#doorplate

[kinokoshoujoart]

[theblacknessdyer]

“I got into this line of work after a week I spent accidentally breaking things, and my friend advised me that there was a job that could use my skill” is a cute little anecdote for interviews and professional networking, but man am I tired of pulling the doorknob off of the bathroom door several times per week.

[witchblade]

yaaaay you can put this thang on doors

[grimbeak]

and what up the front of my house fang?

[megatownac]

Since I had four of these things in storage, it made sense to me to give one of them to Phoebe, whose door had no plate at all. She seemed happy with the gift, and, sure enough, had it installed the next day.

I was curious to see if the skull doorplate would look alright if I zoomed way in with my camera, and, well, I'll let you be the judge. It's not that I don't have an opinion, but rather that I think my opinion doesn't matter a whole lot here.

[praisethegabs]

SCARS

pre re4r!leon kennedy x reader

synopsis: You and Leon are the rookies in the training camp, although Leon is under the training of Major Krauser. You hate Krauser more than anyone else and you despise his methods, knowing how abusive he can be. As for Leon, he's your roommate and he's like a stranger to you — until you see his scars.

warnings: descriptions of violence, bullying and physical abuse. Leon cries a lot, hurt and comfort, angst with good ending.

word count: 4492k

a/n: another angst one shot with a happy ending. I'm really into angst, anyways. hope you guys like it as much as i do!

"Being silent does not mean not speaking but opening our ears to hear everything around us" Paulo Coelho

As you walked into the cold, fluorescent-lit government training facility, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and excitement. You were part of an elite group chosen for a classified program, and the details had been shrouded in secrecy. All you knew was that your skills were needed to combat a rising threat.

Navigating through the labyrinthine hallways, you finally arrived at your assigned room. You swiped your access card and pushed the door open, revealing a sparsely furnished living space. Two singles bed, two desks, and a small bathroom were all that adorned the room. You already knew you would have a roommate, and you were excited to meet them.

As you entered, your eyes fell upon a man standing near the window, gazing out at the facility's courtyard. He had a rugged handsomeness about him, and the name on his doorplate read "Leon Kennedy."

"Excuse me, I think there might be some mistake. I was assigned to this room, and it appears we're meant to be roommates." You cleared your throat to get his attention.

The man turned to face you, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. He was young, perhaps in his early 20s... but something about his eyes told you he's someone who went through a lot. His eyes were sad, tired and traumatized.

"Roommates, huh?" he said, a faint smile gracing his lips. "I'm Leon. Leon Kennedy."

You smiled largely at him, shaking his hand. You spotted a bandage over his shoulder; probably something recent. You left all your belongings under your new bed, and sat there with crossed legs.

"Do you know who's your instructor?" You asked him, curious.

"Major Krauser. Do you know who's yours?" Leon asked in return, avoiding your gaze.

"Hmm... I don't know yet, but apparently we won't train together" you said, grabbing a few clothes.

"Well, good luck" Leon faced you, his voice sounding kind for a brief moment, and he smiled.

You hated Major Krauser.

After the first month in the training camp, rumors had been circulating throughout the training facility about Major Krauser and his unorthodox methods. Whispers in the hallways and hushed conversations among the trainees hinted at the darkness behind his strict training regimen. You had heard your fellow agents-in-training speak in worried tones about the psychological toll it took and the physical brutality they endured under his guidance.

This evening, as you returned to your shared room after a grueling day of training, you noticed Leon sitting on his bed, shirtless. His body bore a tapestry of bruises, fresh and angry against his pale skin. It was the worst you had ever seen him, and it sent a chill down your spine.

"Leon," you gasped, rushing to his side. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Just a rough day in training. It's part of the program." Leon shifted his gaze away from you and shrugged, wincing in pain.

You didn't buy it. You knew that Leon had faced something before, even though he refused to talk about it, but these bruises looked different, more vicious. You couldn't keep silent any longer.

"Leon, this isn't right. I've been hearing things about Major Krauser, about what he does to us, to you" you sighed heavily, trying to convince him to talk.

"Come on, you don't understand. Krauser's methods may be tough, but they're meant to prepare us for the worst. We can't afford to be soft in this line of work." Leon's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and frustration, and he turned to face you.

Still, you weren't convinced. You'd seen the toll it was taking on your fellow trainees, and now, on the man you truly cared more than anyone.

"Leon, it's not about being soft. It's about doing what's right about treating us with respect and dignity. This isn't training; it's abuse." You glanced at him as your voice sounded more concerned, and you stood up, then sitting next to him.

Leon sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Sometimes we have to do things that others wouldn't understand. There's more to this than meets the eye, and I can't talk about it. Just focus on your training. We'll get through this."

You wanted to push further, to demand answers, but you could see the weariness in Leon's eyes. You knew he was hiding something, something that ran much deeper than the surface of their brutal training.

And then, when you were about to leave for dinner, someone knocked aggressively at the door. It was him, the said man you hated the most. Major Jack Krauser.

Krauser was standing there, an imposing figure with a harsh expression. "Kennedy," he barked, "get ready. We're going to train right now"

Leon nodded, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. He had been through tough training earlier, but something about today's session felt ominous. Krauser was notorious for his extreme methods, but this was different.

You watched silently as Leon left the room, being escorted by Krauser. Everyone at the dorm room was looking at the scene; it wasn't a secret that Krauser loved to bully Leon. If he had any small opportunity, he would definitely take advantage of it.

The training began, a relentless barrage of physical challenges and combat drills. Leon gave it his all, but Krauser pushed him harder than ever before. He moved with the agility of a panther, landing blows that seemed impossible to evade. Each strike landed with a painful intensity.

Time blurred as the grueling training continued. Leon's body ached, his breathing labored, but he refused to give in. He knew the importance of pushing his limits, especially in their line of work.

He felt every punch against his skin, the way Krauser did that just for his humiliation. It wasn't training. It was a pure demonstration of who was in charge.

"You're weak! Pathetic!" Krauser yelled, punching Leon even more. "Do you think you'll survive the training? Such a disappointment"

Finally, when Leon's muscles screamed in protest, and his vision blurred with exhaustion, Major Krauser called a halt.

"That's enough for today, Rookie," he said, his tone colder than ever.

Leon, battered and bruised, sank to his knees, gasping for breath. His body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. He couldn't help but wonder what had brought on this level of brutality in his training today.

As Major Krauser walked away, leaving Leon alone on the training ground, he couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister lurked beneath the surface. But for now, all he could do was struggle to his feet and gather the strength to carry on, one step at a time.

He managed to go back to the dorm room, feeling his bones hurting. Leon spotted the bleeding from his ribs, and he wanted desperately to cry.

After everything he saw at Raccoon City, this was the only thing he wasn't expecting at all. The training was hard and painful, and it was taking a toll on him. And worse than that, he still would see you. Leon couldn't understand why you cared so much about him, but sometimes he got himself thinking you were just like him. Or what he used to be.

"Did he hurt you?" Leon heard you ask when he walked inside the room. He sighed heavily.

"It's okay, I'm fine" Leon muttered, trying to avoid you. He thought it would be for the best to keep you away from him.

Silently, in the pungent scent of antiseptic hung in the air, Leon gingerly removed his torn shirt, revealing the intricate web of cuts and bruises that adorned his battle-worn body. With a sigh, he slumped onto the edge of his bed, his breath labored.

You decided to stay silent, completely focused on your book, which was very usual.

The other roommates were friends at this point, but not you and Leon. You were a total stranger to him, and he was a blank space to you.

But, truth be told, you had been an unexpected presence in his life. A stranger at first, you had shown kindness and compassion that Leon had never experienced before. You had witnessed his struggles and the pain etched on his face, and in your own quiet way, had offered your support.

Decided to change that, you took a deep breath and walked straight to the bathroom. When you came back, Leon was still laying on his bed, his eyes closed and his breath heavier. Your gentle hands trembling slightly gathered an assortment of bandages and ointments. You knelt beside Leon, your touch soft as you began to clean and tend to his wounds. The room was filled with a hushed serenity as you worked, a comforting contrast to the relentless violence of his training.

"What are you doing?" Leon gasped, his eyes meeting yours in a surprise tone.

"Being your friend" you said to him, focused completely on his swollen ribs. "Let me take care of you, Lee"

He winced as you tended to a particularly nasty gash on his forearm, but he held back his pain, not wanting to show weakness. However, you saw through his facade. You looked up, your eyes meeting his with an understanding that ran deeper than words.

"Leon, it's okay to let it out," you whispered, your voice soothing. "You've been through so much today."

He hesitated for a moment, struggling to contain his emotions, but the weight of the day's trials was too much to bear. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he finally allowed them to escape, his shoulders shaking as the emotions he had suppressed for so long came rushing forth.

You set aside the first aid supplies and wrapped your arms around Leon, pulling him into a comforting embrace. You held him as he wept, offering solace through the storm of his pent-up feelings. In that moment, Leon realized that he didn't have to be alone in his pain and vulnerability. He had found an unexpected friend and confidant in you, and your presence was a source of strength he had never anticipated.

After twenty minutes, Leon finally calmed down. His eyes met yours again, and you felt something delicate floating inside you.

"I'm sorry" Leon muttered again, sighing.

"You don't need to apologize, it's okay" you said back, your words full of kindness and care.

"Do you... do you know anything about the incident in Raccoon City?" Leon finally asked, feeling he needed to talk about this torment.

"I've heard something about the outbreak... and the city being exploded" you said to him, already understanding what he was saying.

"I was there... it was my first day at the RPD..." Leon said, and somehow, you felt the pain in his words. "It was in there I got shot"

And then, he showed you the scar on his chest, right under the shoulder. Truth be told, you were not his friend, and you weren't exactly the best person to talk with, but Leon was alone. He had no one else besides you. But he was so broken inside that he needed to vent.

Leon sat on the edge of his bed, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes filled with tears. The room in the training facility was the only place he felt safe enough to open up. You sat again next to his side, waiting patiently for him to open up.

