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topsytervy · 3 years

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Kooky Pogues

Blurb: Your two friend groups don't really get along...until they do

*I'm literally only tagging this as Rafe since it mostly focuses on Rafe but it does involve a good chunk of the others so yeah*

Word Count: 5,414

Warnings: semi-canon Rafe, mentions of cocaine, mentions of drinking, mentions of abuse if I remember correctly, swearing, grammar/spelling mistakes, I think that's it

Little notes real quick:

-we're pretending gold is not a thing here, Peterkin is still alive and has not been murdered, and Sarah didn't cheat on Topper.

-I'm from Wisconsin so I chose Wisconsin cause I know Wisconsin and I don't have to really do research on it so I'm sorry if you hate Wisconsin. Believe me, I do too sometimes.

-And last is this came about cause I feel like if the kooks and pogues didn't hate each other, they would be like that one group of friends in high school that everyone just knows. They would be THAT group.

I was originally going to do something like this as a Christmas blurb where everyone was friends and they and the reader all go get a tree and decorate and shit but that obviously never got posted.

Lowkey kind of want to write more things about them as an entire group of friends though.

Anyway, enjoy :)

~~~~~

You moved to Outer Banks from Wisconsin your freshman year of high school and it was...different to say the least.

The weather was the main thing.

In all your entire sixteen years on earth, you had never experienced a hurricane. Snowstorms were common in Wisconsin so those you didn’t mind, minus the shoveling that your parents had you doing afterward, and you were still a little iffy on tornadoes considering you experienced maybe three in your whole life, only one hitting the town you grew up in and the other two just being warnings.

Hurricanes though were an entirely different category and it was safe to say that you were freaking out because you had never personally experienced one yourself.

And here was the entire town of Kildare knowing what to do and being pretty calm about it.

So, naturally, you stuck out like a sore thumb when you were in the store and trying to figure out what you would need.

It just so happened that three boys would be in the same aisle as you and one of them would be way too observant for their own good.

“She looks confused,” Kelce said from his place next to Rafe who was currently figuring out what soup he wanted.

Rafe and Topper glanced over to see who he was referring to and saw you, scanning shelves as you fiddled with a hair tie on your wrist.

Rafe shrugged, turning back to look at the soups. “Or she’s just a little nervous about Agatha. Believe it or not Kelce, I’m pretty sure some people still get nervous when it comes to storms.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I recognize her.” Kelce squinted, trying to get a good look at your face which caused Topper to sigh.

“Maybe she’s a touron and now she’s stuck here because of the storm.”

Kelce looked at his two best friends. “Well, the least we can do is help her.” And then he began walking towards you.

Rafe and Topper looked at each other before making their way after their friend.

“Need some help?”

You jumped slightly at the voice and whipped your head to see three boys standing beside you. You placed a hand over your heart and closed your eyes. “Sorry. You startled me.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have crept up on you like that.” He apologized before repeating his question. “Do you need some help?”

You hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. I’m not exactly from around here. I’ve never really dealt with a storm like this before.”

“Where are you from?” Topper asked.

“Wisconsin.”

It’d be a lie if they said they weren’t a little taken aback by your answer, expecting it to be a state at least somewhat nearby. Not necessarily in hurricane territory but certainly somewhere closer to Outer Banks. Not a state from up north.

“Wow, okay. So this must be different for you.”

You nodded in response and Kelce smiled. “No worries. You’ve got three of the best people here to help you out.”

You chuckled before introducing yourself. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Kelce, that’s Topper and that one’s Rafe.” He pointed to each one who did a little wave.

Your smile didn't falter as the names of the three boys rang a bell in your brain.

You were warned about those three when you met the pogues a couple of weeks ago.

“Trust us, Y/N. They look nice but that’s just cause of their nice ass clothes. They’re the spawns of Satan.” John B had told you at The Wreck after school that day.

He, JJ, and Pope met you at school earlier that day and had told you that you needed to meet the other member of the group, Kie, and that you would love her.

Kie came around with some food and she rolled her eyes at the boys before turning to look at you. “They’re not the spawns of Satan per se. They just act like spoiled brats and like they’re God’s gift to everyone.”

“No. They’re spawns of Satan.” JJ sided with his best friend, grabbing a couple of french fries and shoving them into his mouth.

“No, JJ, you’re the spawn of Satan.”

“The point is,” Pope interrupted before an argument could break out, “not exactly the best people. Specifically Rafe.”

But now, there you were, standing with the three boys you were warned about as they helped you grab things that would prove useful in the storm. They even helped you load everything into your car.

“Thank you, guys. I probably would’ve been stuck in there for way longer than necessary if you three didn’t help me.” You smiled as Topper closed the trunk to your car.

Rafe shrugged. “No problem. You better hurry back home though. Don’t want you getting caught in Agatha.”

You looked towards the sky and grimaced at the darkness before saying thanks once more as Kelce opened your door and you climbed in, waving goodbye to the boys as they waved back.

Before you could pull out of your parking spot, Topper was holding his phone screen up, his Snapchat on display. You quickly grabbed your phone and typed in his snap username before adding him and he added you back. “Let me know when you get home or I’ll be watching the news like an old man for the next week.”

You shot him a thumbs up before reversing out of the parking space and driving away.

“She’s sweet,” Rafe commented as they watched your drive out of the parking lot.

The other two nodded in agreement before heading to Kelce’s car, Rafe and Kelce both telling Top to send them your username.

You thought the same thing about the three kook boys because, in your mind, if they thought they were so high and mighty of themselves, they wouldn’t have helped you out the way they did.

Now here you were, two and a half years later and still friends with two groups that hated each other. Both groups were incredibly confused at the fact that you were friends with the other and neither group liked the idea of sharing you with the other but you told them that they wouldn’t have to mingle with each other.

As much as you wanted to be able to hang out with all your friends at once, you knew that wouldn’t happen without a fight breaking out and you didn’t want to deal with that.

The only issue you had with your friends was Rafe and his relationship with coke, knowing damn well that him being high didn’t help anything in the least when it came to the pogues, especially JJ.

You had learned that at a party when Sarah had found you and informed you that JJ seemed off and he wasn’t talking to anyone. You decided that you would try to talk to the blonde and excused yourself from the kook boys, telling them you wouldn’t be long, before following Sarah to where the pogues were.

Sure enough, there was a lively conversation going around but JJ wasn’t really participating, just nursing a beer as he stared at the sand underneath his boots.

You sat down next to him and bumped your shoulder against his, causing him to glance at you and send him a small smile. “What’s up, J?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged and you nodded.

“You sure?”

JJ looked at you and noticed the concern in your eyes, sighing as he turned to face you. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Y/N/N.”

You frowned at his answer, not liking what that could mean. “JJ, are you in trouble?”

“See this is where the line gets blurry for us cause you and I have different definitions of trouble.” JJ took a sip of his beer as you stared at him. It didn’t take long for him to break underneath your gaze. “It’s just my dad. Like I said, nothing I can’t handle.” He mumbled, finishing off his drink.

You immediately placed your cup on the ground and wrapped your arms around the blonde in front of you. He placed his head on your shoulder and you heard him sniffle. “Wanna go somewhere away from here and talk, bud?” You felt him nod and you whispered an ‘okay’ before unwrapping your arms from around him and leading him away from the party and farther down the boneyard.

You spent the next hour listening to JJ before wiping his tears and pulling him in for another hug, rubbing his back as you did.

And that was when Kelce, Topper, and Rafe had decided to go look for you. Rafe had had a line or two during the time you were with JJ and was already slightly on edge, thinking that maybe you got swept up with some touron on your way back and they were getting a little too handsy without your consent, when he spotted you holding JJ.

Before anyone could stop the oldest Cameron, he was storming over to you two, not amused with the fact that he, Kelce, and Topper were getting gypped out of their Y/N time. After all, it was their turn to have you for most of the night since the pogues had you the entire day yesterday.

“Alright, Maybank, you’ve taken up enough of her time!” He hollered, Kelce and Topper behind him just in case they needed to be there to drag their friend off of the younger boy.

JJ, however, misread this action as a threat when he turned to look at Rafe and he immediately went into defense mood, standing up as he let go of you and put on his tough-guy act.

You stood up and stepped between Rafe and JJ to serve as a barrier of some sort to make sure no fists would fly.

“Rafe, I promise that I’ll be back soon but I gotta help JJ with something first.” You told him gently, suddenly aware of how quickly this situation could escalate considering this was a party and there was definitely some alcohol consumed by both boys.

“What? Do I gotta get hit by my dad too so I can have some time with you?” Rafe spat.

Your hand came to your mouth as your eyes widened. You couldn’t believe Rafe would say that.

JJ stared at Rafe as he kissed his teeth before turning to look at you. “I don’t think you should be hanging out with Rafe for the rest of the night, Y/N. He’s high and he’s enough of an asshat when he’s sober so god only knows what the hell is going to go down when he’s higher than a damn kite. I don’t want to risk you being around that.”

Your gaze shifted to Rafe and saw his expression flicker from anger to hurt for a second before shifting back to anger. “Maybe she shouldn’t hang out with you ever again JJ considering all the trouble you get into. I don’t want to turn on my tv one day to find out one of my best friends is dead in a ditch because you decided to do something stupid and drag her along.”

JJ laughed. “Says the guy who is friends with Barry, the most dangerous drug dealer in town. You put her life at risk every time you screw him over.”

You sighed and rubbed your temples. “Please stop.” The two arguing boys looked over at you as Topper and Kelce kept observing the situation. “JJ, We’ll talk more tomorrow. I’m going to take Rafe home.”

JJ looked between you and Rafe before sighing, running one of his hands through his hair before nodding. “Yeah. Alright. Be safe and text me when you get home so I know you made it back safely.”

“Yeah. Of course.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and his went around your waist for your goodbye hug. “Everything's going to work out in the end, mkay?” You whispered. He nodded, squeezing you a little before letting go. You turned towards Rafe and let out a breath.”Let's get you home, Cameron.”

You held out your hand for the keys to his truck as you, Rafe, Kelce, and Topper all made your way back to where the cars had been parked. “Do you two need a lift back as well?” You asked Kelce and Topper, trying to tell them that you and Rafe needed to have a one on one conversation.

And by some miracle, Kelce seemed to pick up on that because he immediately turned Topper into the direction of the beer pong table and went “Hey, isn’t that Chrissy. I still owe her a beer pong match.” And ushered the slightly confused blonde towards the direction of this person named Chrissy.

You walked to Rafe’s truck and climbed into the driver’s seat as he climbed into the passenger, both of you feeling strange sitting in the seats the other would usually sit in.

You weren’t going to lie, you were a little scared to drive Rafe’s truck considering your car was a 2002 Chevrolet Prizm and, let’s be real, there is quite the size difference between a truck and a little old car like that, but you would rather drive a vehicle you weren’t exactly used to than let Rafe drive while under the influence.

You started the car and carefully pulled onto the street, making your way towards your house since your family was on a weekend trip on the mainland, one that you politely declined because you did not want to share a hotel room with your two younger siblings and your parents, and you especially did not want to either share a bed with your siblings or sleep on one of the chairs like you had done countless times before.

About ten minutes into the twenty-minute drive, you heard Rafe mumble something.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, glancing over at him.

“I said you missed the turn.” He repeated, slightly louder this time and referring to the road you needed to get to Tanneyhill.

“I was thinking we could stay at mine tonight, bud.”

Rafe tapped his finger against his thigh as he nodded, becoming nervous at how quiet the ride had been thus far and how you hadn’t even yelled at him on his behavior towards JJ. At how he completely ruined your night just because you were checking up on one of your friends like you always did.

You were there for Topper and Sarah both when they broke up, JJ when things got bad with his dad, Kie when she felt so overwhelmed with the kook life and the expectations, John B with DCS, Pope while he was stressing about his scholarship, Kelce when he felt like he wasn’t good enough and, of course, Rafe with his drug habit.

You should be pissed at him right now for getting mad at you helping out a friend.

You were five minutes away from your house that sat on the edge of the Cut when the silence became too much for Rafe and he snapped. “Can you just fucking yell at me already and get it over with!”

You jumped slightly at the sudden outburst before glancing over at him. “Why would I yell at you?”

You had yet to yell at any of your friends, even when they were being childish and very anti-pogue or anti-kook.

“Because we should still be at the boneyard, dancing, getting drunk and whatnot but instead you’re here, driving me back to your house because JJ and I had a spat.”

You shrugged. “Am I upset that you dragged me away from a serious conversation with J? Of course. But if you think I’m going to yell at you for it, then you really must be high.”

“I’m not that high. JJ was being dramatic back there. I had two lines, that’s it. Two lines barely does anything for me anymore.” He muttered.

You pulled into your driveway and parked his truck next to your car before turning off the engine, turning to face Rafe. “Why did you say that, Rafe?”

A confused look crossed his face. “Cause it doesn’t…” He replied slowly, thinking you were talking about his comment about the lines.

“No. Why did you say, in front of JJ, that thing about having to have your dad hit you too in order to get some time with me?�� Rafe’s gaze dropped to the floor and he fiddled with his fingers, shrugging in response. “You do know, Rafe. It wasn’t just to get under his skin this time.” Your voice was soft as you spoke, scared that anything louder would spook him and put him on defense. “What’s wrong, bud?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you.” You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned your entire body to face him.

He sighed. “I just feel like every time I need to talk to you about something that happened with my dad, something else always comes up with JJ and his dad that involves you having to go patch him up or something. I’ve maybe talked to you twice about something that went down with dad.” He whispered.

“Rafe, just because I go to help JJ, doesn’t mean you can’t text me to come over after and talk to me about your problems.” You explained.

“I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed with everything. I feel like everyone goes to you for their issues and I don't want to add on to whatever stress you're already dealing with."

You sat there in silence for a few seconds.

"Is that why you turn to coke? You feel like you can't talk about your problems to anyone or you feel like a burden if you try to?"

Rafe shrugged. "I don't really know. It's an escape from everything, I guess."

“Oh, Rafe,” You leaned over his center console and wrapped your arms around him.

That’s all it took for Rafe to lose any composure he had, breaking down and letting out everything he had bottled up right there in your driveway.

You sat there in his truck, stretched over his center console as you hugged him, listening to him as he spoke through his sobs, your hand rubbing his back in soothing circles.

"I wish I wasn't such a fuck-up." He sniffed when he had finished.

"You're not a fuck-up, Rafe."

"Yes, I am."

"Stop talking about yourself like that, Rafe. I hate it when you put yourself down.”

“Sorry,” He mumbled, “I just wish I was better. Is that better? I wish I was more like Sarah. I wish I was the son dad wanted."

You pulled away from him. "Everyone has their flaws, bud. You can always get help and I'll always be here for you through the ups and the downs. You know that right?" Rafe nodded. “Feel a little better?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled at him before opening your door and hopping out. “Let’s get you to bed then.”

Rafe followed your actions and as he stood behind you, waiting for you to unlock the front door, he spoke so quietly you almost didn’t hear him.

“Can you come with me tomorrow? To get help?” He was staring at the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You looked back at him as you opened the door. “Absolutely.”

****

You stood outside with Topper and Kelce, nervously fiddling with the ring you had with your finger as you waited for Rafe.

Three months had passed since he entered rehab and you had visited him a couple of times during his stay but not as often as you had liked considering you still had school and work.

Your head whipped up when you heard footsteps approaching your small group and you grinned when you saw Rafe

You let Topper and Kelce greet him first as you took in the small amount of stubble on his face and his slightly longer hair. Rafe pulled away from the two boys before walking over to you and engulfing you in a hug. You immediately reciprocated the action, smiling as you did. “You look pretty damn good, bud.” You told him. “I feel pretty damn good.” He answered back, pulling away as he held you an arm’s length away. “Any girls or guys I should know about that have magically appeared in these past three months?” You laughed as you shook your head. “No. No girls or guys you need to worry about.”

Rafe made a noise of approval before turning to face the entire group. “Just so we're clear… I call shotgun.”

You and Kelce both groaned as you all walked to Topper's car, Rafe grinning as he yanked open the passenger door. As you buckled in, Topper started the car. “Alright. What are we doing so I know where I'm going?” “As much as I would love to join you, I promised my parents I would watch the twins while they went out shopping for my birthday present.” You stated. Kelce made a face. “Shouldn't they go with your parents to get you a gift?” “Here's the thing about my brother and sister, they get distracted easily and have to constantly be reminded by my parents that they are not here for them, so mom and dad have found it easier to leave them at home with me and just find a gift that they can just say is from everyone.” You explained as Topper headed towards your house. Rafe shrugged. “Fine by us. That leaves us alone to discuss your gift.” He smirked as he looked back at you. You rolled your eyes. “You don't have to get me anything.”

“We know but we want to.” Topper’s eyes met yours through the rearview mirror. “Fine but if I end up spending my birthday in the hospital, you three are paying the bill.”

Kelce, Rafe, and Topper all saluted you, causing you to roll your eyes once more before the conversation turned to catching Rafe up on everything that had happened while he was gone.

The three boys all waved goodbye to you before waving to the twins who were looking out the window.

“So where are we going? The mall? That little boutique she likes?” Topper reversed out of the driveway before glancing at his two friends. “TanneyhillWheezie. I need to grab my wallet and I'm hoping Sarah's there.”

Kelce and Topper stared at the older boy in shock, never having heard those words come out of Rafe's mouth before. Kelce leaned forward and placed the back of his hand on Rates forehead. “You feeling okay, man?”

Rafe swatted his hand away. “Just drive to Tanneyhill.”

Topper did as he was told, driving the route he knew all too well. Rafe was out of the car before Topper had fully stopped, heading straight into the extravagant house and up the stairs. He stopped in front of Wheezie's door and knocked on it, only for it to open seconds later. “Hey,” He greeted. Wheezie's face lit up at the sight of her brother and she tackled him in a hug, causing him to stumble a little. “Damn, Wheezie. Did you join the football team while I was gone?” he laughed, wrapping his arms around her. “Did you get my letters?” She queried, looking up at him. He nodded. “All thirty-six and a half of them.”

“I sent you thirty-seven.”

“Didn't anybody tell you that if you send someone a letter and it only fills half the page, it only counts as half?” Wheezie rolled her eyes. “Whatever. The main thing is your back and now I don't have to write letters anymore. I can just text you.”

Rafe laughed as he let go of her. “Fair enough. how are you? Has dad been giving you a hard time?” he dropped his voice down, not knowing where his dad was. “Not really. He didn't like it when I asked about you though. I once asked if we could visit you and you would've thought I told him I was pregnant and dropping out of school.” Wheezie casted her gaze down to the floor. “I had to have Topper or Kelce send out the letters for me because dad ripped up the first one I wrote you. It was like he wanted to wash you from everyone's memory. He even yelled at Sarah when she told him that it was pretty fucked up to rip up the letter when I was just trying to stay in touch with you through a hard time.”

“I'm sorry, Wheeze.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. At least you’re back.”

Rafe gave her a small smile. “Is Sarah home or out?”

“Her room. Kie’s over though.”

“Thanks. I’ll catch up with you later. We’ll watch a movie or play a game or something.”

His half-sister nodded before heading back into her room, closing the door behind her.

“That was the cutest thing ever. She almost makes me wish I had a little sister. Almost.” Topper said from behind Rafe, causing him to jump a little.

He pushed past his two friends to head towards his sister’s room, knocking on the doorframe as he peeked in.

Sarah and Kie both looked towards the door from whatever show they were watching and Sarah gave him a smile. “Howdy, howdy. You’re back.”

“Yeah and we all need to talk. That means your boyfriend and his friends too.”

“Cutting straight to the point, I see. Why do we all need to talk?” Sarah questioned.

“Because it involves Y/N and her birthday.”

“We already got her a gift,” Kie stated, turning her attention back to the tv.

“That’s great and all but I think she’d like to have all her friends together on her actual birthday than have to spend it splitting the time between her friends cause she’s scared they’re going to turn it into a battle of who’s the better friend group.” Rafe looked between the two girls.

“Rafe, buddy, I love you and all but what the hell is bringing JJ, John B, and Pope over going to do? It’s going to end horribly.” Kelce spoke up.

“We’re all going to have a nice little chat and sort out our differences even if it takes all night and watching a movie with Wheezie.”

Kie sighed. “She did once tell me it’d be nice if she could hang out with everyone at once, she just doesn’t want to make things worse between the two groups.”

Sarah picked up her phone. “I’ll call John B and tell him I need help moving something and that he should bring Pope and JJ to help."

Within twenty minutes, three sets of footsteps were sounding throughout the house as the three boys thundered up the stairs.

"Alright, we better be getting lunch for doing this." JJ stopped in his tracks when he saw the three kook boys. "And I'll be leaving now. I'll just have a peanut butter sandwich for lunch instead." He said, turning around to leave.

"Oh no, you're not. You three are going to join this therapy session whether you guys like it or not." Sarah stared at them as she stood up, beckoning them inside.

"I would just like to point out that any 'therapy session' with him, usually ends with fists." John B pointed towards Rafe.

"Believe it or not, Rafe suggested this," Sarah informed her boyfriend.

"And that's not the least bit suspicious to you."

"If you three want to do something nice for Y/N/N this year for her birthday, you'll sit your asses down and participate." Kie glared at her three friends. The pogues exchanged looks and Kie snapped. "Sit!"

"Sitting." JJ flopped onto the desk chair as Pope and John B filed in, Sarah closing the door behind them.

***

A week later, you waited for your parents by the door, your younger siblings next to you as you three slowly grew hungrier waiting for your parents to make sure they had everything they needed.

"By the time you two are done, the day's going to end and we'll have to wait until next year to celebrate Y/N's birthday," Sammy called out.

"Yeah. And then you'll need to have two cakes. One for her seventeenth birthday and one for her eighteenth." Alex added.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help complaining yourself. "Seriously. Can we go? You said that if we didn't leave now then everything would go to shit and that was ten minutes ago!"

"Okay, okay!" Your dad and mom came rushing out and you all exited the house. "I thought I raised you three to have some patience."

"Well, when you say 'don't have any snacks between now and dinner' and your kids listen for once, your children aren't going to have a lot of patience." You patted his back before taking your spot in between the twins in the backseat.

As you drove to The Wreck, you continued asking what the surprise was.

"Is the family visiting from Wisconsin?"

Your mom shook her head. "Just wait and see."

Alex leaned over. "Trust me when I say that you wouldn't guess it in a million years." Your brother grinned.

"Welp, here's high hopes but something I wouldn't guess in a million years, did you get me a Ferrari?"

"Hell no. I'll get a Ferrari before you do." Your dad shot at you as your family pulled into the parking lot of The Wreck.

You followed your family inside, Mr.Carrera wishing you a happy birthday as you passed him, and just about passed out from what you saw.

Gathered around the table, laughing and chatting as if they were all old friends, were your two friend groups.

"Oh my God. I think I'm hallucinating. Dad, you might have to take me to the hospital."

"There she is! The birthday girl. Welcome to the seventeen club!" JJ hollered.

You rolled your eyes as you walked over, your family following as you went around and hugged everyone. "What the hell got all of you to hold hands and have a civil conversation?"

"You'd be surprised how therapeutic hitting someone with a pillow can be," Pope commented.

"You will also be surprised at how quickly a bunch of teenagers will bond together to make sure a thirteen-year-old doesn't win monopoly," Kelce added.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and Topper smiled. "The point is, we all have reconciled and you do not have to worry about someone bouncing someone's head off a wall on purpose."

You nodded slowly before taking a seat in between Pope and Sarah. "I think I've entered an alternate universe."

"Trust me, you haven't." Mr.Carrera reassured you as he brought over the cake.

The group sang happy birthday and you smiled before blowing out the candles, your dad and Mr.Carrera beginning to slice the cake after the candles were removed.

"Alright, so who was the mastermind? It has to be one of the reasonable ones." You took your plate from your dad as you looked around the group, grabbing a fork. "Unless it was one of these two which I wouldn't doubt if they managed to lock you all in a pantry or something one day." You motioned to your brother and sister with your fork.

"Actually, it was Rafe."

You looked at Kie before turning your attention to the guy across from you who shrugged. "It was nothing."

You shook your head. "Well, I'm just going to say it right now, don’t be offended if I don't love your gifts cause all of you together takes the cake for the best gift."

"Wow. Cheesy much." John B teased.

You went to respond but heard a whistle cause the whole group to turn towards the noise. Your mom stood with a camera in her hands, a smile plastered on her face.

"Alright. All of you together for a picture now because two groups have become one and this must be documented or no one will believe it."

You all moved around slightly so everyone could be seen and smiled, listening to the click of the camera that told you the photo was taken.

You leaned across the table towards Rafe. "Thank you."

"No. Thank you."

