#fighting ex layer another dash

[dailyfgsupers]

Allen Snider's Level 3

(Fighting EX Layer: Another Dash, 2021)

[vice-s-assistant]

8 minutes of ARIKA's new Fighting Something Rather done by Arika Niishiami (NIN NIN), the grand daddy of SF I/ II, SFEX, and Fighting Layer, and FEXL (among many other things at Capcom and ARIKA).

[hksddr]

N. SWITCH FIGHTING EX LAYER ANOTHER DASH GAMEPLAY

[pale-silver-comb]

So I know absolutely nothing about Leverage except what I've been seeing you post lately and I have to admit you're making it look tempting to watch! Can I ask what are some of your favorite things about the show/reasons you would suggest people watch it? And is there really a poly relationship that is canon?

Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I am going to do my best not to just “asdfghkjl” at you and answer coherently.

In a nutshell, Leverage is about 5 people. 4 are criminals (Parker, Hardison, Eliot and Sophie) with different and unique skill-sets and 1 is an ex-insurance investigator (Nate) who, at one point or another in his career, has tracked down (or at least attempted to) the other 4. The whole show is essentially: man reluctantly reforms 4 criminals to use their criminal powers for good and 4 criminals move into man’s life and stubbornly refuse to leave because, goddammit, now they have morals. 

I’ve got a lot of favourite things about the show but the main ones are as follows:

1. Found family. And I’m not talking about loners who come together to fight crime and happen to co-exist to the point where they realise they happen to have found themselves a family. I mean, Nate and Sophie are the Drunk Uncle and Wine Aunt who somehow become Mom and Dad to 3 beautiful criminal children. Mom and Dad love their criminal babies and the kids love them (as well as each other, but we’ll come to that in a moment). You get amazing family moments such as: Mom and Dad packing the kids lunch before sending them out to kick corporate greed’s ass; Mom and Dad giving the kids ridiculously expensive and personal Christmas presents causing their most Grumpy Kid to go very very quiet and soft as he runs off to gleefully play with his new murder toy; the kids interrupting Mom and Dad’s big Movie Style Kiss to ask if they can please keep their new underground layer and huffing and puffing when Dad tells them no.

2. Found family: the OT3 edition. To answer your question, the OT3 is indeed canon, confirmed by the creator. Now, usually, “confirmed by the creator” infuriates me because most of the time it’s a way for a creator to be seen as “progressive” without doing anything to actually be progressive. That isn’t the case here. The OT3 are built up carefully and while it is obvious the creators didn’t originally intend for all 3 of them to become a relationship in the romantic sense, by mid-season 5 we are given a very clear picture of where Parker, Hardison and Eliot are heading in their relationship. There aren’t any kisses at the end to signal this but there are solid marriage vows in not only one but two episodes. (And by marriage vows I mean literal equivalents of marriage vows: “for better or worse” and “’til death do us part”. I’m not even exaggerating). The OT3 also doesn’t need explicit romantic narratives to convey how much they love each other. Their love is laced through the whole show, from the way they teach each other things to the way they respond to each other and work as a unit. The way they fiercely protect and admire each other. Like someone once said, if you need characters to kiss or say I love you to let the audience know they love each other, you are writing them wrong. 

Aside from that, each of the parings in the OT3 are just. Gah. They are so well done, with friendship being the solid basis for them all. The creators never expect the audience to assume anything about them or fill in the gaps. They give us their relationships on screen and reference many things off-screen to show us how these relationships continue to build in between episodes.

Hardison and Parker are a canon couple and date in the show: it’s approached slowly and they are so goddamned sweet. They are basically every fluffy slow-burn trope with a healthy dash of mutual pining in the mix. They are basically that quote “love is patient, love is kind”. (I would like to add their romance never becomes the focus of the show or overrides the importance of any other relationship they have with the other characters, especially Eliot.)

Hardison and Eliot are the Old Married Couple and from day one are already bickering and looking at each other/making comments that are found in every UST fic ever (not to mention Hardison has a very good knack for making Eliot grin like a little kid, when usually he’s basically an Angry Little Chef Man). They argue, they play, and love each other plain as day. 

Parker and Eliot are more subtle but every bit as wonderful. They have an unspoken connection and understand each other on a level no-one else can. Parker and Eliot are not good with giving themselves over to affection for different reasons (and Hardison plays a central role in helping them realise it’s okay to want it and have it- that boy has endless patience) but there is something so beautiful in the way the two of them come together on their own and develop their own special bond that works for them. Parker and Eliot are that trope where the characters don’t need to speak to understand each other perfectly. They just do. Their love language is a lot of the time non-verbal but speaks volumes. (Parker also likes to annoy the hell out of Eliot and Eliot....just.....lets...her. Because he’s soft. The softest, grumpiest boy.) 

I could go into so much depth for each pairing and their dynamics as a 3 but that's for another post.

3. Subverting stereotypes. There is the occasional hiccup in the show regarding stereotypes but ultimately, Leverage gets an A+ when it comes to writing characters and making them 3 dimensional people who are not defined by certain characteristics or events. Nate could so easily fall into the White Man Pain trope where he uses the trauma of losing his kid as a reason as to why he is entitled to act like a dick. Nate is a dick but he doesn’t use his pain to excuse it and I appreciate that. Hardison is a black man who is soft and nurturing. Easily the most empathetic and patient of the group. He’s nerdy, an actual genius, and has the biggest heart of all the characters. Nate is maybe the glue but Hardison is definitely the heart. Media’s usual aggressive, amongst other, racist stereotypes can fuck right off. Parker is canonically autistic (I am sure this was confirmed by one of the creators) and she is not defined by it. It’s not written as some kind of singular personality trait. It’s part of what makes up Parker but it’s only one facet of who she is and not once is her actions, thoughts or feelings treated like a joke. Sometimes people don’t understand why she does and says the things she does but it’s met with patience and fondness over the course of the show. Equally, it’s not met with over-caution. Parker is just Parker. No-one tries to change her. The other nice thing is Hardison, who always makes sure Parker knows she’s amazing because of who she is and not in spite of it. Finally, Sophie is in her 40s. She’s not treated like she’s past her prime. Ever. She’s sexy, smart and never is she pitted against or compared to Parker (who is younger) for anything. Sophie is amazing and there’s never even a conversation of “I may be older but I am still *insert adjective typically associated with younger women here*”. Sophie is possibly the first female character I’ve ever seen who isn’t just unapologetic about her age but has never had to apologise for her age. It’s a non-issue and that’s that. The women on the show are written so well, right down to secondary characters and it’s beyond refreshing.  

4.) It’s just fun. The show has a “monster of the week” type format. Except instead of a ghoul or a ghost, the monster is some corrupt wealthy and powerful individual or organisation. The show draws on real-life individuals to do this and therefore closely parallels real-life people and events. It addresses important political, economical, social and environmental issues while at the same time remaining fun and light-hearted. The characters constantly get the chance to play dress up and by GOD do they have fun with it. You get to watch Eliot beat up bad guys in the most delightful of ways, usually after a witty non-sequitur and with a weapon you’d never think could be a weapon. The dialogue and back and forth between the characters is everything. And finally - my favourite thing- the team can never resist striking a dramatic pose after they’ve taken down the bad guy, making sure the bad guy sees them. I mean, they COULD just walk away, satisfied they’ve taken the person down, but nope. They gotta be dramatic bitches 24/7 and pose like they are models for every single month of this year’s Criminal Calendar.  

5.) Competence Porn. So. Much. Competence Porn.  

Honestly, I could list a thousand reasons for why Leverage is amazing but to list them would to be spoiling so many amazing moments you’d get to discover for the first time on your own if you do choose to watch it. It’s the kind of show you can watch with an eagle-eye and sink your teeth into. But it’s also the kind of show if, you would prefer, put on in the background for something entertaining while you do something else. Each episode is about the job at hand but it’s made up of so many moments between the characters that show how much the creators and writers care about them. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll do whatever it is you do when something Soft and Wonderful happens that makes your heart melt. I am so beyond grateful for Leverage. It’s everything I always wanted in a show. Nearly every show I’ve watched in the past 10 years has disappointed me in some way, usually either because the writers run out of steam or characters who I love are treated poorly or given some kind of unnecessary “shock value” arc. Leverage doesn’t do that. Leverage is what it says on the bottle. Fandom isn’t something I joined because I needed canon fix-its. Fandom only enhances and celebrates an already excellent canon. 

[jimines]

Whats actually happened between you and taemaknae? I read about it on the tea blog and still confused

This is an insanely long story so I'm going to put it below the cut so for anyone interested in this absolute shit show, continue on.

Essentially, I posted these headers about a month ago:

It was a set of like 8 colours and it was the first time I had ever posted any headers or anything. The issue nic had with these, was the ripped paper bottom. Because apparently you can trademark that. I had asked a (now ex) “friend” of mine if she knew where I could find the ripped paper effect because I had seen the effect on the header of her network blog and I had been trying to find a similar thing for months and google images never gave me anything good. She ended up referring me to google images anyways and after like an hour of dedicated searching, I found this ripped paper effect and used it. This ex “friend” went on to tell another friend of mine that I had "asked where nicole gets her resources for her headers" and then screenshotted my dm as "proof", which still confuses me because I never mentioned nicole there lmao. I've seen the screenshot.

Tell me where I said nicole. It was literally just a question born from seeing the header they had on their network lmao. I feel it’s important to mention I didn’t know this person ran said network at that time, which is why i said “these people”.

This other friend then came to me and just said my headers "may be seen as similar to nic's” and said she noticed it on her own and never mentioned my other “friend” approaching her. I was confused because other than that ripped paper effect that I know many people on tumblr use, I saw no similarities. Nic's headers are usually more complex and more than just a coloured background with a little effect in it. I just wanted to make some simple headers for fun because I was bored. But, regardless, I messaged nic about it to make sure she didn't feel the same way. I told her a friend of mine was worried nic might think my headers are similar to her's and I assured her that if she found them similar I would take them down, no questions asked. Nic told me she was surprised this friend brought it up and told me that it was entirely up to me if I found the headers similar. She never once told me she felt they were the same, never mentioned anything about them, she insisted it was up to me to do as I pleased. So, since I genuinely found no similarities, I left them up.

About a week went by and things between nic and I were fine, or so I thought, based off the fact that she was interacting with my posts, sending me cute asks and replying to a lot of my comments and stuff being kind and whatnot. Then, I decided to post a small list of my creations and the series I had running at the time. 

After that, all of a sudden I got an influx of rude hate anons:

To anyone I mentioned the anons to, they agreed with me, you cannot trademark circular icons. This anon also accused me saying “just the fact that you had an anxiety attack about it proves you copied them” Like no sweetie, it’s called three strangers walked into my house and I got anxious.

Despite me not seeing the issue, I messaged nic, assuming she wouldn't care about the icons (it wasn't like I was taking her exact work and copying and pasting them as my own) and that made her very upset. When she responded to me, she was incredibly heated and gave off the vibe she was waiting for me to message her about it. 

She said things like "this has actually been bothering me for a while", "i expected you to be able to read between the lines and delete the headers", "i don't know who that anon was but clearly they recognize my style". For starters, she never told me that she was annoyed with me, she was being very kind to me publicly. And I have no idea how I was meant to “read between the lines” of what she said especially considering how kind she was to me the following days. I also never accused her of knowing this anon, she just insisted it wasn't her and she didn't know them right off the bat. She also insinuated that I copied my gifs from others as well, which ticked me off because I made my 100+ layer psd myself thank you very much. But I kept my cool, and I told her I had no idea she felt the way she did, and I told her I would delete the headers (which i did as the conversation was going on), and that I would stop posting my icons and bringing attention to them because no one ever paid it any mind before that point. And I asked her “please tell me straight up the next time you have an issue with me because I am generally pretty dumb with social cues”, I have my adhd to thank for that. And instead of replying, she just blocked me. And conveniently, the hate anons stopped dead right after we blocked each other and I haven't received any since.

Also, these are the kinds of icons I posted:

Looks pretty generic and idk, universal, right?

Then, as I've recently found out today, she was in an "anti-loverjimin" groupchat with at least 2 other bloggers. 

Which explains why this all went and fell into place. I know who the two other bloggers are because of what happened two days later but I won't name them just yet, but these two people had been "friends" with me for several months. So, a day or two after nic blocked me, all of a sudden some good friends of mine were blocking me and not talking to me when I asked what was going on. I found out soon after it was because nicole and those two now ex “friends” of mine had taken old dms I sent them and were showing them to people. And I will go into detail about them but I won't name the people they are about for privacy reasons.

Before I move on, to clarify some lies nic has been spreading about me, I never once shit talked nicole to my friends. One of these ex friends also said I was trying to get people on my side. I would have reacted to this all very very differently if that were the case. I would be dragging everyone through the fucking dirt but I don't get off on drama or micromanaging what my mutuals do. My issues are with these people, if you're still friends with them that's your decision i could not care less. So, back to it, the only thing I said about nic was that she and I had a stupid small fight over icons and that she was spreading lies about me, based off of what nic said to jordan.

That exact message, or slight variations of it, was sent to anyone I interacted with because I didn't know if nic was going to stop at jordan or try and get to everyone I fucking knew lmao. Some of the people I messaged this to told ME nic had done this kind of thing before, that she has sent hate anons, launched hate campaigns, cancelled people, etc. Over stupid shit like icons lmao.

