to follow your promise you gave to Felix, because in your words, mamma ain’t raise no bitch, and you also, admittedly, can’t stop thinking about the words you said to him ever since you got them out of your mouth. There was a sense of relief overflowing your body after your confession that tells you that maybe, this wasn’t such a bad idea as you first thought it was. 

You confess to your best friend on the second day of the week again. It’s tuesday and you two meet in a coffee shop, talking about how your week was. You two were quite busy with school and classes, so it was hard for you two to talk, but you quickly caught up and your conversations were still as comfortable as ever, as if nothing happened and you didn’t just spill out your heart to him the day before.

You think that maybe, he even forgot. Who knows? Lee Minho was quite the individual.

Once the barista calls for his name and he comes to take his order, you watch him with a look you only imagine can resonate the textbook version of heart eyes. It’s hard for you to look anywhere else-- you have eyes only for him. It’s quite silly, you think. You managed to fall for him even though all he’s ever done was tease you and laugh at you.

Well… that’s not all. And you know that. To a stranger, it might seem like your relationship is strictly like two siblings. You two tease each other more than you actually have serious talks, but that doesn’t mean Minho isn’t a good listener that always offers you the most honest advice. His humour is also the only thing that could get you through your hard days sometimes and for that, you’re forever thankful.

So once you step outside of the coffee shop and walk side by side on the sidewalk, you decide to go for it again. Because what could go wrong, right?

“Minho, I love you.” you say, voice much more steadier than yesterday, watching him react.

But exactly in the moment you do so, the cup of coffee in his hands slips out of his grasp and falls to the ground, making him wince and scowl, because truth be told, his only love is and always has been the americano now spilled all over the concrete.

“A terrible decision, really.” he mutters, taking the empty cup from the ground and throwing it out to the bin, sighing to himself.

You offer to share your coffee with him. He teases you for drinking latte.

WEDNESDAY

Wednesdays are the hardest for your best friend. You know this, because you know him too well. You know his schedule by heart and you also know when he’s having a hard time-- you are his best friend, after all. You can see it on him even in the slightest change in his eyes.

You visit him at his apartment on Wednesday with some takeout in your hand, knowing he doesn’t have the time and energy to cook on this particular day. 

His classes start in the early morning and they end in the late afternoon-- leaving him exhausted, only to be going to his dance classes in the evening. They always tire him out even more. It breaks your heart to see him getting home with dark circles under his eyes and fair skin, but you can’t really do anything about it-- it’s his schedule, after all. All you can do for him is be there with takeout in your hand, waiting on his bright yellow sofa (you were strongly against this color, but he just didn’t care about your opinion. Or he bought it just for the exact same reason, who knows) until he comes home, ready to hear him complain about his day.

And he does exactly that-- he comes home a few minutes after you sneaked into his apartment with the spare key he nonchalantly gave you once when you hung out, falling down face-first onto the sofa with an exaggerated sigh, screaming into the cushions.

“Hard day?” you ask, voice soft and considerate.

He answers you with a hum before he sits up again, coming closer to where you’re sitting on the sofa, taking the takeout from the bag sitting at the coffee table and sitting on the floor in front of you, right between your legs. You don’t know why he does that, but it’s become a tradition at this point-- he sits at the floor, even though he has plenty of space on the sofa to sit on, and you sit right behind him, legs on either side of his body, nudging him with your heels when you feel like teasing him.

“Thanks for coming,” he mumbles, getting the chopsticks and munching on his food, chewing out loud-- a sign that it tastes good and you made a good choice on picking his dinner today.

“It’s not a big deal, I always come over anyways,” you answer, smiling down at him.

He only nods at you, but you see his composure shift in the way he aimlessly stares at the wall-- he doesn’t feel good. It’s not only the exhaustion today. There must be something else going on. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he nods, continuing to eat, “it’s just… I feel so useless today.” he shrugs, snickering to himself.

“Why?” you simply state.

“We’re learning this new choreography and I just can’t get it right…” he mumbles, not once meeting your eye as he explains what’s on his mind. Minho doesn’t say a lot, but somehow, you always entirely know how he feels.

You sigh, shifting a little in your seat so you’re closer to the boy sitting on the floor, tenderly bringing your fingers into his hair. You brush it away from his forehead, playing with it, as you quietly speak up, wanting to heal your best friend’s heavy heart.

“It’s just a bad day, Minho. It will be okay, I promise. You just have to rest, okay?” you mumble, continuing to play with his hair. “You’ll get the dancing right in no time. So don’t worry about that, yeah?”

“Hmm,” he hums in a mix of pleasure and acknowledgement, closing his eyes momentarily before he puts the empty box of takeout on the coffee table and leans back into your touch, “fine. Wanna sleep over and watch a movie?” 

You shake your head in disbelief at how quickly his mood changes, giggling. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he nods, but doesn’t move from your touch. You watch him from up close, tracing the sculpted features of his face, admiring his beauty, when you decide to say the three words again, nonchalantly and randomly, as always.

“I love you, Minho.”

“Thanks.”

THURSDAY

You wake up to the sunlight aggressively shining into your eyes, scowling a little and cursing at Lee Minho under your breath, because he is the only person you know that doesn’t close their blinds before going to sleep. You thank the gods for not having a morning class today, trying to force yourself to go back to sleep, when you hear loud cursing from the kitchen, prompting you to hurriedly stand up and rush to the room, watching a disaster happen right in front of your eyes.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-” you hear, seeing something set to flames on the stove-- you think it’s eggs, by the carton placed on the kitchen counter, but you really can’t recognise the object when it’s coal black and burning.

“What’s going on?” you nervously ask, watching the scene unfold.

“A fire.” your best friend says, making you laugh.

You just shake your head at him, taking a seat at his kitchen table, not even rushing to help. Watching him struggle is much more fun anyway, and you know he’ll figure it out eventually-- he’s an engineering student. He’s smart.

“Are you not going to help?” he glares at you, putting the pan under the sink, flashing water on the hot surface. 

“Not really, no,” you shake your head in innocence, seeing how the hot oil reacts with water in a small explosion, almost burning your best friend’s fingers off as he quickly lets go of the object and curses loudly again, taking a step back.

“How did this all even happen?” you ask, watching him sigh and take out another pan, cracking an egg on top of it and letting it cook.