~~~~~

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks

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kitty-ray · 3 years

Text

Something Like Home Ch. 2

Hey so I really liked this story so I decided to make a second chapter. Basically it’s more bkdk fluff (here’s part one)

AO3

Katsuki suddenly has a lot to think about. Last night, totally unprompted and totally not unwelcomed, Deku decided on his own free will to crawl into Katsuki’s bed and demand Katsuki to hold him. Honestly? Who is Katsuki to refuse such an offer?

However, this is Deku we’re talking about. The same fucking Deku that would snivel and cry yet not give up in a fight no matter how beaten down he was. The same fucking Deku Katsuki watched time and time again almost die because he has no value on his life (which, side not, that is something they are definitely going to have to talk to him about). The same fucking Deku that’s been on the edge of his mind for his whole life. Sure, some of those thoughts lingered around Deku’s mouth. And yes, maybe some of those thoughts led elsewhere, but that’s beside the point!

Katsuki grabs his pillow and screams into it. How, oh how, did Katsuki Bakugou ever get in a situation like this?

See, this wouldn’t normally be an issue if it weren’t for the fact that Katsuki’s heart was most definitely slamming against his chest almost all last night. He’s only ever associated that feeling with a fight, and Katsuki knows for a fact that they weren’t fighting.

Katsuki’s not dumb. He’s not entirely immune to emotions and feelings. Hell, he’s had his fair share of crushes in his life, but those were way before middle school. (Okay, that’s a lie. He may or may not have had a crush on a few of the boys in his class, but those were quickly pummeled away before they could go any farther. Don’t tell Kirishima.)

What he’s feeling for Deku is definitely not a crush. It’s more of a… childhood friends turned enemies turned rivals turned hey, let’s occasionally sleep together because neither of us knows how to sleep alone anymore, yeah? That’s it. That is exactly what they are.

“I,” Katsuki whispers to his ceiling, “do not like Deku. I hate him.”

He did not, but it’s easier to say that than anything else. This mantra repeats in his head until he’s almost certain that he believes it. It seems to work, especially when they’re in the locker room almost a week later and somebody brings up relationships.

“Yeah, we’re going to go get lunch Sunday. Got the release forms and everything,” Sero says to the Kaminari. He grabs his uniform jacket. “I’m really excited.”

Kaminari slaps Sero on the back. “Hell yeah, man! Hey, does she have any single friends?”

“Dunno, but I can ask.”

“Sero, my pal, my dude, you are the bestest friend ever.”

“Pretty sure that’s not a word, Kaminari.”

Katsuki frowns into his locker. He should have expected this. They’re high school students, so dating is not totally out of the question. He can’t help but feel slightly behind in that regard.

But then he reminds himself that if he’s going to be the Number One Hero™, then he has no time for trivial things like relationships and dating and (dare he say it) kissing.

“So, Midoriya,” the grape fucker’s voice rings out. Katsuki tries not to look at them. “You’re popular with the ladies. I caught you behind the school the other day with some pretty girl confessing! Tell me, tell me! She’s got big boobies, right? You said yes, right?”

Kirishima walks over, crossing his arms. His mouth curls in disgust. “Dude, too far.” Then he looks up to Deku. “But yeah, Midoriya. We all heard about it and kinda want to know how it went.”

Next to him, Deku’s face goes bright red. Katsuki denies the fluttering in his stomach, choosing to ignore whether it’s because of delight or jealousy. He pulls out his tie, pretending not to listen.

“Oh, well, um…” Deku’s voice trails off, and out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki can see how red his face is. Cute. Turning back to his locker, Deku hides his face. “I turned her down,” he whispers.

This time, the butterflies Katsuki elects to ignore are definitely from delight.

Deku comes again, later that week. Katsuki’s full attention is on his small TV screen, the controller in his hand warm from lengthy use, and he’s just about to beat the boss when there’s a knock at the door. Quickly, he pauses it, the threat dying in his throat when the door opens and Deku slips inside.

“The fuck? Deku, it’s late.” Katsuki says, rocking his chair back. It takes a second to register his red-rimmed eyes and shiny lips. By then, Deku has already made his way to Katsuki.

He fully expects him to climb into Katsuki’s bed, as per their unsaid rules of whatever the hell it is they have going on, but Katsuki only stares in amazement as Dekuk crawls into his lap and buries his face into Katsuki’s shoulder. “H-hey!” he splutters. Real smooth.

“I’m sorry,” Deku whispers. His arms loop Katsuki’s middle. “Just go back to your game. I’ll move if I’m in the way.”

Suddenly, he is infinitely grateful that Deku isn’t looking at him because his face is certainly a bright shade of red. He doesn’t say anything to Deku before unpausing the game and finishing the fight. It’s hard to play like this, but Deku’s warmth and sobs keep him from moving, so he stays. If this is what the nerd needs, then the nerd gets.

A cut scene comes along, and Katsuki takes this opportunity to hug the nerd back. He won’t let himself go any farther; no kisses or sweet nothings to be had. Sure, he might have slipped up a few nights ago (okay, twice, but who’s counting?), but Deku was asleep then! He wouldn’t have noticed! Not like now when he is very, very much awake and very, very much moving.

It’s not a lot of movement, but every time the nerd shifts his hips to get comfortable, Katsuki notices. Oh boy, does he notice. It’s a totally normal reaction for a teenage boy to have on his crush rival! Especially when said rival is sitting on his lap and practically grinding on him.

Deku’s fingers grasp the bottom of Katsuki’s shirt, and he nearly explodes. Okay, Katsuki, think of puppies, kittens, Kirishima’s god awful--shit no, don’t think about Kirishima! Girls, think of girls! Mom and Dad! Oh, shit, I got to call them, don’t I?

“Kacchan,” Deku whispers, his small voice bringing Katsuki out of his attempt to calm down. “Thank you.”

“For what, nerd?”

On the screen, Katsuki’s avatar finds a treasure chest full of useless items. He’ll have to sell those later to buy something good.

Deku doesn’t answer, so Katsuki focuses his attention back on the game. He feels Deku’s lips on his neck. It’s soft, barely there, and probably not intentional, but it makes his brain go haywire nonetheless. He fumbles while trying to take down the miniboss and loses half a life.

Eventually, Katsuki has enough and saves the game. Deku shifts again. “Oh. Are you done?”

He grunts in response. The controller hangs loose in his hands as he wraps his arms around Deku, hearing him squeak. It takes a couple of seconds for the nerd to relax again, but when he does, he starts crying again.

“I had a nightmare again,” Deku whispers. Saying nothing, Katsuki rubs his back. His mom used to do that when he was a kid, and it never failed to make him feel better. Occasionally, whenever Deku would sleep over and he’d have a nightmare, she would rub his back, too.

Katsuki buries his nose into Deku’s curls. They’re still wet and frizzy from his bath. (That’s another thing they’re going to have to talk about.) “Wanna…” he pauses, unsure of himself. “Wanna talk about it?”

They don’t talk about the nightmares. It’s another unspoken rule between the two; you have a nightmare and you go back to sleep. That’s just how they did it.

But this time is different. The last time was different, too. Deku came in here, on his accord, asked Katsuki to hold him, and dealt with the nightmares in a different way. So, yeah, maybe their unspoken rules can be bent and broken once in a while.

Deku sniffles and pulls away, green eyes glassy. The light from the TV and desk lamp makes it hard to see anything but shadows on his face, but Katsuki has known Deku long enough to know exactly how he looks crying. “It’s stupid,” Deku mutters.

“Yeah, and so is Dunce Face, but we still put up with him.”

“You don’t.”

“That’s not the point. What’s the nightmare?”

He cracks a smile before wiping his eyes. “I’m going to tell Kaminari you said that.” Seeing Katsuki’s determined stare, Deku sighs. “Sometimes, I dream of you dying. Or it’s me. Or it’s everyone else. I just… I feel so helpless and I can’t do anything about it and-and--” His words are cut off as he gasps for air. “They just won’t stop.”

Katsuki does something he might regret; he takes Deku’s face in his hands. It’s wet underneath his palms, but he doesn’t pay attention to that. He does, however, pay attention to how soft his cheeks are or how bright his eyes shine. Katsuki suddenly feels the urgent need to kiss him.

“Do you…?” he starts to ask but trails off. This has never been a spoken thing between them. If he says it out loud, he might break the fragile thing they have set up. They’re swimming through uncharted territory, fumbling along as they try to make sense of what is up and what is down.