Here are some responses I received after I mentioned nicole:

And nic or one of her friends also took it upon themselves to send anons to that tea blog to blow shit up and named everyone and made it an even bigger mess when they saw no one was actively trying to fight me after the dms got out. 

I also love that in this following ask, they named my two “friends” that were behind the whole dm drama and backstabbed me, as well as two other people I never badmouthed, that story was twisted. But we’ll get into those details shortly.

And she also told people I clout chased big blogs and only cared about notes. At one point, yes, I did care a lot about my statistics. However, never once did I think clout chasing was worth my fucking time or energy, Nic is the biggest clout chaser on this damn site and there are receipts of that, ask jordan lmao. And I couldn’t give two shits about my statistics anymore lmao, much less anxiety that way. Do I still crave validation sometimes? Sure. But it's not a driving force of my tumblr experience like it used to be.

But, moving on to the dms, the first one was sent when I first came back to tumblr full-time and didn't understand why people self reblogged things, I found the pretence of self reblogging annoying and greedy and I complained about it and it was a comment fuelled by two bloggers that i would see sr a lot on my dash. But I never thought THEY were annoying, as these people are saying I did, it was self reblogging I found annoying and as you can see I have come to understand why people sr and I do it myself too. I didn't even know these two bloggers at this time either. That dm was cropped to hide the fact that this "friend" agreed with me and hid the date as well so it seemed recent, and was sent to one of the bloggers I mentioned as an example, someone I had since become good friends with. 

I didn’t befriend one of the people I mentioned there until mid to late June. That friendship is now over thanks to this drama and all the lies. The second friend of mine they went after was never spoken about in dms, they went and turned her against me through lies and manipulation so that friendship has ended too. And while those two were doing that, nic went off to try and turn jordan against me.

There was a particular user on here that I did say some nasty things about but we weren't friends, as many people have been made to believe. I was particularly mad at this person in those dms and was hurtful, I admit, and I have since apologized and owned up to all of it to these people. I did call them fake and/or two-faced. 

And what in the gassing me up bullshit was their response though lmao. I also sent this following dm before I even talked about the issue with this person. They urged me to continue and to name drop the person, and I stupidly thought they were trustworthy.

My reasoning for what I said wasn't unwarranted though, I don't make a habit of going around shit-talking people, unless they do something to me first. I vent when I am upset and this person had sent me a passive aggressive ask and then denied sending it when I asked and I thought that was just very fake, especially since she was so kind to me in dms before the ask came in. But all of these dms were cropped too to hide timestamps and responses, and in most cases, like those screenshots prove, these "friends" either gassed me up or egged me on to continue ranting or to name the people i was mad at and they had agreed with me on several, several occasions. Turns out they were trying to get dirt on me to use in their cancel campaign. But the point is, nic has made me out to be this horrible person that befriends "big blogs" (an overrated statement) and then shit talks them behind their back without remorse. Yet it was one person I said rude things about and I, again, owned up to it all and apologized to them the first day. I would've done it sooner had I a) remembered feeling the way I did all those months ago or remembered the dms themselves or b) felt that way still after meeting them. But neither is the case.

I find it really amusing though that these people wanted things to be kept quiet and didn’t want anyone they spoke to to talk to me about it because I was going to “out them on my blog” and “make a big scene”, then they three went and made it a big fucking scene and ruined my friendships. I’m familiar with this pattern of manipulation as it has happened to me in real life before and it’s the most childish bullshit to witness.

Before this callout day for nic, I had never once been directly rude to or about her, same goes for those ex “friends” that betrayed my trust and friendship. The fact that they plotted against me in a group chat while still actively talking to me and being all buddy buddy is just disgusting. Both of them were talking to me that day at the same time they were sharing the dms and shit-talking me to my friends. But yeah, that's my side, the untwisted side, of the whole story. I tried to be mature and talk to nic and when I didn't do what she wanted me to do, she blocked me and launched the hate campaign with dms and the power of photoshop. I’ve been hesitant to make any of this public because it was meant to be a silent ordeal but I’ve grown tired of her constantly publicizing everything without consequence while I remain silent like I promised.

[reawritesthings]

Rooftop | JJ. Maybank

gif by @rudypankows​

Summary: When Sarah forces the pogues to go to a Kook party, JJ dips early and notices you on the roof, reading peacefully.

Words: 2.6K

A/N: Thank you all for the support on my other fics, it really means a lot to see the love you give me. If you like me to write for anyone, please send me an ask! thank you all again🦆

                      ☼☼☼☼

"WHY are we even here?" JJ's exasperated tone of words sent the Pogue's including Sarah to eye roll.

"I would much rather be on my couch watching Monster Inc." JJ's childish tone evaporated around the North Carolina frightful breeze that lure them further into the land of predators.

Sarah huffed not wanting to row with the blonde beauty. She frankly understood his anti's of not wanting to prey on the sharks or even share the same air with them, but, Sarah was still a Kook and JJ needed to accept that.

"J, we can just head in there for an hour... drink their alcohol and leave." John B proposed letting his athletic, sternly hands fumble his way into Sarah's palm gifting her with a reassuring squeeze.

JJ's mind was like a cymbal-banging monkey toy that only worked when the indigo eye boy was frustrated and needed leverage, "We are about to attend John B's girlfriend ex-boyfriend's house party because Sarah's ex-boyfriend invited her, and only her." JJ dramatically paused to reminded everyone how fucked up this particular mission is.

"And, here we are, the pogues forcefully dragged by Topper's ex-girlfriend to attend this disgraceful party that could end in two possible ways.."

"Enlighten us." Pope's static tone of sarcasm intrigued JJ to finish his perfectly thought out rant.

"A fight breaks out, or Rafe loses his shit." JJ's arm folded whilst a devilish smile grew onto his bruised porcelain face that everyone admired about the surfer.

"I hate to agree with Scobby but he has a point." Pope's loyalty to JJ never failed him.

Kie and Sarah kept moving forward, dragging their danity flipflops through the frozen golden grains of the earth that held the rich side in place. Being the only two girls of the group they were used to the constant complaints from the men.

"Next time, I'll just invite you Kie." Sarah muttered under her minty breathe. Kiara only nodded in agreement reaching for the handle to enter the shark's den.

"Best behaviour," Kie announced immediately locking eyes with JJ who was infatuated with the silhouette of another human.

"Can't make any promises, Kie." He winked as his eyes were still glued to the frame of darkness that interlocked with his mind that he should be up there and not here.

"Here we go..." Sarah murmured under her breath. "What could possibly go wrong?" Kie shot her eyes back to Sarah who only swung the door opened to be slammed with harsh tones coming from the stereo.

Topper was known for throwing the most extravagant house parties. The music was as loud as thunder; it made the empty beer bottle rattle. Neon lights that were glued to the white walls flashed everywhere like police sirens, but with much more inviting colours.

Over the roar of music, a distant, hazy chatter could be heard. Topper, Rafe and Kelce were chatting up some ladies as there vision was blinded by a bunch of Pogues roaming around like cockroaches.

"What are they doing here?" Kelce mumbled against the illuminated ruby plastic cup that Rafe already broke through his rage.

"Topper is still whipped for my sister." Rafe truthfully announce, causing the blonde short skirted girl to loose interest in his friend.

"Thanks man." Topper's eye rolled extended further as he noticed John B clutching his arm around Sarah's frame, like he used too.

"Anytime." Rafe smirked pulling Kelce's bright yellow polo shirt towards him to confront the intruders. Topper soon joined, staying behind Rafe as he didn't want his perfectly structured face to be bruised.

"What are you rugrats doing here? You aren't allow to be on our turf." Rafe spat not even making eye contact with his younger sister whose frame was hidden behind John B's and JJ.

"We got invited. We just came here to get a little drunk and we will be on our way." JJ broke the silence, squaring up to Rafe's face.

"Don't make me bust your other eye, Maybank." Rafe threatened, clenching his palms ready for another battle.

"Wouldn't dream of it." JJ took Kelce's red cup from his hand drowning the stinging sensation that drew him away from the crowd.

"Where you going?" Pope shrieked as he didn't feel comfortable being left with John B, he wasn't exactly scary like JJ.

"Washroom. I'll be back." JJ reassured his best friend, whose hand was tightly gripped to Kiara's whose face wasn't enjoying the sensation sound of Topper's music taste.

JJ's curiosity always managed to get himself into trouble, whether he was looking for it or not. His mind was reverted back to the shadow of a young female who was on the roof. He knew he shouldn't be preying around Topper's house but, he would of regretted not knowing who that girl was.

His tiny frame ran smoothly around the second floor, each creak that he created with his ripped combat boots made him squint, he noticed a slight acute door open slightly with a streak of light hitting the wooden floors.

The bedroom was furnished on a expensive budget according to the serval layers of blankets that were freshly pressed on the double bed. A messy pile of book were scattered across the white carpet that was caressed with a circular rug that was neatly combed.

He looked up at the walls, admiring the pictures that were taken on a film camera.

"Whose's this girl?" JJ thought as he circled the room, slowly resting his palm on the slik sheets wishing he could have a room like this.

Since JJ was in a trance of what his life was like if he was Kook, he was startled by a soft tune of a sneeze coming from the windowsill. His intrigue body motioned away from the bed, heading towards the half adjecent window that his mysterious girl was resident.

JJ's instincts were never wrong when he assumed the shadow of a girl on the high roof. His head turned towards you, your fully eclipsed body was tainted with a summer dress that fit well on your skin. Under his brief gaze on your exposed skin, you didn't flinch or withdraw from your book. Your shape was already forming into womanhood, yet you were roughly the same age as Sarah: Your twin brother's ex-girlfriend. You revert your attention out of the flood of flowing words and focused them on him, he was something out of a novel you read once.

Dashing, adventurous and fearless. You were polite and offered him a seat next to you, letting the moon expose your vulnerable side which JJ instantly stole as he gently brushes his shoulder against your own.

JJ eccentric side was displayed out in the open and didn't hesitate to make the first move. "What's a pretty girl like you doing on a roof?"

You sauntered in, feeling provocative whilst you brushed your hair from your dainty shoulders, letting his kindly eager cornflower eyes follow your movement.

"I'm not really into the whole drinking vibe... My brother on the other hand is." JJ's pupils grew larger as he pieced the puzzle together, he knew he wasn't the smartest earthling on the island but he just couldn't see the resemblance between you and your brother.

"How is that possible?... Topper has a sister?... Why didn't Sarah mention anything?"

You personally thought his reaction wouldn't be inviting but, his reaction to the news lured you in more like he was siren calling for you. "Well, when my parents had Topper... they decided to conceive again, making me."

JJ nudged you chuckling at your comeback, "I know how sex works. I'm a Maybank."

"Noted." You candid staring at the apex of the deep sliver circle that brought the both of you together.

A heavy silence evaporated over them, thicker than the mucky air making the tension more uncomfortable. Both of your eyes glanced unceremoniously around turning to avoid catching each other glances that happened in the space of a minute.

"What you reading?" JJ noticed an earthy hued of brown colours stuck to her embrace which JJ gazed forced him to stare to create a new conversation.

"Charles Dickens, Great Expectations." He noticed your awkward zoned face shape into a curious, cheeky smile that he first noticed when he intruded.

"Cool. I don't read but Charles Dickens is a great man. One of the best lads out there, wonder what he is doing now?" JJ wondered having no idea that he is in fact six feet under.

You burst out a giggle with a sentiment rosy colour appeared on your cheeks, "Hate to break it to you but the lad is dead. He has been dead for centuries."

JJ was perplexed by your statement. He generally thought he was still alive due to Pope always speaking about him as if he was a local. "I knew that. I was testing your knowledge on Charlie."

You chuckled playing along with his shenanigans but you would be lying to yourself that you weren't intrigued in the fact that he was sitting here when he was supposed to be downstairs. "How comes you are up here? I thought Pogues loved a good party, especially if there's alcohol."

JJ shrugged darting his eyes to meet yours, "Don't take it personally but I'm not a fan of Kooks, especially Topper and his gang."

And this, you thought was going to be the end of your story with the blonde boy. You weren't shocked that he degraded your brother and his friends, you understood the reason.

"I get that. If it makes you feel better, I don't exactly agree with their rules and how they treat you guys. You deserve the same respect we get because one day, Shakesphere's novel of Romeo and Juliet might come true and, I personally don't want to kill myself..." You flirted in a way which the boy would probably take days, in fact, months to work out the metaphor.

"Does that make me Remi?" JJ joked as he kind of liked the way your nose scrunched when he didn't understand literature.

"It's Romeo..." You corrected him again.

"I know. I just wanted to see that little nose scrunch you do when I mess up."

You were stunned that he paid attention to little things about you. It wasn't every day that someone would paid attention to Topper's sister, especially a Pogue. You could sense that he was actually interested in you, and even the novel you were reading.

"Whatcha thinking about, Juliet?" JJ teased letting his hand move the strand of hair from your face, tucking it safely behind your acute ears.

You shrugged, "I just..." You paused, you didn't want to pride your thoughts on the Pogue as you didn't want to scare him away.

"C'mon, pretty girl. What is it?" He interrogated you. He looked down at your fingertips, loosely fighting with each other as you were struggling to form words. He initially engulfed his hands into yours brushing your soft skin to ease your mind.