“I was looking for Dori and forgot I had eggs on the stove…” he scratches the back of his head, laughing a little at himself.

“Right. Yeah. Why didn’t I think of that? I’m such an idiot,” you propose, laughing with him. It’s such a Minho thing to do, you don’t even feel surprised anymore.

Minho then finishes cooking the eggs, serving them to you on a small, white plate, acting like a chef as he takes a seat on the chair opposite of yours, eating his own creation as well.

“Is it good?” he asks, watching you fierclessly nod at him with big eyes and full mouth.

“It’s amazing. I was starving, really, so these eggs really hit different right now,” you mumble out, “Thanks Minho, I love you.”

It slips out casually now. It’s been four days and your best friend doesn’t seem to notice the change in your behaviour, but you don’t really even care at this point. Maybe it’s easier for you this way, after all.

Minho just hysterically laughs at you like a maniac this time, not even finding words to say back as he finishes the breakfast he made with so much struggle, and maybe even the tiniest bit of care. 

FRIDAY

The cars behind the window blur into themselves as you drive down the street, sitting on the passenger seat of your best friend’s car. You smile fondly at him when he shortly glances at you from his place, driving with ease down the neighbourhood you live in, the raindrops angrily falling at the surface of the car making it hard for the two of you to even listen to music on your drive home.

“Thanks for driving me home, you’re a lifesaver,” you say when you’re near your apartment complex.

“Well, I have to take care of you since you’re too stupid to get driver’s licence,” he shrugs, grining.

“I’m not stupid!”

“You failed the test twice!”

“I was stressed!” you argue, laughing at him. 

He shakes his head at you, parking in front of your building, waiting for you to get out with your things and run into your apartment. You don’t forget your ritual, though, looking him in the eye before you leave, muttering the cursed eight letters again before saying goodbye.

“I love you.”

“Why?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. There’s a hint of amusement hitting his features, but confusion is a feeling overpowering on his face when he speaks to you.

“What do you mean, why?” you shake your head.

“Why do you keep saying that?” 

“Because it’s true?” you answer, sounding more like a question, though, watching his expression change into even more confused one.

“But like… why?”

“That’s a stupid question.” you scoff. You feel your palms sweating, trying to nonchalantly wipe them on your pants, the stress finally falling on your shoulders when you’re being questioned.

“It’s not. Answer me.” he insists, pouting at you like a little child in the store when their parents don't want to buy them something.

“Because you’re my best friend? I don’t know,” you sigh, hurriedly taking your backpack from the floor, opening the door wide to escape the conversation, “bye!”

You run into your apartment, breathing heavily as you take off your shoes and reach the living room, seeing your roommate laying sprawled out on the sofa in his usual manner. This is a situation for a short australian man to cope with, if you’ve ever seen one.

“Felix, I think I fucked up.”

SATURDAY

After a long, long conversation with Felix about your feelings and how you think you ruined it all, you think your mood couldn’t be worse. You feel like you either completely missed your chance by telling Minho you love him only because he’s your best friend, or you messed it all up and made your friendship awkward by saying so and he finally caught on to what your words really mean.

You walk around the apartment like a stressed-out shell without a soul, chewing on your bottom lip at all times, when you hear the bell on your door ring, throwing you out of your thoughts as you run to see who’s there bugging you in the late hours of the evening.

“What are you doing here so late?” you ask Minho, caught off-guard.

“I was bored,” he shrugs, looking down to his feet. You want the ground to swallow you whole. It’s suddenly hard to stand there in front of him-- it only deepens how embarrassed and frustrated you feel.

“Do you wanna go out for a walk?” he asks, raising his eyebrows up at you in question.

“Sure,” you shrug, following him outside.

You walk by his side, feeling your hands slightly brush against each other from time to time, making you shudder with the unexpected contact. You’ve never felt more nervous than now-- and you took your driving test twice, so that really tells you something.

“Why are you so quiet? Did something happen?” he asks, slightly nudging you with his elbow.

“What? No,” you shake your head, “everything’s fine.” you smile.

“Are you sure? I know I can be a dick sometimes, but you know I’m always here for you,” he says, gazing into your face with such fondness it actually comforts you.

“Yeah, I know,” you nod, “thanks.” you sigh. 

A few more steps later, though, the sentence slips out of your mouth again, and you don’t even try to fight it as you let it go. It feels natural to say it now. You’re getting used to it, yet, the feeling he makes you feel always somehow shifts-- but still stays the same as well.

“I love you.”

A nervous laugh is all he gives you, hugging you to his side with his arm, keeping you close to shield you from the cold.

SUNDAY

And when the clock passes midnight and Minho’s still sitting in your room, you feel like somehow, you two have never been closer. You managed to confess to him every day for the past week and he’s still by your side. It’s a change to your relationship, but you don’t feel like it’s causing you trouble anymore.

You sit in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence. You don’t have a clue why he didn’t want to leave yet, but you don’t mind him staying. He brings your soul another kind of comfort-- like the morning by the sea, just listening to the waves hitting the shore, the distant chirping of birds lulling you back to sleep.

His hands rest on your calves, your legs thrown over his lap as he sits up on your bed, his back pressed against the wall. You lay there, watching him in the moonlight. You had to turn the lights off, because Felix’s room is right opposite yours and the landlord didn’t let you change the door, meaning you both had an old, white door with a big glass window in the middle of it, letting the lights shine right to the other’s room at night. 

He tickles you in the spark of the moment, making you laugh quietly. You don’t want to wake Felix up, or else he’ll get mad at you, and once again, you don’t play with a short australian boy, or you’ll get burned-- you know that by now.

“Stop it!” you whisper-shout at him, sitting up and moving away from him.

He chases you on the bed, though, his fingers laying everywhere on your body, lightly tickling the skin of your stomach when his hands slip under your pyjama shirt. You push them away, squeeking with the coldness of his fingertips, tears threatening to fall from your eyes at the force of your laugh. 

He stops, falling down to the bed next to you, heavy breathing being the only thing heard in the quiet room. His hand slowly makes its way to your thigh, resting there delicately. You curse at the butterflies rising in your stomach-- you want to shout at them to go away, but hell, is it a good feeling. It’s like you’re torturing yourself, but it’s a sweet torture. You wouldn’t change it in the slightest.