Thankfully, Deku seems to know what he’s trying to say. A scarred hand lays across one of Katsuki’s as Deku smiles at him. “Can I?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

It doesn’t occur to Katsuki until now that he could be asking a double-loaded question. What he means to ask is if Deku wants to sleep here, yet he also recognizes that he very well could be asking to do more. He tries not to look down at Deku’s lips, tries to keep his gaze locked onto Deku’s, but he ultimately fails. Hopefully, Deku doesn’t notice.

He does notice, and Katsuki notices him noticing, and it’s enough to make his heart do somersaults.

There’s a new question hanging between them. This one is exhilarating and terrifying and makes Katsuki rethink his entire position about relationships and dating and (he dare says) kissing. His fingers find their way to the curls at the nape of his neck. They’re not as soft as Katsuki thought they would be, but they still feel nice.

Katsuki nods, answering both questions at once.

At first, his lips are barely there, but when Katsuki doesn’t pull away, he presses further. He rather likes his lips. He also likes how Deku is obviously just as inexperienced as he is, and he especially likes how Deku breaks up the kiss because he’s smiling.

“I, um, yeah.” Deku rests his forehead on his. “Was that okay?”

Katsuki opens his eyes, and he sees that he’s already looking back at him. His cheeks are still wet from his tears, which he finds disgusting. Unfortunately, his tissues are too far away.

“It was fine or whatever.”

Deku knows he’s lying; his shit-eating grin tells him so. He pokes at Katsuki’s ribs, causing him to yelp. “It was fine, Kacchan?” Deku laughs. “Only fine?”

“Ah! S-stop! Deku!”

“Admit it! It was good!”

Katsuki locks eyes with him, his own fingers coming up to Deku’s sides. When Deku squeaks, he smirks. “I will say no such thing.”

“Kacchan! Sto-o-op!”

There’s banging on the wall before Kirishima yells, “Shut up!”

They try to wiggle away from each other, but with Deku’s legs locked around Katsuki’s waist and Katsuki balancing in his chair, they only manage to crash on the floor. Groaning, he rubs his arm. “Fuck you,” he mutters.

“You okay?” Deku’s green eyes are alight with mirth as he stares at Katsuki. It makes his heart flutter with unease and excitement. He nods.

In this moment, he realizes that his stupid face is actually rather beautiful. The soft glow of the desk lamp highlights his freckles and scars, his cheeks flushed from laughter, and Katsuki thinks he might be falling a little bit. They’re staring at each other, both not wanting to break this tension. It’s electrifying and exhilarating and makes Katsuki absolutely terrified of what he’s feeling. Deku’s legs are entangled with his, but that doesn’t stop him from reaching over and interlacing their fingers together.

“I liked it,” he whispers, almost afraid to break this little bubble of theirs, and they don’t break eye contact as he whispers, “and I think I’m starting to like you.”

Deku smiles at him. “I think I’m starting to like you, too.”

It takes them several moments for them to even think about getting into bed, and when they do, Katsuki doesn’t hesitate to pull him close. His fingers trace random fingers on top of his shirt, and he smiles. Maybe crushes aren’t so bad after all.

#bkdk #bakudeku #katsudeku #bnha #look more cuddles and fluff because i'm a sucker #the world is falling apart and i only care about gay shit #first kiss #more cuddles #last chapter i promise

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braindeacl · 3 years

Text

Into the Thick of It (Ugh) | Eilidh & Nicole

SETTING: White Crest National Park. TIMING: Recent. Late at night. PARTIES: @nicsalazar & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Eilidh and Nicole go on a search to find Bigfoot. They run into his weird cousin. WARNINGS: N/A

With the light of the moon to guide her way, Eilidh trekked further and further within the wood. The cosmic luminescence looked gently down upon her, but with each step, it grew weaker and weaker. Trees blended with the sky until nothing separated the two. Before the darkness could fully engulf her, claim her in its wide embrace, she stopped. And waited. The only indication she was there was her flashlight—a beacon.

Typically, Eilidh wasn’t one for the night shift. Personally, she’d rather be snuggling with Tulip. Especially for something so trivial. What was this, the fourth case of boy-who-cried-bigfoot? What first caused excitement and wonder, now caused a scoff. Not that she was a skeptic. Anything was possible, and Bigfoot was not beyond the limits of her imaginations. But, with that fear locked into everyone’s mind, anything lurking in the corner of your eye could be a ‘monster’. So it very well could be a bear. The past three times it was a bear or something else of the sort. But there had been multiple sightings of this specific ‘Bigfoot.’ A part of her dared to hope that finally, finally she’d be able to see it. Regardless of its name, it had been seen earlier heading the very same direction Eilidh stood now. It was her job to help investigate the whatever-it-was, give it a name and show what it truly was—just another creature, supernatural or not. Or, at the very least, make sure whatever-it-was wasn’t causing any harm to the local flora and fauna. As of yet, she hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Especially by White Crest’s low standards.

The sudden return of light caught her eye, and she directed her own at the source. “Hey, Nic!” Eilidh offered a brief wave. “Would’ve waited for you further back. But got bored.” With her flashlight, she motioned forward. Enveloped in illumination, the forest was almost inviting. “Let’s go check on this B-b-b-biiigfoot.”

Nicole thought going back to work would fix most of her problems. Less time sitting at home with nothing to do, meant less time to deal with the demons in her head. So work? A pretty fucking good distraction— in theory. But in reality, it didn’t turn out that way. She was doing terribly at her job too. But she was still adjusting, right? She was still adjusting, she kept telling herself, despite being back for weeks now. It didn’t help that the Park was nothing but chaos after the news of a Bigfoot sighting broke out. The same reports that happened every couple of months or so, Nicole had learned after the first few the dozens of briefings she had attended over the years. Yet the bastard was never found. And they were left to deal with the chaos that was dealing with the increase in visitors flocking to the park in hopes of catching the monster with their cameras, putting themselves in danger in the process.

Apparently the Park wanted a more hands on approach this time, and Nicole ended up getting roped into the investigation the foresters were supposed to do. Her first field activity since coming back to work. The night shift was always dangerous, but never as terrifying as the office hours, so to walk around the woods searching for a non-existent beast looked like a fine alternative. Finally being back on the trails would be a good thing.

Nicole ventured deep into the forest, swaying her flashlight lazily. She had no use for it when she had other senses to pick up on anything strange. And soon enough, she found her companion for the night. She liked Eilidh, even if her very tense demeanor didn’t read that way. “Hey…” her lips pressed into a thin smile, unsure how to feel about the nickname. But that ship sailed the first time they met. “Right” she nodded, following the woman a few steps behind. “You know...this is the first time they’ve wanted us to see what the fuck is out there. I’m not sure if that’s— you haven’t heard any rumors...right?”

Eilidh quirked an eyebrow. “Rumors?” The location this supposed creature kept frequenting was a bit concerning, or a bit intriguing, depending on your mindset. It was in one of the many parts of the forest that seemed to attract supernatural creatures like flies to a corpse. And it was peculiar its classification had yet to be determined. The Park was typically so quick, so determined, so desperate to uncover the source of odd activities. Activities they would only be publicly hinted at—only enough to maintain safety. So, talk of the truth was discouraged. Having too many noses sticking themselves into where they didn’t belong always led to issues. Curiosity may kill the cat. Or exposure of the supernatural community, and with the popularity that Bigfoot carried, such publicity would be far and wide and deadly. Either way, death could be found at the conclusion.

Despite the concerns, tales still circulated around the town, as they always did. She couldn’t help a chuckle as she recalled one. “Aye. Supposedly some guy saw this ‘Bigfoot’ digging up flowers near here. Maybe he fucked up. Needs a bouquet for Mrs. Bigfoot.” The scenario played in the back of her mind, and that chuckle twinkled again in the back of her throat. Without breaking her stride, she fished out a handful of wildflowers from her backpack. “So, I brought this as a peace offering.” There was a pause, and it was here that her stride did falter for a moment, as she replayed the conversation in her head. “Or, wait. You mean this place?” The two found themselves heading into a part of the Park shrouded in mystery, especially to regular citizens. And mystery always gave birth to hearsay.

Nicole already assumed that anyone who worked at the National Park knew about the supernatural. One way or the other. It was just the way the job went. Every now and then, weird shit was bound to happen. People died. Rangers died. So she didn’t second guess herself, the usual apprehension gone from her voice as she caught up to Eilidh. “Rumors...” she repeated, redirecting her flashlight to the ground. Wasn’t Bigfoot supposed to leave giant footprints? “Before— the last couple of times this happened… I don’t know if you—” she trailed off. The other woman was newer at the job, she couldn’t recall if she had dealt with it before. “The park used to ignore the whole Bigfoot shit”. Their plan always entailed warning people about bears to keep them away. And add more patrolling, so much more patrolling. It hadn’t been exactly successful. So she couldn’t fault the Park for wanting to try a new approach. “So I was thinking— I don’t know, maybe... they really do think there's a monster out there this time. And it’s not just… a wild animal”.

Nicole couldn’t remember being so deep into that side of the park before. Perks of the job. She was never done discovering things. Her partner's joke felt out of place, considering the danger they could be dealing with, but somehow it managed to ease the tension she had been carrying for most of the day. She made sure to keep her chuckle quiet enough. It was a good thing that Eilidh seemed in good spirits at least. It would make the night shift more bearable. “And we’re about to walk into them having a fight? Ah shit... it’s not too late to go back” she mumbled, eyes darting quickly around the dark. She had to keep her senses open if she wanted them to stay safe. She was ready to run at the first sign of the beast. No more playing hero for her. A branch snapped at the distance, and Nicole tensed immediately. “Heard something move” she held her arm up to stop Eilidh. “I think…” she added, because fuck, she couldn’t be sure of anything in her life anymore. She nudged the flashlight in the direction of the sound, but took no steps. “Probably just an animal, but...” she hated that she couldn’t go ahead and investigate. She was scared of many things, but it had never interfered with her job before.

Monster. Unless she meant some great evil decided to spend its free time spooking and inconveniencing tourists, Eilidh assumed what Nicole meant was something supernatural. Eilidh hated when it was used that way. To describe a creature beyond normal human comprehension; to look at a living being’s nature and condone it for something it couldn’t control. “It wouldn’t be a monster.” Her voice was suddenly curt. “Just another animal. Supernatural or not.” Hopefully, whatever it may be, it was something they could handle.

Eilidh perked at the continuation of her quip. It was still exciting when Nicole decided to play along, indulge her, so she wouldn’t waste this moment. “If we don’t help, how will they save their marriage?” But as Nicole’s hand rose, her brief return to good humor was cut short. She stopped, perplexed. Her head began to swivel, trying to pick up anything on her end, but her ears only perceived the typical ebb and flow of a forest at rest. Even when the direction was pointed out to her, nothing new became apparent. So, she sought help from her secret friend. With the slightest of motions, she jerked her chin forward—a signal, a command. After a tense moment, answers were brought, but they weren’t very enlightening. It was very dark, after all, and James had trouble seeing much of anything. But he still could hear. Eyes locked on the invisible figure, Eilidh’s expression became even more confused as he laid out what he heard. “Oom oom?” She mouthed.

Ooooooom ooooooom answered. Within seconds, some of the distant trees illuminated by Nicole’s light began to shake, overwhelmed with a sudden weight. Eilidh looked up. Something looked back.

“Yeah, you don’t know that…” Nicole mumbled to herself, aware of how unconvincing she sounded. Maybe Eilidh did have more knowledge, but she didn’t want to have the monster argument with anyone else. She couldn’t see herself changing her opinion on that. “Just hope you’re right” she let out a weary sigh, knowing hope hadn’t been on her side lately. “I don’t think they’re paying us enough for that” a laugh caught in her throat. The atmosphere changed so quickly between them that she had no time to wipe the grin off her face. “Shit...shit” The forest floor shook under them, and the rustling of the trees was followed by an ominous— Voice? Nicole wasn’t sure. A few months ago, the noise wouldn’t have stopped her. The noise would’ve been an invitation to go on and get more answers. Meet the mysterious creature in the heart of the woods. God she used to be stupid. The realization wasn’t new, but it was good to add more proof to it.

“Back up” Nicole tried to grab Eilidh’s shirt, but she was out of her reach. “Hey!” she called again, the ground shaking made it hard to keep her balance. She lowered her flashlight. She could make out the tall shadow — much taller than both of them— pacing between trees. The thought of switching to her night vision briefly crossed her mind. No, no. There was no point in doing that. She’d draw more attention glowing in the dark. The creature, monster...whatever it was continued to approach, coming to a sudden stop right when Nicole was ready to pick up Eilidh and bolt. “Whatever that is— we should fuck off” words spilled out of her mouth with urgency. Fuck that. She had learned her lesson. But the giant figure didn’t seem interested in them, instead lowered its body to the ground and poked with a giant hand something she couldn’t make out. Her nostrils flared, hoping a scent would clue her in. It was something familiar. Something she had been close to recently. Something she could smell on her partner’s clothes sometimes. “Eilidh” she whispered, and for once she didn’t think about how uncomfortable it was to call someone by their first name. Shivers ran down her spine when she finally processed the smell. “Uh, do we— you know of any missing people reports around the area?”

Like the first sight of the sun after a storm, the scent overcame Eilidh—blinding. Flesh spiced with death. Oozing sweet liquids she wished to lick. Her teeth gave an involuntary chatter before it was cut short as she dug her nails into her hands, threatening to puncture. If Nicole weren’t around, she’d be tempted to play tug-of-war with the meal, test this creature’s might. Or perhaps even share. She only really wanted one part, anyhow. But eating a corpse in front of a coworker would doubtfully result in anything positive. Damn. Instincts were gripped tight and dampened—the action made part of her feel hollow. Doubt that’s the infamous Bigfoot. She couldn’t recall ‘eating hikers’ being mentioned in that Bigfoot conspiracy documentary James made her watch. Double damn. But, this was still turning into a fascinating mystery, because the question still remained: what the fuck was that? Captivated by the mystique of the unknown, eyes wide in wonder, she almost was left unaware of her companion’s high nerves. The use of her first name brought her back. Momentarily she felt exposed, anger arriving as a defense. But distraction soon came. Missing people. Right. Where did the body come from? It seemed like this creature was scavenging, not hunting. Where was the hunter? “Nothing specific,” she lied, though she truthfully had no idea who the corpse once was, “but people disappear all the time. There’s plenty options.”

Eilidh wanted, needed, to get a closer look. At least a small peek. What was the cause of death? Could this be chalked up to a creature or being that couldn’t finish a meal. A freak accident. Or something unneeded, something out of passion rather than survival. Something human. Ignoring Nicole’s signals to retreat, she took a step forward. Craning her neck, trying to see the body without notice. As the creature whipped its head back, it was evident she failed. She froze. It simply flared its nostrils in response: a sniff. Then, it stood. She bared her teeth, a hiss whistled passed her exposed canines. It sniffed again. Disregarding its previous engagement, the creature inched closer. It was only then she began to back up, to the best of her ability as the ground shivered below her under its might. Despite that, she remained focused on the creature. Her hand quickly moved to the dagger hidden under her skirt. Though unsheathed, she kept the weapon close to her hip. She did not want a fight.

Nicole let out a grumble in agreement. People disappeared all the time. There was a reason everyone signed the waiver at the entrance. The bodies they were able to find were the lucky ones. “Right,” like the one in front of them, about to become food for a mysterious creature. Yeah, so fucking lucky. They remained quiet, watching the beast poke the body. Maybe it wasn’t that good of a meal. She swallowed, considering the very real possibility that maybe, it prefered fresher food. She reached for Eilidh's arm again, not taking her eyes off the danger. Only then she noticed her partner had gone and moved closer. Her hands balled into fists, resisting the urge to yell at her. She hated the small part of her that couldn’t blame the woman for her curiosity. Not long ago, she would’ve loved to be close to what was one of the biggest mysteries in the world. If it was Bigfoot at all. But she wasn’t sure how willing she was to risk her life at the park after everything she had gone through.

The thought of not fitting the job she loved so much anymore wasn’t something Nicole wanted to deal with yet. She couldn't consider it. She gripped the flashlight tighter, forcing herself to step forward to meet Eilidh.

The creature picked up on their presence, but it wasn’t until Nicole heard Eilidh’s hissing that she dared to say anything. And— she really had to wonder if she heard that right. “Are you... out of your fucking mind?” she scoffed, eyes wide as she looked between the monster and the woman. “Macleod” she called, her voice colder. She was addressing a coworker, not the person who made her feel more comfortable than anyone at the Park. The beast examined them for a moment. Or rather, it examined Eilidh. It was as if Nicole didn’t exist. She held her breath until the beast lost interest and started munching on the dead body’s...hair? It was a nasty sight.