"You are kind of the first guy to ever notice me, or even pay attention to me... I'm just don't want this night to end." You stutter but with every stroke, he did made your nerves drift away.

JJ instantly brought his broad arms over your waist, pulling your body against his. In seconds your bodies moulded into one. JJ never let another human be so close to him like this, not even Kie. You were different, you weren't like what he thought you would be. There was a purity to you, naivety perhaps, but with a scent of innocent that JJ wanted to protect from the creatures of the night.

You, on the other hand, felt something inside you ignite as his arms firmly were wrapped around your frame. His embrace was like a welcoming invitation to his life, which you would accept in a heartbeat. You didn't really want the party to end nor wanting the moon to disappear as that meant your story was ending.

"You see those two stars that are moulded into one... that's you and i. Whether you feel lost or feel alone, look up into the starry night and call me." JJ managed to sound romantic for a slight second which only made you blush more.

"Poetic... I like it Maybank." You winked whilst your hands fiddled around with his countless threaded bracelets. "I like this one the most... the colours match your eyes."

JJ immediately took the bracelet off, offering your hand. "You can have it. I've seen you admire it since I got here. I have plenty back at home, so this is my peace offering."

You silently accepted the gift, watching the bracelet fit perfectly onto your bony wrist. "It's beautiful." You muttered to yourself.

JJ curved his lips as he slowly lifted your chin up, to get a good view of your face. He admired every little detail but concentrated on your lips. His head was angled slightly to the side as his lips went closer to yours, lighting pressing a small kiss to your rosebud shaped lips. When he kissed her, her identity fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting for the both of you as your tribes rival melted away. JJ's hand rested below his ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as he kept the flow of their lips going neither of them wanting to stop but, the calls from his friends parted them away.

"I better go... they are probably worried that I've got into a fight or something." JJ's face frowned watching your own do the same. "I'll see you tomorrow night, here."

"Are you sure? I don't want you getting into trouble..." You felt your walls began to build, each brick that layered made it harder for you to think that he would ever get into trouble for her, a heartless Kook.

JJ hooked his arms to your neck, "Don't worry about a thing, pretty girl."

You nodded, letting him steal another kiss from you as you watched his frame leave yours. A gush of emptiness flooded your body, as it called for him but he was already gone, vanished into the mucky air of North Carolina. You rallied back to your book, looking down at the texture smiling down as you saw him leave with his friends.

"JJ, where did you go? We were looking all over for you?" Sarah was the one who instigated the conversation since the rest were zoned out.

JJ kept it at a minimal, he didn't want his juliet to be known especially not to Sarah, "around."

Sarah hummed not believing anything JJ was saying. As they entered the van, Sarah noticed a small figure exiting from the roof, "Is that Y/N?"

JJ looked up, watching as you were clenching onto your book rather than watching your balance. "So that's her name.." He muttered to himself giving his face a warm smile.

Sarah turned hearing JJ's comment but decided to play along, "I wonder what she is holding?"

Without even realising JJ answered, "Charles Dickens. Great Expectations."

Sarah only smirked leaving JJ to slam his palm onto his mouth, feeling the metal sting his bruised chapped lips.

"We're you macking on with my ex-boyfriend's sister?" Sarah interrogated the blonde beauty.

"Let's just say that you need to tell me all the ways to sneak into his house." JJ blushed, letting his left foot bring his body up into the van.

Sarah followed behind, looking up one more time to see you peeping, "You got it, lover boy."

masterlist TAGLIST

tags: @outrbanks, @honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s, @jjjmaybank, @rudyypankow, @prejudic3, @afterglowsb-tch13, @summerintheobx and @void-maybank

[cno-inbminor]

domus

a/n: here we have another short drabble dump! i wrote this up very quickly -- i’m still working on that long fic i’ve been talking about! i apologize for taking so long to put it together. pls take this short fic as an apology for now. stay hydrated, wear your masks, and be safe! love you all so dearly <3 

plot: when kuroo tetsuro drops the hard-hitting truth that he’s fallen out of love with you, your first thought is to escape. but you find comfort in the least likely person: akaashi keiji, a boy you had grown up with out of forced family interactions, who always seemed so distant from you. yet you probably knew more about him than anyone else. 

characters: fem!reader, ex-bf!kuroo, & family friend!akaashi 

wc: ~3.7k, will probably have other parts in the future.

genre/warnings: angst with dashes of fluff; mentions of alcohol

pt. 2 | pt. 3

edit: now crossposted to AO3!

When you’re in love, you spend weeks and months wondering why time won’t stop. You sit and ponder over why you’ll have to die someday and leave behind the person you’ve dedicated your entire soul to, or what might happen if your death came early and you didn’t get to say goodbye. You wonder why the seasons seem to pass you by so quickly, that in the blink of an eye, you go from enjoying a cup of iced tea on the porch to holding a mug of hot chocolate inside watching snowflakes swirl in their journeys to the ground.

But when love ceases to exist, time seems to stop. The days drag for longer, the seasons crawl at a turtle’s pace, and the inevitable end feels less terrifying. You no longer fear the eventual sagging of your skin or the spider legs that grow at the corners of your eyes. You no longer cling onto a hope that there will be a lover’s hand holding yours at your bed of eternal sleep. You simply become, just you. Solitary, single, independent you.

It’s no longer you and someone else. The realization stings so badly that it physically hurts you, a whimper leaving your throat. You shakily reach over for the next blouse and fight back the tears, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. The skin is chapped and broken to the point that you would need layers and layers of chapstick to save any semblance of it, a terrible habit that you wish you hadn’t possessed. It’s muscle memory, the way you fold the blouse in half, fold the sleeves in, bending it over your arm before it lands in a neat stack of other tops in your suitcase. Your eyes take a glance at the clock, and you gather you have about another hour before you needed to leave for the airport and make it on time for your flight.

You ignore the male figure hunched over on the edge of your bed, tuning out his pleas and broken promises. He begs you to give him time, to implore that it’s all his fault and he’ll make it work for the two of you. Tetsuro promises that he didn’t mean to and that it wasn’t anything you did, but you feel so empty inside that you can’t even find the energy to argue, to turn on him and say that he was pretending to take all the blame so it’d be a better explanation to all your friends. A relationship involves both parties, and while there were special exceptions, this wasn’t one of them. Something was clearly wrong with you, and you were okay with that. You were just tired of Testuro attempting to take everything onto himself.

“I thought it’d be best to come clean with you,” he says, throat hoarse from lack of hydration. “I know you would question it and I haven’t done anything, I swear, I know you’re amazing and don’t deserve to live a lie and—”

“Do you want me to say ‘thank you’?” You interjected quietly, morosely. Your hands slide open the underwear drawer and take out a week’s worth of underwear, bras, and bralettes. “Do you want me to express my gratitude in your honesty for telling me that you don’t love me anymore? You can easily buy a trophy online and make the inscription yourself. ‘Most honest man alive’? Is that what you want?” You ask, tone flat and not possessing the least bit of amusement and humor.

“Can’t you give me some time? I’ll try, I’ll try to figure out what went wrong, and I can love you again. We can still get married and everything, but please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving forever, Tetsu. I’m just gone for a week, maybe more.”

“Where are you even going?”

“That’s none of your business,” you quickly reply, defenses back up as you make a beeline for the bathroom. You pick up all the toiletries you can, the ones that would be allowed in your carry-on. Strangers won’t care about your missing skincare routine and your complexion not looking its best.

“What if you get lost? Or kidnapped? What if people ask—”

“Easy. Just tell them I had a last minute business trip, family emergency, whatever floats your boat.”

“Can’t you see that I’m trying? I—”

“This isn’t just about you!” You snap, whirling around to look at him for the first time in the last hour or so. Testuro notices with a pang in his heart that your cheeks have sunken in slightly since he broke his revelation to you just last week, the eye circles darker than ever. But your eyes are soulless, dead, no shine or spark that he’d wake up to every morning even muddled with sleep.

“You can’t just expect me to be okay and continue to bend over backwards for you without question. The least you could do is give me my time, give me some space to think about all of it. That’s the bare minimum.”

And with that, you zip your suitcase shut, grab your passport (even though you probably don’t need it), keys, wallet, and phone, and walk as quickly as you can to the front door. The scheduled Uber will arrive in just a few minutes, and as you slip into a pair of flats, you can hear the creak of the bed and Testuro’s padded steps nearing you.

“Just be careful, okay? Call me if you need anything, anything. You’re still one of the most important people to me, so just – text me at some point. Let me know you’re alive at least.”

“You need to rest. You’re on call tomorrow,” you digress while opening the door.

“(Y/n)—”

“I’ll text you. Promise.”

And the door shuts behind you.

-

Your relationship with Akaashi Keiji is…hard to explain. In fact, you’re not even sure what to refer him as in your life. Anytime you spoke of him or attempted to explain, you’d fumble over words and draw blanks. While it was irritating and aggravating at times, you learned to just accept it.

Akaashi Keiji was the neighbor down the street, two years older, and someone who had known you since you were 8. Your moms were attached at the hip not longer after you moved to Tokyo, and that meant holidays were spent together, impromptu get-togethers and dinners were a common occurrence, and you saw him frequently at school. He was a quiet soul, gentle, but reserved. In fact, most of the things you knew about him were secondhand conversations from your mother talking about the family, because honestly his mom was basically your second mom now, and your mother trusted you with everything. His past, his troubles, his personality all relayed through your mom from his own, and when you saw him in the hallways, he wasn’t much of an enigma to you. Many other girls had found the mysterious air around him to be attractive, that the pretty setter who only ever smiled around his volleyball team and kept a tight circle of friends had something significant beneath the layers.

Keiji grew up with you, playing Smash on the Wii to pass time as your parents gossiped away. Sometimes, you’d play an intense game of Monopoly with him, a game that typically tipped in his favor. He never said much about himself, always relayed more about others that overlapped in your lives. The most he ever spoke to you about was when it came to teachers at school, even giving you some of his old notes and pointers. But even you could tell that he kept his guards up, and you wondered if he even classified you as a friend.

Your go-to explanation of Keiji’s standing in your life was a family friend. But that insinuated you were close with him, which you weren’t at all. No matter how many times he walked home with you (mainly at the pushing from his mother), no matter how many times he was forced to entertain you at dinners and holidays, no matter how many times he gave you a small smile in school, there was such a large gap between the two of you. He always seemed so different around his team, like they had the privilege of knowing the real him, and at times, you felt…jealous.

And the weird thing is that you can rely on him somehow – whether it be because he’d get an earful from his parents if he didn’t help you when you asked it or out of the goodness of his heart, he was simply always there. Sometimes, you were bold enough to text him about a show he talked about in the past, and he would reply quickly as if your unexpected, rare text about something benign didn’t faze him at all.  

Yet despite the distance, despite the lack of any semblance of an actual friendship with him, he was the first one you thought of when all this happened. He was the one you wanted to see – maybe it’s because he was the closest thing to home, and you didn’t want to go back to your parents explaining everything. It’s been a while since you’ve been back in Tokyo, ever since you moved to Sapporo for your job and Testuro got matched for a residency at a hospital there.

At 7PM on a Friday afternoon, past the baggage claim with the sunset beaming in through the sliding glass doors, you stare at Keiji’s contact on your phone, thumb hovering hesitantly over the call button. You could count the number of times you’ve called him on one hand, but this was an emergency, right? Is this why your heart is pounding against your chest, so anxious that you feel like you’ll break into a cold sweat any time soon?

You jump into the deep end.

Your hand nervously brings the phone to your ear, waiting with bated breath as the dial tone echoes in the chamber of your brain. Part of you wants him to miss the call so you can avoid this awkward conversation, but another part of you desperately wants him to pick up as if he’ll be able to save you.

Oh god oh god oh god, you panic as the tone stops, there’s a pause, a rustle, and then a hesitant, “—Hello?”

You didn’t plan this out. You’re not ready for this. Shit, what are you supposed to say?

“—hello? (Y/n)?”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

Wow, you’re a terrible conversationalist.

“…um, I haven’t actually. I was about to warm up some leftovers?”

Your eyes focus on the taxis driving by, picking up passengers as they get waved down. Maybe you should just find a cheap hotel nearby, continue this conversation tomorrow.

“Well…I’m in town, actually. I just landed about 30 minutes ago and realized I didn’t have anywhere to go and I don’t really want to call anyone else and I don’t exactly know who else to call so I just, um, thought about calling you and asking if you’ve had dinner? Which if you’re busy and stuff, that’s totally fine, I should’ve texted you beforehand instead of springing this on you and—”

“(Y/n), it’s okay, alright? It’s okay. I’m not busy, so you can stop by. Did my mom ever give you my address?”

Keiji’s brief attempt to calm you down works, surprisingly. You allow yourself to take a deep breath despite the stale airport air, but it was some much-needed oxygen. This is going to be okay, Keiji doesn’t hate you quite yet.

“N-no, she never did.”

“That’s fine, I’ll text it to you. My place is about 30 minutes from the airport, I’d recommend getting a taxi instead of an Uber. I’ll order some delivery—”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“You still like the miso ramen from that shop not far from your house, right? They opened up a second store not far from where I live.”

How did he remember that? You’re pretty sure your own mother had forgotten that fact by now.

“Y-yeah, I do,” you smile to yourself. “I still think about it sometimes.”

“Sounds good then. Get here safely then.”