And so then and there, after confessing to him for six days straight, you decide to try again, with as much sincerity as you can, because suddenly, there’s something inside of you telling you that this time, it might actually work.

“I love you.”

And perhaps, you’re not wrong, because with the shuffling of the sheets, he turns his body to yours, facing you. He stares into your eyes, smiling softly at your face, the action looking angelic sitting on his features. 

“I love you too,” he confesses in the dark. 

[yandere-wishes]

A Story Told In Maybes  {Part #1}

🗡️Yandere! Enma Yuuken x reader

🗡️Summary: Enma Yuuken lives on the fine line between "Hero" and "Villain" but his story will never end in a "happily ever after" or a "tragically ever after" it will only end in Maybe...

🗡 Edited by the amazing @tealyjade-libran

🗡️ Alternative title: How many times can Genie use "Damn" in a story...

Maybe in some other world, they could have been lovers

Imagine that...

picture it as vividly as a fresh stab wound to your heart. Sketch the vision of a red waterfall carrying away your life. 

Now picture two people. A young man and woman, sitting on a park bench, holding hands and laughing, inching closer and closer. 

Imagine love, happiness, tranquility...

But those things only exist in fairy tales. And his life was most certainly not a fairy tale. 

They were foreigners, outsiders, aliens. Banished into a strange land were twisted fairy tales, roamed the earth. Where magic and mischief came as naturally to the inhabitants as breathing. Where nothing mattered, because nothing was. Everything is and thus it isn't. Nothing made sense, and sometimes, in some rare moments of stolen repose, Enma Yuuken was scared that nothing would ever make sense again. 

All of it, every microscopic thing about this 'new world' was wrong, abnormal, twisted. 

Everything except his traveling companion. Another lost soul as disjointed and out of place as he was. Another ghost trying to survive in this matrix of a so-called reality. 

There was no shock initially, no surprise in not being the only normal creature to be transported to this bizarre world. Enma knew full well that he wasn't special in any way. Another foreigner being here was one of the few things that actually made sense. 

But as the old expression goes, everything comes at a price. 

Someone else just like him being here, being stuck in this nightmare, made sense. Yet the price of logic was a thread of hysteria that had woven itself deep within his battered heart. A maddening sense that gripped his lungs, robbing them of breath. That picked off pieces from his tattered mind, replacing them with clear cutout thoughts of her. It was always only her.

His companion in this broken world just had to be you. A frail, naïve little girl with no sense about her. Some pretty-girl protagonist straight out of the pages of Shojo Beats. The kind of girl who finds her happily ever after no matter where the hell she is. 

Yet he did not have that luxury, his life was dictated by a series of maybes and could bes. He was a secondary character at best, a background shadow at worst. With no purpose other than smiling and waving. And listening to the protagonist weep about their love-driven woes.

Some days, when the dreary bell chimed for the last time, when the students marched back to the solitude of their dorms, Enma would wander around the halls, squirming in his own misery. Pondering why, oh why of all the people, in all the towns, in all the worlds, did you have to be the one to wind up in this grim land along with him. 

Why fate always had to be so cruel, so domineering, thinking it knew better than the people whose miserable lives it toyed with. He wanted to be your lover, your prince, yours. But what would a guy, who doesn’t even belong in this backward world, have to offer some heroine-type sweetheart? 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

The Ramshackle’s flickering porch light glows in the distance. Like a dying star beckoning him to a destroyed paradise. He knows what's waiting for him behind the worn door. He knows you'll be there standing by the cracked dinner table, laying out days-old sandwiches for dinner, while Grimm rangles with an expired can of tuna. He knows you'll smile with tears in your doe-like eyes as you retell the fables of your endeavors. Telling him in great detail how the so-called king of beasts overpowered you in the school garden. How the King of poisons stole yet another kiss. The tales go on and on. Never-ending, never stopping, never giving him the chance to scavenge the fragments of his shattered heart.

You play your role so damn well. You know how to be the damsel in distress, the poor thing in need of saving. It's repulsive, disgusting...but only because he doesn't know how to be the hero that you need. 

If he was being honest -something he rarely did nowadays- Those "prefects" were the root of all his problems. They were the evil that made this dark world an endless horror. They'd been the ones to drive him into the "caring older brother" role. They had twisted his hand, leading him to the role of the "side-hero" like a lamb to the slaughter. Made him into a prince charming in a world that ate princes alive and spat them out once more. 

They had sealed his fate with a few insults and loaded threats. With just a few longing stares overflowing with lust and envy. They were villains, in a world that celebrated sinners. A world that cheered when the dragon steals the princess and rejoices when the evil king sits upon his skeleton throne. They were villains in every dreadful sense of the damn word. 

It's hard to be in love when all odds are against you. 

When your fate binds you into one role with no way out.

Like a rabbit hole made of quicksand. It dragged him deeper and deeper into intimate madness.

Maybe in some fair world, those leeching villains could keep their greedy blood-drenched hands off of you.

Maybe in a world where the sun never dies, you could bring yourself to love him.

Maybe he could have been the love interest, maybe, maybe, maybe.

It's always only MAYBE!

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

"Welcome home Nii-san," 

It's a sweet greeting that ties his guts into ribbons. His hands grow damp as his heavy eyes stare into yours. His lips curl into a painted smile, shielding you from the pain that's clawing in his stomach.

"Hi..(Y/n)"

His voice cracks and croaks like a dying frog. His lips feel abnormally dry and his eyes sting as if they've been pierced by diamond daggers. His steps are heavy as he plops down in his seat. The weight of his worries pulled him down harder than gravity ever could. He watches you through tried, restless orbs. Watches as you waltz over to your seat and sit down with the half grace of some future queen to be. It's bitter, dreadful, leaving a sickly toxin-like taste in his mouth. The mere thought that someday one of those, sinners, will take your hand and drag you to some kingdom far far away makes Enma want to claw his brain out with his bare nails. 

Enma's focus shifts over from his traveling companion to the silver-coated fireball licking his paws. Grimm's teal eyes scan him nervously before he offers a nervous smile, a rarity for the narcissistic cat. He's usually so talkative, so boasting, there was never a moment of tranquility with that cat around...