She couldn’t be the person who stood behind and let other people take the lead anymore. Nicole grabbed Eilidh’s cold hand, giving it a forceful pull.”That’s it, we came— we saw — we can go back a-and warn everybody else. Let’s just get the fuck away. Or— or we’re gonna be the fucking main course!”. Her sudden movement alerted the creature once again. It discarded the rest of the body, eyes glowing with new interest at the sight of Eilidh. That was it, they were about to be eaten. It was safe to say she didn’t think what she did next. Blurting out a quick apology, she swiftly wrapped her arm around Eilidh’s mid section and lifted her off the ground. The flashlight shaking in her hand pointed everywhere but ahead, but Nicole knew to just get one step in front of the other as fast as possible.

Glowing eyes locked onto ones of the dead. Eilidh met that gaze in full, unbreaking—I’m a threat, leave me alone. Perhaps taking the hint or perhaps finding the action as a bluff, the creature returned to its half-finished meal. But instead of flesh, hair was the food of choice. Interesting. The large and impressive figure, the hair covering every inch, the selective diet. Why did this feel familiar? While the reciprocity was lost, she continued to stare, to watch. A thought started to form, a forgotten memory. Wiggling its way to the surface.

A grasping hand broke the recollection, slamming her back into reality, as the memory returned to the back of her mind. The sudden change left her momentarily disoriented; she moved to slap the offending hand on instinct. But a familiar voice came to her ears. Worry was clear in Nicole’s words, and for a moment a small pang of guilt rested in Eilidh’s chest for keeping her in this situation. Guilt quickly boiled into anger as her world turned topsy-turvy, body hoisted—unwillingly—onto Nicole’s shoulder. “Hey!” But the heated yell was cut short by the sight before her. The creature had entirely disregarded the body, choosing to pursue them instead. Usually if an animal discarded a meal, it was due to surrounding dangers, realization of spoiled parts, or a tastier option presented itself. The way the creature stared, as if trying to find her soul and judging her acceptable, at her and only her—it looked to be the third option. Sensation prickled down her spine. Maybe it was fear. But it was mostly excitement.

Feet crashed down onto the helpless ground. Hands reached out for her. Almost touching the strands of hair that whisked into view by the moving air. Before it could grab hold, the knife that still sat gripped in her hand struck out, hitting the creature on the palm. “No.” It let out a bellow. The other enlarged hand shot out, quicker this time. Tension riddling the fingers, whether preparing for an attack or preparing to attack. But instead of striking again, Eilidh slashed at her own hair. A few pieces detached, floated in the hair for just a moment. Until they were swallowed whole. Momentarily stalled by the action, the two were able to gain some distance from the pursuing animal. But the moment passed, and it snapped its attention back to her. In turn, she craned her neck back to look at Nicole. “‘Preciate the help but let me down.” There was no reason to drag Nicole into this. So, she started to wiggle out of the grip, but found the hold stronger than anticipated. Huh? Another attempt was made; more force was applied, but not much changed. A growl escaped her: a pinned animal. Kicking and scratching wasn’t off the table.

The monster decided to follow them. Of course it did. Why would anything be easy when it could be a shitshow? Navigating an unknown part of the woods was never simple, even for Nicole who always seemed to find her way around the trickiest of forests. Doing so while giant feet made the floor shake underneath them sure added difficulty to the experience. “Stop! Moving!” Carrying Eilidh on her shoulder while she tried to fight the beast? really pushing it. And— why was she trying to fight the creature? Nicole didn’t know. Being stupidly reckless had to be a requirement for the job. The monster was hot on their tails, and judging by Eilidh’s roar it had managed to touch her. Why was it obsessed with her? She just squeezed the woman tightly and focused all her energy on not taking a false step, because it would be the end of them if she did. For some reason, the giant steps halted briefly and Nicole didn’t hesitate to twist between trees, making it harder for it to follow. Blood pounding in her ears, all she knew was that she had to keep going, until they reached ground even enough to run at full speed. Then she’d find the jeep she left at the entrance of the trail and they’d be safe.

Initially she didn’t hear Eilidh’s complaint, her attention narrowed to one particular goal: escaping. It was only when she to wiggle her way out of her grip that her focus shifted. She huffed. Fuck that, if she was gonna run back to fight the beast, she wasn’t letting her touch the ground again. But as Eilidh twisted with more persistence she relented, forgoing any gentleness before she put her back down. She gripped Eilidh by the shoulders, standing tall to shield her in case the beast pounced again. “What the fuck were you thinking?” she panted harshly, but worried eyes scanned the woman’s hair. What kind of beast had that fucked up diet? “We need to warn—” at the distance, it was hard to miss that the creature was on the move again. What were they going to do? Wait and attack now prepared with a plan, or retreat? Her mind was made up, she wanted to go, but she was not going to leave Eilidh behind. She had the means to outrun the beast again if it came down to it. She met the woman’s gaze, regretting the words already forming in her head. “Whatever it is that you’re— that’s already going through your fucking head... it’s gonna include me, no matter how insane. So... all I’m saying is— really think about it”.

Wish granted, Eilidh was plopped onto the ground. But before she could turn attentions back to the pursuing beast, hands were placed firmly upon her shoulders. Pinned again. But a growl did not escape like before. It was tempted to, as Nicole’s sharp words greeted her ears, making herself sharp, prickly as well. “How ‘bout you–” But when she looked up, saw the worry in Nicole’s eyes, she couldn’t fuel the irritation for much longer. She paused for a moment—not sure how to answer the question. She had just been… reacting. And it was no time to try and come up with any form of reason. Thud, thud, thud, the creature’s feet banged against the helpless floor, tremors underfoot growing stronger as it closed the distance. Thuds like the tick of a watch, each sound indicating their time was running out.

Legs itched to run, to act, to no longer be stuck waiting and pondering, but that hold on her shoulder still remained. But it no longer acted as an anchor; with Nicole’s words, it became a link, binding the two together. Acting on the first thought that moved to the forefront—since Nicole insisted on involving herself—she placed the blade back against her hair. It cut into her braid, severing the end from the rest. With the secured ribbon removed, her hair unfurled, wild and untamed against her neck, and several inches shorter than earlier that day. She handed the detached braid to Nicole. “I’ll go left. You go right. Lead the fucker so far into the woods no one will see ‘em again.” She smacked her lips. “Hopefully.” The creature was reaching out for her again, two meters away, then one, then none. Before it gained a hold of her, she leapt back. In its momentum it stumbled forward, trying to make that sharp corner but long limbs prevented such agility. Not waiting for it to regain its footing, she turned to run, back amongst trees. “Keep ‘em off me and I’ll keep ‘em off you!” Her yell bounced off the trees, the only reminder of her presence as she disappeared into the darkness.

Nicole was firm on her decision. She was not going to play hero again. She was not. She was n— except, even in the dim light she could tell that Eilidh was absolutely thinking about going back. Fuck. She flinched at her swift move, not expecting the woman to lift her blade again and slash her own hair. “Jesus, what—” she raised her hands to stop her, but she ended up grabbing her braid instead. Nicole stared at it with a blank expression, unsure on how to feel. Thanks? She didn’t have time to process any of it, because Eilidh was talking again, this time to explain her plan. “You—you want me to…” brows furrowed, she waited in silence for more details, until she realized there was nothing more to the plan. It was short and straightforward. Confuse the fuck out of the beast. She would be doing her job, really. Keeping visitors safe by running the creature off. She understood then, the meaning of Eilidh’s hair in her hand: the scent would attract the creature to her, while her partner did the same on the other side. It was smart enough. At least they wouldn’t be trying to fight against it.

She let out an exasperated sigh, realizing she was already convinced. There wasn’t certainty that the creature wouldn’t come back, lured by the scent of corpses, but if they could do their part to keep it as far away from the trails and the visitors’ cameras, it was worth a shot. The floor shook again and Nicole knew there was no time to discuss anything else. She watched Eilidh escape the creature’s grasp and take off in the opposite direction, following her part of the plan. All by herself, she wondered what was it about Eilidh's hair that made her so irresistible compared to her own. As they predicted, the giant monster went with its favorite. “Hey!” she called, lifting her hand and waving the braid. She took a few steps, preparing for a run, hoping it would be enough to get the beasts attention. Luckily for them, the creature stumbled and turned in her direction. Nicole had to keep the surprise to herself, jogging through the trees to keep the beast away from her colleague.

Darkness began to envelop them again, the trees shielding the moonlight as they entered unknown territory. Even when Nicole could hardly see anymore, Eilidh’s light steps were easy to pick up in comparison to the rumbling caused by the beast. They just had to keep going— for how long? she wasn’t sure.

The creature was in pursuit, mirroring Eilidh’s pace step for step. But its gait was wider, legs a great pine to her samplings. The space between shortened with each thud of its feet, shortened even further as those desperate arms reached out. Just as fingertips grazed the hairs on the nape of her neck—threatening to close, caught in its trap—her own trap sprung. Nicole baited the creature her way, the same enticing hairs, her hairs, waving in the air. The creature followed. As the same fate began to fall upon Nicole, Eilidh beckoned it her way. It followed again. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Delicious hairs always so close and yet so far. Equally compelled to chase both, it found itself somewhere in the middle: never able to meet, never able to feed. Eilidh stifled an amused snort as it came and failed once more to secure a hold on her.

The darkness grew thicker, tighter. Sometimes it felt like she was stuck in an abandoned realm. A single dot in a sea of black expanse. The periodic calls of Nicole and the shake of the earth and the heavy breath from behind the only reminder there was more than just that small circle of trees her light illuminated ahead. Kept the darkness from becoming suffocating. That heavy breath grew labored, strained. The creature was growing tired of their game. It growled and snapped and barked out that strange call. But these sounds slowly grew distant. The space between them grew wider. Stubbornness and hunger forced it to continue, but feverish interest began to wane with its stamina. It would settle for anything. Now was their chance. “Throw the braid and let’s go!” Her direction turned, circling back to the beginning. Back to the light.

It was pitch black. Nicole’s eyes darting in the dark desperate for any light. It was like running blindfolded and she wasn’t calm enough to use her other senses at best capacity. Not when they had a giant beast chasing them. Blood pounded in her ears, knowing there was a solution. She could see in the dark, why wasn’t she doing it? Fueled by the adrenaline, she didn't have time for measured thinking, her temples burned demanding a switch. Amber eyes glowed in the dark forest, exposing the path in front of her. So much easier.

Eilidh’s command reached her ears clearly, and Nicole didn't need to be told twice. She searched around, considering her options. She couldn’t imagine a braid traveling a long distance, instead she swung it upwards and prayed it would land on the top of the trees. The monster’s attention changed again, but she didn’t stay to see the results, as soon as the braid was released she turned, circling around the beast and heading back to where they came from. At least, the ground had stopped shaking. It was a good sign. She spared one last look behind her, just to confirm the beast was reaching for the top of the trees. Good. Maybe after the braid snack, the beast would settle for the corpses in the area, instead of following them back. She could only hope.

With the threat gone, Nicole’s first thought was to switch back to her human vision. Eyes on the ground, she blinked fast and hoped for the best. The switch back was always a gamble. Sometimes she could get it down in seconds, other times required a lot more concentration. The fear she’d get stuck with those eyes was always present. That it would start with the eyes, and then the teeth, and then— fuck, now it wasn’t the time. She breathed out deeply, contracting the muscles her eye muscles. Only when it was pitch dark again, she slowed her pace, catching up with Eilidh on the other side. “Good plan...good plan” She breathed out, stopping herself in time before she did something stupid, like hug her. She really was relieved her colleague was in one piece. “Can’t complain about surprise cardio but— enough for the night... I think. Can we... stick to the trails... from now on?”

Eilidh could hear footsteps approaching. But these did not shake the ground in their wake. These were fainter, friendlier, familiar. Her head turned, attention split between the trek onward and that steady advance. After a few moments, Nicole broke out of the darkness, into that circle of light. She smiled at the sight. “Good game!” She clapped an affectionate hand onto Nicole’s shoulder. Chuckle whistled out at her statement. “Sure thing.” As the excitement subsided, cravings twisted her stomach. And she noted the hints of exhaustion painted on Nicole’s movements, too. It was time for their departure. “Sounds like that Kera–” She blinked. Feet hesitated. “Kerashag.” Her hand now clapped against her face. While her conscious mind had been at work keeping her safe, her subconscious finally let that elusive memory slip out. Return to the surface. Sharing some enlightenment. It had been decades ago. It hadn’t even been her own tale. But she recalled a conversation with a zombie; one where she relayed her own incident with such a beast. A hair eater. A moth for death. It had harassed her just the same as the one Eilidh just faced. While the other woman was left with a bald head from the ordeal—she remembered how it glistened in the sunlight—Eilidh had managed to retain some of her hair.

“Fucking figures.” Eilidh mumbled under her breath. “Anyway. Sounds like they’re distracted. Let’s go before they want dessert.” Flashlight aimed at the ground, she scanned the surface for that change in texture. The light traveled across the grass, until the grass stopped, revealing dirt. Dirt that stretched onward into that darkness, until the darkness stopped too. Leading them back. She beckoned Nicole to follow as she hopped onto that trail, letting it return them to civilization.

It was reflex to smile back at Eilidh. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, she could bask in their success for a brief moment. It was nice, being helpful again. Even if the stakes were a lot higher than guiding someone through a trail. Nicole picked up on the hesitation, on the word that was uttered, but she kept her head down. She wasn’t going to ask. Not until they were back on the trail. She didn’t object as Eilidh voiced her exact thoughts. Better get the fuck away when their legs could still go.

The road back was understandably more quiet. Eilidh didn’t have time or energy for funny quips. And well, that was never Nicole’s thing. She did notice how her companion’s heart didn’t seem to be pounding like her own, though. Undetectable. It reminded her of her friend Griffin. She wished to be as cool under pressure as them.

There were no more surprises for them on the way back, and soon enough they were back on the original path. Their vehicle had to be close. Nicole couldn’t wait to be back at the station. It was hard to erase the monster from her mind. She would’ve liked to shrug the experience off. Like she had in the past with other strange beasts. Just call them quirky White Crest things and roll with it. But she had to know, didn't she? She had to learn. Because the town was a dangerous place, and she couldn’t keep turning a blind eye. She didn’t want to get hurt again. She didn't want to lose more things. “So… kera what?” her voice broke the silence. She nudged back to the forest, where she first heard her utter that word. She decided to give the woman the option to pass on the question, giving a one shoulder shrug. “Sounded like you knew what the fuck that was, that’s all”.

The thrill of the chase waned, and in lieu of an ache—such a rare thing for Eilidh to feel—her legs grew heavy under her own weight. Hunger pricked at her stomach. The smell of that corpse like a phantom in her nose, calling her back with its intoxicating memory. But turning around would lead her all the way back to that and repeat the cycle all over again. Despite the logic, the temptation still bubbled inside her, and if Nicole weren’t near, she might’ve tried her luck. Who cares about being bald if it meant scoring an easy meal—perhaps meals considering the creature’s proclivities. But it was less fun utilizing such a method, and with that deciding thought, the urge went away. Her focus returned to the trail, to the station that waited for them at the end.

Eilidh chuckled into the crisp night air. “Kerashag. They eat–” Dead almost slithered from her lips, but she quickly bit into the word before it could manage. “–hair and nails. Don’t know much else ‘bout them. Beyond the nice example we just got.” Her head motioned to the darkness, to where the forest was ever vast, to where that creature still lurked. “Glad to be back on the force?” There was a genuine, albeit playful, curiosity in her question. But it also served as a distraction.

The moonlight filtered through the trees with more intensity as they began approaching their starting point. It was a testament to how deep they ventured, that they still couldn’t see the lights from surrounding camping sites. Nicole glanced at her partner, noticing the exhaustion on her face with more clarity. Then, she noticed the mismatched length of her hair. For a blade cut it was pretty decent, she almost said out loud. “Kerashag” she repeated awkwardly, word foreign in her tongue. Her face wrinkled with disgust. So she wasn’t imagining the weird diet then. Why go for corpses then, and why was Eilidh’s hair more alluring? Should she be offended? “No Bigfoot... fucking knew it” she added, letting out a huff. She decided to ignore the rest of the questions forming in her head. She had a name, and that was enough for now.