"It was a nightmare" Leon began, his voice shaky. "My first day as a cop in Raccoon City… It was nothing like I expected."

You leaned forward, placing a reassuring hand on Leon's knee. "Take your time, Leon. You can tell me everything."

Leon took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He closed his eyes, and suddenly, everything about that night came back like a wave.

"I got a call one week before telling me i wasn't supposed to go, but I decided to go there anyway, ignoring the call. When I arrived, it was like something out of a horror movie. Zombies, blood, chaos everywhere." He whispered to you as he could see that night again.

Tears welled up in Leon's eyes as he recounted the horrors he'd witnessed.

"Annette Birkin, a scientist working for Umbrella Corporation, shot me in the shoulder when I was trying to help a friend. She was trying to protect something, something terrible. I could see it in her eyes. She didn't care that I was just a rookie cop. She just… shot me."

Your expression softened as you listened, your grip on Leon's knee tightening in support. "That sounds terrifying, Leon. I can't even imagine what you went through."

Leon wiped away a tear and continued, "And then, I found Claire again, this girl who was looking for her brother. We tried to escape the nightmare together. But it just got worse. We found out the city was infested with those… those things."

His voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands, finally letting the tears flow. You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him and offering comfort as he sobbed.

"I don't know if I can handle all this," Leon said, his voice muffled. "I never signed up for this. I just wanted to be a cop and make a difference."

You held him close, offering a soothing presence. "You're stronger than you think, Leon. You've already survived so much. We'll get through this together. And when it's over, you'll be the hero you want to be."

Leon continued to sob out loud. He was keeping things inside him for so long that it was almost unbearable. And then, you noticed he wasn't telling you everything. He kept more things to him than he told you.

"Leon," you said gently, "you've been through so much. You don't have to keep it all bottled up. I'm here for you."

He took a shuddering breath and looked up at you, his eyes red and puffy from crying.

"I… I don't know how to explain it. The city was like a nightmare. People turning into those monsters, the stench of death everywhere. And then… then, there was the Tyrant."

Your brow furrowed as you listened intently.

"The Tyrant? What happened?"

Leon's voice trembled as he continued, "It was this hulking, unstoppable monster. It was relentless, chasing me through the police station. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was already dead."

His voice cracked, and he wiped away more tears. You sighed heavily. Of all things you imagined, this was the last thing you would think of. Gently, you decided to take his hand, offering a comforting squeeze. "I can't even begin to imagine how terrifying that must have been, Leon. But you're here, you survived it. You're strong, and you can get through this."

Leon nodded, his voice still shaky. "I know, but the nightmares, they just won't go away. Every time I close my eyes, I see those things, and the Tyrant's face… I can't escape it"

After that night, Leon seemed more distant. You've noticed his small attempts to start a conversation, but every time he tried, he ended up being silent and avoiding you. And honestly, you couldn't understand him. You were so worried about him, feeling desperate to help, but being obligated to watch him sink in his own darkness, refusing any help or a friend.

As for his training, Major Krauser had always been a formidable presence at the academy. Tall and imposing, his glare was enough to make even the bravest cadets shudder. He had taken a particular interest in Leon, a young recruit with potential, but also an easy target for the major's relentless bullying.

As the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the training grounds, Major Krauser approached Leon, his voice laced with cruelty and a smile that would make the devil himself be scared.

"Leon," he barked, "You're a disgrace to this unit. You'll never amount to anything here."

Leon clenched his fists, trying to hold back tears of frustration. He knew better than to talk back to the major.

"Yes, sir," he replied through gritted teeth.

Major Krauser's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Since you seem to enjoy wasting everyone's time, you have a new mission. A punishment mission. You're to report to the obstacle course at 0500 hours tomorrow. Maybe that will teach you some discipline."

Leon's heart sank. The obstacle course was notorious for being grueling and unforgiving. He couldn't help but feel the weight of despair as he nodded and saluted Major Krauser.

The obstacle course loomed in the distance, a daunting series of barriers, walls, and challenges. Leon stood at the starting line, his confidence shaken from the relentless bullying of Major Krauser. The memory of the major's words echoed in his mind, eroding his self-esteem.

As the signal to start rang out, Leon's heart raced, but his steps were heavy. He stumbled over the first set of hurdles, scraping his knees against the coarse ground. His classmates, once his friends, now looked on with a mixture of pity and scorn.Leon tried to ignore their judgmental gazes and push forward.

The rope climb came next, and he struggled to find the strength in his trembling arms. His fingers slipped, and he fell back to the ground, the impact driving the wind from his lungs. The tire run proved equally difficult. With every leap through the hanging rubber, he felt like a clumsy child instead of a trained cadet.

A chorus of laughter erupted from behind him as his classmates breezed through the obstacle.The wall presented a nearly insurmountable challenge. Its height seemed to grow with every passing second, and Leon's past success at conquering it felt like a distant memory. He tried to summon the courage to leap, but his legs refused to obey. Each futile attempt only deepened his frustration.

Major Krauser watched from the sidelines, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. He had orchestrated this punishment with the intention of breaking Leon's spirit, and it appeared to be working.

Leon finally reached the final leg of the course, the mud pit. Covered in muck and exhaustion, he struggled to pull himself out, his body feeling like dead weight. His vision blurred, and it became increasingly challenging to distinguish the course from the nightmarish haze in his mind.

As Leon approached, he couldn't help but think of Major Krauser's words: "You'll never amount to anything here." The tears welled up in his eyes, and his hands quivered.

Finally, as Leon reached the wall at the end of the course, his trembling arms gave out, and he fell to the ground, unable to complete the final obstacle. The disappointment was crushing, and the sting of failure was intensified by the distant laughter of Major Krauser, who had been watching from the sidelines.

Major Krauser approached Leon, a cruel smile on his face. "You're a disgrace, Rookie," he sneered. "I told you that you'd never amount to anything here, and you've proven me right. Incompetence at its finest."

Leon's eyes filled with tears, not just from the physical and emotional pain but from the humiliation of being berated by the very man who had tormented him from the start. The other cadets exchanged uncomfortable glances but said nothing.

"How pathetic! Are you gonna cry like a baby? You don't belong in here, Rookie!" Krauser shouted, humiliating him in front of everyone.

Leon's spirits were shattered, and the weight of Major Krauser's scorn felt insurmountable. As he lay there, covered in mud and feeling utterly defeated, the obstacle course had become not just a physical challenge but a harsh reminder of the relentless cruelty that he would have to endure on his path to becoming a better soldier.

The following morning, Leon returned to the dorm room, covered in mud, sweat, and exhaustion. He stumbled through the door and collapsed on his bed, tears welling up in his eyes. The events of the punishing mission had taken a toll on him.

As you were studying at the desk, as soon as Leon walked inside the room, you immediately noticed his distress. You rushed to his side, concern etched on your face.

"Leon, what happened?" You asked gently.

Leon's voice quivered as he recounted the humiliation and the physical strain of the punishment mission. "I can't take it anymore," he admitted, his pride shattered.

You sat beside him, offering a comforting embrace.

"I know his an asshole... and he's cruel... but I'm here with you" you whispered, wiping away a tear from his cheek. "I'm here"

As Leon buried his face in your shoulder, he realized that your support was the beacon of light in the darkness of his training. After so many months together, your presence gave him the strength to face each day, no matter how tough the challenges became. After what happened in Raccoon City, he finally saw that he had someone by his side. You were the only one who could understand what he was going through.

As Leon buried his face in your shoulder, he realized that your support was the beacon of light in the darkness of his training. After so many months together, your presence gave him the strength to face each day, no matter how tough the challenges became. After what happened in Raccoon City, he finally saw that he had someone by his side. You were the only one who could understand what he was going through.

"You gave it your all, and that's what matters. Don't let Major Krauser's words get to you." You finally said something after minutes in silence.

Leon tried to force a weak smile, but the tears still welled up in his eyes.

"It's just... It's hard. He makes me feel so small, and I don't know how much more of this I can take." Leon vents with you, feeling exhausted after the course.

Your voice was filled with compassion as you offered a reassuring hug. But then, you noticed something different. You already knew Leon had scars, but this was new.

"But what happened to your eye?" You glanced at him, your concern deepening.

Leon hesitated, not wanting to draw more attention to his ordeal.

"I... I must have hit it during one of the obstacles," he mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.

You gently lifted his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze. When you saw the deep purple bruise forming around his eye, your eyes filled with anger.

"Leon, this isn't from an obstacle. Someone hurt you." You couldn't hide your frustration as you realized the truth.

Tears welled up in Leon's eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief. He had kept the incident with Major Krauser a secret for too long, and now, someone who cared was finally noticing.

"It was Major Krauser," he admitted in a hushed voice. "He hit me after I couldn't finish the course."

"That asshole, son of a..." you muttered with every ugly word you knew. "We can't let things end like this"

"It's okay, you don't need to pick up a fight for me" Leon smiled again, his eyes still shining with tears. "Soon we'll end this training and then... I won't see him again"

"Are you sure about that, Leon?" You asked him, with visible concern and worry on your voice.

"Yes, I'm sure" he nodded, confident.

Leon was the type of guy with a hero complex. He thought he could fix everything — not noticing that sometimes, there were things beyond fixing. Each day, he returned to the dorm room full of purple marks and exhausted. Each day, you were there for him, like a true friend. You took care of his wounds and showed him support and reassurance.

Most importantly, you were there.

Leon doesn't talk about Raccoon City. Every time he tries, he shuts himself completely and cries. He avoided this topic for months because he felt he wasn't ready to share the rest of it. He wanted, but he couldn't.

You've decided not to ask more things about his life. He needed time to process everything, and the training, although cruel and painful, made him forget for a while.

But the nights were the worst.

He had nightmares, and sometimes, he would wake up screaming. Leon refused to talk about his nightmares, always thinking he shouldn't bother you with such silly things. Little did he know that you cared — a lot.