It takes a moment. A steel coated moment before the gears in Enma's head begin to turn. Before he can place his finger on the heavy abnormality weighing down the atmosphere. His nerves jolt to life, leaving a freezing sweat behind their trail. The room is spinning like a ballroom floor. Something's off, something big and obvious and hidden and...

Maybe...

"So..."

It's your sweet voice that breaks the tension creeping into the air. Melodic and luscious just like the sensation of a blissful dream. The room freezes in its tracks. The heavy atmosphere melts away like a cube of ice. Normality has one foot through the door. Behind it, hope and tranquility peek their heads through the tiny gap.

 Maybe just maybe everything is alright. Maybe it's just him, his stress and anxiety are starting to play cruel jokes on his wonder mind. Maybe he's just going mad. Yeah, that's the sanest conclusion to draw from all this. 

Enma cranes his neck to the side to get a better view of your face. Distress is scribbled all over your skin, like pristine razor cuts. You shift around in your seat, clawing at your uniform skirt as if the midnight black fabric is cutting off your circulation. Your fingers nudge the entrance to your pocket fiddling with something he can't quite make out. 

His voice is low, shaky, as he replies. The unusualness of the situation has him on edge. Nervous to the bitter bone. Maybe he was wrong, maybe his nerves were right to be wary of whatever this was. This uncertainty permeated the air-tight room. 

"What is it?" 

Slowly you drag out a white envelope flooded seven times over from your pocket. You stretch out your hand placing it in between his fingers. Enma throws a passive look at the note, his nose wrinkled up at the familiar scent that pervaded from the paper. 

"What's this?" 

It was rhetorical, asked out of dull, morbid courtesy. This time he didn't bother looking at you, in fear of seeing you look -lord forbids- gleeful. 

"A love letter, Grimm found it in our locker after class." 

There was a pause, lengthy, nerve-wracking, heart wrenching. Yuuken could hear the way your breath hitched in your throat, he could almost feel the excitement radiate off your body. 

"Can you believe it Nii-san? Someone actually left me a love letter!"

It hurt it really did, this time his heart didn't shatter. It simply broke, in two or three or maybe four. Who knows, who cares.  They had escalated from simple harassment and unsightly displays of public affection to leaving you love letters. How ungodly, how absurd, how brave...

He laments, eyes tracing over the fog of his breath as it wafts through the musty room. He wants to rip that damned piece of paper, shred it into millions so the words become ineligible, so you'll never read those horrible words again. So you'll forget that some damn fool other than him can actually love you. But he doesn't, he has too much self restraint and too much respect for his dear "little sister" to actually do it. 

His arm stretches over the table, skin illuminated by the dying candle on the center. He places the letter back safely in between your fingers. His eyes meet yours for only the second time that night. He takes in your face, Committing every piece of it to his miserable memory. The heartily glow in your crystal eyes, the faint schoolgirl smile dancing across your lips, the rose blush kissing your cheeks, the way the candle illuminates your skin, wrapping in a sparkling glow like the princess from those tales of old. You're mesmerizing in every way, it would be reasonable for other men to notice your elegance. No wonder those "prefects" were drawn to you so naturally like moths to a golden flame. 

"Who sent it?" 

His voice comes out like a block of ice, shielding away any and all his stray emotions. He doesn't want to know how doleful he is, he just can't have you taking pity on him. 

Your smile fades ever so slightly, your brows draw closer. Confusion is etched on your face. You haven't got a clue. 

"Well...I'm not sure, but they did say to meet them at the school gates when the clock chimes twelve."

Oh, joy, another fairy tale reference. It's comedic how fairy tales have begun to dictate his life. Everywhere he turns there's a grim tale awaiting him. Yuuken spares a quick glance at the crooked clock hanging by a loose thread. It’s a minute to midnight. 

"I should come with you" 

It's not a request but you take it as so. 

"No need to bother, I'll take Grimm, he could use the walk. He's starting to bulk up a bit"

"HEY! The great Grimm-Sama doesn't "Bulk up" He only gets more powerful!" 

Before the older male can protest, you're already halfway out the door. Grimm scurrying to follow you on all fours like a pesky rat. The door slams on your way out, leaving Yuuken alone with his morbid screeching thoughts. 

There goes the only good thing in his life. Into the arms of another. 

For a second he contemplates leaving you to fate, after all, who's he to disobey fate, go against whoever orchestrates this universe. But it's only a second, short lived and quickly died. 

Maybe he's a hero.

Maybe he's a Prince Charming.

Maybe he's a villain.

Maybe he's just some honorary older brother looking out for his kid sister.

Maybe, just maybe, he's your future lover;

and he'll be damned if he lets you slip out of hands. 

Enma's quick to grab his old practice blade from the overstuffed closet. It's not much, but it's all he has from the normal world, from his world. 

The door grates for the last time that night as he steps out into the cold midnight air. The stars blink in some sort of secret tongue, either warning him or encouraging him, he doesn't know. Nor does he truly care, for Enma Yuuken is done letting life and fate and villains decree his meaningless life. Here and now that's where he'll make his stand, he'll save you. Kiss you. Love you. Marry you. You, You, YOU

But there's still one nagging thought that screams inside his head as he dashes for the school gates. This world worships villains, prays at their feet, and hands them death and destruction on golden plates. And he's no villains, he's some sort of upside-down, in-between. Rotting alone in the border between Hero and Villain. By law of society, he's a reject, a useless foreigner, an alien, an outsider. 

and MAYBE he's already too late...

Who wrote the love letter? Was it the head of the savanaclaw dorm or maybe the head of the heartslabyul dorm ? Maybe it’s the ever mysterious  Tsunotarou... 

[lostysworld]

A healing touch – Kaz Brekker x reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 (final)

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader

Warning: OOC (so much for Kaz),fluff!!!!!!

Summary: Kaz is ready to give a second chance. It leads to finding his true place around you.

A/N: I've done this, guys!! I've done fluff!!! Hope you'll like it :D

Masterlist

For the whole next week you are helping your parents, who are trying to plan you soon-to-be birthday. No need to mention, you don't want to celebrate, when your head is busy with what happened between you and Kaz.

You love him, really love. And you aren't even angry at him, because everyone makes mistakes. But sitting like this, doing nothing and waiting for Saints know what is slowly killing you.