A laugh caught in her throat when Eilidh broke the silence. Her smile grew. The woman’s tone made her feel welcome. But as she processed the meaning behind the words, her expression began to falter. Nicole considered the doubts that filled her the moment the beast appeared. Her reluctance to investigate. The fear coursing through her at the thought of Eilidh getting hurt. She bit the inside of her cheek, stomach sinking with dread. It was probably too soon. Maybe she should’ve stayed doing office hours. That was it. That’s why she still felt shaky in the legs, right? It would probably take her some time to feel like herself again. “Yeah, yeah—” she cleared her throat, voicing her own conclusion. “Hoping for less action next time, though...still rusty” she spotted their vehicle at the distance, nodding her head towards it. They’d be back at the station soon, safe from what lurked in the woods. Safe from the questions she had to start asking herself.

#into the thick of it (ugh)#chatzy #;— interactions #ft. nicole s.#so much shenanigans

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xiaomomowrites · 3 years

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act IV

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary: It was the way Zhongli’s warm amber eyes suddenly were not as warm anymore. The way he looked at him with a piercing look, void of remorse, as he handed his gnosis over willingly to go on a whole tangent about how his “duties were done”. It was the way he turned and treated the precious traveler with the same amount of kindness and gentleness the Childe had received the previous night, with such ease; it was a look he thought was reserved only for him. It was the way he was able to turn back around, stare at Childe with an unreadable gaze, and walk away without so much of a goodbye.

Or, Zhongli and Childe finally have the conversation that was long overdue.

A/N: I’ve been playing genshin for roughly four or five months now, I can’t remember exactly when I started, but boy do I love it. No you don’t understand, I’m obsessed. But these two have been taking up room in my big brain, so I wanted to write for them. It’s been awhile since I wrote for pleasure so hopefully this is satisfactory :,) and tomorrow, I’m back to school, so I thought I’d enjoy my last day of freedom and post this today. Fun fact, I’m minoring in professional writing, so I’m hoping that it’ll improve my writing skills when I write for luxury, too. Anyway, this was a really fun piece for me to write and I hope you share the sentiment.

Also thank you guys for being so patient with our inactivity and just being such a chill audience to write for. Other social media platforms have become so...demanding haha. I appreciate y’all! Feel free to message us or talk to us about whatever :) -u.n.

Find this on AO3!

Spoiler alert: this fic does contain spoilers for the A New Star Approaches arc, so read at your own risk.

—

In Childe’s line of work, he is no stranger to betrayal.

Working as a Fatui Harbinger meant an unhealthy amount of fighting, betraying one person, deceiving another, and then on occasion, getting betrayed himself. It was all in a days’ work. Childe knew he would just have to roll out his neck and move on. He’s done it before, he can do it again. He would think that, after nineteen years of this grueling rinse and repeat, that he’d be able to tolerate a lot in the field. In fact, working with that wretched colleague of his, Scaramouche, and serving the Tsaritsa with a loyalty unmatched explicitly calls for the patience and tolerance of a saint.

Alas, Childe is the furthest thing from a saint. And still, Zhongli’s betrayal stung the most out of anyone else’s, the reason still unbeknownst to him. He tells himself that it’s because he had actually befriended the other man. That, unlike his other missions, he developed more of a friendship with Zhongli than he has with anyone else in the past. Not to mention how he really thought he’d find the gnosis, in all its golden glory, seated deep within the Exuvia, and not within his friend.

Which is why after he watches Zhongli hand over his precious gnosis to Signora of all people, Childe makes haste to return to the inn he had been staying at to furiously pack his things and leave first thing in the morning. Seeing Signora in Liyue so close to Zhongli had triggered a deep seated feeling of possessiveness over him and the city. Liyue was his territory, as far as he was concerned. It was assigned to him by the Tsaritsa and no one else. And yet, despite his unspoken possession over Liyue, its people turned against him and viewed him as the enemy. As if Childe didn’t already know that. As if he hadn’t already grown up with a layered villain complex, subconsciously looking for a fool with a hero complex to match him. Then entered Zhongli, making himself at home in Childe’s life, and he was immediately enamouring the Harbinger.

Screw Liyue.

Screw all their traditions, the stupid glaze lilies, the delicious cuisine, the obvious livelihood that fills the streets in stark contrast to his own icy hometown, screw all those goddamn unnecessary mountains, that fish market with that abhorrent smell he gradually got used to, and screw Rex Lapis. Screw Zhongli, that handsome bastard, for stringing him along like his plaything the entire time.

Childe knows, he gets it, that Zhongli simply did what he had to do because it was best for his people. And what other way for the oldest of the seven to go, if not for a grand finale? And yes, Childe admits, luring out Osial was a stupid move, but it certainly served its purpose for testing the strength of Liyue and its defenders.

Zhongli and Signora knew he would do something stupid and reckless as soon as he caught wind of the Exuvia serving as a decoy. They knew, and they played the game so well, that Childe really thought he was the mastermind puppeteering the whole show.

What a fool he was made out to be.

Childe aggressively shoves blazer after blazer into his travel duffel, angry, pathetic tears pooling at the corners of his eyes without his consent. He sniffs angrily and swipes at his cheek as soon as the first tear falls.

Fuck this, he’s not crying over a god, he still has some dignity.

But still. Pride aside, it hurt. And it wasn’t even necessarily the deceit that hurt the most. He’s dealt with that previously. It was… more personal. More of an internal struggle than an external issue. Childe truly hates those the most. At least he can shove his fist through any external problem, but he can’t exactly do the same with his feelings, or whatever they’re called.

It was the way Zhongli’s warm amber eyes suddenly were not as warm anymore. The way he looked at him with a piercing look, void of remorse, as he handed his gnosis over willingly to go on a whole spiel about how his “duties were done”. It was the way he turned and treated the precious traveler with the same amount of kindness and gentleness the Childe had received the previous night, with such ease; it was a look he thought was reserved only for him. It was the way he was able to turn back around, stare at Childe with an unreadable gaze, and walk away without so much of a goodbye.

The same eyes that gazed at him with such affection and kindness were suddenly replaced with the eyes of a soldier. And it was only then that Childe fully realized the force he was reckoning with. Zhongli was a withered god who lived too long for his own good. A powerful deity that held the ability to shake the ground with a look; he who had been humbled by time and his sharp edges eroded by the millions of faces that passed him. Simply put, Childe was just another one of those faces. And again, he understood. If he lived for six thousand years, he wouldn’t want to be alive after the first hundred.

It was the duality that dug the blade deeper into his already bleeding chest. He felt used.

“I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, Childe,” Zhongli had said to him on a warm Liyuen night, “a friend of mine, a long time ago, told me that I was… bad at connecting with people. Emotionally stunted, is what she called me. And she is correct, as I have definitely struggled with making connections in the past. But with you… it’s different. It’s easy.

Childe is thankful for the discretion that night provides him; Zhongli would have easily spotted the blush spreading across his pale cheeks had it been daytime.

“So you had trouble making a couple friends, so what?” The ginger shrugs, “I wasn’t the best at making friends, either. My mom always said I was too aggressive. Apparently that’s not such an appealing trait, after all.”

Zhongli chuckles, a beautiful sound. “It was a bit deeper than that, I’m afraid. Understanding the complexity of another’s emotions was always difficult for me, whereas she… she was loved by everyone. Adored by the youngest of fawns to the oldest of horses. It came so naturally to her. I was the opposite. Not that everyone hated me, no, people just had a harder time getting close to me. Which is why, upon meeting you, I was shocked to find that we clicked so well. Befriending you was as easy as breathing air.”

Oh, Archons, help him.

“And,” Zhongli continues, as if he hadn’t already wrecked the man six ways to hell and back, “I must sincerely thank you for indulging me once again.” The deity glances down at the bag full of antique trinkets in his lap. Childe’s lips turn upward into one of his more genuine, rare smiles.

“What’s with you tonight?” Childe responds, and Zhongli looks at him questioningly , “I mean, you never had a problem with me spoiling you rotten before. You’ve never even acknowledged it. Why start now?”

Zhongli tears his gaze away from the Harbinger.

“And,” the ginger continues, “it almost sounds like you’re saying goodbye.”

Zhongli smiles at him then. He wore a kind look on his face, eyes so impossibly warm that it reminded him of his grandmother’s pirozhki. Hot and steaming from the center, melting on his tongue, dissolving deliciously in his mouth and defrosting his entire body. His smile felt like it wrapped itself around his chest and squeezed the best way possible, fitting him back together in places Childe didn’t even realize he had broken.

“What makes you say that?”

Oh, Childe is pissed.

Fuck tomorrow morning, Childe is leaving tonight.

The memories of last night crash over him not unlike a tidal wave and suddenly, he’s drowning. Filled out the brim with a familiar rage burning through his chest and searing his finger tips, his legs, his fucking toes.

He stands abruptly when he realizes he’s been sitting and resumes his packing. It doesn’t take very long after that. A couple toiletries get shoved into the side pockets, his vision is hooked back onto his hip, and his mask is slid into its’ usual spot on his head. He looks at himself in the mirror on the way out and scowls at the way his hair looks more disheveled than usual. Red rims his dulled blue eyes, forcing him to accept that maybe he cried more than he’d like to admit. Whatever.

He swings the door open and-

“Childe,” lo and behold, Zhongli stands in his fucking doorway, “I’d like to talk to you, if that’s alright.” The man looks slightly disheveled. He’s a little out of breath, Childe notices, like he ran up those ridiculous flights of stairs to get to his room- which, by the way, he never disclosed that information with him.

The man in question huffs a laugh. “It’s not.”

He makes a move to brush past him, but is stopped by an unreasonably strong grip around his bicep.

“Tartaglia,” he pleads, “please.”

Childe snatches his arm back and spits, “don’t call me that.”

He retreats back into his room anyway, hearing Zhongli close the door behind him. He dumps the bag back onto his bed and curses himself for not leaving a millisecond earlier.

“You’re angry with me.” Zhongli starts, face as unreadable as ever.

“The sky is blue. Snezhnaya is cold. Are we still stating the obvious here?” He’s too angry to carefully choose his words. Too hurt to slip on his pleasant facade.

“Tartaglia,” he presses, and Childe really hates how his name sounds on his tongue, “I truly am sorry for the way things had to go. It was not in my intentions to… hurt you to the degree in which you feel. I simply was upholding the end of my contract and doing what was best for my people. I implore you to believe that making you feel used was not my main objective.“

Oh god, his apology sounds so robotic.

“So you’re aware that what you did was a little fucked up.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re aware that almost the entirety of Liyue places the blame on me.”

“Yes.”

Well, shit. “Good talk, Zhongli-xiansheng. If you’ll excuse me, I must begin my trip home.”

He stomps toward the door only to be stopped once again. Archons, if Childe had any motivation left, he most certainly would challenge him to a spar. The ginger huffs, and looks to the heavens in a silent plea for patience.

“Tartaglia, please, I’m not finished-“

“Yeah, well I am.” Their eyes lock. Blue meets gold in a hostile hold, refusing to break. “The second you handed your gnosis over, my business here was done. Whatever… relationship we had is done. You were my consultant and was a Harbinger here for business. A Harbinger that you obviously used for your disposal. So now that that’s over and done with, I really need to report to Tsaritsa, lest she have my head on a silver platter-“

“I spoke with Tsaritsa already.” Zhongli cuts in, his grip tightening around Childe’s wrist. “I asked her for more time with you.”

“You what.”

“Surely you are curious about the deal I struck with Tsaritsa. The contract to end all contracts, yes?” Childe’s wild look on his face eggs him to continue, “I struck a deal that granted you more time here in Liyue. With me.”

Childe is silent for a moment. The ex-Archon opens his mouth to continue.

“And I’d like to say I’ve known you long enough to know that you seek freedom. From what that may be, I do not know. But Tsaritsa has agreed to give you a choice, at the very least, a temporary one. An extended vacation or complete retirement is a choice to be made by you.” Zhongli finishes, looking to Tartaglia with hope.

“THAT is worth your fucking gnosis?!” Zhongli’s gnosis. The entire essence of his being. The very thing that makes him divine (thought it certainly isn’t the only thing that makes the man ethereal), was traded for him.

“Yes,” Zhongli replies with such ease it makes Childe’s head spin. “Among other things, of course.” An aggressive why is lodged in the back of Childe’s throat. Why me? A million questions swirl around his head, knocking him off balance. He would have swayed on his feet had Zhongli not been there to hold him upright.

“That’s insane. You’re insane. You…” Childe lets out a tired sigh, “I don’t understand you.” And he doesn’t. Because one minute he’s a cold hearted businessman, and the next he’s at his door, reduced to a mortal, begging him to stay. Granting him freedom. Really, what kind of fucked up game is this? Why didn’t anyone tell him he was a part of it?

Zhongli smiles. He smiles. “You remember our conversation from the night before, yes?”

Childe rolls his ever-blue eyes to the back of his head. “Remind me, Zhongli-sensei,”

“I said,” the deity starts, drawing both of Childe’s calloused hands between his own, “that I struggled to connect with others. Guizhong, the Goddess of Dust, was the one to bring to my attention my emotional constipation. And like I said, she was correct.”

Childe’s anger withers.

“Unfortunately I understand naught of the depth of your feelings of betrayal,” he continues, “but I do wish to understand how deeply humans feel. And in our time together, I’ve begun to understand through you. Despite your… complexities. And I wish to continue to learn. With you.” I wish to feel human is left unsaid, and laced between his words instead.

“What are you saying,” the Harbinger asks weakly.

“Take me with you.”

“What.”

“Take me with you. Wherever you go, I will follow, if you will allow it.”

Well duh, he’d allow it. Zhongli just had to work for it a little more. He can’t just waltz in here after breaking his heart and ruining his trust, demanding his friendship and companionship or whatever, after everything he was put through-

“Okay.”

Very nice ass to mouth filter, Ajax.

Zhongli’s eyes glow impossibly brighter, “Okay?”

Childe tugs his hands back to his side. “Yes, yes, fine. Whatever. But you can’t just. You can’t just use me again in the name of experimentation.”

“Tartaglia, I would never,” he assures him vehemently, “Of the seven, I was always the one most oblivious to emotions. You may ask Barbatos if you want. But I know that what I feel for you is real and I would not trade it for the world.”

Childe’s mind reels. Barbatos? Feelings?

“‘What you feel for me?’”

Zhongli cocks his head in confusion, as if his feelings were the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, yes. And you feel the same, no? It need not be said aloud.”

“It really doesn’t,” Childe affirms, “you can save me the embarrassment.”

“Wonderful,” Zhongli’s face brightens, and it’s only then that Childe is hit with the full realization that Zhongli is free. No longer is he tied to the city and burdened with the weight of the people. No longer does he have to associate himself with the likes of the Tsaritsa. Finally, after centuries and centuries, he is allowed the pleasure to smile so brightly despite feeling pained for finally leaving his people. He is Zhongli, and no longer Rex Lapis. Morax is long gone, too. The man before him is a man reborn, and Childe’s heart aches with happiness for him.

“Okay, well,” he clears his throat when he notices he’s been quiet for too long, “it’s been a long day and I’m tired. I think I’m just gonna take a shower and turn into bed and think about the rest tomorrow. Save it for future Childe, you know?”

He pads over to his hastily packed back and zips it back open, pulling out the toiletries he aggressively shoved in less than an hour ago. He digs his fingers into his neck and sighs at the release of tension. Summoning an angry ocean god took a lot more out of him than he anticipated.

“I agree,” Zhongli says, and begins to strip. “Personally I prefer the left side of the bed.”

Childe gawks at him.

“You-!” Truly an emotionally constipated god, indeed. He sighs and his shoulders droop, the fight leaving his body. “Fine. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“I eagerly await your return,” Zhongli comments passively as he slips under the covers, a book he didn’t even know he was carrying tucked under his arm. Childe sighs for the nth time that night and turns to close the bathroom door behind him.

Future Childe certainly has a lot to deal with in the morning.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fan fiction #Tartaglia #Childe #zhongli #tartali #zhongchi #i love them so much it hurts #childe x zhongli #angst #character introspection #when this chapter ended i was incredibly emotional #i just want them to be happy

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wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.III: Don’t Bite and Tell

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, Angst, slight Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, mentions of death, brief accounts of violence, practice of ritualistic and sacrificial magic, blood and slight gore, etc.

word count: 5,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

“I’ve encountered a couple hunters myself over the years, but never one who hunts and kills witches.” Mark watches Jinyoung pilfer through the scriptures him and the rest of his coven members managed to pull together after Youngjae’s reveal of a possible supernatural hunter in town. A murderous one, at that. Jinyoung skims through another page, before shaking his head, “The original supernatural hunters were created by witches to kill vampires… I don’t understand why one would specifically track down and murder covens? Nor how they have the power to do so?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out now.” With Jinyoung in tow, Mark heads toward the edge of the cemetery. The pair soon reach a small gazebo adorned with overgrown vines, where Youngjae and Jisung are sitting on the ground inside, herded around a large silver bowl, inside a tuft of dark hair and a special charm bracelet that belonged to Nayeon. Jisung holds a squirming black rat between his palms, while Youngjae proceeds to sharpen a silver dagger.