“Okay. Thank you loads again. I’m sorry for all this—”

“Don’t worry about it. Keep me updated, see you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Not 30 seconds later, a text arrives to your phone with an address, a keycode for getting past the main door, and other relevant instructions.

-

Keiji’s apartment is exactly as you expect it to be – prim, proper, neat almost to a fault, with minimalist decorations. The apartment complex he lives in is rather high-end, if the security guards standing outside the main entrance indicated anything. You almost feel completely out of place or like a bug on the wall as you step in after him, a rather comfortable silence between the two of you. His kitchen is spotless and almost sparkles back at you, and the only thing that seems out of place are the containers of your ramen he so kindly ordered for you.

“Your place is really nice, it’s really…you,” you comment, setting your stuff down at the door. Keiji indulges you with a quiet laugh, making sure that there wasn’t anything that would be in your way. His glasses are perched on his head, an old monochrome t-shirt on his shoulders and sweatpants hung low on his hips, yet in this apartment that almost seems like it should be in an interior design magazine, he looks at home. His ethereal beauty, the softness in his eyes, the gentle up-turned strands of his hair – he belonged here.

“The ramen came not too long ago, so it’s still hot. I’ll go ahead and put it together, you can put your jacket on the couch.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Instead, you fold your jacket over your suitcase and quietly make your way into the apartment. Straight across from you are doors to a balcony – darkness had long taken over the city, so you see nothing but your reflection at first. But as you near the plexiglass, the reflection disappears into the view and you almost gasp from the beauty of it.

Blinking lights, flashing billboards, and the brightly lit Tokyo Skytree peer back at you. It only hits you now how much you’ve missed home, and that even though Sapporo was one of the largest cities in Japan, it still wasn’t Tokyo.

“I never get tired of it,” Keiji chimes in while carrying your bowl of ramen to the dining table.

“It’s an amazing view, I can see why you’d live here,” you reply while moving away from it. The table also has two empty wine glasses, and just as you’re about to ask him why they were there, he returns with a newly opened bottle of chardonnay.

“I haven’t had a lot of time to restock the wine fridge, but I knew I was going to kick myself for not having a bottle of that dessert wine we had before you went off to college,” he said with mirth and amusement. “You remember that one?”

“Yeah,” you nearly splutter, almost flushing that once again, Keiji was remembering details about you that you didn’t even know. “Your mom wanted to throw me a graduation dinner and you made it back in time after finals. And she had a bottle of it and between the two of us, we probably drank most of it. Our parents said it was too sweet.”

He nods and sits across from you, elbows on the table as you mutter, “Itadakimasu,” and start eating. You finish your meal silently for the most part, making small talk here and there. Keiji refills both of your glasses and the two of you sip the wine demurely, and while he seems okay with the lack of an explanation, you’re struggling to find the right words.

“So what’s with the impromptu trip to Tokyo? Are you going to see your parents?”

“Should I try to lie to you?”

“It’s up to you.”

Oh, okay then.

But he looks expectant, as if he knows you wouldn’t lie to him – in fact, you’ve never lied to him before. There was never any need to, but did that just mean neither of you ever cared enough?

“Something happened with me and Testuro. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but at the end of the day…I just needed to get away, as cliché as it sounds,” you laugh brokenly. Keiji continues to carefully observe you with a stare that you can’t escape. “I don’t want to tell my parents – you know them, they’ll ask a million questions. Without thinking, I booked a ticket to Tokyo and…now I’m here.”

That was a lie. How are you supposed to tell Keiji that he was the first person you thought of in an effort to run away? You and Keiji have never gotten personal before, he made sure of that. The last thing you want to do is weird him and scare him off.

“…did he cheat on you?” Keiji asked. His voice is darker in his inquiry, deeper than you’ve ever heard before. He has his hands folded in front of his lips and his eyes harden. Testuro may be an old friend to him, but you were in his life longer.

“Nonononono,” you quickly wave off. This isn’t the time to slander your…boyfriend? Could Tetsuro still even be your boyfriend if he no longer has any feelings for you? “Nothing like that.”

“That’s good to hear. If you want, you can tell me another time then. You’re welcome to stay here until you go back to Sapporo.”

You look up at him, eyes incredulous. Could Keiji really be this comfortable with you?

“I wouldn’t mind staying tonight, but I can stay in a hotel for the rest of the week that I’m here.”

“Nonsense,” Keiji refutes, standing from the table and taking your wine glasses to the sink. You follow with your bowl and he starts washing them before you can even offer. “Mom would kill me if she knew I let you pay for a hotel when I have a perfectly functioning bed you can stay in.”

“I mean, if it’s not a bother…”

“It’s not. The futon’s pretty comfortable, I’ve definitely fallen asleep on it plenty of times.”

“We can switch, I would never let you sleep on the futon for a whole week.”

“If you say so then. But for tonight, you can take my bed. Let me grab you an extra towel so you can shower. I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” he says while drying everything off, folding the kitchen towel neatly before heading off to his room. He returns with a large, soft grey towel and you shyly take it from him with a word of thanks, but he stays there in front of you, waiting for something.

“I’m really glad you picked up the phone,” you whisper softly, feeling the effects of the alcohol. You’re entering uncharted territory for the two of you, and this could either kill or strengthen this odd distant friendship. “I meant it when I said I didn’t know who else to call. You were the first person that came to mind and just…I don’t want to make this weird, like you can kick me out,” you begin to ramble. “Don’t feel like you’re obligated to take me in because your mom would be disappointed if you wouldn’t, you’ve already put up with me for over 15 years and it’s fine, I can be on my own and—”

Smooth, calloused hands delicately hold your face, large palms and nimble fingers cupping your cheeks. Your words die on your tongue as Keiji stares straight into your eyes, holding your gaze until your breathing calms down to a steady, languid pace. “You’re my friend, (y/n). So it’s good that you called me.”

“I’m your…friend?” You ask unsteadily, feeling a sense of disbelief.

“Yeah,” he confirms with the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now go shower.”

“Okay.”

-

You’re fast asleep before Keiji finishes his own shower, his bedroom door left ajar as the hallway light beams through. He pauses in the midst of drying his hair with a towel, letting it bunch and hang off his neck as he cautiously pushes the door open. Keiji notices your even breathing and how much more relaxed you look in sleep. You’re curled up on your side with the blanket pulled up to your face and he can’t lie: it’s adorable and cute, and he shouldn’t really be thinking these things.

He sits on the edge of the bed in the little space that’s provided, lithe fingers reaching out to brush back a few stray wisps of your hair. Watching you sleep pulls him back into a fond memory he’s kept of the two of you, one that might’ve held very little significance to you but meant something so much more to him. He knows you know him well, he knows how much his mother babbles on about him, and adults were more prone to gossip than the rowdiest of teenagers – he’d be painfully oblivious if he didn’t think you knew that much about him, or more than the average friend.

But it’s comforting to him, sometimes. Knowing you, how kindly you think of others, he might not have to explain what he’s feeling in the moment. You would be able to know, and that soothes him to some degree.

Maybe he had a little bit too much wine as well, but ever so subtly, motions steady and unhurried, he deftly leans closer and closer until his lips brush the apple of your cheek. He lingers for no more than a few seconds and sits back up, gazing at you before standing. His hands adjust the blankets and make sure you’re properly tucked in. He pads away, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible as to not wake you.

And when he’s found a comfortable position on the futon with his most comfortable throw blanket, he realizes, begrudgingly, that this week will fly by too fast for his liking.  

[hajimes-erect-ahoge]

Postmortem- Chapter 18

Shuichi finally confronts Kokichi.

ao3

Finding Ouma proved to be much harder than expected, Saihara’s few moments of hesitation seeming to be all that the other boy needed to get a headstart. After he dashed up the stairs, Saihara was left with an empty corridor. The rest of the boys must have made their way back to their rooms already, as there was no one in sight.

The apartment complex wasn’t necessarily that big, leaving only a few places that Ouma could’ve gone. That is, if he was even in the apartment complex to begin with. Allowing himself to make the assumption that Ouma hadn’t gone far, Saihara set off to check the common room and the dorms, as well as asking the others if they had seen the other boy.

The more time that passed, the more frantic Saihara became. The puzzle pieces slowly started to click in his mind, cementing the fact that Ouma was indeed being genuine with his confession. And of course, Saihara had to accuse him of lying, only aiding in making the situation more of a mess. Nonetheless, there was nothing he could do now but pray that he would find Ouma soon so he could apologize to him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ouma had discovered this place not too long after moving into the apartment complex, his natural inclination to explore the place taking over. Right at the end of the hall where the dorms were located there was a closet, similar to the one in the hospital. Anyone else would’ve just ignored this, but Ouma, being naturally curious, felt compelled to investigate it. His suspicions as to where this door led were confirmed when he was met with a staircase, presumably leading up to the roof. He filed this information in the back of his head, storing it there for later use.

Right now was the perfect time to use that information, he thought to himself as he sat cross-legged near the edge of the roof. It wasn’t nearly as high up as the roof of the hospital was, and he wasn’t as scarily close to the edge as he was when he sat there, but it fulfilled its purpose of giving him a place to be alone with his thoughts.

Belatedly, he recalled the time when Saihara found him up on the roof and reassured him that he wasn’t alone. Ouma found himself missing the warmth of Saihara’s hand by his face, lingering there after gently tucking his hair behind his ear.

But now all that he felt was cold.

In a way, he supposed that he deserved this. Being alone had always been his default state of being, and he was a fool for believing that he could live otherwise. It was his fault for allowing himself to fall prey to the delusion that he could be loved by someone else, be wanted by someone else. Especially when that someone else was Saihara.

The truth was that Saihara deserved better than him. He deserved someone who didn’t come with so much baggage and so many layers of distrust, someone who was capable of loving him like he should be loved. Ouma could never be that person for Saihara.

Maybe it was better this way. Having Ouma’s impulsive and heartfelt confession be dismissed as a lie was logically the best thing that could happen, as the two of them could continue their lives being just friends and nothing more.

...So why did it hurt so much?

Smothering his feelings and lying to Saihara about his feelings was the best course of action, so why did it hurt so much?

Maybe he was tired of lying, parading around and disguising himself as someone that he wasn’t. But lying was all that he knew how to do. When he wasn’t lying he was running away from his problems, ignoring the pang in his chest when Saihara called out his name and chased after him.

Suppressing his emotions, running away, ignoring the pain- it was a vicious cycle of suffering for Ouma. But if bearing this pain meant that others could be happy he would willingly do so, subjecting himself to this torment until the day he dies. As long as Saihara was happy everything would be okay.

The plan was simple: Ouma would act as if nothing happened between him and Saihara, dodging any of the other boy’s attempts to bring up his confession. As far as Ouma was concerned, the whole exchange had never even happened in the first place. The purpose of this was to make sure Saihara was blissfully unaware of Ouma’s feelings, allowing him to live in peace while Ouma suffered internally. Everything would be fine that way.

But of course, the universe had other plans for him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Saihara had been pacing throughout the apartment, having failed in locating Ouma. He knew that the other boy would have to return there eventually, so he waited.

And boy did Ouma keep him waiting.

It was long after Momota had gone to bed, the night stretching on uncomfortably. Saihara couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to, worry gnawing at his heart with every passing second. Had he really hurt Ouma so much that he didn’t even want to face him? Or was he just overthinking things and Ouma was completely fine?

No, there’s no way he isn’t upset… I’m almost certain that his confession was genuine.

As the implications of that statement became more apparent, the logical part of Saihara’s brain came to a screeching halt.

Wait a second… Ouma-kun has feelings for me?!

Eyes wide and face flushed, Saihara had to fight off his internal sense of doubt as he tried to calm himself down.

His brain immediately fired a plethora of responses to the conclusion he had just drawn, trying to convince him that he was wrong. But each and every one of these excuses was shot down with the logical facts of the situation.

If Ouma-kun was lying, why would he have run away like that? It just doesn’t make sense…

All feelings of drowsiness left his body as he was now alert, nervously chewing at his bottom lip as his brain frantically fired one thought after another.

But Ouma-kun having feelings for me doesn’t make sense either! Why would he even see me that way?! I’m so boring and awkward, and he’s so entertaining and smart… and cute… 

Saihara was so engrossed with his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Ouma strategically opening the door as quietly as possible, slipping into the apartment without being detected.

Ouma had almost made it to the bedroom when the wooden floor beneath him creaked, signaling his presence. Saihara gave a surprised yelp, having been startled out of his thoughts of utter disbelief. He turned towards the source of the disturbance only to spot Ouma, who was standing there as nonchalantly as possible.

“Well if it isn’t my beloved Saihara-chan! I totally didn’t even see you there!” The sarcasm in his voice was evident, making it clear that he didn’t want to talk.

“Um… Ouma-kun? Can I-”

Ouma gave a theatrical yawn, cutting Saihara off mid-sentence.

“Wow, would you look at that! I’m beat!” He made his way to the bedroom, swinging open the door. “I better get to bed now! Good night, Saihara-chan!”

“W-Wait! About before-” Saihara desperately tried to gain Ouma’s attention, but it was no use.

“Oh, by the way!” Ouma drummed his fingers along the edge of the door, not even bothering to turn and face Saihara. “I’ll be sleeping in your bed again! Alone.”