It was almost two in the morning. Leon awoke with a start, the lingering terror of his dream still clutching at his heart. Beads of cold sweat dotted his forehead as he struggled to discern the line between reality and the haunting images of Raccoon City.

The room was almost filled by a pale moonbeam that sliced through a gap in the curtains, casting eerie shadows across the walls. Breathing heavily, he tried to shake off the horrors that still clung to his mind. He couldn't go back to sleep; the nightmares always returned with a vengeance.

A soft rustle from the bed beside him caught his attention. Leon turned his head to see you, your eyes filled with concern.

"Leon, are you okay?" You spoke in a hushed, soothing tone.

He sighed, his voice trembling. "Just a nightmare, but it felt so real."

You scooted closer, your fingers reaching out to gently stroke his cheek. "Tell me about it. It might help."

Leon hesitated for a moment. But after so many months of silence, he gave up. He took a deep breath, then started to recount the horrors of his dream, the monsters, the chaos, and the relentless pursuit of survival. As he spoke, your presence provided comfort, grounding him in the real world.

When he had finished, you offered a reassuring smile. "You're safe now, Leon. Raccoon City is gone, and we're here together."

He gazed into your eyes, finding solace in the warmth and kindness he saw there. Your hand slid into his, fingers entwining as you two lay side by side.

"Thank you," he whispered, his heart slowing its panicked rhythm.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a soft, reassuring kiss in his forehead. As they pulled away, you murmured, "Now, try to get some rest. I'll be right here if you need me."

Leon nodded, closing his eyes, and as the remnants of his nightmare faded, he realized that the presence of you he was starting to like the help he needed to heal.

The training finally ended.

Now, you were officially a government agent, ready to serve.

After six months of pure stress, you finally ended your training. The ceremony was exactly like you imagined. But, for some reason, you weren't that happy. It was like you were missing something — or someone.

You found him after the celebration party. And he was so beautiful.

"Congrats, Agent Kennedy" You smiled at him, shaking his hands.

"Congrats to you too" he blushed a little. "I guess... I never properly thanked you... for everything"

"You don't need to thank me. You needed a friend" you said, your face blushing as well.

"Can I at least take you on a date or something?" Leon asked, and then he avoided your eyes. He was tense.

"Yes" you nodded, feeling your heart skip several beats.

And then, to your surprise, Leon kissed you. Right there, in front of everyone else. He didn't care about Krauser, the bullying, and the punishment he went through. When his lips met yours, he felt he was doing the right thing.

You both knew that you wouldn't see each other soon.

He needed to enjoy that moment. He needed you, at least one time.

You've seen his scars. You were there for him. You were exactly what he needed.

[thetriumphantpanda]

LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

[mothduchess]

Kitsune HRT Part 3

Doors, are fucking,

TERRIFYING.

The office was unassuming by itself, yet the details spoke behind the facade's back, hinting to a truer nature. A nick upon the doorplate, how it could be pushed easily from any point on its towering height, or how dirt prints came in more varieties than just shoes. Snap! My gaze scampered upwards. The sun gazed unflinchingly from high above gazing through its mantle of clouds; it weighed like a crown with all of its aching heat. "I wonder how it'd feel with fur," I mused, before turning my gaze back to the office's doorway. I... couldn't distract myself for long. All that research I had done, the pep talk with my friends, they made it very clear: the first visit was the worst of them all. But like anything good and necessary, it still felt larger than it was. I could feel myself take a step back for just a moment. And then I stopped. The words of the kind man from before, and his quiet push to bring me to this place, they rang in my head as a gentle bell. Thoughts of her returned to my mind - my hands unconsciously went over my heart, head rolled to the side. I started to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. The door gave way to a refreshing reprieve an an audience of chairs. "Barely anyone else here... suppose it *is* a work day." The few merits of unemployment aside, it did make me feel still ever so uneasy. I couldn't help it! And it wasn't just fear either. Looking to my side, I saw the wounds upon the wall, infamously left by one of the most notable patients. Those pictures were how I knew this place even existed, and now here I was caught in the wake of it all. I passed the healing plaster patch and shuffled towards the counter. A slight woman greeted me with a smile. "How can I help you?" "I'm here for... um, I think his name was Herian?" "Oh, Dr. Herian. Did you schedule a visit?" "Yes. Uh, it's under-" "Here it is. Miss Wild?" Her pleasant smile set me at ease. I simply gave a nod. "Just sit down, it won't take any time." I sat down. Names, are a tricky thing during transition. You're constantly confronted by them throughout the process. Modern society asks you what you are through your name, but what if you don't know? What if you wished you didn't need one? Right now, my appearance didn't speak for itself but already so many people just called me the truth: "Fox". It wasn't a name, but it was me. I'd gone through earlier versions; Wild was just a nickname that I enjoyed better than the one I buried states away. And maybe this one would meet the same fate. Her voice flittered upon the air. I knew the routine, and followed my part. If the front door was merely daunting, though, the door of Dr. Herian's was something *else*. Not by the door's fault. It was entirely the man inside responsible. A man no younger than 40 sat behind a heavy desk bolted to the floor gazed right through me as I came through, his gaze shielded by thick spectacles. Only wisps of hair decorated his scalp with a bush rounding the rest and sitting over his lips. Theodore Herian was the stern face of the entire program, a genius amongst his field and a veritable boogeyman to the community. Wordlessly I sat before him in the tiny chair provided, shuffling to cut a smaller figure. "Miss..." his eyes glanced at the file before him, "Wild. According to my schedule, you're here on behalf of the Humanity Removal Therapy?" "Correct." "Mh. I see. Specifically.... ah, right. Kitsune, which involves a variant of vulpinestin. We do have the medication-" Here it comes. "-but have you been living as a fox for years, now?" "For as long as I knew what thought was." "Yes sir. I've been presenting as a fox publicly for a while now, both online and in person." Physical visits were so much more stressful than the online consultations my first transition brought with it. And the questions he asked, I felt as if he was investigating the fiber of my being. Pouring water upon glass to find any sign of the slightest crack. "To be clear, what you're asking for-"

"Practically begging for." "-is the kitsune type, not the standard North American Red Fox. This comes with more than just tails. Even more so than other HRT medications, the kitsune comes with notable side effects. Illusions, fire, s..." The voice filtered out. I knew what I was getting into, and I knew to some they'd misinterpret why. 'That I just wanted the powers' or 'it'd be okay if you were just a fox'. I might be a vixen, a creature of cunning and sneering grins - but I wasn't some kind of plotting mastermind! My fingers pinched the sweatpants I came by today in with frustration twisting under the skin. The irritation ran like wax, my mouth pulled into the faint signs of an oncoming sneer. I would be a beautiful vixen even if it killed me. Not for any reason other than to ring in a new spring. "I'll do this. I'm right here. It's almost the-" "MISS. Wild.... Good. You're back. Did you hear what I said?" I gave a flustered nod, which he responded with an exasperated sigh. "Then, I would like to be the first to thank you for coming here, and to let you know - you may pick up your medication at your chosen pharmacy." He handed over a pamphlet that felt as precious as gold in my fingers. For moments, I was on autopilot. Step Step Step Step At some point I recall bidding a polite farewell to the receptionist? But my mind was a buzzing hurricane of thoughts, a whirl of actions. Petals honey gold silk cars sirens light heat skin sweat lock key ho-! My door clicked behind me, the vacancy greeting me warmly. The bag crumpled underneath my fingers. And when I heard that rattle? The light kissing the bottle and coming out changed as an amber gold nectar that seeped into the floor? I wept, and delighted sounds of a fox escaped my throat. Kitsune HRT: Week 1 OH MY GODS OH MY GODS I HAVE THE MEDICINE, AAAAAA -No changes yet. First pills, but so stoked. -Gods I felt I was going to die in that office. -Thank the fucks I do not have oh HELLS. -....I hope I end up fluffy

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[pink-pkmn-trainer]

fuck the jax is an npc theory. kinger is an npc in this essay i will-

right off the bat, kinger has a pretty obvious design similarity to caine. i'm not talking about the gloves here, as almost every human character has them (with gangle and ragatha being the exceptions). i'm talking about the eyes. these two have the exact same type of eyes, as you can see in their offical renders. sorry that the images look weird btw i have no idea what happened.

you can also see this similarity pretty clearly in their 2D art

but it doesn't end there, either. caine and kinger both have a tendency to zone out randomly...

there's also existing official art of kinger with his own cane, not unlike the one caine has.

2. during the hallway scene in the pilot, we can see a crossed-out doorplate depicting a black queen chess piece, one that looks very similar to kinger. same robe, same eyes, same general body shape aside from their heads...and considering that all the other characters look so different from one another, it really stands out.

while the easiest explanation would be that they had some sort of connection in the real world (most people believe they're a married couple), how would the game know that? would it just assume that because they logged on at the same time? perhaps queenie and kinger are both NPCs and that's why they look so similar.

(i know that NPCs don't usually have their own rooms, but caine did mention a possibility of getting NPCs and humans mixed up, so let's assume that he ends up granting said NPC a room if he does get confused)

granted, not all NPC/AI characters have to have those big buggy eyeballs. the candy people certainly don't. but there are some certain characters that we can compare this potential trio to...

that's right: the gummy gators. max, chad and gummigoo are all very similar in appearance, and in that sense, they're all part of a group. now you can imagine it's the same case with queenie, kinger, and caine. they all look alike because they're grouped together.

3. as jax says, "ol' kinger over there's supposedly been here the longest". that statement is vague enough that it could very well mean that he's been there since the very beginning, in other words, from the moment the game was created.

here's what i think happened: caine, kinger, and queenie were all AIs programmed to run the circus together, but queenie discovered she was a game character, possibly the same way gummigoo did, and got so existential about it that she abstracted. this is of course assuming that NPCs can abstract, which, knowing how fucked-up this show is, they most likely can.

after queenie's abstraction, kinger got mixed up with the humans and now believes that he is one. because of how forgetful he is, it's not out of the question for him to have forgotten the role he was programmed for and ended up among the human characters. so now caine's been left without any assistance. that may even be why he has bubble, to fill that empty space.