Mark turns back to Jinyoung, “We’re going to perform a spell to track whoever or whatever used dark magic to kill Nayeon.” The vampire nods in understanding, leaning against a pole supporting the top of the gazebo. Mark takes his place between the two witches before sending a white-faced Jisung a glance, “You okay? Or do you want me to do it?” Jisung immediately shoves the rat into his awaiting palms.

Mark takes the creature without a word, offering the youngest witch a soft glance. Once Jisung turns his head away, Mark quickly breaks the rat’s neck, internally wincing at the audible crackling of bones, and nods toward a waiting Youngjae. Youngjae slices open the belly of the rodent, causing warm blood to spill down Mark’s hands and into the silver bowl. Mark watches the bracelet and hair gradually bathe in the thick, red substance, before discarding the dead rat out of sight.

At a call of his name, Jisung returns to the triangle, appearing a bit sick, and joins his hands with Youngjae’s over the bowl while Mark cleans the remaining blood from his skin with a nearby handkerchief. Their clasped fingers immediately begin to glow, allowing both witches to finally begin the incantation:

“Inveniet hostium et tenebrae… Inveniet hostium et tenebrae…” Mark rises to stand beside Jinyoung as the two repeat the chant over and over again. However, his attention is stolen away at the loud, rather hateful call of his name. A sigh of annoyance slides from his lips at the sight of a fuming Minho storming toward the gazebo with a frantic Lia in tow. Mark bids Jinyoung a quick ‘be-right-back’ before hurrying over to the newcomers.

“You let that bloodsucking bastard onto our grounds again!?”

“I’m sorry, Mark! I tried to keep him distracted, but he saw our texts!” Mark waves away Lia’s worries and points her in the direction of the gazebo, leaving him alone with the red-faced, angry-browed witch.

Mark releases another sigh, “I know you’re upset—”

“Upset!? Oh, we’re way past that now…” Minho crosses his arms, “Not only do you completely ignore my warnings, but you go behind my fucking back!? Last I checked, I’m a part of this damn coven too.”

“I had no other choice, Minho. You made it very clear you weren’t on board with our plan—”

“And why should I be!?” He sneers, uncrossing his limbs to wave them at Mark in frustration. “When have the Primes ever done anything to deserve our allyship!? Much less our trust!? You of all people should understand that!”

“Until Nayeon’s killer is found, we are temporarily working with Jinyoung.” Mark pretends not to hear Minho’s last comment, choosing to hide his budding rage beneath a blank, emotionless frown. “He wants to help, okay? And I want to be able to sleep soundly at night knowing that my people are safe.”

“They’re not just your people… and just because you think you’re all high and mighty for calling the shots doesn’t give you the right to overrule everyone else!”

“Are you seriously still on this bullshit?...”

Back when the coven was first formed, and before Jisung joined the path down witchhood, Mark, Nayeon, Youngjae, Minho and Lia all came to a consensus that the coven needed a leader. Mark was voted as such by the majority, which he knew, never sat well with Minho.

The younger witch shakes his head, “I’m just saying that you can be a little out of tact with your emotions when it comes to situations like this—”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean!?” Mark hisses, unable to hold back the floodgates of his own impending temper. Minho buries his face in his palms, murmuring nonsense while pacing back and forth. He resembles a mad-man, is Mark’s main thought, before he slowly removes his hands and murmurs:

“I’m only trying to prevent a repeat of what happened last time.”

“I won’t let that happen.” Mark growls, “Things are different now. We’re stronger.”

“You say that now, until another one of our people ends up dead.”

Mark frantically shakes his head, “Fucking hell, Minho! I’m doing the best I can here!”

“If you were, then Nayeon would still be alive right now.”

Minho spares one last glance at Mark before spinning on his heel and taking off into the direction he originally came. Mark calls his name, once, then twice, but Minho doesn’t slow his pace. With a heavy heart, Mark follows the younger witch’s form until he disappears behind the gate of the cemetery, leaving behind an even heavier feeling in Mark’s chest.

“Mark?” He inhales a deep breath before peering over his shoulder at Jinyoung. Inside the vampire’s black irises, Mark almost swears he can see a spark of sympathy, but waves it off as a trick of the sunlight.

Jinyoung gestures toward the gazebo, “They found a trace.” No sooner had the syllables left his lips, Mark is already beelining for the decorative structure. He enters to find the three remaining witches deep in discussion.

“What did you find?” Mark’s wave of elated hope expels from his veins at the note of Youngjae’s wide eyes and pursed lips. He glances between Lia and Jisung, but only receives the same disturbed expressions. He shakes his head, “What is it?...”

“It’s worse than we thought, hyung.”

“What do you mean ‘worse’?”

“The spell didn’t trace to the hunter, or an object like we thought—” Youngjae pauses to take a breath, clutching Nayeon’s bloody bracelet in the palm of his hand like a life line. “The one who performed dark magic on Nayeon-noona was another witch…”

Mark’s eyebrows furrow, “But that doesn’t make any sense? If Nayeon was killed by a supernatural hunter, there’s no way they can also be a—” Before he can finish his thought, the puzzle pieces thundering inside his mind immediately click into place. His jaw drops, but not as much as his heart, “...unless we’re not dealing with just a hunter.”

“A supernatural hunter and a powerful, traitor witch.” Lia groans, carding a hand through her already messy strands. “And to think things couldn’t get any fucking worse.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Vampires. Park Jinyoung.

Those two things have been haunting the forefronts of your thoughts ever since you saw them scrawled so neatly across that yellowed page. You tried to search for more information, more elaboration, more anything, in Mayor Bhuwakul’s recounts, but that specific entry was the last, and the rest of the journal was as blank as a cloudless blue sky. Except you aren’t enthused by this particular emptiness, in fact… you’re completely fucking terrified.

It doesn’t make any sense. The diary was written almost two and a half centuries ago, so there is no possible way that Jinyoung, and his so called brother, can still be alive. But then again, it does make sense. If Jinyoung and Jaebeom are vampires—

What are you even saying!? It’s not possible!

You curse at the countless articles about the Twilight book series that come up in the search results, having dealt with this same issue since you took to the internet to find more research. There’s another thing—vampires are fictional, just like witches and werewolves and all those monsters that go bump in the night. All those creatures are just made up fairy tales to scare young children… but then why are you the one quivering in your boots?

“Mrs. (L/N)?” You nearly flinch at the sound of your name, frantically moving to close the cover of your laptop. Your tension immediately releases at the sight of one of your students standing over your desk with an expression of confusion, “Sorry if I interrupted—”

“No, no. It’s nothing important.” You quickly say before sending the boy a pointed look, “And what have we talked about? Mrs. (L/N) makes me feel way too old. Call me (Y/N), please Hyunjin.”

“Sorry, (Y/N). I keep forgetting.” Hyunjin smiles sheepishly.

You shake your head with a chuckle, “What can I do for you, kiddo?”

“I’m confused about this assignment Professor Park gave us yesterday.” You take the thick packet that Hyunjin offers, skimming through the many pages as he continues to explain, “I get that he wants us to analyze different elements of the excerpt, but I don’t get exactly how I’m supposed to do that��”

“How to analyze the story?”

“How I figure out the right stuff to analyze.”

“Well, the thing about literature is that there’s no such thing as the ‘right stuff’ to analyze.” You meet Hyunjin’s gaze again, tapping the tab of your pen against the front of his assignment with a shrug. “You could read a story and feel one thing, but then I could read the same story and feel something completely different, and the author who wrote the story in the first place could have created it with a different intent than what both you and I got.

“Think about it like… eating an apple.” You hold up the apple you brought for lunch, “You can just eat it how it is, or peel off the skin and just eat the flesh, or even cut it and up and put it into a pie. There’s no one right way to eat it—” Hyunjin intently watches as you place the fruit back on your desk. “—it’s the same concept in analyzing literature. As long as you find some sort of meaning beneath the words, you’ve done your job.”

“Thanks, (Y/N).” You return Hyunjin’s smile as you hand him back his assignment. He tucks the paper into his messenger bag before nodding at the stack of papers on the edge of your deck, “Prof has you over your head in grading again?...”

“If you think this is bad, you should have seen what I had over the weekend.”

“He takes advantage of you, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You guys all take advantage of me, and I’m not even your real professor.”

“Somedays I wish you were. I learn more from talking with you in five minutes than listening to Park’s ninety-minute long lectures.”

“Hate to tell you, you and your little entourage would get away with a hell of a lot less if I were in charge.” Your eyes shift toward the students lingering around the classroom, most either socializing or packing up some last minute supplies. You recognize Hyunjin’s group of friends waiting near the entrance, acknowledging their excited waves when they catch your gaze.

Hyunjin chuckles, his own gaze drifting down to the notebook laid open across the surface of your desk. His confused expression returns as he skims through your hastily written notes before you have the time to grab them from view, “Are you doing research on… vampires?”

“I-It’s for a, uh, a special project I’m working on for the university… about the town.”

“Moon Dye Bay does technically have a history of the supernatural—especially witches.” Hyunjin explains, “You know, if you’re looking for something, or someone specific, I would check out the archives in the Town Hall. They probably have a whole bunch of ancient stuff down there.”

Hyunjin’s advice sparks a multitude of new ideas within your brain: The archives probably date back to the beginning years of the town, meaning there has to be some account of residency in 1770. If you can find Jinyoung’s, or Jaebeom’s name, you’ll be one step closer to ending this ignorance… or one step closer to finding out a truth that could change your life forever.

“I—” You nod your head, “I might. Thanks, Hyunjin.”

“It’s the least I could do. I wouldn’t have passed this class last semester if it weren’t for you.”

A call of Hyunjin’s name snatches both the student’s and your attention. Hyunjin shouts a quick response back to his awaiting friends before offering you a sheepish smile, “I should get going before they come over here and drag me away, but thank you again, (Y/N).”

“Just make sure you get that assignment in on time, or it’s an automatic zero.”

Hyunjin throws both a radiant smile and a playful wink in your direction as he heads toward the exit, “See you next week, Ms. (L/N).”

“Call me that again and I’ll flunk your ass.” You shake your head and watch as Hyunjin, his friends and the remainder of the students filter out of the classroom, leaving you to your lonesome once again. With a heavy sigh, you bury your face in your palms, thumbing away the pain in your temples.

Even if you do manage to find answers, where are you supposed to go after the fact? If Jinyoung is a—is not human, then everything you’ve ever known and believed is just… gone. Turned into a dust like the ghost of a forest after a fire. If vampires are real, then what other monsters lurk in the shadows? What other monsters are here? In Moon Dye Bay?

...What kind of danger have you gotten yourself into?

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The taste of bourbon runs bitter along Jinyoung’s taste buds, only to travel smoothly down the length of his throat and settle warmly in the pit of his stomach. He lowers the crystal glass from his lips, licking away the remnants of alcohol that remain before gazing outside the large, rain-stained window. The silhouettes of foggy trees and foliage stare back, doing little to cure the racing of his thoughts.

A hunter and a witch working together to kill other witches… and to think that he had faced every type of enemy in the book.

Jinyoung has met thousands of witches over the years, some who were not too keen on working with others of their kind, but never one who actively goes around slaughtering other covens. It’s against the Balance of Nature for witches to murder witches. Then again, the practice of black magic is too… so why would a witch, who already has access to such power, strive to kill their own?... Less it be for more power. But even then, to steal another witch’s magic would require mass amounts of energy beyond energy.

And he’s only met one other witch who has been able to foster that much strength to do so.

Jinyoung releases a deep breath before taking another sip of his drink, welcoming the temporary calm it brings to his mind. He turns away from the window to head toward the desk in the corner of his bedroom while shrugging the suit jacket from his shoulders. After throwing the garment over the back of the chair and setting his cup down, Jinyoung unbuttons and rolls the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows, providing some much needed cool relief to his bare skin. He presses his palms against the surface of the desk, leaning forward to stretch the tension from his arms.

He’s not sure whether it’s because of the alcohol or the rain, but Jinyoung’s thoughts can’t help but shift to you for what seems like the millionth time in the past few days. Since your encounter a couple days prior, you always seem to make an appearance inside his head. It’s almost as if he can’t be rid of your face, your voice, your everything… not that he would ever want to. Especially since he made a pact to keep his distance—for your safety, and his sanity.

Jinyoung moves toward the bathroom while undoing his button up, ready to temporarily wash away the stress and concern of the crisis at hand, when his bedroom flies open with a loud crash. He barely has a second to process the entry before his body is shoved back against the wall, a pair of hands holding the collar of his now torn shirt and a pair of enraged eyes searing into his soul.

Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, “This was one of my favorite shirts, hyung.”

“You better have a good fucking excuse on why you’re hanging around with Tuan and his pathetic band of magicians?”

“Couldn’t you have asked without ruining my clothes?”

“Jinyoung…”

Jinyoung releases a sigh of exhaustion, quickly realizing that Jaebeom won’t unhand him without an answer.

“The coven is being targeted by a supernatural hunter and a witch. Their seer was killed last week.”

“So what? You suddenly care about a bunch of witches?”

“Mark and his coven are the reason we were allowed to remain in Moon Dye in the first place. If they die, do you really think the pack and the league will still let us stay?” Jinyoung shakes his head, carefully watching as Jaebeom paces toward the opposite end of his bedroom—his expression growing more and more infuriated. “Besides, I’m taking care of it.”

“You’re taking care of it? Really?” Jaebeom whirls around with a scoff, “Did it completely slip your mind that these are the same fuckers who tried to kill us to begin with? Tuan and his alpha wolf bitch?”

“I’m just ensuring our peaceful livelihood here, hyung.” Jinyoung stands his ground, calmly staring at his companion. “You may not care, and you may not like it, but frankly, I love this town, and I want to stay—it’s our home for goodness sake.”

“You’re playing with goddamn fire, Jinyoung. Do you really think they’ve let go of the fact that we killed—”

“For fucksake, Jaebeom!” Jaebeom’s expression falters at Jinyoung’s sudden outburst and lack of honorifics. The younger of the pair tugs at the roots of his scalp before heaving an audible sigh of exhaustion, “I’m too tired to fight with you. Please—just trust me when I say that I am taking care of it.”

Jaebeom shakes his head, “How many times have I told you not to fuck around with witch business? Do you remember what happened the last time you—?”

“I’m tired, hyung.” Jinyoung shrugs off Jaebeom’s starting-attempts-at-an-argument along with his torn shirt. He feels Jaebeom’s gaze following his near-to-bare form as he enters the bathroom, throwing one last comment over his shoulder, “And last I remember, you killed Jackson Wang. Not me.”

Jinyoung doesn’t spare another glance at Jaebeom’s expression and shuts the door, cursing the fact that he forgot to grab his bourbon.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Don’t worry about it, (Y/N).” Jihyo carefully maneuvers her belongings onto one arm, utilizing the other to open the front door with some amount of struggle. “Sana’s boss is making her work overtime too, so I’ll just hang out here with Momo and Mina tonight.”

“Yeah, I got her text.” Carefully shutting the obstacle with her foot, Jihyo continues deeper into the apartment, pausing every now and then to stabilize the phone on her shoulder. She manages to make it into the kitchen without any accident, heaving the Chinese take-out up on the countertop with a relieved sigh. “I shouldn’t be long. I just have to take care of some last minute stuff for Park.”

“Just do what you need to do.” Jihyo quickly adds, “And please, for my sake, take a goddamn Uber home.”

Your chuckle carries over the line, “You got it, Mom.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N). With my luck, you’ll land your ass in the hospital again.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Jihyo tosses her purse on a nearby table before running her fingers through her hair, offering a small smile to Momo who suddenly emerges from the living room. She nods, “See you in the morning then.”

“Yep. Night, babe.”

At your goodbye, Jihyo hangs up the call and deposits her phone beside her purse. She moves to unpack the bags as Momo approaches, throwing a sheepish grin toward the newcomer, “It looks like it’s just gonna be you, Mina and I tonight, so I hope you’re hungry.”

Momo hums, her gaze remaining on Jihyo as she goes about grabbing plates and utensils from various cupboards. Jihyo can’t help but shudder from the intensity of her hawk-like stare, but chooses to stay silent while laying out the food. Even then, her skin still continues to crawl, especially when Momo begins to mumble to herself.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that?” Jihyo turns at a particular murmur, tilting her head at her blonde companion. To Jihyo’s surprise, Momo doesn’t answer, but steps closer, practically caging Jihyo in the tiny kitchenette. Jihyo finds herself anxious at the lack of space. “Wh-What are you—?”