The door to the bedroom was slammed shut, Ouma having no concern for the sleeping Momota. Meanwhile, Saihara stood there dumbfounded at how easily he was shut out.

With a sigh, he made himself comfortable on the couch, resigning himself to sleeping there as he was too cowardly to face Ouma once more.

This is gonna be harder than I thought…

~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days were filled with similar encounters, in which Saihara attempted to bring up their conversation in the game room and Ouma came up with increasingly creative solutions as to why he couldn’t talk at the time.

When Saihara wasn’t trying to bring up what occurred between them, Ouma would act completely normal. But as soon as he tried changing the subject, Ouma would hit the abort button and immediately leave to go somewhere else. It didn’t help that Ouma was exceptionally observant, being able to detect whenever Saihara was about to bring up what happened. The ex-detective was never particularly good at hiding his emotions, after all.

The amount of times that Saihara failed to confront Ouma was starting to get ridiculous, making him almost consider dropping the subject completely. Almost.

But Saihara had a few ideas of his own, having figured out Ouma’s pattern by now. Every time he would even come close to having a serious talk with him, Ouma would bolt out of the room with some extravagant excuse after dismissing Saihara’s statements completely. If he was able to corner Ouma and leave him no means of escape, then Saihara could successfully spring the dreaded discussion upon him.

Although trapping him somewhere and forcing him to talk about something he clearly didn’t want to talk about seemed a bit cruel, it was inevitable as Ouma had left him no other choice. While he couldn’t guarantee that Ouma would cooperate once they were alone, the fact that they would be talking in the first place would be progress, even if it was only Saihara speaking.

Ignoring what had happened was simply not an option. Not when guilt overloaded Saihara’s brain every time he spoke with Ouma, wishing that he had handled the situation differently. He was going to fix this, and he was going to do it now.

Saihara glanced at the clock, taking note of the time. It was almost noon, and Ouma was usually awake by now. Normally, Saihara would also be waking up around now, but he hadn’t been sleeping as well the past few days after what happened. After excusing himself from the living room where he and Momota were, Saihara made his way to the bedroom to confront Ouma.

He could practically feel his heart thrumming against his ribcage as he slowly opened the door to the bedroom, the prospect of talking with Ouma about this sending flutters down his stomach. While it was true that Saihara had tried speaking with him about this many times, the reality that it was actually about to happen made him even more nervous than before. Nonetheless, he forced himself to continue, stepping into the bedroom gingerly.

“Ouma-kun?” Saihara spoke barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle the other boy. “Are you awake?”

Entering the room, Saihara saw Ouma sitting up in his bed, staring back at him tiredly. After a few beats of silence Ouma perked up, plastering a fake smile onto his face.

“Gooood morning, Saihara-chan!” he drawled cheerfully, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Man, what time is it? I don’t know about you but I slept like a baby last night!” He stretched his arms out in front of him, yawning theatrically.

“Good morning.” Ignoring his shaking hands, Saihara closed the door behind him, standing in front of it and blocking off Ouma’s escape route. The other boy immediately recognized his intentions, eyes widening and body tensing noticeably. “Listen, Ouma-kun…” With a sigh, Saihara continued. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for a while but you kept avoiding me, so-”

“Hmm? I have nooo idea what you’re talking about!” Ouma sprung out of bed, approaching Saihara with a glare. “Maybe Saihara-chan needs to go back to bed since he keeps imagining things!”

Although he was smiling, his eyes betrayed feelings of anger and resentment as he stared daggers at Saihara, silently telling him to drop the subject and move out of the way. But Saihara was surprisingly stubborn, having been fed up with Ouma’s constant avoidance and running away. He crossed his arms, unmoving.

“I’m not imagining anything. I know exactly what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work.” Saihara refuted Ouma’s words, the other boy narrowing his eyes bitterly. “I’m not leaving until you hear me out.” Saihara allowed his gaze to soften, attempting to put Ouma at ease. “I understand that this must be hard for you but I can’t let you keep running away from your feelings. Not when…”

Saihara clenched his fists, staring down at the ground. A flurry of emotions had overwhelmed him, clouding his mind. Meanwhile, Ouma was silent, giving Saihara time to collect his thoughts and put them into words.

After having adequate time to piece his thoughts together, Saihara looked back towards Ouma. “I-I care about you a lot, Ouma-kun. I like you a lot, too. And I’m sorry for not believing you the other day. I just…” Saihara gulped, fighting the urge to cry. “I find it so hard to believe that someone like you has feelings for someone like me. I’m so boring and awkward and I just don’t understand why-”

“Shh, it’s okay Saihara-chan.” Ouma was suddenly by his side, wiping away his tears. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here.”

Saihara gave a weak nod, leaning into the touch. Ouma wasn’t used to comforting others besides the standard affirmations, so he stood in silence as Saihara composed himself.

“Thank you, Ouma-kun.” Saihara sniffled, “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have accused you of lying when you said that you liked me. I just couldn’t believe it, you know?” He gave a small smile, a hint of sadness still behind it. “But I should’ve known better… You’ve grown so much since the killing game, you wouldn’t lie about something like that. And then you ran away and I just felt awful… So I’m sorry. Again.”

Ouma stared at him blankly, hesitantly speaking.

“Geez, Saihara-chan… You don’t need to keep apologizing like that…”

He was silent for a moment before continuing, his expression shifting into something more serious.

“I’m sorry too. For avoiding you.” Ouma sighed, looking over his shoulder, “I guess I could’ve handled this a lot better… But where’s the fun in that?” He gave a sly smile, breathing a sigh of relief when Saihara smiled back, shaking his head.

“But seriously…” Ouma’s smile vanished, his serious expression returning. “I do really like you, Saihara-chan. And that’s not a lie.”

“I like you too, Ouma-kun. I think it’s cute how you always cling to me, and I really appreciate you being vulnerable with me… So if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to pursue a deeper relationship with you… O-Oh, but only if you want to, of course!” Saihara stammered.

When he looked back at Ouma he noticed that his face was flushed, accompanied by a small pout. Saihara was worried that he said something wrong, but then Ouma smiled ever so slightly, staring at the ground.

“Of course I would like that, you dummy…” he mumbled, almost going unheard by Saihara.

“R-Really?!” Saihara nearly shouted, giving a sheepish smile.

“Uh-huh!” Ouma affirmed proudly, “But only if Saihara-chan promises to buy me all the Panta in the world!”

Saihara chuckled, “Anything to make you happy.”

“Great!” Ouma skipped over to Saihara, suddenly embracing him. Saihara froze momentarily before wrapping his arms around Ouma, holding him even closer.

Ouma pulled away much too quickly for Saihara’s liking, leaving him craving more contact with the boy.

“Well don’t just stand there! We’ve got to get ready, right?” Ouma announced excitedly.

“Uhh, sure…” Saihara agreed confusedly. “Wait, what are we getting ready for exactly?”

“Our first date, of course!” Ouma frowned, his bottom lip quivering as crocodile tears threatened to stream down his face. “D-Don’t tell me… Saihara-chan doesn’t love me anymore?!”

Saihara chuckled at the other boy’s theatrics, shaking his head. “A first date sounds great. What do you want to do?”

“Hmm…” Ouma thought for a moment before settling on the easiest and quickest option, taking Saihara’s hand in his. “Close your eyes and come with me!”

Barely having time to protest against the sudden action or voice his confusion, Saihara was suddenly being dragged out of the apartment by an overly excited Ouma, their destination unknown. Wherever they were going was fine with Saihara, as he was content going anywhere as long as it was with Ouma.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Open your eyes!”

Saihara did as he was told, opening his eyes and allowing himself to take in their surroundings. His eyes landed on a bench in the distance, surrounded by a plethora of green grasses as well as a walking path and even a fountain.

“The park?” Saihara wondered aloud, looking towards Ouma for confirmation.

“Yep!” Ouma chirped, “There’s a walking path that’ll take us through the whole park, so we can talk while we explore!”

“That’s right… We’ve come here for training so many times but we’ve never really explored the place.” Saihara added thoughtfully.

“Exactly! Now come on, let’s get going!” Ouma led Saihara towards the direction of the walking path, bouncing up and down eagerly.

Their hands still entwined with one another, they set about walking along the path. Every now and then they would pass some other couples or individuals walking down the path, who fortunately paid no attention to the two boys. The scenery of the park wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy, but it was a nice change of pace from being inside the apartment all of the time. There were bushes, trees, and various structures such as benches and small statues, the sun shining brightly and the breeze blowing ever so lightly.

As expected, Ouma carried most of the conversation, ranting to Saihara about anything and everything that came to mind, the other boy enjoying his company greatly. While the thought of being seen holding hands with someone in public made him quite nervous, the sight of Ouma’s brightly smiling face was more than enough to put his nerves at ease.

Being seen holding hands with Ouma wasn’t his only worry, however. Saihara couldn’t tell if it was due to his habit of overthinking or if it was due to his exceptional skills of observation, but he couldn’t help but worry about the other boy. Just yesterday he was avoiding Saihara at all costs, bottling up his feelings and avoiding confrontation. Although he definitely seemed to be enjoying himself right now, Saihara wondered if he was still holding back some of his true emotions. But now wasn’t the time to bring that, he supposed. They were having a great time together and Saihara didn’t intend on ruining the mood.

Eventually, the path they were walking on looped around and brought them back to their destination. The sun was just about to set, the breeze picking up as clouds gathered together in the sky. A few droplets of rain fell from the sky, interrupting Saihara and Ouma’s conversation.

Ouma stopped walking and stuck his hands out experimentally, not being surprised when more droplets of water landed on him. Meanwhile, Saihara gazed up at the clouds, taking note of how the sky darkened.

“We should hurry back… It looks like a storm is heading in.” Saihara observed.

Ouma nodded, quickening his pace as he and Saihara headed back to the apartment complex.

They had only been walking for a few moments when it started to downright pour, effectively soaking the both of them. Freezing in place due to sheer shock at the suddenness of it all, the two boys simply looked at each other, resigning themselves to their fate.

Then Ouma giggled.

“Are you…” Saihara blinked, trying to get water droplets out of his eyes so he could see clearly. “Are you laughing?”

“Nishishi, maybe I am!” Ouma stole Saihara’s jacket from him, running off with it. “But I think you have bigger problems right now!”

“Ugh, Ouma-kun, seriously?” Saihara gave chase, carefully avoiding the puddles that Ouma haphazardly stepped in. “Give that back! We need to get back to the apartment, now!”

Thankfully for Saihara, Ouma stopped running and held his jacket in front of him. Just as Saihara caught up to him he realized that he was holding it over a giant puddle that had formed, snickering deviously.

“Is something wrong, Saihara-chan?” he taunted, fully aware of what he was doing.

“Ouma-kun…” Saihara’s expression darkened.

“Yes?”

“Give it back.”

“Make me!”

Saihara lunged for his jacket, but he was too slow. His jacket fell into the puddle, and Saihara felt at least lucky that he had nothing in his pockets.

Rather than scolding Ouma for his childish behavior, Saihara smirked, feeling more playful now than ever. Ouma noticed this, feeling taken aback for a short moment before composing himself.

“You’re so gonna get it now.” Saihara pulled his jacket out of the puddle, slowly and ominously walking up to Ouma.

“Oh? What’re you gonna do, huh?” Ouma asked cockily.

His question was answered when Saihara quickly and swiftly wrapped the wet jacket around Ouma’s head, the jacket falling onto his shoulders and swallowing his small figure. Saihara laughed as Ouma peeled the jacket off of his head, tossing it back towards Saihara.

“Blegh! What was that for?!” Ouma complained, rubbing at his wet face.

“You wanted my jacket so badly I decided to give it to you.” Saihara commented slyly, causing Ouma to stick out his tongue at him.

“Fine, fine… You win!” Ouma pouted, “Just take me back to the apartment already, I’m starting to get cold!” He accentuated his words with a shiver, making Saihara feel a twinge of guilt for what he did.

“Sure… And I’m sorry for wrapping your head with my soaking wet jacket.” Despite his words, Saihara couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. Only someone like Ouma could bring out this side of him.

“You better be! Now let’s go!” Ouma took Saihara’s hand once more, the two of them making their way back to the apartment complex.

It may have been cold, rainy and dark out, but neither of them regretted coming to the park that day.

[blkpnkwriting]

creampie | nudes | hate-fucking | orgasm denial

jisoo x reader

“Where is it?”

No sooner had you walked in the door to your apartment — absently wondering when you had left the lights on — was Jisoo on your case. Which was strange, because you had broken up and she wasn’t supposed to be here. Maybe she hadn’t given back her key yet. The split was rather messy and everything has been hectic since it happened. A bramble of emotions poked in your chest at the sight of here, standing from your couch in the living room beside the cardboard box you had prepared with all her belongings to bring her one day. Well, most of her belongings. And she had noticed that some were missing.

“Hi,” you snarked, throwing your keys on the entryway table and shrugging off your coat. “What are you talking about?”

“My favourite shirt,” she snapped, crossing arms across her chest. Lamplight highlighted tears welling in her eyes. The only times you ever really saw Jisoo cry was when she was pissed rather than when she was sad. Great. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you take it. What did you do with it? Burn it?”

Bingo. Downing a 40 of whisky, you had a drunken fit of rage and decided the one thing that Jisoo would really want back would be better soaked in lighter fluid in a bucket on your balcony. But you weren’t about to admit that to Jisoo.