You met with Inej and Nina for several times to discuss it, but they couldn't advise nothing, but to wait.

Your mother, in her turn, decides to invite all your friends. Means, all the Crows will be at one place at the same time, and it's definitely going to be fun. Maybe you just need a little bit of distraction.

Your birthday is your father's day off, so your house is soaked with pastry smell from base to the roof from the very morning.

Since your dad is preparing everything at home, it is your turn to help your mother at her work. It is where Kaz's messenger finds you.

A small note shakes in your hands slightly, as you can't stop it.

"If you didn't change your mind, come"

You chuckle. In the end of the note you see a small ink scratch of a crow foot. Kaz always signs notes for you that way.

– Are you planning on standing like that and keeping him waiting?

Your mother's voice rings from your back.

– How do you-

– You have this face again, - she smiles shortly at you and nods towards the door. – Go, girl. I can manage this place by myself.

The wooden door squeaks and you come inside the office. Kaz is sitting behind his table as usual, but he instantly stands up, when you appear at his doorway.

– Hey, - your awkward smile lightens up his worried face a bit. – Something important for me?

You don't know why he called you here, but don't want to have a false hope.

– Yes...it is important, - the man comes up to a drawer and takes out a silver bracelet, the one that matches your pendant. – Happy birthday, Y/N.

He extends his arm to you for taking it, but you only come up to him and cover his gloved hand with yours.

– I will never change my mind, Kaz. Not for you.

Brekker sighs heavily and raises his glance on you, making you shiver. You have never had a thought of how it could be hard not to see him for a week.

– You will be in danger every single minute of your life, - his firm tone makes you nod. – And we will both live under constant pressure.

– Fine.

– Not to mention, that I can never give you a full life, and-, - you make him stop with your hand on his, giving the man a slight squeeze.

– What do you think full life is, Brekker?

He shakes his head, aware of the fact, that you will never agree with him on this point. A faint smile of yours reassures him a bit, and when you start speaking, he relaxes.

– Having you by my side, Kaz, is pretty enough for me. Frankly, - you slowly take off his gloves, one by one, laying them on the table. – It is the only thing I can dream of.

You are so close now, and want to kiss him so badly. Brekker's gaze drops to your lips and you understand his intention quite clearly.

With a shaking breath he moves to you, and you can only imagine how hard it is for the man. Yes, he advanced greatly with this, you can now even allow yourself an accidental brush across his hand, but a kiss is another thing.

– You don't have, if you don't want to, Kaz. I can wait.

He shakes his head reluctantly, and lays his bare hand on your shoulder.

– The problem is that I don't want you to wait, Y/N.

With that he slowly shortens the gap and brushes his lips across yours. It is merely a kiss, but it feels like heavens for you, as it is literally your biggest dream, that, you think, was impossible.

The grip on you shoulder tightens, and you can barely hold back a smile. It is a big move for Kaz and you as well, so you can't be nothing but proud of him. Even if he is a bit nervous.

Then he breaks the kiss after a dozen of seconds and touches your forehead with his, staying like this for some time.

– It is not stolen.

– What? - you leans back to meet his gaze. The man nods towards the bracelet on the table he gave you.

– The bracelet is not stolen. I bought him in-

You shut him up with another careful kiss, this time more passionate, not afraid for his reaction. You can swear, Brekker grins tensely in the kiss, as you can feel it with your skin.

Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, bought a birthday present for you, matching with his previous gift. What else could you dream about, really?

– I turned out, - Kaz tries to calm his breath. – Liking you a lot more that I originally planned.

– Is it anything, that you don't plan?

– You, kissing me for the second time. It wasn't planned.

You chuckle and instantly find his other hand to hold, but he halts. Seems, it's too much for him in one moment. Brekker gives you an apologetic smirk.

– You are doing great, - you smile to him, trying to reassure.

– I still need time to work it through.

– You are not alone, Kaz, - he keeps staring at you in a kind of awe. – We will work it through. I will help you.

Brekker grins at you and reaches for the bracelet on the table to lock on your wrist.

– Will you come to the dinner?

You suddenly remember about today's birthday party. Now, when everything is settled down between you two, you can think about planning again.

– I'm not sure-

– Everyone will be there, Kaz. And you know my mother will be happy to see you.

Brekker hesitates. Though you don't want to force him and rush the moment. But it would be lovely to see him along with your friends and family.

– You know, I don't suit family dinners, Y/N.

His half broken voice makes your heart ache for him. Why he can't understand this? He is worth everything. You know his fear of not being able to give you full live pretty well. Because partly it is your fear too. That your efforts will be not enough for both of you.

Not to worry Kaz even more, you lay your hand on his elbow.

– I will be waiting for you today's evening, love. But it all is up to you.

You turn to leave, not noticing him freeze from the nickname you give him. He surely doesn't let it just pass by. And when the door closes, he still stands in the middle of his office, trying to collect himself after your visit.

The noise in your house is pleasant with everyone chatting and telling stories. You look them over and smile. Every Crow finds its place here.

Nina is busy with your mother at the kitchen, dragging Matthias with her. Jasper is telling your father about shooting and Inej only smiles shyly, when your mum tells her to make herself comfortable.

Everyone is on the place. Everyone except Kaz. He still doesn't show up, and your hope is slowly getting lost in a cword laughing.

You know it is not his intention to upset you, Brekker just doesn't like big companies and can't find a proper place for himself.

And when the sudden knock on the door rings, you instantly rush to open it. The wide smile appears on your lips as you see Kaz, who's grinning shyly at you.

– You came! - you want to hug him, but refuse just in time.

– Happy birthday again.

You smirk and nod towards the room.

– Won't you come in? - that hope in your glance is so visible, that you don't even need to beg the man. – The party isn't complete without you, Kaz.

He chuckles, coming closer to you, but shakes his head reluctantly.

– It's too crowded for me.

– It's not a crowd, Brekker. They are your friends too, - seeing that you almost win, you continue to force him. – Come on, Kaz, join us. My mother adores you.

– Yes, that's exactly what I'm afraid of, - he surely notices another woman's steps towards the door, and steps back to hide in the shadows, but your mum is not that naive.

– No, no, Mr. Brekker. You will not fool me like this, - you put your lips in a thin line to hold back a laughter. This woman knows how to get under someone's skin. – We saved a seat for you. So, hurry up.