“You can see the tattoo.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Cause I think you do.”

Jihyo shakes her head, “It was honestly just a mis-misunderstanding—”

“Look again.”

“I really—”

“Look. Again.”

The rational part of Jihyo’s brain yells at her to flee from the scene, disliking the borderline sinister expression graced along Momo’s features. However, her curiosity seizes the remainder of her self-control:

She lowers her gaze to Momo’s right arm, finding the same dark, supposedly imaginary ink patterned in various elements: Jagged tree branches, illegible symbols, and compass needles pointing in an unknown direction.

“What do you see?”

“I-I don’t know.” Jihyo presses herself as close to the edge of the counter as she can, faltering beneath Momo’s still approaching form. “I see a tattoo, but-but that’s not possible—”

“Wrong.” She gasps at Momo’s harsh grip on her arm, “You can see it… because you’re just like me.”

“What are you even talking about? Momo, this is—”

“It’s just like I said,” Jihyo’s mouth snaps open as her companion releases her hand to poke the back of her hand, causing the inked needle to spin right there across her skin. She doesn’t know how it’s possible, but somewhere deep inside her gut—Jihyo knows everything is real.

“You’re a hunter too.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

There was once a time Jaebeom remembers where him and Jinyoung used to be close—a time where they used to be true brothers. The kind that were there for each other. The kind that fought side by side no matter the enemies who awaited on the other side. The kind that didn’t keep secrets from one another. Jaebeom would never admit it aloud, but sometimes he finds himself missing those days—missing Jinyoung.

A part of him knows he’s the reason for the distance that has wedged between them, but even so, Jaebeom is too pig-headed to willingly accept all the blame, more so since Jinyoung has burned his own fair share of bridges in their various lifetimes together. Some far worse than what Jaebeom has thought of doing.

Jaebeom never truly intends to hurt Jinyoung. He just gets so angry, and when Jaebeom is angry… he becomes very, very hungry.

And you just happen to be right there, walking through the doors of the Town Hall and into the greedy shadows of the night. The moonlight bathes across your skin, practically illuminating your body for his benefit. Jaebeom knows he shouldn’t—knows that Jinyoung may hate him forever—but just as with everything else, Jaebeom chooses not to care.

You’re being careful, he quickly notices, between the hesitant steps you take and the careful eye you keep over your shoulder. The knowledge only strengthens Jaebeom’s bloodlust. He can’t help but imagine how your blood will taste… Will it be sweet like honey? Or savory like a freshly-grilled piece of meat? His mouth waters in anticipation as he slinks closer and closer toward you. Like a predator rounding in on his prey.

Thanks to his inhuman speed and strength, it only takes Jaebeom seconds to immobilize and press you against the nearest secluded wall where even the brightest rays of the moon can’t reach. The scream you attempt to release is muffled beneath his palm, while his other hand busies itself with revealing the delectable skin of your throat. Your scent hits him like a pile of bricks, and it’s unlike anything he has ever experienced before. He grows frenzied, almost deranged by the fragrance, desperately craving more and more.

He easily counters your thrashes and squirms against his hold, practically suffocating your figure with his own. Feeling the thread bearing his self-control slowly splintering, Jaebeom parts his lips, runs his tongue across the pointed tips of his fangs and prepares to guzzle the pain away, when your voice slips into his ears:

“Don’t do this, please…”

He makes the mistake of meeting your gaze. All at once, Jaebeom can sense the tidal waves of your fear, your passion, your will to live just in the glittering rings of your eyes. It leaves him breathless, no longer controlled by his need to feed, and instead, floating amongst his own disarrayed thoughts and pent-up emotions that he only experiences when he chooses to embrace his humanity.

“Jaebeom…”

You know his name—

Jaebeom realizes at once he can’t do this—he can’t hurt you. Not when you’re looking at him with those eyes and speaking to him with that voice. No matter how intoxicating your aroma. He won’t hurt you.

Jaebeom grabs your chin with near-to-trembling fingers and leans closer until the tip of his nose barely grazes along yours. In a hushed, yet stern tone, he murmurs, “You’re going to walk home and forget any of this ever happened. You never saw me… Understand?”

“I—” He watches your eyes widen, “I understand.”

Jaebeom doesn’t stay to check the result of his compulsion, quickly stepping away from your body and dashing far, far away from that alleyway. He doesn’t stop even when he’s thousands of miles away from Moon Dye Bay, trying to escape this spell you cast over his mind. But no matter how much distance he covers, Jaebeom can’t outrun the lingering ghost of your gaze…

Jaebeom can’t outrun how, in that brief moment, you made him feel so completely human.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I just don’t get how someone could do something like this.” Mark nods in agreement at Youngjae’s statement, watching his younger counterpart take a sip of his luke-warm coffee from his perch behind the lectern. “I mean, why take all these innocent lives—witches or not?”

“Some people are just… fucked up, I guess.”

“I don’t believe that.” Youngjae shakes his head, thumbing thoughtfully at the arm of his mug. “There has to be a reason, hyung. People aren’t just—born evil.”

Deep down, Mark knows Youngjae is right, but he can’t find it in himself to reply, silently continuing to flip through the old spellbook in his own grasp. This particular text has been in his family for generations upon generations. It was given to him by his mother soon after his magic began to flourish—the last gift he received before her death.

Due to the Tuan ancestral bloodline’s specialization in spellcasting, this book contains almost every spell known to witch-kind. He’s used its contents to defeat threats in various situations—this time should be no different. At least, he hopes so.

“If we have any chance at winning this fight, our best bet would be to take out the witch first.” Mark carries the large book toward the table where Youngjae is sat, setting the pages out for both of them to see. “I’m thinking we can halt their magic flow somehow, so there’s no way them or their partner can touch us—”

“So like a halting spell? Or a disruption spell?”

Mark shakes his head, “A simple halting spell won’t work. Not if they’re practicing black magic.”

“But what if we could pull enough power of our own?” Youngjae inquires, “I mean, with you, me, Lia, Jisung and Minho, shouldn’t that be enough to overpower their source?”

“Not necessarily.” Mark sighs, “Black magic is… complicated, but powerful. Depending on what or who exactly our witch is drawing from, we could be easily killed—especially if that is what they’re aiming for.”

“Right. Have you… heard from Minho? Since earlier?”

“No.”

Youngjae hums at Mark’s haughty answer, watching silently as the older continues to flip through the giant book. Upon reaching a certain page, Mark halts and angles his findings to better show the younger witch.

“We may be able to link their dark magic to something, like an object or even something alive. It wouldn’t necessarily block it, but if we channel it elsewhere, it could at least give us enough time to incapacitate them?”

“Will Jinyoung be able to take on both the hunter and the witch?”

“I don’t know.” Mark’s teeth sink into his bottom lips, his thoughts feverishly racing at Youngjae’s observation. An idea pops into his mind—one that replenishes a forgotten ache in his heart. Casting away the sinking feeling in his gut, Mark says, “The pack… might be able to.”

“Hyung…” Youngjae offers a sympathetic look that makes Mark’s gut lurch, “I don’t know if that’s a good id—”

Youngjae’s voice is cut off by the sudden slam of the mausoleum door, opening to reveal a dark silhouette emerging from the black of night. With Youngjae at his side, Mark immediately rises at the intrusion, preparing for a possible fight, but quickly relaxes when he realizes the identity of the abrupt visitor:

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here—?”

“Save it!” Mark almost reels back at the amount of pure venom laced in your tone, growing more and more confused at the blend of animosity, desperation and what seems to be betrayal, written across your face. “You better have a good fucking excuse for lying to me all these goddamn months, Tuan!”

“What are you talking about? (Y/N)—?”

“I’m talking about the fact that Park Jinyoung and Im Jaebeom are fucking vampires!” Mark’s blood runs cold at your response. At your next words, though he can’t see himself, Mark knows his face flushed as white as a ghost:

“And you—you’re a witch, Mark.”

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rimaiahwrites · 4 years

Text

Best friend—

Part four

Erik said that he would text Israel and he kept his word, he had been texting her and They were really building a good friendship from talking on the phone late at night while her parents were asleep to texting through out the day. Erik was a escape for her from her family and he was fine with that.

He knew she needed a break from her family from time to time so if he could give her that for a couple hours a day he was going to do it. And she was the friend that he was missing in his life. He liked to hang out with her. She brought a little excitement to his life.

He knew they stressed her out, especially her father. She had opened up to him a bit about her life and the way she grow up, but not a lot since they were still getting to know each other. She didn't want to just dump that on him like that.

it was now 3:20 and she was on her way to her favorite cafe because she could literally feel her tummy eating itself. Her cousin jasmine was supposed to come with her but she had plans already, so she texted Erik to see if he could come sit with her. He wasn't busy like she thought he would be but she was happy that she was going to spend some time with him, to get to know him a little better.

Israel drove her own car so her parents wouldn't question her and she slightly regretted that- no that was a understatement, it was a huge mistake. Normally when she came to this cafe her cousin was with her and she was like her security guards from random, trusty niggas that she had no interest in. but since she was by herself men were flocking to her.

Specifically this one that she hated the most, Troy.

She was to shy to tell him to leave her alone and she knew it would be rude to just walk away so she just stood there listening to the man flirt with her and make inappropriate jokes that pretended she didn't get. She knew for a fact that jasmine would save her from this situation, it was a known fact that jasmine would cut a nigga dick off if they tried it with her best friend. Even though she would joke about her needing to let one of these random guys that came up to her take her virginity, it was all fun and games.

she would beat her ass if she let one of these guys Touch her without at least taking her to dinner- even that wasn't enough.

She didn't think these little boys were good enough for her little cousin.

"So why you always avoiding me babygirl? You know I been trying to break ya spine for months now So wassup?" He smirked looking her up and down with lustful eyes that made her uncomfortable, this whole conversation made her uncomfortable. Her mouth dropped slightly but she quickly picked it back up and ignored him by pretending to be getting a text knowing damn well her phone was dry as hell. "Oh so you can't hear me now?" She sigh and put her phone back into her pocket.

"Listen I like you- well I mean you- you seem like a nice guy but I'm not really looking for anyone to date at the moment but-" he snorted and stopped her with a finger pointing up. "I'm not looking for anyone to date ether I'm just trying to bust your pussy open then I'll bounce. You acting like you to good for a nigga or something."

"We- well I am T-to be honest, you're making me feel uncomfortable." Israel stammered to get her words out sounding like a child who was talking back to a parent, that was still low key scared as hell of them. The man open his mouth again but it seemed like his mouth was stuck open and his eyes were glued to whatever or whoever was behind her. She whipped her head around and thanked the loud up above to see Erik standing behind her.

"Sorry I'm late Princess." She was suddenly comfortable knowing Erik was there with her. Erik's eyes finally laid on the boy and troy jumped up from his seat. "Who's this nigga?" Erik asked rudely, almost offered that he was sitting in his seat. "I was just talking To her until you got here-

"Um no, Actually he was harassing me this whole time, he wouldn't leave me alone." Erik stepped closer to the boy and looked down at him, since he was much taller then him.

"Oh so you one of them creep ass niggas huh?"

the boy was practically shaking at this point. Erik grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him out of the booth, almost making him fall. "You want me to beat yo ass don't you," the boy shook his head frantically. "N-nah didn't mean to make her uncomfortable I was just talking to her, It wasn't even like that-" Erik snorted out a laugh. "Cut the bullshit and Get yo bitchass outta here, Before I beat yo ass." Erik hissed.

The boy jumped up from the ground and almost ran to the door, tripping over his own feet. Israel snorted out a laugh and quickly covered her mouth, watching until the boy was out of the cafe and down the street. Erik smiled at her and sat across from her in the booth. "Wow...I wasn't....expecting my afternoon to go in this decision but thank you for getting him out of my face."

"Nah it's coo' I like intimidating weak ass niggas, plus I could tell you really was uncomfortable from the moment I saw the look of your face." He chuckled but was dead serious. She smiled shyly slightly tapping her nails on the table as it got quiet between the two. Israel cleared her throat catching his attention. "So what you been here before" She asked picking up her menu to scan over it, her eyes laid on the blueberry bliss smoothie and a plan Turkey sandwich. "Yeah. This was my favorite place to come when I was about 15...they smoothies hit different." She giggled and agreed before ordering one, he ordered the same.

The waiter finally came back with their food and Israel wasted no time to take the biggest bite of her Turkey sandwich, stuff her mouth without even realizing it. Erik chuckled at her with his fist to his mouth. "Damn girl, you that hungry?" She swallowed before taking a another bite. Her head tilted to the right, "hmm?" She hummed questionably, with chubby cheeks. "You cute as hell," he mumbled to her grinning ear to ear. She was very Quick to get bashful and shy away from him once he said that. "Thank you..." she whispered now looking out of the window shyly. Erik brought his hand to her chin and turned her face towards him. His bottom lip was in between his teeth and his hand held a form grip. "Why you so bashful babygirl?" He whispered back mocking her, his voice deep and raspy. She shrugged.

"Why do you....do that?"

"Do what?" He asked Dropping His Hand from her chin to her hand, his thick fingers caressing her soft hand. She shivered slightly from the contact and almost died right then and there from the embarrassment that wash over her. He smirked and titled his head almost mockingly.

"You do that thing when you speak really softly and frown your eyebrows while titling your head, it's like you're trying to make me blush." Israel Gushed, feeling her cheeks get hot. Erik chuckled softly still holding her hand. Israel looked down at where their fingers connected and felt butterflies in her belly. She wanted to pull her hand away and eat her sandwich to distract her from the feeling in her stomach because she didn't like it, she didn't want to catch a crush on a man that probably had no interest in her- but her kept her dainty hand in his, tightening the grip on his hand.

"I don't know how to feel about it..." she laughed it off awkwardly, she said out loud not really meaning to but it was out in the open now. His eyebrows raised and his hand slowly began to let hers go. "My bad ma, I ain't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said and let her hand go completely without a second thought, trying to make her feel bad and sure enough Israel heart dropped a little and guilt began to creep in, he saw it in the way her face dropped to disappoint. He almost laughed, playing with this girl's emotions were fun to him for some reason. One moment he was making her blush the next he was embarrassing her, it was like a little game he liked to play when he was around her just for the sake of it.

"I...I wasn't uncomfortable I was just saying-....nevermind." She mumbled and ate her sandwiche some more trying to not make a awkward situation more awkward...well for her it was awkward, Erik was loving it. Not awkward for him at all.

He sipped on his smoothie and kept his eyes glued to her movements, sandwich. Smoothie, Then Repeat. After she was done eating she just sat and stared at the table tapping her nails on it.

He stared at her waiting for her to look him in the eyes but that never came and honestly he didn't really expected it to, being how shy he knew she could get.

"You act different when you on the phone and when you talking to me in person, why is that?" He asked. She shrugged and bite her lip. When Erik didn't move his eyes from her, she sighed.

"I don't know, I guess because I feel like I'm not really there with you when I'm on the phone and if it gets awkward I can hang up but in person I just have to deal with it... I hate being so awkward, I feel like I annoy people when I'm like this." She mumbled the last part, like she was embarrassed. Erik hummed taking a another sip of his smoothie. He leaned back in his seat his eyes starring intensely into her. She let a shaky breath, flicking her eyes at him because avoiding them once again.

"Your shyness isn't annoying to me, it's kind of refreshing to be around someone so innocent." He assured her. Tapping her on the nose with his finger. She smiled brightly, feeling her anxiety slightly fade a bit.

Erik could see that she clearly had anxiety that she didn't know about and dealt with overthinking little things, hue the reason why she felt like she was a burden to people. Probably from childhood trauma, Erik would know since he had also dealt with issues that was deep rooted from childhood trauma.

"Well...tell me about you...what are some of your hubby's?" Erik snorted jokily at the random question...but now that he thought about it he didn't think he had any. Everything he did revolved around his future, and plans to get where he wanted to be. He didn't have any extra time to have 'hobby's' so he simply replied-

I don't have any."

"You don't have Any? None at all?" He shook his head smiling at her. "Does fucking count?" He asked in a hushed voice so the people behind him in the other booth didn't hear. Israel choked on her smoothie a bit from whipping her mouth with a napkin.

"No, it doesn't count as a hobby- She hissed trying not to laugh. Erik cracked a smile. -nasty ass." She added smirking slightly. He chuckled silently, shoulders bouncing.

"Well...Nah I don't, I don't got the time anymore." He said picking up his phone to check the time. Israel hummed, with a teasingly smirk on her face.