“What does it matter?” You tried to dodge, voice rising. Throwing a hand out, “And what are you even doing here? I said I was going to bring you your stuff later this week; you can’t just barge in here uninvited!”

“I knew better than to play by your schedule!” The raven haired girl mirrored your frustration. “Of course, you would do something stupid.”

You started for the living room, blood pressure rising, holding out a palm as you said, “Give back my key. Take your shit, and get out of here.”

Every time you two had talked since the break-up, it has resulted in some sort of fight. Already, you could tell this was going to be no different. How wrong you were. And what you had said hurt, Jisoo’s expression shifting for but a second to showcase the way your words cut. Then, “Why don’t you just burn it all?!”

Just as Jisoo was motioning to grab the container, throw it to the ground in her fury, you darted forward and caught it mid-action. You resisted her as she still tried to rip it out of your grasp. Fighting each other. Insults spiked at each other, overlapping and meaningless as the cardboard box slowly lost purpose and it became about the two of you shoving each other. It had never gotten physical before, not like this. It was dangerous, falling into this pattern. Little pinches could be felt along your arms as she grabbed at you, keeping you at bay as you seized her by the shirt and pulled her away from the couch so she couldn’t make a mess of the contents.

“Jisoo, stop!” And just like that, you both jumped apart, breathing heavy. Red on your face and tears crawling steadily down her cheeks. You will never know why you said it, maybe you just needed an outlet, but as you released a final breath, “You’re such a psycho.”

You may as well have punched her. Jisoo paused, eyes narrowing. A calculated step was taken forward, and you could see that she was positively fuming. Close enough that if she were a viper, you would taste the venom as she spat, “And you’re a bitch.”

Something inside you snapped.

You closed the distance, taking a handful of hair and jerking her toward you in a bruising kiss. Somewhere on the way to your brain, perhaps in order to keep from hitting her, you found yourself kissing her instead, and she was kissing you back. None too nicely, might you add. It was sloppy. It hurt. Teeth nicked your lip and you squeaked in shock as she bit hard enough to bring blood to the surface. You returned the favour, relishing the pained gasp you heard, and then dropped your head to target her neck next. Nails raked over your ribs, harsh despite the layers, as you sucked at her jugular.

Seams tore as Jisoo forced your shirt upward. You detached, albeit grudgingly, as she removed the article and threw it in the background, panting as she took your waistband and started on the button there. As your pants came loose and you started kicking them off, you grabbed at her top and didn’t care for how it yanked on her shoulders as it came off, hearing the grunt of the force. A hand snatched your jaw, drawing you back in for another kiss that lit up the areas of pain she had already induced, and you took that opportunity to undo her shorts and shove them down her hips. The moment they were gone, you pulled away, breaking free even as she tried to control you, and then pushed her with more vigor than you have shown from previous escapades in the bedroom.

For a passing moment, Jisoo looked stunning. Dark hair dashing across her face, caught on sticky lips, and a bright mark appearing on her clavicle, she glared up at you from the cushions and broke your stare when she took you by the thigh and brought you to her level.

It was so hot, being this aggressive with each other. Writhing bodies along one another on the couch, kissing with no real love anywhere in sight, but only power. Dominance. Every few moments was a paradigm shift, gripping a wrist for leverage to come out on top, scratching a hip for the surprise factor to gain the advantage, or twisting a nipple through a bra viciously enough to worry about afterward. You had slept together hundreds of times, figuratively and literally, but never has her skin felt so heated. Never has she shown such strength in the muscles that bunched to struggle against you. And never has her eyes looked so dark and spiteful.

“Ow! Jesus!”

Before you could think, reflex was piloting, and you struck Jisoo across the face. Something stuttered low in your belly, basking in the glower of your ex-girlfriend, stilled beneath you on the couch.

And then Jisoo was throwing you off the couch, following just after. Your back hit the ground and knocked the air from your lungs, and Jisoo setting herself on your waist didn’t help. Nor did the wicked grin on her face. Oxygen hadn’t even filled your lungs yet before she was assaulting your lips once more, one hand taking your wrist and pinning it to the carpet while the other hooked you by the knee and brought it around her waist.

A high pitched gasp escaped as Jisoo ground a toned thigh along your shielded centre. Between the wetted fabric and her heavy ministration, it worked wonders on your clit and the nerves tightening inside that impended climax. There was no shame in closing your eyes and letting yourself be taken, even rolling your body in rhythm. You moaned, dragged into a pained noise, as she licked at a tendon in your shoulder and then bit it again, growling in a primal manner that both surprised you and frightened you. With whatever braincells you had left, you brought up the knee that lined up with her pussy, and groaned as she was quick to rut back against it in time with her movements.

All the little sensations, be them pain or pleasure, quickly built you up. Noises fell in quick succession and you managed out, “I’m gonna — I’m gonna come.”

And just like that, no different than when you had told her to stop at the start of your night, Jisoo was suddenly detaching herself and standing up from the floor.

You wanted to cry. What emotion it was rooted in, you couldn’t say for sure. Jisoo spared you no notice as she picked up her clothes, pulling them on swiftly, and fished out a key from her pocket.

The key clattered on the floorboards as Jisoo tossed it over her shoulder on the way out the door.

[hksddr]

N. SWITCH FIGHTING EX LAYER ANOTHER DASH GAMEPLAY

[ben-j-man]

The Angaran Chronicles: The Underside; Extract

An extract from my upcoming novel, The Angaran Chronicles: The Underside, which is due to be released on the 1st of November 2021! Ready for pre-order here! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09FJM625N

The magically enhanced super-assassin, Anargrin and his team are the elite of the elite; black operations sent on the most dangerous of assignments to undermine the authoritarian theocratic regimes of the continent of Angara. Anargrin believes the past should be remembered, never obsessed over. Still, when he and his band of misfits are sent to investigate a Hunter Coven that stopped all communication soon, evidence indicates Anargrin’s enemy’s involvement. An enemy that is responsible directly and indirectly for much of Anargrin’s traumatic past, evidence that reveals a conspiracy hidden within the slave trade.

A conspiracy that threatens to engulf the entire continent in blood.#

Year: 2500 AHV Age: The Late Industra Era Country: The Kingdom of Camaria

Anargrin blinked as the cave was taken over by the calming, almost-dainty streams of midafternoon light filtered through the leaves and branches above. The stink of abundant pollen eclipsed the horrific stench of burned meat and fat. The crackling of flames was now the sweet singing of birds and the almost-constant chirping of the damnable cicadas. That cursed cave was only about fifteen kilometers northwest from here, but it was lifetimes ago. He wished he could forget, but the memory was just as clear as it was decades ago.

Anger, raw and powerful, sprouted through him. It caused him to clench his teeth and his fists. Did Kalthasin do that on purpose? Did he kill her like that because of the—he forced it inside, into hiding, as the sound of engines filtered through his enhanced ears. He doubted any of his companions would’ve heard it yet, as they wouldn’t be able to see him in the underbrush like he could see them.

So it was soon to begin. He’d done this countless times now: kidnapping children.

#

For two weeks, they planned for this, set up for this. No less time for preparation would have sufficed, and in fact, Raleas would have preferred more time—much more time.

Raleas shook away the lamentation as she knelt among the underbrush, her sniper rifle’s scope to her eye as she watched the truck bounce down the slick mud road, about half a kilometer away. The truck that contained the children was in the middle of a convoy of three others and five utes, all filled with soldiers. The groaning and grating of the engines was easily heard, even from here. The truck was the primary target of what the Hunters called “The Kidnapping Convoy.”

Raleas couldn’t think of a more appropriate name, and the alliteration added irony to it. They loved their irony.

She glanced about. Only about two meters to her left was the mage and apprentice Hunter, Wilom. His lack of skill in stealth was evident. Raleas just hoped they were far enough from the road. The redheaded young man knelt like her, his staff in hand, his brow furrowed over blue eyes, but she could easily see the sweat beading on his broad forehead and half-circle sweat stains in the armpits of his robes. It was humid but not hot. The country of Camaria was so far north it wasn’t known at all for being warm, even to Raleas’s sensibilities.

Two others were hiding around too, one of whom Raleas could somewhat see, a mere shadow of a tall, thin woman who held a large double-headed ax.

Of the third, there was no sign at all.

Raleas smiled. He was the best, after all.

“Raleas, concentrate,” Jelcine hissed from the shadows, making Raleas set her eyes back to her scope.

She was a sniper. Sentimental distractions were unbecoming of her.

The convoy came around the corner of the road.

It was almost time to act, and it needed to be to the exact second. It was on Wilom’s shoulders, and it was then Raleas realized it might not be the heat making the young Hunter-apprentice sweat so much.

“Wilom,” said Anargrin in a very familiar, soothing voice, although Raleas had no clue where it was coming from. “Are you ready?”

Wilom nodded, swallowed, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of a shaking hand. “I am master.”

Wilom had joined them two years ago as Anargrin’s apprentice. He was said to be among the best mages of his generation of Hunters, but little good at much else, especially everyday human interaction. Anargrin had been hesitant to allow such an inexperienced young man on their team. Still, he was eventually forced to, since Wilom had proven invaluable in assignments that called for little subtlety—assignments like this, when push came to shove.

“Okay, Wilom,” said the elf. “You seem . . . a little nervous, but we’ll be fine. Is everyone else ready?”

“Fuck yeah, you old fool,” said Jelcine. “I was ready the second I was promoted to Hunterhood. I am frankly offended you had to ask.”

Jelcine had been on the team for just over a year, having joined them, unofficially, when they were accidentally forced to work with her during an assignment. Hunters had been through the creatively called “ritual,” which lengthened their life spans. Despite being in her eighties, she had never been promoted from vampire-Hunter status, even though most Hunters her age were infiltrators or black-ops agents. The Hunters never gave her an apprentice, although she was skilled and extensively lucky. Her ritual hadn’t enhanced just her speed, agility, constitution, and regeneration factor, among many other things, but also her strength, far beyond the average Hunter. They said this was because of a one-in-a-million mutation. But everyone knew why she hadn’t been promoted: due to her black-and-white worldview, volatile temper, and immaturity. Frankly, Raleas would label her a “bitch,” but not to her face.

Jelcine had gotten sick of vampire hunting and saw joining them as a way out.

“I’ve got this, Anargrin,” said Raleas, fighting the urge to check her rifle’s load yet again.

“Good,” said the elf. “Alright, in three . . . two . . . one.”

The trio exploded into a sprint. The swishing of Wilom’s footfalls eclipsed those of Jelcine’s, but all three were nothing but blurs to Raleas’s human eyes while she watched them through her scope. She was used to the inhuman speed of Anargrin and Jelcine, but it was easy to forget that little young Wilom held such ability too.

It was also easy to forget that the Hunter-apprentice was only four years younger than Raleas.

They’d crossed about four hundred meters in only a few seconds before Wilom’s hands erupted in flames, and he slid to a stop and raised his palms. A giant ball of fire blasted out and flew straight for the leading ute.

The ute exploded and was flung up into the air, spinning and wheeling before crashing against the dirt road. It slid a few meters more before coming to a halt and blocking the way for the rest of the kidnapping convoy.

The convoy skidded to a stop, and Camarian soldiers poured from the trucks with a discipline that impressed even the ex-soldier Raleas. The heavy machine guns placed on top of the utes began to turn toward Anargrin and the others and opened fire, as did the other soldiers on the backs of the utes. The familiar barking, roaring crescendo of combined gunfire filled Raleas’s ears. But by then, Jelcine, Anargrin, and Wilom had already scattered—Anargrin toward the front of the convoy, Jelcine toward the back, and Wilom dashing sideways.

Raleas exhaled and placed a shot through the skull of a soldier on the emplacement as he tried to shoot for Jelcine and then through another’s as he went to take his comrade’s place.

Wilom slid to a stop as a priest of Jaroai and his soldiers ran from the truck’s back, following the one with the children inside.

Wilom threw another fireball, which hit the priest and the soldiers around him. It exploded and flung the soldiers screaming, writhing, and flipping like dolls. But the priest was untouched, protected by a shield of light.

The shield died away, and the priest raised his pole arm, which was layered in flames, but then Anargrin was on him. The priest, with impressive speed, managed to see Anargrin coming and swung out his staff. Anargrin evaded it, but how, Raleas couldn’t know. Then he opened the priest’s throat. Anargrin stopped, standing over the dying man as he dropped to his knees, and Raleas got a good look at him. Even for an elf, he was handsome, sharp featured, his skin as pale as the whitest Zatharian winter. His long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, and he wore a brown leather jacket with blue jeans and had a bloody longsword in his right hand. The soldiers in a nearby ute switched their aim for him.

Then Anargrin stood in their midst. He’d just “blinked,” a short-range instantaneous teleportation ability all Hunters had. Still, Anargrin was better than anyone else in the organization, having a shorter cool-down time of five minutes instead of the standard ten minutes and a more extended range. How he’d become so good at it, Raleas didn’t know; she supposed it was because of his utter inability to use any magic whatsoever—as all other Hunters could, with magical ability being a prerequisite to becoming a Hunter.

In less than a split second, all the soldiers were slaughtered by his blade. Then he leapt off the back of the ute and was sprinting toward the end of the convoy.