(don't take this too seriously btw i'm just spouting nonsense.)

so what do y'all think of this??

[graycomfort]

I have an idea to write something heavy. David naturally has better communication skills than Simon. Simon is more unhappy, which makes him insecure, whereas David does not have this quality and can flirt with Sophie. Girls love bad boys. And as a result, Simon may catch them in an intimate moment or simply realize that he will never get Sophie back and become even more depressed. David may pester Sophie or the reader, or Simon will meet the reader after catching David and Sophie together.

+ "I am adding to the previous post. David makes Sophie fall in love with him. Simon had known David since he found out Sophie was with him. and when Henrikson becomes disabled, he says his signature phrase at a meeting with Leatherhoff. And the reader could call an ambulance for Simon"

Simon Hennrikson x Gn! Reader - Shouldn't - Part 1

Pairings: Sophie x David Leatherhoff, Simon Hennrikson x Reader

Synopsis: Your best friend Sophie falls in love with your brother, David. Simon isn't too happy about that, but maybe something good can come of it.

Everyone in this story is an asshole, but I'm so sorry David and Sophie lovers! I WILL TRY TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU!!!!! Masterlist

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting!!! I'm so sorry for going a bit off-topic from the prompt you asked of me, and for taking such a long time. I had struggled a bit while writing it, and I ain't too happy with the outcome. I'M SORRY IF IT DOESN'T MAKE MUCH SENSE WAHHHHH

Contents: Two best friends drifting apart due to a relationship, everyone is an asshole in one way or another, eating ham pizza (just exchange it for something else if you don't eat meat or don't like pizza in general), one use of Y/N, unhealthy relationship, angst??? Word count: ~2.5k

"Oi, bro bro. Borrow me one of your Wii controllers, please." I said as soon as I entered my brother's room. David got startled, as I didn't even bother to knock, and dropped his joint on the carpet below. "Fucking hell." He muttered as he picked it back up. The carpet was now decorated with yet another burn mark as it wasn't a rare occurrence. "Don't you have two of them yourself?" He answered in a gruff voice of his. "If I didn't need one I wouldn't even waste my time talking to you. But I broke one of them and I need two." I crossed my arms as the conversation could have been very much avoided. "What for?" I groaned as he dragged out the conversation on purpose. "To play the other one with my feet, obviously." I stated with sarcasm seeping from my words. "I'm having a friend over, what else would I need two for, you idiot!" "You're weird as shit, I would have believed the first one." He said with an eye-roll as he stood up.

"So can I have it??" "Yes, Jesus, gimme a second to get it, you fucking parasite." His movements were sloppy, as expected from a guy who has taken more drugs today than I have drunk water this week. "Says you." But he didn't lie and within a minute the controller you needed was in your hands. "Thanks, will return it when she goes home." I was ready to leave, I only got to turn around before David spoke up again. "She? You're having a laddyy over! Is she pretty??" I turned my head at the question. Staring into his red eyes with obvious disgust. "Whatever is going through that drugged-up mind of yours, quit it." He shrugged. "If you're not interested I might be." He said with a cheeky tone. "No." I didn't even bother to argue with a guy who possibly couldn't even see who was in front of him.

But it did make me worried. I prayed all he said was a joke and that he wouldn't advance on her. He would be such a bad influence on a such sweet girl like her. I didn't even get to my room as a knock sounded on the front door. "I'll get it!" Was heard as a black smudge ran past me. The most coordination I have seen him manage to keep in a while. Oh, you motherfucker.

David opened the upper lock on the door and swung it open. Before the squeaky door, which had a "Leatherhoff" doorplate glued to it, stood an average heightened brunette girl. It was the first time I had ever invited her to my house, so she was caught off guard at the sight of a disheveled-looking man. "Oh my, why do I have the pleasure of seeing an angel at my doorstep?" She was not prepared to be hit on the second the door opened. The fact that most interactions she had with men had been bullying from her schoolmates. It weirded her out, yet kinda felt pleasant. What she was supposed to say she didn't know.

"Is this wh-" Before she could finish her sentence, the dark-haired man was forcefully shoved out of the way by a familiar to her face. "Move it, pothead." I stabilized myself after the strong push and made way so the said girl could enter. "Please come in, Sophie. And don't mind my idiotic brother." As I was mentioning him I shoved my elbow into his ribs. Which he winced at.

Sophie looked so unsure of the whole shit show before her, but in the end, she did enter my household. As soon as she took off her shoes I rushed her into my room. I sent one last glare in the direction of my brother before he fled back to his room annoyed. Sophie looked at me and said in a slight whisper "Was he…?" Her hand raised to point at her eyes. "High? Yeah." I said with a tired tone and threw myself on my bed. "I'm sorry that it was the first thing you saw here." I stared at her worried. I really didn't want her to judge me based on my brother. But Sophie just waved her raised hand. "Ah, don't worry about it. He was sweet to me." The worried look quickly got replaced with disgust. I fake gagged. "Ugh, girl nah!!" She laughed at my reaction and sat down next to me.

She grabbed her bag and took out a few crinkly pages. "I got you the notes you wanted. Sorry, they're kinda smugged… got pushed into a puddle…" Her mood suddenly dropped at the mention of the accident. I sighed with anger. "Fuck. That's the second time this week, I wish I was there to pay them back." Sophie smiled at the sign of care and looked up at me as I took the papers. "Don't worry, Simon was there and stood up for me." She paused for a second. "I should introduce you two to each other, I feel like you two would have a lot in common. And he could use some socializing…"

I recognized the name, but couldn't pinpoint it to a face though. As it was mostly obscured by the hood of the hoodie he always wore. It surprised you when Sophie said he stood up for her or let alone that he's her friend, as he seemed very reserved and mostly kept to himself. Usually spending breaks and sometimes even classes, listening to music, or sleeping. I couldn't blame him, I would have probably done the same thing. Yet I really wanna show the school am I better than my deadbeat brother who used to go to this school. Most of the teachers had a sour look on their faces the first time they read my last name while taking note of the attendance. I feel like I have succeeded in showing them I'm nothing like him. But the pressure to keep up the good act was still there.

"Yeah sure, I will gladly meet him. He seems like a good guy." Sophie smiled at me, she felt glad. "He is, he is. I mean yeah, he can get a bit too much sometimes. But I'm guessing that's mostly because he doesn't have any other friends than me." I hummed back at the information. The conversation diverted into many different topics before we could even get to the main point of our hangout. Playing on the Wii. Just dance, Wii Sports, etc. We played any party games we could find in my library of games until we got tired. Sophie was pretty skilled at playing those even tho she doesn't really own any gaming equipment. I was glad to give her access to mine as she seemed to enjoy it very much. The room was filled with movement, laughter, and overall fun.

It was all interrupted eventually by the door getting swung open by David. I was about to tell him off before I noticed that he actually had a reason to come in here. "Mom ordered pizza. This one's for you two. It's ham, I think." I stood up from my bed and took the pizza from his hand. Sophie was right behind me. "Great timing! I'm starving" She leaned over my shoulder, placing her hands on them. "It smells so good!" I looked at David, who's focus was on Sophie. "Tell Mom we said thanks." And with that I went back to my bed, taking the pizza with me. Before Sophie went back herself, she turned to David. "Thank you for bringing it to us." She smiled, which was replicated by David. "No problem, beautiful." I groaned before Sophie had a chance to reply. "C'mon. It's gonna get cold if you keep chit-chatting." David signed and grabbed the door handle. "Maybe another time." With that he left, closing the door behind him.

I was very much annoyed with the forceful flirting he was showering Sophie with. The girl didn't see anything wrong with David's actions. As she was appreciating all the positive words sent her way. As it wasn't a common thing in her life. Sophie came back and opened the pizza box as I was too deep in my thoughts. I was brought back to reality when I felt a warm scratchy texture in my hand. As Sophie put one of the pieces in it. David was right, Sophie was an angel. He was right about the pizza too, it is indeed ham.

It started to get dark once we finished eating. "I should better be going. It's getting dark." I glanced outside only now noticing the dark grayish sky. "Man…" "Yeah…" Sophie didn't look too happy about it just like me. I stood up and Sophie grabbed her things. "I had a lot of fun, we should do it more often!" She beamed as I replied with a nod. "Definitely!"

As we got out of my room, we met my mom in the hallway. "Ah miss Leatherhoff. Thank you for the pizza and for having me!" Mom waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it, my dear. It got late, why don't Y/n's brother drive you home." She smiled sweetly. Sophie started to get worried, as she had just seen him high a few hours ago.

"I don't know, ma." I said worried about Sophie's safety. My mom didn't really listen as she called out for David to come to the hallway. It didn't take long till he came out of his room. "Yeah? What is it?" David seemed better, his eyes less red as if it wore off. Yet I still didn't trust him. You couldn't bring it up to Mom, it was a very sensitive topic. She chooses to be oblivious to her son's obvious addiction.

"Could you give Sophie a ride back home?" David looked confused at who she meant. Looking next to her, he saw his annoyed sibling and the brunette girl he hit on earlier. Just now remembering that it was her name. "Yeah, sure. Lemme just grab my keys." David disappeared again and then appeared back in the hallway quickly with his car keys in hand.

I was so displeased with the situation at hand. "Something happens to Sophie and you're fucking dead, David." I glared at him. "Y/n! Language!" My mom said before David spoke up to his defense. "Chill, nothing will happen. You know I'm an amazing driver." I raised my eyebrow. "Oh, are you now?" David sent a glare back at you. "Enough of that." Our mom spoke up.

I signed and went to hug Sophie goodbye. Before I let them leave I spoke up one last time. "Text me the second something happens or when you get home, okay?" "Okay, okay. I should be fine." She said as if she wasn't sure herself. They both put their coats and shoes on and left. I stood there looking at the door a second longer. Worried thoughts filled my brain.