With that she comes back to the kitchen.

– You heard her, Kaz. You have no choice now.

The man walks out of the darkness with that one-sided grin, the one you love the most. He comes in to let you close the door.

Everything goes well, you mother is hovering around Kaz like a mother hen, that makes you smile even more than before. It isn't really a birthday party, but a family dinner just with more members.

– So, you, Mr. Brekker, are up to illegal things here in Ketterdam, am I right?

The sudden question from your father makes everyone shut up, even Jasper. Little do they know, he isn't a strict man. He asks it just out of interest, and they shouldn't be nervous like this.

Kaz tenses and you don't get to somehow show him, that it's alright, when your mother comes back from the kitchen with her famous apple pie.

– Do not scare our guests, Y/F/N. Let them enjoy the dinner.

You suppress a smile to your mum, who stands next to Brekker, knowing this question is for him. Seems, she likes him most of all and even ready to protect from your father's curiosity.

Your father starts cutting the pie.

– I don't care what he is doing, until he's a gentleman. Manners make the man.

Kaz casts a glance to you across the table, and you just nod to show, everything is okay. He's a perfect gentleman, it's for you to know for sure.

When the dinner is over and the Crows go to the Slat, Kaz stays for a little, letting them to leave you two alone.

It's long past midnight, when you walk him to the entrance door.

– Thank you, Kaz, - he comes out and turns to you. – Your presence means a lot to me. And your gift too. Thank you.

He nods, but isn't going to leave. You close the door behind you and take his gloved hand to lead him to the nearest bench. The day was amazing, and you are not ready to let him go yet.

The skies are glowing with millions of stars tonight, and your glance is stick to it. You don't notice how Kaz is looking at you.

– Thank you for the invitation then. I have never had a family like yours to be around.

Your eyes meet his and these sad sparkles in his voice makes you thinking of something.

– Well, you have now. A very big one, actually.

Kaz glances at you, making goosebumps run down your forearms. How can a single glance give you such reaction?

You know, that he's hard to persuade, but you really want him to know, that he has a safe place to go to.

Brekker doesn't respond and when he switches his gaze above his head to look at the starts, you notice his eyes are a bit watered.

You think about how much he suffered, and how you can help him to make peace with his past from now. You, your friends and your family will be always here for the man.

The sudden thought of his last improvement comes to your mind.

– Kaz, - you call his name, but he doesn't move. – Your brother would be so proud of you.

He immediately turns to your, eyes are searching for something on your face. But you are serious as never before. Brekker's trauma is a constant reminder of Jordie, but he can't remember his family like that. There should be something good in it.

His glance slips to your lips, and for a couple of moments he can't take his eyes off. He takes one shaking breath, overwhelmed by unspoken words and emotions.

– May I.

You know that this day is the hardest for the man, and you're pretty aware of his boundaries, but just can't let yourself stop him.

You nod and he takes one of his gloves off, slowly caressing your cheek. When he is about to lean forward, you stop him in an inch from his lips with a whisper.

– You are the strongest person I know, Kaz Brekker.

Your heart sinks down, when his lips finally touch yours in a slow tender kiss.

You want to embrace the man, but try to keep your hands out with all your strength. With every second passing, you feel Kaz relaxes, and it brings smile to your lips.

He brakes the kiss and furrows.

– What? - Brekker's face almost makes you grin more. You shake your head.

– Nothing. Just love you.

Actually you can do it all night long, telling him the truth and watching him falling in a sort of shock. And his reaction only encourage you to go on every time.

The man shakes his head in disbelief and gives up a smile, the kind you didn't see before.

– It's...I'm a fool, when it comes to revealing feelings, Y/N, - you shake his world completely, but Kaz starts getting used to it. – But I want to tell so much.

– I will not force you into anything against your will.

He shakes his head and moves closer. You are so warm and radiant, he just can't stay cold and collected with you around, doesn't want to anymore. Of course, for everyone else he is still the same Kaz Brekker, but not for you.

– I just want you to be patient at this point, Y/N.

– I've been knowing you, Kaz, for two years, - your light chuckle touches his heart. – Patience and I are long friends.

– So? - he raises his brow to you.

– So, I can live with that, Kaz Brekker. For as long as you will have me.

This smile of his can melt you to the ground and you smile to him back, turning your gaze to the skies again.

After a second you feel his gloved hand covers your fingers, and grin.

This day is your pure bliss, and you two will endure everything else together.

So, this is the end of it! Thank all of you for likes and comments, I hope you really enjoy it ❤

Actually, I have an idea of writing The darkling x reader imagine. Maybe, you'll be interested :D

[thecousinsdangereux]

the land of race car ya yas

A short little ficlet for @corvophobia who has drawn a bunch of art for the bees racer au of my dreams. This is ALL based on her drawings, so make sure you check out her stuff. Happy birthday, Amber! You are one of my two favorite British children. <3

(Please note that I know nothing about street racing. I've only watched the Fast and the Furious movies. Forgive me....)

--

“How’d you do that?”

Blake’s used to the question or some version of it, and maybe that’s why she takes in the words before she notices the tone, imagines a scowl (a lowered brow, hands curled into fists, the flash of teeth as the scowl turns into a snarl) with the same instinct that has her shoulders tensing. It’s only mid-turn that she realizes the question is laced with wonder rather than anger, but even this awareness doesn’t prepare her for the sight that meets her. It’s a woman, her smile wide and unrestrained by pesky things like self-consciousness or insecurity, and her eyes are nearly glowing in the low light, purple and bright and full of open admiration. Her black leather jacket, classic in cut, has the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, revealing a prosthetic of black and yellow, and her grey jeans are tight, showing off a body that Blake has to work to avoid following the curves of. Her hair is long, blonde, curling around her shoulders and down her back, artful in its disorder, down to the single, stubborn cowlick at the top of her head.

In short, she’s beautiful, and Blake stares for longer than she should, feeling heat in her veins.

“Do what?”

She manages a response, but it’s absent minded. She’s just noticed the light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks, coloring the spaces in between her freckles, and it has her re-evaluating, pulling her thoughts to the effort she’s put into her own outfit that evening: a cropped and sleeveless hoodie with blocked colors of white and purple, tight leather shorts, and clunky boots that hit just under the knee. Blake looks good and this woman knows it, which makes them even on this particular front, and that's a settling sort of feeling.