Raleas tore her attention away from him and to Jelcine. She fought a priest of Jaroai and about a dozen soldiers. She smashed and whacked away shot after shot with her giant double-headed ax while the priest kept her at bay with blast after blast of fire from his hands. Jelcine reeled as a bullet managed to hit her arm, making her cry out.

Raleas blew out the side of the priest’s skull. Then Jelcine was on the soldiers who once had her pinned down. Raleas began to pick off the stray soldiers who were trying to flank Jelcine or re-man the heavy machine guns. She knew she didn’t need to look after Anargrin or Wilom.

Her sniper rifle clicked dry, and she was about to reload when her wristwatch beeped.

It was time to move in, so she stood and began running.

#

As she approached the truck, the sound of gunfire drifted away, replaced by children crying and Jelcine and Wilom moving the ruined ute, its metal bodywork shrieking across the muddy gravel road. The smell of blood mixed with smoke and gunpowder somehow penetrated through the pollen blocking her sinuses.

Anargrin stepped out from behind one of the trucks while whipping the blood off his sword. He was svelte and walked with the smooth confidence of the most seasoned of martial artists. He had to be, being about two hundred years old and among the longest-living Hunters. Like most elves, he stood at around 1.67 meters but was still quite a bit taller than Raleas.

“You alright?” he asked, placing a hand on her arm.

Raleas smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m fine. I wasn’t the one fighting on the front line. I just wish I could’ve done more.”

“This mission isn’t over yet. You are going to be invaluable soon,” he said and glanced over his shoulder as Jelcine approached, clutching at her shoulder while she muttered curses. “And I’m sure you saved Jelcine’s arse more than once.”

That made Raleas smile, and he smiled back before he turned toward the truck’s front. “All of you know the drill,” he said while he and Jelcine passed each other. Then he opened the truck’s driver’s door and leapt in. “Let’s move.”

Jelcine walked up to Raleas. The tall, slender redhead fixed Raleas with an almost-hateful glare like she blamed Raleas for her injury.

“You talk to the children,” said Jelcine.

“But—”

“Look, my arm hurts like fuck right now. I’m not in the mood for dealing with kids.”

Raleas sighed. “Oh, alright.”

And together, they leapt into the back of the truck.

[sodapaladin]

Fighting EX Layer: Another Dash is free to try on Switch with four characters, so I played around with it a bit. It’s kind of neat! I don’t dislike the gameplay. However, something is very off with the graphics. It looks like a budget game from a decade ago. I looked up some videos online and was shocked to see that it’s significantly better looking on other platforms. Like wow. Night and day on PS4. Kind of kills any interest in the Switch version for me, though the gameplay has apparently been tweaked.

[demifiendrsa]

Fighting EX Layer: Another Dash - Announcement PV. It’ll launch for Nintendo Switch in 2021.

Fighting EX Layer: Another Dash is a separate title from Fighting EX Layer. Gougis and dashes have been replaced by new systems such as EX-Dash, EX-Arrow, and EX-Illusion; some characters have been adjusted; and some moves have been revised.

The netcode is also different. Fighting EX Layer: Another Dash uses backstep interrupt netcode based on delay netcode. Since input delay is disguised as variable frames for several frames, in cases of extreme delays, the character’s position may be corrected. Sometime after release, Arika hopes to replace the netcode with “The Best of Both Games” netcode, which is currently in testing and based on rollback netcode.

More information will be announced on April 1.

[puyopuyo]

really happy about that fighting ex layer another dash announcement

[vannahfanfics]

Ooooo there's a part of me that really wants to challenge you and ask for Drake and Nami (can be shippy or general) for the prompt "Snow."

Voila, my dearest! Your challenge was pretty fun to write, and so I hope you have just as much fun reading it! :3

Frenemies 

“Oh shit.”

Nami could not think of anything more eloquent or lady-like to exclaim in her situation, not that there was anyone around to critique. She shuddered and pitifully rubbed her bare, paling arms as the snow whirled around her in frantic flurries and shuffled her feet constantly as the cold moisture soaked into the absorbent fabric of her boots, all while staring wide-eyed at the dismantled mess that was the Weatheria hot air balloon she may or may not have taken for an unauthorized joy ride. She had only wanted to jaunt around in the sky for the bit, had that been too much to ask? The crash wasn’t even a result of her inability to pilot the massive thing; par for the Grand Line course, a giant bird had taken affront to its territory being invaded and attacked it with a razor-sharp beak, tearing the fabric asunder and sending Nami plummeting down. She had only just managed to land on the shore of a nearby island, but unfortunately it bore a winter climate.

Nami had not been dressed for the occasion in the slightest, having only prepared for the warm and sunshiney sea; as such, she was wearing far less than the required clothing, a tank top and some shorts. “I’m so screwed,” she whined pitifully and hung her head. The snow crunched under her feet as she trudged back to the destroyed hot air balloon; she could buy a few hours of time by basking in the lingering warmth of the trapped gases under the fabric, at least. She grabbed the wicker basket and turned it about such that it faced opposite the direction of the wind, then snuggled herself inside. The gas was slowly leaking out from under the billowing fabric, which provided a small dome of heat for the marooned navigator. Still, she knew that it wouldn’t last very long; she just had to hope and pray that someone would come for her. From the air, even though she was spiraling out of control, she had not spied any sort of settlement on the relatively small island. It looked completely abandoned, and therefore marching through a blizzard scantily clad as she was would constitute no less than a death wish. Nami rubbed her numbing fingers before placing them in the bubble of dissipating heat, hoping to stave of frostbite for as long as she could.

The cold crept in slowly, like a lioness stalking her like the meek prey Nami was, all while the snow continued to rain down endlessly. A healthy bit of it had piled up on the edge of the wicker basket; due to the lingering heat, the bottom portion was gradually melting into icy water, seeping through the woven wood strips to drip down onto her already chilled frame. It splashed against the numb skin of her shoulder with steady, repetitive splashes, and Nami imagined it as the ticking of a clock; first, a steady progression towards her rescue, but as time continued to pass, the nagging thought began to form in her mind- that it was a countdown to her freezing to death. She was not sure how much time had passed at all when the first shiver gripped her body; fifteen minutes? Fifteen hours? It was so hard to tell with only the dripping to tell time, as the dense gray clouds above hid the sun.

She was shuddering hard now, shaking the wicker basket with every wracking tremor. The snow sloughed off the edge of the basket to begin piling up beside her, progressively building a thick wall between herself and her continuously dwindling heat source. Every time that Nami swept her arm over the rising snow mound, the snowflakes countered by sinking into her flesh with sharp little teeth, spreading even more numbness across her already cold, unfeeling body. She would then desperately hug her arm to her chest, praying her body heat would revitalize it just a little bit.

By the time the breath was fogging in little puffy clouds before her face, her eyes were beginning to droop. Sleepiness was never a good sign but Nami could not muster the will to fight it. Her arms and legs were beginning to feel like ice itself, blocky and rigid and so, so cold. The ends of her fingers were white as the piling snow outside, as all the heat had begun to drain from her extremities to protect her core from the spreading chill plague. Her head lolled to the side, bumping against the wicker basket as she struggled against embracing the allure of restful sleep. Only for a few minutes… I’ll just rest until help gets here… she thought in the wintery haze. She was very aware of her heartbeat pounding in her ears, but it was strange, because it sounds like boots crunching against hard snow. Hope flared in her chest at the realization, and she managed to turn her stiffened neck to look out the basket’s open end. Was someone here to save her? The fabric of the hot air balloon had flattened out, only occasionally rippling with the tug of insistent winds; Nami was out of time. She opened her mouth to call out to whoever could be there, but the words were frozen in her throat. There was no mistaking it now; they were footsteps, they had to be-! Somehow, she managed a feeble whimper just barely audible above the whistling snowy winds. Please-! I’m right here!

Nami felt like she was going to cry as a navy-blue gloved hand curled over the edge of the basket. The snow was pushed around into heaps as the person effortlessly whirled the basket about to peer inside. Nami’s heart instantly plummeted and she felt incredibly nauseous, her hopes dashed in a matter of seconds. Her savior- if she could even call him that considering what could happen next- was none other than notorious Navy officer-turned-ruthless pirate X Drake. With another meek whimper, she pressed herself into the corner of the wicker basket looking the entire picture of a sopping kitten, dampened by the leaking ice water; to think that Cat Thief Nami had been reduced to such a state. It was pathetic, but Nami really didn’t have much in the way of an arsenal to combat it. Terrifying scenarios began to bounce through her half-frozen mind.

What if he kidnaps me and turns me in for the reward? What if he manages to track down someone else from the crew and tries to ransom me off? What would he do to me in the meantime? What if he has no intention of pawning me off at all and keeps me around as some form of morbid entertainment? What if he just kills me off right now? Her eyes had dilated greatly from terror and her breath was coming in shallow, high-pitched bursts now. With the remainder of her strength, she reached for her Climatact strapped to her leg.

“St-stay away!” she warned him. Despite her sorry state, she still managed to pour plenty of venom into her shaky voice. X Drake just stared at her levelly, his blank expression never shifting. Nami had no idea what was running through his mind at all.

“There’s no reason for you to be afraid. I have no intention of harming you.”

“Fat chance of that! You’re a pirate, a traitorous ex-Navy pirate at that!” she spat. That seemed to get at least a slight rise out of him, as his ginger eyebrows arched down over his dark eyes, just barely shadowed by the curved brim of his hat. “Why should I trust you?”

“You’ll freeze to death otherwise. Believe me or not, you don’t have much choice but to trust me here.” His reasoning was maddeningly sound. Nami didn’t have a choice. She didn’t have the time to wait around from someone from Weatheria any longer; she could very realistically die within the hour. Biting down on her lip in frustration, she frantically wracked her mind for any other alternative before uttering a very simple, curt “Fine.”

Drake stepped away from the basket as she shifted on her hands and knees to crawl out; it was more effort than she would’ve ever imagined. Her limbs had grown as stiff as oak wood from spending the entire time curled up in a single position, which was exacerbated by the freezing cold. Her palms burned like they were afire as she plunged her hands into the deep snow, and she wasted no time in pushing herself to her feet. She almost fell right back down, however, as her knees knocked together wildly from how hard her body was shaking. She hated that she presented such a meek, weak figure to the tall, menacing pirate, and to combat that image some she made sure her face was twisted into a very distrustful scowl.

“What a fierce woman you are,” he laughed heartily, not intimidated in the slightest. Her shrugged out of his fur-lined coat and held it out to her. Nami’s pride dictated that she accepted no pity and that she march on through the blizzard clad as she was, but holy hell, she could feel his intense body heat radiating from the garment, whispering sweet nothings of warmth and comfort. Nami threw her pride out the window and pretty much dove into the coat, sliding her arms through the long, wide sleeves and nearly melted into a puddle on the spot. Is was gargantuan on her, falling down to the middle of her calves and requiring her to roll up the sleeves several times, but that just seemed to make it all the more a bundle of life-giving heat. She found herself immediately relaxing despite the presence of the man beside her. Feels so good… she thought, her mind now muddled by the lovely warmth. She only looked at X Drake when he began to chuckle good-naturedly at her, and it was then that she noticed that he was dressed in a great many layers. It was freezing, no doubt, but not that excessive.

Right… His Devil Fruit power is reptile-based. Is his weakness the cold? She wondered. It would make sense. Considering that, the fact that he had trekked across the island to investigate the balloon crash and offer her the very nice coat chipped away slightly at her mistrust of him. Rumors weren’t everything; maybe, just maybe, Nami had been lucky to land before a pirate captain who carried some form of chivalry.

“I am curious. Where did you come from?” he inquired as he kicked the destroyed fabric of the balloon with a small frown. “I had heard rumor that the Straw Hats had been scattered after the events at Marineford. Considering you are alone and piloting this thing, I surmise that is true.” Should she tell him? Weatheria was very close; he might even offer to bring her there. Then again, would she put the weather wizards of Weatheria in danger by revealing her location? If he ever desired to exploit the fact that Nami was separated from the monstrous members of her crew, he could jaunt over and kidnap her like it was a Sunday walk. His eyes flickered to her, intense but not menacing. “I see you are still mistrustful of me. Very well then, I won’t pry.”

“You can rest assured in the fact that someone will come for me eventually, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“’Rest assured’? I think not. I hid out on this island to avoid the Marines; it isn’t much of a secret hideaway if someone knows that I’m here,” he pointed out with a voice that had finally taken some edge. She swallowed nervously; it was beginning to seem that she was right in not trusting him. He made no move, however, only watched her guardedly, and she knew her next move would determine her fate. Nami decided to bet that some honesty might get her out of this unscathed.

“I came from Weatheria. The weather wizards don’t have much interest in the squabbles between pirates and the Marines. If you don’t bother them, they won’t bother you.” The corner of his mouth twitched in what have may have been an attempt at a smile, and then he straightened up to his full intimidating height, towering over her as he tried to gauge the truth of her statement. Nami felt highly uncomfortable under his interrogative stare but did her best not to quail.

“Very well.” As he whirled on his heel to begin tromping away, she was a little unnerved on how easily he accepted her statement. She really couldn’t get a read on the guy, and she really prided herself on her ability to measure people up.

It was then that Nami noticed that the cold was beginning to seep back into her skin, despite the very padded coat. Right! My clothes are soaking wet. He raised an eyebrow at her as she drew har arms into the body of the coat and began to fidget around. “What are you-“ he didn’t finish his sentence as he saw Nami’s shorts drop into the snow, and his face immediately blazed a rich shade of crimson. “Why are you getting naked?!” he cried and whirled around with a hand over his eyes, though Nami was more than concealed by the coat.