And I was right. I couldn't stop David from entering my room while Sophie was there. But I couldn't stop the text messages. I don't know when they started texting. Possibly they exchanged numbers when he drove her home. It didn't matter. What mattered was that my conversations with Sophie started to get filled with 'You will never guess what David said' 'David did this' 'David' and 'David'. I would have been happy for her. If it wasn't my druggie of a brother she was talking about.

I suggested to her plenty of times that maybe she could go for Simon. "Have you seen how he looks at you? He definitely likes you!" At this point, I started to sound desperate. "Maybe… but I just don't see him that way. I like him, just not like that." I felt defeated.

Then the unavoidable happened. It was a very quiet break, there was maybe one more person in the classroom besides me. Sophie came so excited to my desk. "You won't believe it!" I looked up at her from my notes. "What?" I should have been already prepared for what she was about to say. "David and I are dating!" But I wasn't.

"Åh, cool!" I tried not to show how displeased I was with what she just announced to me. My eyes made a connection with the notes again. "Something wrong?" She asked and I really wanted to tell her the truth. I didn't wanna be a bad guy in her eyes. She was love-struck, and David made her happy. So I lied. I looked up at her with a fake grin. "Åh, nej. I'm happy for you two! I'm just a little tired and studying for today's exam is killing me.'" "Åh, I'm sorry! I will let you be! Good luck!" With that, she was gone. I watched her leave as if it was gonna be the last time I saw her. When she was out of my sight I sighed.

Hangouts at my house changed from just us two hanging out. David started joining us more and more often. With time it was David who invited her, not me. I didn't have to, she was here at least once a week anyway. At some point, I stopped going out of my room to them. Lying that I wasn't feeling too good.

Sophie did realize after a few times that I didn't come out of my room on purpose. So she decided to make plans in advance that involved going outside. So I couldn't hide in my room. She came up to me at school. "Hej, are you maybe free this weekend?" I pondered for a second. "Um, I don't think I have anything planned, why?" "How about we get some coffee this weekend? Me, you, David, and I will also invite Simon!" I really wanted to decline the offer. I was hoping it was gonna just the two of us, but of course, David had to be there too. But I do remember agreeing to meet Simon tho. Maybe he being there with us was gonna make it at least a bit less awkward, so I agreed.

"Yeah, sure." She seemed to relax at my answer. "Good! I will send you the details once I invite the rest." I was glad she still cared about our friendship. I felt a bit of an asshole for avoiding her when she came over. But I had my reasons.

A few classes later I felt my phone buzz. 'Saturday 1 p.m sounds alright to you?' was a message sent by Sophie. I replied with a thumbs-up to it and put my phone back in my pocket. The thought of regret filled my brain, but I couldn't back out now.

A few uneventful days went by till it was Saturday. It was Saturday at 12 a.m right now. I got ready for the day early, trying to look at least a bit decently since it's not gonna be just you three. I wondered what kind of person Siomn was, as Sophie's description and my own observations didn't give me much to work with.

The door to my room was open, and he stood in it. I chose to ignore him until he spoke up himself. The person in the hallway did not cross the threshold and spoke to me from where he was standing. "Are you ready to go?" It was David who, despite your relationship souring even more since he met Sophie, offered to give me a lift. "Yeah." The room was filled with an awkward silence as I picked up my things.

He moved away from the door and waited for me to put on my coat and shoes. My pace was clearly too slow for him as he passed by me and went straight for the door. "We're leaving!" He shouted to our mom who shouted back to us about being careful. And then he left. Shortly after I left the house myself, locking it behind me.

[loverdude]

Animal Crossing sonas for my boyfriend and I :3 We also each designed our own houses and different outfits!

There's a few inaccuracies lol like my nightgown and our winter sweaters and the complexity of our houses and our doorplates but shhh lol it's fine...

Also I was so torn between Normal and Lazy for mine but I'm gonna pretend my villager is a slight exception to Lazy villagers bc I like things very clean and Lazy villagers can be kinda gross GHSJFJDKSFHKDK

Don't repost/use 4 anything 🏡 COMMISSION INFO

Also their tummy/body designs w/o the shirt r under the cut ^_^

[vaiyamagic]

ACNH: Been playing in the bug-off. I have gotten as prizes 3 termite mounds, a shirt, a spider doorplate, and 3 toy cockroaches.

I just want an artisan cage.....

[kadegravy]

Aizawa X yn

this is for @helluva-simper. she my bestie. anyways..

Aizawa finds Cat!reader lost

Kinda based on Sweet Tooth by Chickeninthebathtub by AO3, Present mic is most like him from the fic.

You were lost and confused. Your ears twitch, you hear something, you turn your head. You see a large white scarf coming towards you. A man states, "I got a report there was a feline villain?" In a dry tone.

You tilt your head. "Im a cat, thats my quirk. But i'm not a villain."

He nods, then grunts. "Uhhuh. Im pro hero Eraserhead. Why are you here?"

"My name is YN. i'm lost. I just turned 20 and my Mother kicked me out."

He grunts again, surprised. "Well, are you staying at a homeless shelter?"

"No, sir."

He offers to let you stay at his house, you agree. 'Hes a hero, he wont hurt me.' You think. You and him walk to his home. His home is clean, the doorplate says Hizashi and Aizawa residence. He lives here with someone, you assume.

"Uh, sir. Who's the Hizashi person?"

He grunts then explains Hizishi is a friend, who mostly lives with his much younger girlfriend who Hizashi is basically the sugar daddy for. You look surprised.

Hizashi suggested to Aizawa that he gets a sugar baby or something of the like though he never thought much of it. Seeing you sit there so cutely, made him want it.

TIME SKIP

You had basically been living with aizawa for week, then he asked.

[missy-0-piink]

I’m sorry, but I just caught up on fukuchis character and wtf 😭

Like, WDYM HE PISSED ON THE AGENCY DOORPLATE ON THE OPENING DAY?!?!

I feel like he’s (more than once) been in a fight with somebody, and before he executes them he farts in their face and laughs 😭😭😭

HELPSBJSNSNSSJI

[megatownac]

You gotta show off your shamrock spirit by decorating your door with this emerald green doorplate that says "fáilte!" on it, which Google translate tells me means "welcome!"

I can't say I see the appeal, but maybe that's because, at only 3/16 Irish (1/16 from my dad's side and 1/8 from my mom's), my shamrock spirit has simply been diluted and adulterated to the point of destruction.

[axiadesu]

[malink]The Memoirs

※malink.non-primitive setting

※Modern farm setting

——

Heavy fall rains with a chill swept over everyone walking down the street.

A group of men dressed in black with black umbrellas arrived at the cemetery and watched in silence as the man who owned the Rumble Farm was buried - alongside his wife, Malon, amidst the priest's prayers.

The townspeople whispered and let out a sigh of regret.

The man standing at the front - he looked like Link, but with red hair - looked to the woman beside him with those beautiful blue eyes, and he said, "Sister, I'll clean up my father's belongings? "

"Brother, you don't have to test me. Father is dead, I won't bother with the dead." The woman was exquisitely made up, dressed in a tastefully appropriate black suit dress, her blonde hair curled over her shoulders, "Come along."

In silence and in company, they left the cemetery, leaving the newly carved stone alone to be washed away by the rain.

[Malon & Her Husband-Link]

The road to Rumble Farms was a muddy dirt road decades ago, however, it has now been groomed into a smooth gravel road, large enough for a sedan.

"It hasn't changed here at all." The woman said. She didn't care that her expensive leather boots were soiled by the dirt on the ground as she strutted towards the courtyard.

As the man got out of the car, he looked toward the sunset in the distance.

"It's really beautiful."

The two men entered the compound together. The yard was wide and clean, the firewood was neatly split and stacked under a rain tarp, the tool shed was locked, but you could see the neatly arranged tools inside through the window. The wooden floor of the porch was glistening with oil, as if it had been taken care of some time ago. Two pots of orange sunflowers sat on the windowsill, spreading their branches against the setting sun. A half-read book was placed on the table under the window sill, next to a pot of coffee that had run out.

The woman stopped and picked up the book, "It's one of Mom's favorite travelogues."

The man was silent as he took out his handkerchief and handed it to the woman. She pushed it away, "I'm not crying!"

"Go inside and take a look."

The gate was hung with a doorplate, a not-so-pretty wooden board with [The Malon Family] carved crookedly on it.

The man said, "Do you remember? We carved it together. You just learned to talk then."

The woman twisted her head, her long hair covering her cheek, "...... who remembers such things."

"Mother said she wanted to carve out [Link and Malon's home], and father disagreed, and finally asked us, and you were the one who stammered and rattled off mother's name-" "- Say no more! ...... go into the house."

They pulled open the door and stepped into the foyer. They familiarly took their slippers out of the cupboard and changed into them before realizing with an afterthought that it wasn't right.

The man crouched on the ground, covering his eyes helplessly, and after a long time, his voice came out with suppressed sobs, "Why ...... Mary ...... I can't believe he really left us... . like mom ...... forever."

The woman-Mary raised her head and stared at the round white lampshade on top of the foyer, "Mom always said you were like her, with too much emotion."

A single tear slid down the corner of Mary's eye into her temples before disappearing.

The living room was furnished as it had been for decades, or as it had been all over this entire farm, even Link, and together they were stuck on the day Malon left, abandoned by the world, with only time to leave a mark.

"Joseph, don't you think, our father is a bit of a scary man." Mary called out to her brother, "He planned everything, the time the letter arrived in the mail, the time we arrived, the cemetery, the priest, and even everything on this farm. Then he went to his death with a straight face and left us to clean up this mess!"

"Don't talk about him that way, Mary." Joseph stroked the back of his armchair and replied, "Father took ...... everything on alone."

He lifted his hand and gazed at the mark that seemed to have been left by countless strokes, the obviously faded fabric.

This is where Malon used to sit when she was alive.