“Win,” the woman says simply, her smile growing. “And don’t just say NOS.”

“NOS,” Blake drawls, just because she can, and she’s rewarded by the woman’s laugh, rewarded even more when she steps closer.

“No, but what’s your delivery method? Direct port, obviously, but you had to have used a custom kit, right? I’ve been telling you, Yang, I need to recalibrate yours. Can I look at your car? Would you mind if I just took a tiny peak just to see what you’ve done with your injection site? We really need to upgrade, Yang. A nozzle with less back pressure will give you a better squeeze. I’ve been telling you!”

She hadn’t noticed the other woman, but blinks at her now, a red blur waving her arms about, hoping from one foot to the other, firing out words faster than Blake — an aficionado of all things fast — can keep up with. The woman (Yang?) seems to find the act familiar and reacts with affection tinged with a false exasperation (put upon for Blake’s benefit or maybe as a means of gentle chiding), sighing and placing a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“And I’ve been telling you, you can’t just ask people to look at their shit!” She turns to Blake now, and this time her eye roll is definitely for Blake. “Sorry about that, I swear we’re not trying to steal any of your trade secrets. Ruby just… really likes cars.”

“It’s so pretty too,” Ruby coos, batting away Yang’s hand and taking a step towards the vehicle Blake had used to push past Yang at the last moment, a fact neither of these women seem to hold against her. “The purple stripes. But I bet the engine is prettier.”

It’s unprecedented, really. Blake’s been on the scene for a while — longer than she would admit to anyone here — first as a tagalong and now as a driver, but she’s never had an encounter quite like this. The unexpectedness of it all has her feeling off-balance, has her reacting without any of her customary cool anger as Ruby stares at her hood (as though if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to see through the metal to the parts underneath). Maybe that’s why Blake responds in a way that’s decidedly unwise, without any further thought at all.

“You can take a look. I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Ruby squeals, but doesn’t wait for Blake to confirm, darting around her and flipping open the hood in the span of three seconds.

“Really?” Yang asks, and the word sounds wildly different coming from her, sliding out from behind her crooked lips like thanks or maybe a challenge (or maybe both). “Not worried about my mechanic figuring you out before the next race?”

Blake should be, of course. But.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Maybe not the smartest move.” Yang crosses her arms; the chrome of her right glints under one of the flickering street lights. For the first time, she looks away from Blake’s gaze, eyes darting over to check on Ruby (who’s leaning so far into the front of Blake’s car that her feet nearly lift off the ground) and then to another group of drivers, a good distance behind them, but clearly watching in curiosity. It’s never wise to gather after a race, but everyone always does when it goes well, and for the first time, Blake’s glad for it. “She’s pretty vicious about giving me an edge. I wish I could say it was familial loyalty, but really, she just wants to make the fastest car in the city.” Yang pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or country. Or world. Not sure when she’ll be satisfied, to be honest.”

“Sisters?” Blake asks. She can’t really see the resemblance, but then again, she hasn’t spent as much time looking at the younger of the pair, even though she should probably be less focused on the elder (the one not pouring over her engine. Sun and Ilia were going to kill her).

“Yeah.” Yang probably doesn’t realize how much her smile grows in the confirmation, saturated with pride and love. “Scary brilliant too. Give her five minutes with a car and she’ll take it apart, put it back together, and it’ll run better than it ever has. But all that means she always thinks it’s the car that puts a driver ahead.”

Blake arches a brow. “And you think she’s… wrong?”

“Well, yeah.” Yang’s closer than Blake remembers her being, maybe because her legs are long, her strides somehow longer, and it only takes a step before she’s close enough for Blake to feel the heat radiating off her body. “I know it’s only the driver that puts a driver ahead. That’s why I’m here talking to you instead of looking at your car.” Her lips twitch and she amends her statement quickly. “Part of the reason, at least.”

The other part of her reasoning is made pretty obvious when Yang’s eyes trace up Blake’s form once more. It should probably bother Blake, but it doesn’t, maybe because she’s done the same to Yang during this conversation (more than once). Still, there are things better avoided, and Blake knows this better than anyone. She does her best to get back on track.

“It wasn’t me,” she says (almost blurts), and then feels her neck warm when Yang looks at her quizzically. “Before, you asked how I won. But it wasn’t me, not really. You could have had it if you hadn’t fired your nitrous early. You were impatient.”

It’s too blunt, Blake knows this as soon as the words leave her lips. She’s backtracked too much, retreated into aloofness as she was wont to do, but Yang only laughs, and the sound cracks through Blake’s go-to defense, a corner of her lips curling before she can stop it.

“You’re right. I used to be way worse, back when I started out, but I’m a lot better now. Usually.”

“So what happened today?” It’s the question Yang wants her to ask, of this Blake is sure, but it hardly feels like a chore.

“Ah, bad luck, I guess. I took one look at the driver next to me and all that impatience came rushing back. All I wanted to do was finish the race and meet her properly.” She winks. Combined with the cheesy line, it shouldn’t work as well as it does (but it does). “I’m Yang.”

“Blake.”

They don’t shake hands, and Blake’s glad for it. There’s something buzzing between them, a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers, the build up right before a lightning strike, and Blake’s not entirely sure what the contact — however brief and friendly — might do to her.

“Next time, maybe I’ll be a little more prepared.” Yang’s eyes roam across her face, settling once more on gold. “But probably not.”

“Immersion therapy,” Blake quips. “Give it time.”

Yang whistles sharply, and it takes Blake a moment to realize that she’s called her sister back over. (Blake had forgotten about her entirely, though the grease on her hands and face leads her to believe that Ruby had done a thorough dive under her hood, the sort Blake ought to be worried about.)

“Time is exactly what I plan on giving it. A lot of time, if you’ll let me.” Yang nudges her sister back in the direction they’d come from. Ruby waves, offers a wide grin of thanks, but Blake’s stuck on purple.

“Well. Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she murmurs.

“Looking forward to it.”

And Blake, who started racing to get away, who started racing to run, who started racing so she never had to stay in one place for long, finds that she is too.

—

“What the hell is your problem?”