“My clothes are wet. The coat won’t do any good if I’m still wearing them,” she answered while nonchalantly pulling her shirt through the neck of the jacket. It dropped against her shorts with a wet plop, and Drake let out a strangled gasp. A smirk appeared on Nami’s lips. So, the big, bad X Drake is shy around women? Good to know, she thought. She decided to keep her underwear on, because she didn’t trust him nearly enough to go completely commando with him around yet. She bent down to pick up the sopping wet clothes, then looked up to find him tromping several feet ahead of her.

“Come on, unless you want to die out here,” he called to her without even looking over his shoulder. He was probably mortified by his raging blush. Resigning herself to the fate that would at least prolong her survival, Nami hurried after him. It was a struggle for several reasons: her small stride was dwarfed by his, covering at least a foot and a half per step, and the snow had piled up to her knees. She had to hold up the hem of the coat as she literally waded through the thick white powder, while Drake was just moseying along with the stuff barely coming up to his calf. Nami very quickly fell behind, huffing and puffing; she was fairly certain that she had developed a fever to combat hypothermia as well, for her skin was flushing an angry red color and sweat was pooling on her forehead and making her tangerine hair stick uncomfortably to her scalp. After a point, Drake glanced back to see her several yards behind attempting to push her way through a snow drift. “Do you want help?”

“No!” she barked back at him, face twisted in a determined frown. She had already presented herself to be a damsel in distress enough today, and like hell she was going to let him carry her the rest of the way. With a jerk, she forced her leg through the wall of snow and stepped down, only to find that it concealed a very large hole. With a shrill shriek, her entire body sank down to her shoulders, with her arms splayed out over the top of the snowbank and her head tilted back to keep from getting a mouthful of the stuff. Immediately her skin bristled at the intense cold, and she very shrilly squeaked, “Yes, help me, please.” X Drake was chortling to himself as he strode effortlessly through the snowdrift to pluck her up by the back of her hood, lifting her like a kitten by its scruff. She dangled in the air for a second as he allowed her to brush as much of the wet snow from her body as possible.

Thankfully he decided not to carry her bridal-style or another degrading manner, but piggyback-style. His shoulders were so broad that Nami’s arms could barely meet around his neck, and it was an effort to hook her legs around his hips. She really didn’t complain, though, as the sheer amount of furnace-like heat rolling off his body chased away the rest of the cold and left her warm and content. It was even better that he was blushing bright pink from head-to-tow since he was very aware that she had naught but underwear on beneath his coat; Nami found that so amusing. Still, it was a little embarrassing clinging to him like some kind of little spider monkey. “Why are you doing all this?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity. She could count on one hand the number of pirate captains who would take it upon themselves to rescue her asking nothing in return, much less let her parade around mostly naked under their coat without giving her more grief.

“I may have defected from the Navy, but that doesn’t mean I have become completely ruthless. A man has his own personal code of values, and chivalry towards women is in mine,” he answered with a small shrug, but given his size, he very nearly pushed her off and she had to wrap her arms tight around his neck to keep that from happening. “I would have to be a total monster to leave a young woman to freeze to death in the snow.”

“I know of several members of the Worst Generation who would do just that, or ‘rescue’ me only to hold me hostage or ransom me to the Marines,” she grumbled. His shoulders shook with a rumbling laugh.

“They don’t call us ‘the Worst Generation’ for nothing, indeed. I suppose you should count yourself lucky, Nami.” As she thought; he knew exactly who she was. Still, she was beginning to feel at ease with the ginger-haired pirate’s companionship; he seemed to have no ulterior motives and had not attempted to molest her in any way as of yet. She was still on her guard just in case it was all a front, but at the very least, he was easy to talk to. “Tell me, why is it the Straw Hats have decided to go their separate ways?”

“We’re training to take on the New World,” she answered. It wasn’t like he could use that information specifically for much of anything, so why lie? The Paramount War had been broadcasted on Saboady Archipelago for all to see; everyone knew that Luffy only escaped by the skin of his teeth, and was severely injured. The only reason that rumors weren’t flying that he had died was because he had declared war on the World Government only a few days later.

“And the World Government,” he mused as she thought about the incident. “Straw Hat sure is a bold one. He has a very loyal crew, for them to be willing to join in his crusade against them. The World Government isn’t a bunch of pushovers.”

“I believe in him one hundred percent! He’s going to be King of the Pirates, after all!” she insisted and was completely unabashed to do so. X Drake laughed heartily again, seemingly finding her confidence very entertaining rather than insulting. “Why’re you laughing? You’re shooting for the title too, aren’t you?”

“I have my goals and ambitions, yes,” he mused while looking back at her with glittering eyes, “but I would be a fool not to admit that the boy has potential. The fact that you speak so confidently of him is a testament to his charisma and uncanny ability to draw people to his cause.” Nami found herself smiling broadly, because he was right. Even his enemies found themselves admiring of him; he was just that special. The smile drooped like her lead hot air balloon as he added, “However, don’t think that I will be singing his praises if we meet in the new world. I won’t simply allow him to become Pirate King because I think he’s neat.”

“Bring it on. He’ll kick your ass,” she said bluntly. Another round of booming laughter. She had heard tales of his brutality and menace, but Nami was beginning to think that when he wasn’t a rampaging dinosaur, he was a pretty laid-back guy. It was almost a shame that the next time they did meet they would be enemies, because she almost liked him.

“We’ll see about that,” he responded in a contented hum. He suddenly stopped walking and looked up, frowning; Nami followed suit and could not silence an overjoyed cry as she saw the unmistakable form of a hot air balloon drifting through the billowing gray clouds. “It seems that the weather wizards have come to retrieve you after all,” he remarked wryly. No doubt, Nami’s shock of orange hair was visible against the harsh backdrop of white, as the hot air balloon immediately began to descend towards them. With a huff, Nami hopped down from X Drake’s back, landing in the snow. It wasn’t that deep there, and her boots were able to keep most of the cold out, as they had dried some while she was being hauled on his back. “Until next time, then,” he remarked with a tip of his hat and turned to walk away, cloak flapping in the winter wind.

“Wait! Thank you for everything.”

“Do you think it wise to thank your enemy? He may hold it against you someday,” he remarked cryptically, but looked back at her with a wry smile.

“Then let’s be frenemies!” He gave her an absolutely dumfounded look, to which Nami responded with a beaming grin. “Y’know, we’re enemies when it’s necessary, but the rest of the time, we’re friends!” He blinked at her, every stage of grief passing through his expression, before he let out a snort of laughter.

“Straw Hat certainly keeps amusing company,” he remarked. Nami giggled and stuck out her tongue a little as she smiled charmingly. The hot air balloon had since descended well into range, and a rope ladder dropped down to dangle right above the snow beside her.

“So, again, thank you. Oh! I should give you your coat back!” Nami cried and began wriggling out of the garment, causing Drake to blush furiously and whirl around.

“No! Keep it!” Nami laughed, because of course she had no intention stripping down to her negligee in front of the ex-Marine. She hopped up onto the rope ladder, and the weather wizard in the basket far above her head began pulling it little by little back into the hot air balloon. Nami tossed a wink and a smile over her shoulder at the still-blushing pirate captain.

“See ya in the New World! I hope it’s under good circumstances!” she called down to him before climbing up the rungs of woven rope. It certainly wasn’t an encounter she had been expecting to have in the limbo that was this two year-training period, but hey, Nami wasn’t entirely ungrateful. The more enemies she could charm for Luffy’s sake, the better! Besides, conversing with X Drake wasn’t really that bad. If things were different, she could almost imagine the Straw Hats idolizing him.

Alas, they already had their idol in the form of a dorky, airheaded, optimistic but reliable straw hat-wearing boy destined for greatness. Sorry, X Drake, but frenemies it’s gotta be!

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to perusemy Tableof Contents!

Tag List: @searchfortheonepiece

[mittensmorgul]

For context here, Lizbob is incredibly still not spoilered for the last four episodes of s14, but learned about Christian Kane filming 15.07. Apparently he and Jensen filmed all day together, and there were some exciting fight scenes filmed at a roadhouse-type location called “Swayze’s.” So I woke up to this message in my chattybubbles, and it spawned some fascinating wild speculation that we wanted to inflict on everyone else :’D

(also I am now considering writing an AU based on this spec... we’ll see...)

elizabethrobertajones: I can't believe Dean is currently banging his ex

Today at 10:41 AM mittensmorgul: wait did i miss something or is this just the CK news?

elizabethrobertajones: filming going on :P apparently they've been alone together on set all of yesterday that's one heck of a date

mittensmorgul: oh yeah, I saw those tweets :'D

elizabethrobertajones: are there any pictures of his hair situation? Is it still long? Or is it short right now? I saw a random pic of him at an event with short hair and now I'm worried

mittensmorgul: They made it sound like that was his only day filming, and he only saw Dean for a very short time. I kinda hope he'll be back in other episodes, but given the season, I doubt it, sadly I haven't

elizabethrobertajones D: I guess it's for the best not to get Dean too in deep with his ex just enough to shake up old thoughts and make him more open to Cas

mittensmorgul: I think at best, it's MAYBE shoulder-length because of a promo pic for another new show he's filming for that was taken relatively recently, but he's wearing a hat so I don't know yeah, that would be good

elizabethrobertajones shoulder length is acceptable

elizabethrobertajones Honestly the shorter the better in terms of "why did you randomly show us Dean had this hot as heck old BFF in the middle of *whatever final season nonsense*" short in time not in hair length longer the better there anyway Black Sails used scant minutes to tell us Flint had an old friend back in England and then it turned out they were banging :P

mittensmorgul: yeah sorry, I was off scouring the internets for any recent pic of him :'D

elizabethrobertajones: no need to apologise :'D

elizabethrobertajones: https://twitter.com/nataliefisher/status/1180070341109923840 *wheeeeeeeeze*

mittensmorgul: the bar fight would take place at "Swayze's" that's the bar they were filming at swayze always gets a pass

elizabethrobertajones: *wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze*

mittensmorgul: I think I finally know what to draw for suptoberart today... 5.09 has just inspired me :'D but yeah, I think this is the first roadhouse-type establishment we've seen exterior set spoiler pics since 11.04 and the episode is called "Last Call" I think and Cas is in it (he filmed the other day, had to rush back after njcon for it I think that's all I know about it :'D

elizabethrobertajones: *flails* CK's going to talk Dean into addressing his feelings for Cas and Dean's going to go running to him with a bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers

mittensmorgul: HAAAA strangely, I'm wondering if this will all be framed around music/singing, rather than some secret past romance (I mean with subtext, but still, surface layer "why don't you sing anymore" kind of thing, as if that was something secret in Dean's past)

elizabethrobertajones: Omg Dean's a secre karaoke star YES Like Larry but omg omg om g omg omg yes please

mittensmorgul: because they implied in one spoiler that Leo is a FORMER hunter, so what if he now runs this roadhouse where people come to sing/play music

elizabethrobertajones: AURGH

mittensmorgul: because that's something CK does in real life, too...

elizabethrobertajones: maybe Dean is looking to open a karaoke bar after all, exactly like I speculated after his Rocky's episode OMG JO SINGING IN HIS BAAAAR sorry I went Leverage

mittensmorgul: this was actually my FIRST thought before the "old boyfriend" spec started happening YEP

elizabethrobertajones: this doesn't work at all but I want Jo to sing with Dean if we're smushing thigns together :P ah man, that episode

mittensmorgul: I'm watching 5.10 right now... so ow to that

elizabethrobertajones: now I just want to watch Leverage

mittensmorgul: yeah :'D

elizabethrobertajones: also I looked at the next page of my dash (700 pages back) and Jo gifs were at the top

mittensmorgul: that episode in the country music bar basically can we make that a weird destiel au with them running into leo on a hunt or something

elizabethrobertajones: YEEES someone please let Dean play a guitar omg maybe he was Dean's guitar teacher once HALP I am wounding myself

mittensmorgul: oh no...  like Robin

elizabethrobertajones: HALLLLLP Dean just wanted to be a rockstaaaaaaaaaar maybe a grimy folk rocker going town to town performing in dive bars and doing tricks like playing the guitar on a mechanical bull or whatever that might be more his style

mittensmorgul: oh noooo are we gonna get more sad backstory about why dean chose to give up his dreams to the point where everyone believed he was even a terrible singer and knew nothing of his musical aspirations?

elizabethrobertajones: *hyperventilates*

mittensmorgul: I feel like I'm setting myself up for disappointment now

elizabethrobertajones: Dean's true acceptance is season 15's story?? These are spoilers I've gleaned by looking away quickly????

mittensmorgul: but also want to post this...

elizabethrobertajones: Do it HURT THE PEOPLE TEAR THEIR HEAAAAARTS OUT

mittensmorgul: but yeah, dabb did say something to that effect about Dean in an interview posted the other day...

elizabethrobertajones: See??? Aaaaaaaurgh

mittensmorgul: gah I can't share that quote with you because spoilers but trust me, Dabb basically pointed at performing dean and was like "that's what we're gonna address"

elizabethrobertajones: :D GOOD

mittensmorgul: okay, now to scroll up and copy all of this :'D