Joseph remembered well that when Mary was still in Malon's womb, she used to sit here, with the woolen frame full of wool at her feet, and watch Link and him play with some wooden toys - which Link had made himself - while she made Mary's birth Preparation.

This place should never have been worn so badly. It was Link who had often caressed this place, like stroking what had once been Malon through time and space.

They had been so in love. How could Link be indifferent to Malon's passing.

Mary placed the books she had collected from outside the house on the shelves, just as she had done countless times. Nothing here had changed, not even the placement of the books.

"It's like I'm back in time." Mary said, "I miss Mommy."

Joseph walked next to her and hugged Mary, "It's been years ......"

Next to the floor-to-ceiling door leading to the backyard, pots of greenery were lush, their leaves glowing green and adding one of the few signs of life to the withered room.

Joseph called and had someone come in the morning to clean up the room. They weren't going to leave this stuff behind to eat dust.

As Joseph walked to the front of the study, he said to Mary in a mock lighthearted manner, "Remember? When we were kids, the study was always off-limits to us; Father never allowed us to just enter."

He squeezed the handlebar, "No one's stopping us now."

"That's not a funny joke, Joseph."

"You still say things like that?"

They walked into the den.

Two bookshelves sit along the wall, also filled with books.

Malon loved to read, but loved to hear Link read to her even more. Even Joseph and Mary's bedtime stories were, for the most part, read by Link.

Joseph walked wistfully to his desk and looked out over the endless wheat fields in the distance.

"This is ......" He looked down and noticed several thick notebooks neatly arranged on the table; they were so numerous, so many that they seemed to cover two large dictionaries.

Joseph picked up the topmost book and flipped a page at random.

——

October 19, light rain.

At 5:05 a.m., got up and ate the rest of yesterday's bread, which was a little hard.

At 7:03 a.m., finished feeding the chickens and collected twenty-three eggs. Fifty eggs have been collected, and old Hanson ......'s son can be notified to come and collect them - I forgot again that he had died last spring.

9:27 a.m. A little tired from organizing the barn and yard. So I lay in bed and imagined Malon massaging me. ...... A little better.

11:36 a.m, Epona - it's Epona's granddaughter, she almost ran away. I ran all over the wheat field to bring her back. It was exhausting. Malon, I think I may be getting very old. Just now a child from the city called me grandpa. It was very new.

12:16 p.m. Had chickpea pasta for lunch and used canned food. I solemnly apologize, Malon, and please don't knock me on the head. But I can never make this dish right.

3:31 p.m. Napped for about an hour. I'm sweating a lot and it's time to change the sheets again.

6:09 p.m. Spent the afternoon organizing the yard. Winter is coming and there is a lot to do. The firewood hasn't been split yet. That's bad, mind you, it's less than even half the amount that used to be there.

7:05 p.m. Finished a painting today. Malon, it's the time we fished at the lake. Remember? You caught a big fish! And at night we made fish soup with that fish and ate it for three days, and after that you never wanted to take home the fish you caught. ...... Well, but the fish soup was really good that day.

7:41 p.m. Had leftover pasta from lunch for dinner. Not very tasty.

It's 8:04 p.m. and I'm in bed, reading Shakespeare's Poetry today, which I've been reading for many days now, but still can't understand.

I'm ready to turn out the lights. Good night, Malon. I love you, Malon. Good night, kids.

——

Joseph flipped through page after page of almost identical daily routines, almost replicated diary entries.

His hands trembled slightly, "Mar, Mary, come see this ......"

They went back to the living room, turned on the light, and sat down together to read each page of the diary word for word.

Joseph asked, "Want to start on page one?"

Mary was silent. Joseph opened the oldest copy and turned to the first page.

——

October 2, overcast.

I lost what I loved.

——

October 4, sunny.

I lost what I loved.

But the kids are still there.

Malon instructed me to take care of them.

I'm a father, not just Malon's husband. I'm going to be there for them.

——

October 7, sunny

I lost [Haloed by water stains.and couldn't see].

Mary snapped at me today.She accused me of being too indifferent to your passing.

...... This hurts.

Malon, ...... [very long gap] ...... I miss you ...... I can't ...... can't live without you.

[Large wet marks]

——

Joseph looked to Mary.

He remembers that day.

It was pretty much the most heated argument their family had ever had.

Mary spent the night crying in her room. When she got up in the morning, she saw her father's forced smile - it was plainly easy to see that it was the hardest smile he had ever seen his father smile.

But Mary was overcome with grief, and she was furious with her father, hurting him with words he could hardly imagine.

She accuses her father of being cold-blooded and uncaring, of not loving her mother at all, and that he wouldn't even shed a tear for her at the funeral.

Then Mary slammed the door.

He couldn't understand his father at the time, but he didn't identify with Mary either, so he just picked up the not-so-delicious breakfast his father had made, said his goodbyes and left for school.

How heartbroken his father was after he was gone, and how he steeled his grief ...... Joseph did not know.

Maybe no one knows now.

——

October 15, heavy rain.

Joseph and I talked about matters of the heart, and he said he understood me well.

He's a good boy, Malon, and I don't think I'll ever be as good as you, I can't replace you.

The children have lost a wonderful mother.

Mary still won't talk to me. I can't get mad at her, I'm trying to ease up with her, but it seems to be failing.

I'll try, Malon. I love you.

——

[In between are trivial routines that are quickly skipped over]

——

November 21st, snow.

In a month it will be Christmas and the kids are going on winter vacation.

It's the first Christmas without you, and I'm nervous.

Malon, what have we done in the past? Christmas tree, presents, turkey - well not turkey, I know you're going to knock me on the head again - how about lasagna with meat sauce, that's all I know how to make.

Oh yeah, and gifts, that's important.

I'm going to give Joseph that spray-painted model airplane he's wanted for so long, and I know he wants to be a pilot. Maybe I should try to support him.

As for Mary ...... I missed the perfect time to talk to her and I hope the gift I chose will win her back.

Wish me luck. I love you, Malon.

——

[In the middle is the trivial routine of preparing for Christmas, which was skipped]

——

December 25, heavy snow.

[A lot of marks poked and prodded by the tip of the pen, as if the person who put it down struggled with whether or not to write it down.]

...... I lost Mary. She hated me.

I don't get it Malon, she's fixated on the fact that I'm not sad at all, I tried to explain it to her but ......

Maybe I wasn't a good father.

I'll keep trying.

I love you, Malon.

——

December 26, heavy snow.

Last night I heard Joseph say something to Mary and today she eased up on me.

I'm glad. Joseph has always been a good boy, and that's down to what you've taught him.

...... To be honest, I'm a little scared. Mary lost you when she needed her mother the most, and I'm not sure I can fill that void.

I'm afraid Mary will go to extremes because of my negligence.

——

Christmas ......

Joseph has spent many kinds of Christmases, a cozy one with Link and Malon before his sister Mary was born, a teenage Christmas in the square with friends, and a youthful Christmas in a rented house with a loved one.

But ...... the first Christmas after my mother passed away ......

Joseph remembered.

He did receive a spray-painted model airplane from his father, and it was at one time his most beloved toy - but of course he didn't pursue a career as a pilot later.

Sister Mary received an music box - handmade by her father.

Joseph asked, "Do you remember what you received?"

Mary was silent for a long time, "...... music box."

"You threw it." Joseph's tone was sure. He'd witnessed Mary arguing with her father-perhaps accusing him unilaterally-and then, she'd thrown that music box far out the window.

"I threw it." Mary said, "But I regretted it. So I slipped out of the house while you were all asleep and tried to pick it up. But I didn't find it, and I almost got lost."

She realized something as an afterthought, "You mean ...... could it be ......"

Joseph said, "Maybe we can find it somewhere in the house."

They felt like they were marching through a dark cave wearing headlamps and began to discover aspects of Link that were unknown to them.

They read on.

——

[For an entire Christmas vacation Link didn't record, perhaps he was too busy to do so, or perhaps Mary's rebellious behavior burned him out. Anyway, he recorded again after Mary and Joseph returned to school. But after that, the diary started to get simpler.]

——

Jan. 17, sunny

The snow stopped.

Did farm work today and tried a new dish following the recipe you left but failed.

Luckily it didn't burn the kitchen down.

I love you, Malon.

——

January 19, overcast.

Hanson, of the grocery store in town, approached me about a business deal, wishing to purchase eggs at fifty at a time, and I agreed.

I love you, Malon. Kiss you.

——

January 21st, heavy snow.

It snowed so hard last night that it crushed the wooden shed in the yard.

It has to be fixed today.

I love you, Malon.

——

February 1, sunny

Joseph sent a letter. In it he wrote about how he and Mary were doing and reassured me.

I'm so proud of them.

I love you, Malon.

——

[The next is all recorded in such a piecemeal fashion that it's impossible to see what's changed.]

——

Joseph quickly flipped through the similar sections until September.

He stopped.

Mary asked him, "Why don't you flip? It's almost September."

Joseph took a deep breath and said, "I'm afraid to turn it over. Mary, please."

Mary took it and turned the page backward. She wondered how much overlap there was between the father she remembered and the one who wrote the diary.

——

September 2, sunny

I lost sleep all night.

——

September 3, sunny

[Ink spots from repeated stamping]

Malon [was traced many times, the ink is very dark]

——

September 4, cloudy.

I can't face the kids.

——

September 5, sunny

I'm ready, Malon. You said I was strong.

I'll be strong.

——

[No record in the middle]

——

September 12, sunny

I lost what I loved ...... again.

[Large wet marks]

I was a coward. When I stepped into the cemetery, a wave of avoidance grew in me. I dared not face it.

I've been running away every moment of this year. I lied to myself, lied to myself that you were just traveling far away, how else was I going to make it through each day, not to mention the kids ...... how could I let them see a broken father.

But today, I walked into the cemetery as if someone had slapped me in the face, woke me up from a beautiful dream of escape, and pointed to your tombstone and told me: she's dead, and Malon is gone from me forever.

I can't hug you anymore.

How I would like to go after you ...... Malon, and if there were no children, I should soon catch up with you after your death.