Blake’s used to this question too, or some form of it, and this time, the tone is exactly what she expects. The small, white-haired woman in a vest and tie, however, is not.

“Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your boyfriend’s feelings by being a better driver than him, but you’re only embarrassing yourself now.” Blake takes another look at the woman’s attire; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and — despite the country club hairstyle and the heels — the hint of a tattoo on her pale skin, just under the fabric makes up Blake’s mind for her. “Or… Girlfriend?”

“Not quite,” says a familiar voice.

Today, Yang has decided to show off her abs (and she most certainly does have abs) with a cropped jacket of black and gold checks, and Blake can’t quite bring herself to look beyond that for too long, though she catches the black driving gloves, the oversized and gold sunglasses, the oversized cargo pants. In the seconds it takes for Blake to wind her brain back up, Yang grins, cocksure, and continues.

“Though you were right about the gay thing. I mean, look at her.”

“Look at you,” the other woman sniffs, actually physically turning up her nose. “Could you be any gayer?”

“Yeah, I could be wearing a vest and tie,” Yang fires back, but it’s clear the banter is familiar, it’s obvious these two know each other well enough for their back and forth to not contain any real barbs.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake drawls, before she’s able to stop herself, and Yang turns back to her with an arched brow. “Good to see you again, Yang.”

“Oh, is it? Could have fooled me!” The other woman’s ire has been refocused, and it’s seemingly stronger than before, the pitch of her words higher, more dire. “Given you nearly killed her just now.”

“Weiss,” Yang sighs, but Blake winces, feeling the sting of the words despite Yang’s quick glance of reassurance sent her way.

“I didn’t realize you’d pull off when I drifted. I thought you’d… lean in.”

It’s not an excuse. They’d been neck and neck towards the end of the race (again), and when she’d nudged the side of Yang’s car — far gentler than she would against anyone else — she’d assumed the woman would give as good as she got, like most every other racer she’d gone against. But Yang hadn’t taken any chances, and it’d cost her the race.

“We don’t do that here,” the woman — Weiss — says, lips pursed to the point of contortion, but Yang only laughs.

“We do that here all the time. I did way worse to Mercury last week.”

“Yes, but Mercury is a creep.” Weiss pauses, considering. “We only do that to creeps here.”

Blake’s hands lift, a show of peace. “Hey, no one handed me the Beacon Street Racing Etiquette Guide when I joined up the other week. Maybe you could loan me your copy.”

This doesn’t exactly smooth things over with the woman, especially not when Yang snickers, but Weiss can clearly see the writing on the wall, and tosses her hair over her shoulder with a huff.

“Whatever. I’m telling Ruby about this,” she warns Yang (or maybe Blake, or maybe both of them), before stalking away, her last words called over her shoulder. “She’s not going to be happy.”

There’s no concern on Yang’s face as she watches her go, if anything she looks amused. “Sorry about that. She’s… protective.”

“I can see that. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for a while.” It’s a guess (and a probe), but Yang doesn’t correct any of her phrasing, so it must be close enough to the truth.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean protective of me.” Yang’s grin shows a flash of white teeth. “Weiss bet on me tonight. You lost her money. And that’s the real sin.”

Blake’s surprised at how easily her laugh comes (more surprised how easily the fondness slips through the cracks in her chest). “Oh, I see. So I can kick your ass up and down the streets as long as I convince her to bet on me in the future? Good to know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the message I want you to be taking from this,” Yang drawls, but still smiles, flicking her glasses up to her forehead. “Besides, like she said, Ruby’s the one to look out for. She seemed all sweet and innocent yesterday, but gods help the person she turns her disapproving stare on. I’ve seen people break into tears on the spot.”

From what Blake had seen yesterday, Ruby isn’t the sort that loses her chipper bounce very easily, so despite Yang’s teasing tone, she files the information away as useful. If she were being a little more self-searching, she might question the action, given her tendency to not stick around in any one place for long. (Surely Beacon isn’t any different. Surely she couldn’t know now if it were.)

“Lucky she missed the race today, then.” Her lips curve, a sharp corner that would require a drift. “What, she couldn’t bear to see you lose again?”

“Oh, ha ha. No, she had class. And she knows there’s no skipping for racing; that’s the only hard and fast rule for our household.” It’s not what she expects, the straight answer backed with genuinity, but it strikes Blake as endearing, somehow, especially when Yang continues. “I started racing here so we could pay for those classes, so I think it’s only fair.”

“That’s — ” Kind. Authentic. Surprising. Blake’s not sure which word to use so she disgards them all. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was racing for the money. Not that… there’s anything wrong with that. Especially in your case.”

Yang laughs. “Hey, don’t mistake me. I started racing here for the money, but it’s not why I race in general.”

“So why do you?” Blake asks, even though she suspects she knows the answer. (It’s not wise to take your eyes off the road, but she’s done it in both of her races with Yang, eyes darting to the side to find the woman speeding alongside her: eyes wild, grin wide, the fervor of the moment all over her face. There’s freedom there, more than there is anywhere else, and Blake thinks she sees that in Yang as much as she does in herself.)

“Same as you, I think,” Yang murmurs, closer now, sliding in when Blake’s distracted once again.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to say that.”

A bluff, of course, but it gets the intended result.

“Not yet.” From this close, Yang looks taller, and Blake has to tilt her chin to look into her eyes. “But I’m still looking to fix that.”

Blake wets her lips. It’s too much, and she’s not sure she can tack on ‘too soon’ to quantify the thought, make it less tame. If she had to guess, Yang will always be too much, like sunlight after coming out of a room. Blake’s not sure she’ll ever adjust to the rays, or if she wants to.

“Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she says again, and Yang laughs again, totally unabashed.

“Okay, I’m sensing a trend here. What, you’re not going to let me take you out unless I win a race again you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, what are you going to do?”

It’s not cockiness that overtakes Yang’s face then, not exactly. It’s confidence or want or determination or maybe just the flush that comes from the thrill of a challenge. Blake’s setting herself up for something here, she knows, failure or disappointment or something like it, but right then, she doesn’t care. There’s a freedom in this sort of race too, and that she’s come to love.

“Oh, that’s easy, Blake.” Yang leans in a little more, and Blake knows it’s audible, the way her breath is cut short. “I’m going to win.”