But I can't.

Mary is looking more and more like you, and Joseph, his hair, he grows it long, a little slightly curly like yours.

I miss you Malon ...... I really, really miss you ......

——

Mary was silent. So was Joseph.

"Father He ......"

"I don't think you realize——"

They spoke in unison. Then Mary said, "You first."

Joseph closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm his voice.

"I remember that in the year that mother passed away, it was about September 11th, maybe September 9th - I can't remember. Anyway, that day-"

Joseph had two too many glasses of juice at dinner, so he got up that night.

As he left the toilet and prepared to go back to his room to go back to sleep, he noticed that the door to his parents' room was not closed as usual, but had been left ajar.

Joseph heard talking coming from inside and sneaked closer, pressing his eyes against the crack in the door to peek in.

He swore that he would never forget what he saw that day for the rest of his life.

——Mother lay in bed, pale, her lips bloodless, and even her passionate red hair a little dry and frizzy.

Her withered hand rested on father's head-he was sitting on the edge of her mother's bed, the tall, straight back that Joseph remembered bending.

The father was crying, and he was lying on the side of his mother's bed, weeping.

Joseph heard his father say, "...... I'm sorry, Malon. I'm just ...... I'm just ......"

There was a sort of saintly smile on his mother's face, "It's okay, honey, I know this is cruel to you. But, honey, you have to hear me out ...... I'm about to run out of time."

The father was hunched over, sobbing in a small voice under the dim bedside lamp while he wrote down what his mother said.

"...... The key to chickpea pasta is the chickpeas, Link, no canned chickpeas, that's not soul. Also, don't rush when stacking the bread, you're always in a hurry. Sprinkle some water on it before it goes in the oven ......"

"...... And the greenery, no throwing them away. The house needs some life. Remember to take a clean cloth and wipe off the water after spraying ......"

Mother rambled on and on, and Father memorized every word.

It's hard for Joseph to describe what it felt like, but the dim light of that day, his mother's death-stained, relieved smile, and his father's no-longer-straight spine were etched in his mind.

"- Shortly after that, the mother passed away. Immediately afterward came the funeral, and father held up the farm all by himself."

Mary was silent for a long time after Joseph finished.

She silently turned over the diary in her hand, "...... Look at the next page."

——

September 16, light rain.

Organized the wheat field today with the helpers, much neater.

Also prepared wood, which I'm going to split into smaller pieces next for the winter.

There's also a stockpile of food ...... I think that should be enough. I'll just check again tomorrow.

It's time to get the Christmas presents up early this year. I think Mary, perhaps unlike her brother, isn't too fond of those handmade knickknacks.

Jewelry might be a good choice.

As for Joseph, well ...... trust someone to bring him a pilot's medal.

——

Sept. 20, great sunny.

A group of young men from the city wanted to have a picnic on the farm. I agreed and instructed them to be careful with the fire.

Malon, I thought I saw you.

But that wasn't you. It was just one of those pretty girls who didn't look anything like you, except for the red curls.

I saw her with a friend, wearing a beautiful flowing dress, laughing with her friend under a tree.

Remember? It was under the tree where we used to fall in love.

Same position.

I remember that kiss. You kissed me. So green ......

Malon, I'm trying, like you said, to stay strong.

I'm trying. ...... [two wetted drops].

——

September 21, sunny

The redhead came to me, she said her name was Blanche and she wanted to stay here for a few days with her friends.

Her eyes were undisguised.

I turned her down, that's for sure. How long have I been losing you?

But her presence reminded me if the kids need a new mom ......

But ...... Malon, I don't know ......

——

[In between is a repetitive and boring routine]

——

December 23, sunny

I had a heart-to-heart with the kids about the new mom.

They reacted violently, especially Mary.

I should have thought of it, her feelings ...... for you do not allow others to interfere.

Mary once again berated me, and this time, I was dumbfounded. Joseph took Mary's side this time, too. I guess he was right.

I screwed up again. Malon, I really can't do it without you ......

Miss you ...... miss you very, very, very much.

I love you, Malone ...... [repeated many times]

——

December 25, Snow.

I repeatedly assured the children that I had not betrayed your heart before they would speak to me again.

Honestly, I'm glad that the kids love you so much, even more than they love me.

It's only natural. Who wouldn't love you?

We had a fairly peaceful Christmas. The sadness of losing you is starting to wash away with time. I'm glad to see the kids smiling again.

They should be looking forward and moving on, not staying in the past with me to keep you company.

——

[A great deal of repetitive content]

——

September 13, rain.

The fifth year of losing the one I love.

Malon, I'm having a little trouble remembering what you look like, so I've taken up painting.

It's a bit of a shy thing to say, so I set up the drawing room in the attic, that secret base of ours. After Joseph was born, we used to rendezvous there almost as often as we used to avoid your father.

I do clean there but never use it, I try to leave every item as it is, it's important.

——

Sept. 16, thunderstorms.

Joseph did not choose to enter pilot school, he went to business school.

...... It's kind of hard to believe. I always thought it was his dream to become a pilot.

I'm a father ...... praised by the townspeople for being an excellent father ...... really excellent?

Also, it's amazing that Mary has a boyfriend at school, and it's surprising that I only found out about it when Joseph accidentally let it slip!

What kind of brat is this! I'm going to take a nail rake and beat his ass! And then take him to water the wheat field!

[The handwriting on these two lines is very dark, and it is clear that Link was very angry when they were written]

I simply don't understand why Mary is doing this, she's 15! 15! not 25!

I'm so angry! I'm so angry! I'm going to her school tomorrow and I'm going to beat the crap out of that brat!

——

September 20, sunny

"Operation Beat the Bastard has been canceled because Joseph is back.

He calmed me down like a mature adult, almost like you calmed down a raging Talon - I understand now how your father felt, because I did too.

Joseph says he's been watching Mary to make sure she doesn't fall prey to those bad-hearted brats.

Joseph is reliable and I'm proud of him.

He said that the boy was nice and would go into the legal profession, maybe a lawyer, maybe a judge, in any case a decent and honorable profession.

I asked him if he would despise Mary because she was just a farm girl.

Joseph replied that he had worried too, so he had gotten someone to try him out, and luckily, at least for the moment, he wasn't having second thoughts.

Joseph promised that I would continue to observe and write to me with a follow-up.

Well, it looks like the wheat field is going to be missing a watering can.

——

Mary read this and said in a cool tone, "No wonder my father had such a horrible look in his eyes at the wedding. I'm glad for my husband's ass."

Joseph grunted, "If he tries to betray you, I'll beat him with a nail rake instead of father."

Mary turned the page and said, "I won't need you, I'll do it myself."

——

[Large repetitions of daily routines, unlike the previous ones, with the addition of a drawing section]

——

April 8, sunny

I drew you reading a book in a field of flowers outside the window. My technique was poor and the drawing didn't look anything like you, so it seems I need to practice more.

I tried to make the Tuscan Cream Chicken today, and honestly, I did follow the recipe you left, but it didn't taste the same as I remembered.

Maybe I should make it again for the kids to try when they get back.

I love you, Malon.

——

April 12, overcast.

I made Tuscan Cream Chicken for the kids. Joseph loved it and said my handiwork is already comparable to yours.

Speaking of which, after five years, the kids are no longer resistant to talking about you; they talk about you like they used to, like they would an old friend who's traveled a long way.

But ...... I ...... Malone, I still dare not be as frank as they are.

Almost every night over the years I have dreamed of you, of our meeting, of our love, of the little things between us.

I can feel that I'm losing you, in the truest sense of the word.

I began to forget, forget your looks, forget your voice, forget your smell ...... I began to fail to remember the mole on your back, the freckles on your face, the muscle lines on your legs ......

I've been drawing you ever since I could draw portraits, and I want to paint everything in my head about you.

I'm really scared of forgetting you ......

——

April 14, sunny

Painting.

Doing farm work.

——

April 15, rain.

Painting.

——

April 16, rain.

Painting.

——

[The drawing was repeated for almost a month before stopping.]

——

Mary stopped reading, "It's kind of hard to believe. If I didn't remember this time, just reading the diary, I would think my father was crazy."

Joseph sighed, "Sometimes I'd rather he was crazy. Mary, I've been meaning to tell you that it's been really hard on father all these years."

"...... I did something wrong." Mary finally admitted, "I broke his heart, and I didn't even get a chance to apologize to him."

Joseph put his arm around Mary's shoulders, "It's ...... okay. Remember? What mother told us, father is a very strong man. Don't you see it written in the diary that he understands you."

Mary slumped into Joseph's arms, her voice trembling, "Just see here ...... just here ...... Joseph, I'm afraid to look. I used to treat him——"

Joseph patted his sister Mary on the back, "Okay, okay. It's getting late, go get some rest."

Mary answered softly and walked to her room.

After Mary left, Joseph folded the pages and then continued reading.

He wanted to know how many unknown wounds his father, who was strong, brave and not too old-fashioned in his mind, was hiding.

He knew it was a little late, but he still wanted to try, he wanted to be there for his father - even after all these many years.

——

[A large number of notes on drawing, and Joseph felt the need to make a trip to the attic after reading these.]

——

May 7, sunny

There's no room for new paintings in the attic.

But luckily, I went ahead and built a cabin behind the house where the paintings I wasn't happy with from earlier could be stowed.

Hanson's youngest son came to me today and said that his father had broken his leg and he came to purchase eggs instead of his father.

I had a very stable deal with Hansen, which was somewhat comforting.

Incidentally, there are more kids in town, which is a strange feeling, and I always feel like both Joseph and Mary are still kids who need our care.

But this year, just yesterday, Joseph wrote.

He included a picture of a girl with blonde hair and very pretty in his letter. He said he decided she was the love of his life. Then the brat spends two big pages of nonsense describing how they met and fell in love.

Heh! Young man!

......

Malon! I wasn't like this back then, was I? Please, ...... don't say "yes"!

——

Joseph gave a wistful smile.

No wonder his father deliberately baked burnt bread for him to eat when he went back that year.

Father's cooking wasn't really that bad. It's just that he doesn't want to do it properly when mother is around. Because if he did it wrong, it would make his mother look at him and talk to him twice more.

It was obvious that the two were a close couple, but the father was always happy to play tricks and tricks.

Joseph didn't understand it before he got married, but after marrying his wife, he did.

It's nothing more than what's called conjugal love.

Mother was so smart, how could she not notice her father's little mind, but she was just indulging it.

——

June 26, sunny

Another summer.

We used to love summer the most because that was the season we met and fell in love. I still remember that green dress you wore, it made you look even more beautiful than usual. By the way, I've given this dress to Mary for her 16th birthday.

Honestly, when she came downstairs in that dress, I even thought it was you coming back.

I hate that Lucky Boy. Very! [Very heavy handwriting]

How does he deserve to spend his life with such a nice girl!

......

I opened a bottle of red wine in honor of our anniversary.

Remember our first anniversary? I was so nervous I could have died! But it worked out great in the end. Malon, that day you told me you were happy and that was enough.

I love you, Malon. Love you very, very much.

Losing you hasn't dulled my love for you, you must be clear about that. I even love you more than I used to ...... Maybe, I haven't seen you in so long. I'm not sure ......

——

July 3, heavy rain.

It's raining hard today and I'm worried about how the flowers in the yard will hold up.

You told me to plant more greenery, and I did. See? It's all over the backyard. I take care of them every day. So far, they seem to be doing well.

The girl who sells flowers in town has changed, it's their little girl who is ten years old.

As for the original one, I heard she married far away into the city.

Mary was going to marry into the city later, I think. As for Joseph, he's already looking at new houses - in town, of course.

...... I'm fine! Really!

The kids have their own lives, their own lives, they don't have to be stuck here for me. The city can be a lot busier than the town. You know I used to work in town, I know the place.

I'd be more comfortable with both of them being in town, and they could help each other out in the future.

Someday, I can go to you in peace, too.

...... Sometime.

——

July 15, sunny

Hanson's leg has been falling apart since that previous injury, and I packed some veggies and fruit to go see him today.

He was much thinner and older, not at all like a man in his forties.

He was in good spirits though, and showed me his oldest daughter's children, adorable twins.

......wait a minute.

Malon, am I 43 years old?

——

[Boring routine]

——

May 19, great clearing.

Joseph got married.

Our kids got married.

Malon, I'm so happy.

His wife was none other than the pretty blonde girl from before. She was from a piano family, and it seemed that she was now pursuing further studies and would be an excellent piano player in the future.

It's a little hard to believe when I know this, after all, Joseph didn't inherit your wonderful singing voice.

......

I wish you could see it for yourself.

I love you, Malon.

——

[Nothing special in between]

——

July 28, overcast.

The old priest died.

We attended his funeral.

His son officiated at his funeral as a priest.

Looks like Mary's wedding needs this new guy to officiate.

I remember, the day we got married ...... I'll never forget it in my life ......

I love you, Malon.

——

August 5, sunny

Mary wrote me that she was going to get married next year.

...... This is too fast!

How old is she! She's only ...... she's ...... she's 22 years old. She'll be 23 next year.

By the time you were 23, Joseph had been born. Compared to you, she really wasn't married at an early age.

This is ...... just incredible.

——

August 11, sunny

I wrote back to Mary.

I agreed.

But honestly, Mary didn't seem to need my permission.

She grew up with her own agenda. She may have just informed.

I sent her the wedding dress you wore when you got married.

I don t know if she will wear ...... After all, the husband she is going to marry is not a simple family.

——

[Daily]

——

June 14, sunny

Mary got married.

She wore that wedding dress.

I can't describe the feeling.

She took my arm and walked down the long, flower-strewn aisle, then left me and walked toward her husband.

...... I didn't cry! Really!

I'm a strong father to my children! How can I shed tears at my daughter's wedding!

But I thank Mary.

You know ...... when I saw her, it was as if I saw you. The day we got married, I watched you walk toward me and all I could think was, I must have saved the world in my last life to marry you in this one.

I hope that brat has the same idea! Otherwise I would have stuck him in the ground to water the flowers!

I swear!

——

Joseph laughed a little, recalling the meeting between his brother-in-law and his father.

A great judge like that but sitting on pins and needles in front of his father.

He couldn't help but laugh and shake his head.

"Joseph ......," Mary walked down the stairs, a little rattled, "I couldn't sleep. Can we go for a walk?"

Joseph put down the diary he had been reading most of the way through - he was almost done.

"Okay, where do you want to go?"

"Did the diary mention where father's paintings exist? I'd like to see it."

The siblings put on their coats and walked out of the house to the cabin mentioned in the diary.

Joseph pushed the door open and turned on the electric light. The bright light illuminated the entire room.

A large number of paintings were neatly arranged in the room, each carefully guarded and then stored.

Marie picked one up and found the date on the edge of the frame: painted on June 16, the seventh year since Malon's departure.

She picked up another one, dated: painted on April 18, the eighth year after Malon's departure.

She looked over them one by one, each with the date written in the same format on the edge of the frame.

Until - painted on September 13th, the nineteenth year of Malon's departure.

Joseph said, "Father he ...... can't remember mother anymore."

"What?"

"These paintings, these recent paintings, the mother is looking more and more convergent." Joseph said, "And the frequency of Father's paintings has gone down a lot. He would have noticed that as well."

Mary pressed her hand against her heart, "...... I'm hurting, Joseph. My heart ...... hurts ......"

Joseph understood what she meant, that silky pain, mixed in with his father's love for his mother, delivering a blow to them now, twenty years later.

They returned to the house and continued to read the rest of the diary.

——

December 26, sunny

Joseph returned with his son.

The boy called me grandpa in a milky voice. Malon! That's almost like Joseph calling out to my dad when he was a kid!

I was a little concerned when Joseph said that Mary was recently pregnant, but he reassured me that his wife was ready to take care of Mary.

Seeing them love and help each other makes me really proud of them.

——

February 4, rain.

I had Joseph take some goodies from the farm and send them to Mary.

Pregnancy is hard work and she needs to get her fill.

——

[Everyday and Thinking of Mary]

——

September 23, sunny

Mary went into labor safely, thank god, and my heart can finally be put back in my stomach.

Joseph's letter says it's a pretty girl, with a touch of you.

That's for sure, that's for sure!

I need to do something to prepare for our little granddaughter!

——

October 2, sunny

I've got some of the little clothes and knitted toys like you used to have for Mary.

...... I know it's kind of ugly and not as good as what you did.

I tried! Really!

——

[Daily, and children]

——

Jan. 13, sunny

I've been feeling overwhelmed lately, always forgetting something.

Malon, maybe I should change the way I keep my journal.

Let's just start with time.

——

January 15, overcast.

It's 8:00 a.m., I had breakfast, I had cereal, this brand is not good, I won't buy it next time.

I also organized my room, did laundry, and wiped down the bookshelves.

It's 3:00 p.m. I'm up from my nap and, unfortunately, not dreaming about you.

Oh yes, lunch. Lunch was dumplings with a red wine that had been opened two days before.

I'm going to check on the animals this afternoon, after all, it could have snowed hard yesterday!

It's 8:00 p.m. and I'm getting ready for bed, and the book I chose for bedtime is Travelogues. I've read it many times already, but I'm still not tired of it.

Good night, Malon. I'll read you the travelogue.

——

[The diary format is becoming regular.]

——

April 17, sunny

Today is the anniversary of old Hanson's death.

It's been two years.

I think ...... Malone, it's time.

——

[The next section has an increased time span, but the content is very important.]

——

May 19, rain.

I went to the probate guy in town and confirmed the value of the farm and the current savings. It's quite a bit.

They will be divided into three, with Joseph and Mary each holding one, and the last will be donated to the orphanage, and the farm itself will be included and will be used as their new grounds.

——

June 3, sunny

I spoke to the priest about my request.

He promised to be a witness to my will - along with Hanson.

——

July 8, cloudy.

I talked to the cemetery superintendent.

After I die, I will be buried with you.

I'm finally going to get to you.

——

July 14, cloudy.

The letter has been written and has been given into the custody of Fr.

——

July 28, sunny

I'm waiting ......

——

September 2, sunny

Got up early today and the sunrise was beautiful.

The clothes of my youth are a bit tight for me now, but I've been preparing for the last few months and have tucked them in.

I showered, trimmed my hair and nails, shaved, and even put on a little moisturizer.

I hope I still look as handsome as I once did.

And then, now, I will write my last words:

Joseph, Mary, my children.

By the time you see this, I'm sure the funeral will be over.

I am sorry to leave you in this way, but my dears, you have each started your own families and new paths in life, and I am far behind you.

Without you, I would have gone with your mother on the day of her funeral. But I remember what she told me on her deathbed, that I am your father.

Now that my duties as a father are complete, I can finally go and follow in your mother's footsteps.

Children, there is no need to feel too much sadness over my departure, you have a long life ahead of you, go and enjoy it to the fullest.

——Love your father, Link.

————

That's the end of the diary.

Joseph and Mary looked at each other in silence.

Joseph broke the silence first, "Are we ...... his drag ...... twenty years, twenty whole years. He's been waiting for this day for twenty years."

"Joseph, don't think that." Mary said, "Father just loved Mother more than he loved us."

"Yes, you're right ......" Joseph put down the diary and covered his face, "but I can't imagine ...... "

"Father's right, Joseph, we have to move on." Mary wrapped her arms around her older brother.

"Mary, do you think Father saw Mother before he left?"

"...... I don't know. Maybe. No one will know. The living won't know what the dead saw."

The next day, a photograph was delivered to both siblings.

The photo is of the lake where Link was found. A large sunset spreads over the lake, illuminating its shimmering waters.

Link stood in the center of the lake and looked in the direction of the camera.

His face, already etched with age, wore a relieved smile.