"Doing what? Fucking?" She asked sarcastically, throwing her strew paper at him as he choked out a loud laugh.

"Actually I do more then just fuck, Israel. I have PhD in Engineering and an MBA from MIT, and teach the youth." He said in a matter-of-fact tone. Leaving out the navy...

Israel was more then impressed by Erik, and it showed on her face. Her face lit up when she heard him mention the youth. It was a passion and a dream job of hers to work with children, especially the youth of the black community. She didn't know what exactly she wanted to do in the near future but she knew it was definitely going to revolve around children.

"Wow...I'm very impressed, I already took you as a smart guy but graduating from M.I.T with PhD and an MBA? you a damn genius! Not to mention you work with children also..." she smiled brightly. Erik was literally a dream man for her. If he would asked her to marry her she would've said yes in a heart beat.

"Thanks princess, you must love kids. I saw the way your eyes lit up even more when I brought them up." Erik said studying her closely. Which wasn't that hard, as she began to open up bit by bit.

"I do! I wanna work with kids but I'm just sure what exactly I would want to do yet, but I know I want to help the youth of the black community- she gushed. Her eyes full of light as she spoke about children. - black children are just the sweetest most innocent being In the world, I just feel the need to protect them from any harm ya know? I know what it's like to feel alone and unwanted as a little black girl growing up with nothing but light skin cousins with so called 'good hair' and not getting any attention. and that's the last thing I want for other little black girls or even little black boys that think they're not good enough." She gave erik a sadden smile, as she picked at the left over Turkey sandwich.

"It's sad these black motherfuckers still programmed and brainwashed as fuck and it's 2017...niggas will bash a dark-skin girl but be the same skin complexion, talk badly about a light skin niggas then turn around and praise a white women and end up making a light skin nigga." Erik rolled his eyes shaking his head. Almost ashamed of his people.

Erik found all of his people beautiful. Dark skin, brown skin, light skin. It was all black, it was all the same history. All the same ancestors. All the same experiences.

Israel grinned. It was almost surprising that he agreed with her from the count less arguments she has had with her brothers and male cousins about the topic.

After two hours of laughter and sharing funny story about random shit, Israel and Erik actually say they were friends. It wasn't hard for them to get along or talk once Erik broke the ice with Israel.

She had finally fully broke out of her shell and Erik soon realized that this girl was full of brightness and energy. The good energy that he needed in his dark life.

For the first time in a long time he actually took time out to be himself, the old him his friends missed. The Erik before he let the darkness of the world take over his mind, spirit and soul.

"I can't believe you haven't been to the beach in five years! We're in California that all we do here!" She said with a playful look of disbelief on her face.

"Girl didn't I tell you I don't have time to do shit most of the time? I got more important shit to do then go lay out in sun." He chuckled shaking his head.

"Erik you keep saying you don't have time to do anything But you have time to hang out with me?" She asked softly cracking her head to the right. Smirking cockily. Erik snorted before putting his phone back in his pocket.

"Actually I don't, I gotta go now ma." He stood leaning on his Palms towards her face. His eyes gazing up and down her smooth face. Her breath hitched in her throat as she saw him began to lean in.

"Ion get a goodbye kiss from you princess?" He asked, his lips faintly brushing over hers. She almost broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Damn you really don't remember what a friendship is huh??" She whispered, looking him in the eyes with a daring look. She leaned away from his face and pushed his face away. With a high smooth, "bye bye Erik." While waving him off, as he gave her a look of annoyance, only making her giggling.

———

Two weeks later Erik found himself trying to convince her to sneak out for him but she was a bit hesitant since all her brothers plus her dad was home. "Iz, look you'll be back before the sun comes back up, I promise." He stressed.

"Yeah that's what you said last time and I almost got caught-"

"Well that won't happen again, you have to come because I'm outside." He chuckled. Israel hopped up from her bed and went over to her window, and sure enough there his hard headed ass was. Parked in her drove away in one of his expensive sports cars. Israel rolled her eyes and hang up on him without warning. Just giving up on trying to stay in bed and go back to sleep.

Israel tipped toed to the door in nothing but her oversized soft pink t-shirt and her white bunny slippers. She opened the door as slow as she could and it still creeped. She cringed at the loud sound and stopped her Motion, then huff out a breath once she realized nobody was gonna come and see what the noise was. She slipped through the door and skipped to the all black car with the tinted windows. She opened the door and grinned at the giant ass man that sat right in front of her smirking.

"You so ugly why you recording me?" She giggled grabbing his phone out of his hand to take pictures. "Cuz you pretty as hell why else? Smart ass." She posed for the picture with a big white smile on her face and gave him back the phone.

"Aww thank you, now make that your wallpaper." She said batting her eyelashes sweetly at him. "Your already my wallpaper..." Erik smile picking up the phone to show her the picture of her with the nerdy Snapchat flitter and a pout placed on her lips. It was a picture that she had sent to him the other week when she got bored. She could've swear Her heart swilled ten sizes bigger. She placed her hand over her chest, poking her lip out. "That's really sweet...." she cooed pinching his Dempled cheek. He smacked her hand away playfully turning his head towards the window trying to hide his blush, But he knew she still saw.

"Bro I'm about to leave yo' ass here if you keep treating me like a little boy." She rolled her eyes and put her seatbelt on, slumping into the cool White leather seat comfortably. "You wouldn't do that to me plus I wanted to stay home remember?" He raised his eyebrow before smirking. "Mm. I guess you right, you fun to hang out with or whatever." She dusted off her shoulder cockily and licked her lips dramatically like a nigga that know they was the shit. "I know." She said in a fake deep voice that made Erik laugh.

"You a fucking goof ball, but anyway what you want to do?" She thought for a second before a idea popped up in her head. "Let's go to the movies." She squealed excitedly.

"Can I drive too?" He shrugged his shoulders, switching seats with her. "You better not scratch my shit ether." He hissed pointing his finger in her face, but nonetheless let her drive to the 30 minutes it took to get where she wanted to go to.

They pulled up to the movie theater and they both hoped out. "Do you even know what you want to go see?" Erik asked as he watched Israel scratch her head while looking at the movie posters. "Yeah that!" She said pointing to a random poster.

"50 shades of gray?" He said with a scrunched up face. "Ohh Yeah let's see, he fine." Israel said wigging her eyebrows at mr. gray.

"Ion wanna see no skinny thin haired white bitch get slapped on the ass with a horse whip for a two hours straight, Nah." Israel rolled her eyes and pulled him towards the Candy and popcorn stand in the front. Erik dragged his feet, not wanting to watch this movie at all. The whole plot just seems like it was for horny 15-year-old girls. a cheesy teeny flick.

Israel got their popcorn and candy and headed to the Theater.

"Two tickets for 50 shade of gray please." Her soft voice rang out to the young boy, that seemed about her age. His eyes flicked to her, and immediately his bottom lip was sucked into his mouth. He grinned at her and winked as he handed the tickets to her. "Enjoy the movie." Israel blushed and smiled back at him, keeping eye contact while reaching for the tickets. Erik Leaned towards Israel, wrapping his left arm around her shoulders, pulling her back into his chest. Not liking the way he was looking at her. He couldn't help it, he was a jealous man. even if she wasn't his girl, Even if he had only known her for three weeks.

He didn't like that shit.

He snatch the tickets out of the boy's hand, and his deep voice nearly scared the boy. "we will." Erik said pulling Israel into the dark hallway. Israel glanced at him suspiciously, with a smirk on her lips. Before snorting out a laugh.

Erik's face snapped towards her, eyebrows raised. "What?" He said acting as if he didn't know what was she talking about.

She tapped his arm that was still around her shoulders and neck. "you can let go now, I think he got the point." She said cockily. With a grin on her face. Erik slightly pulled away from her, but was still standing close enough that she could feel his hot minty breath on her neck.

"My bad ma, he gave off a weird vibe." Erik mumbled, even though he didn't really get a weird vibe from him. He just didn't want Israel know he was a bit too over protective when it came to his Women. He knew that was one of his toxic traits, but he couldn't help it. It just made his blood boil seeing a another man having his eyes on the woman he was with. He found it disrespectful. If you see him right behind her why flirt with her? Even if you don't know for sure, 9 times outta 10 if you see a man out with a girl at the movie Theater and it's only the two of them, they're on a date.

But niggas didn't give a fuck, and Erik couldn't be to mad because he knew that he had stolen some niggas bitches in the past.

"Really? Cuz I kinda got big dick Energy, he was fine and charming too." Israel said trying to hold in a laugh, whiles watching his face. Erik didn't know if he wanted to get mad or be confused. Because one: Israel did talk like this and two: why the fuck was she telling him this.

Erik pulled away from her with a Quickness. "Big dick energy? All the nigga said was enjoy the movie....- he said now walking ahead of her to find their seats. Israel bit her tongue before she blow her cover from laughing. She was going to try and mess with him all night.

-Talking bout' big dick energy the fuck she ain't even had dick before so how she know about..." he stopped once he realized he was talking out loud and she was now on the side of him, eyebrows raised with amused look on her face. "Oh? I don't know about big dick energy cuz I ain't never had dick, how you know that? Cuz if I remember correctly I was just getting dicked down yesterday by my friend trey...he not only have big dick energy but also a big dick, nice long and thick. I could feel it all the way in my guts." She whispers to him, her soft lips just faintly brushing over the shell of his ear.

Erik grunted, plopping down on his seat next to her. He didn't know if he wanted to be mad that she just told him someone else was in her guts or turned on by the softness of her voice.

Israel laughed loudly, making the people in front of them turn their heads towards her, annoyed. Only making her laugh harder, tears were filling her eyes.

She tried to hide her face in Erik's arm but he Shrugged her off, making her snap her head back. "Are you mad?" She whispered when the movie started.

"Nah," was all he said, eyes still on the screen. Israel smacked her lips and side-eyed him. "Baby..." she mumbled, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth. The vibe was ruined.

The whole movie Erik didn't speak or even look at Israel. And nether did Israel. Two could play at this game. This very childish stupid game. As they were walking out Israel was stopped by the ticket boy. He was brown skin and skinny. White teeth, and slam but built nicely, fit arms. About 5'10. And His red work shirt and thin gold chin went great against his bronzy skin.

"aye wait," he yelled at her, jogging over to her. With a corny ass smile on his face. Israel eyes flickering to Erik then back to the boys, a cocky smile planted on her face.

Erik huffed and stuffed his hands in his front pocket, while he watched the corny ass little boy spit game. "I'm Tyler, and I was wondering if I could have your number? You just fine as hell ma why haven't I seen you around here?" Israel and Erik both cringed at the weak pick up but Israel acted like she was flattered just to get under Erik's skin.

"I'm Israel and I don't really...watch movies that much? but yeah you can have my number." She said taking his phone trying to hurry and type her number in so she could get herself out of this awkward Situation. She handed him his phone and he stuffed it in his pocket. "Text me, for real don't leave me hanging."

"Ok I will, maybe we could hang out some time to? Maybe your place? I live with my parents." She suggested eyes never leaving the boy's. He lick his lips nodding his head softly. "Alright bet, I'll send you my address just hit me when you ready." She nodded and they just stood there staring at each other. And Erik just stood behind Israel, starring at them, starring at each other.

"Come on princess." Erik hiss, after getting tired of looking at their dumbasses. Erik was shocked with Israel behavior, she was never this confident or comfortable with him. So why was she with this random nigga she just met?

He pulled her by her waist to the door, and to the car. He opened the car door for her and waited for her to get in. "Whatcha going girl, Get the fuck in." He said harshly trying to push her a little. But all she did was cross her Arms and pout like a Toddler when you tell them they can't have something.

"Israel, get in the damn car I ain't got time for this childish shit- she laughed sarcastically. "Oh so I'm the one acting childish? You were just in there huffing and puffing like a teenaged girl- "so like you?" He cut her off. She shut the car door, and leaned against it. She was acting stubborn as fuck, and Erik was being impatient.

"You're acting like child -"

"Ok and? your acting like a bitch so," she mumbled out before she could stop herself. She knew she fucked up when Erik just stood there blinking like he couldn't believe what she was saying. "I'm acting like a what?" He asked coming closer to her. She bit her lip and look out into the distance, trying to ignore him. But he was so big that he covered her view of the other cars in the parking lot.

Erik gripped her Jew and snapped her face to his, Shocking her bit. It wasn't a joke anymore. He was actually mad and it scared her. This was the first he has even touched her so aggressively.

His eyes were hard and his whole demeanor was Intimidating. His shoulders were squared like he was ready to fight.

"What you just called me? Say it, say it again." He dared her.

Maybe she went to far with the joke. She thought to herself.

She gulped and crossed her arms trying to look unbothered. She opened her mouth and once again she was speaking without realizing what she was saying- I call you a bitc-" she try to spit out but Erik was quick with his Motions, and Israel found herself slammed against the car door with Erik thick hands around her neck. "You most really think I won't fuck your tiny ass up," his hissed trying to control himself a little bit. She gasped softly trying to breath with his hands tightened around her throat. "E-Erik i-"

"Don't you ever fix your lips to call me a bitch again, I don't disrespect you so don't disrespect me, now get your ass in the car. NOW." He raised his voice a tiny bit, but he didn't have to. All he did was put a little bass in his voice and she was shaking in her boots.

He let her go and she was in the car and buckled up in the matter of seconds.

He stormed over to his side of the car and got in. He looked over to Israel and her head was down and sniffles were coming from her, and Erik heart dropped a bit. He tried to ignore her but he saw the tears running down her face and onto her shirt and he finally cracked and thought that Maybe he was to aggressive with her.

"Izzy?" He called softly making her look up. Her eyes were red and puffy and her nose was runny. Her infamous pout was planted on her lips and as bad as Erik felt he thought she looked adorable.

"Princess I didn't mean to make you cry and I'm sorry but you can't just be saying shit like that to people-" she crossed her arms and turn her head to the window.

"I wanna go home." Was all she said.

"So you mad at me now ma?" She nodded her head, keeping her head on the window. Erik rolled his eyes and started the car.

The whole car ride Israel didn't speak or even look at Erik once. He even when he tried to get her to speak she didn't budge.

They were now on the side of her house and before she could get the door open, Erik grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her to his chest in a tight embrace. Her face settling the crack of his neck. It was warm and smelled like Cologne, it was so soothing that Israel almost forgot why she was mad.

"Stop being a brat Izzy, fore' I spank ya little ass, I said I was sorry..." he mumbled against her cheek before pulling her away from his neck.

"You forgive me?" He asked, his face so close that to hers that she could feel his breath on her lips. Her breathing quicken and Her bottom lip trembled from waning him to connect their lips. The feel of them still fresh in her memory, soft, warm and moist.

Her thighs clenched as he finally pulled her closer and smashed his lips against hers.

The moan she had been holding in since out side of the Theater was finally released.

She hated to say that she was extremely turn on from him telling her want to do but she reacted in the only way she knew how and that was catching a attitude. She would've have thought in a million years being demanded would be a turn on for her.

His lips controlled and guided her. His slick tongue fighting with her. The taste of each other mixing in their mouths.

It all had a puddle building up in Israel's Lace pink panties.

Her body was getting hot and Erik could feel the heat from her pussy on his knee. He wanted to touch her so bad, he wanted to finger fuck her badly but he held himself back once again.

He pulled back before it could go any further. He knew he wasn't going to be able to hold out any longer if he didn't. He leaned her back into her seat keeping his face close to her acting as if he was gonna kiss her again but instead he opened her door.

She huffed and went to leave out the door only to be yanked back in.

"Cut that brat shit out Izzy, imma see you again in a little bit princess. Promise." He spoke softly. pecking her on the lips a few more time with a bite of her bottom lip, before sending her on her way.

Once he made sure she made it inside the house safely, it tugged at his heart. She was his perfect distraction, not having to think about his destiny or his traumatic past for a couple of hours was pure bliss.

She was his bliss.

36 notes · View notes

spacemamaa · 3 years

Note

hi ate jaleen! i totally agree with everything you said esp the part abt the yt readers. i find it interesting how a lot of ppl have their own understandings abt TFs and i've seen a lot of them talk abt "physical sensations" like you did. i'd wondered myself if the guy i've dealt with in the past was actually a TF. tbh i never experienced the physical sensations you've mentioned but i did very much feel a weird sense of familiarity with him and never in my entire life as an introvert had i ever been that comfortable just being myself with someone as i was immediately with him. other than that, my heart and stomach would hurt so bad whenever i feel anxious abt anything that has to do with him.

i only started learning about spirituality and the term TF after we had a falling-out. we first met at uni when we shared the same class. we didn't have an instant connection bc at the time i was into someone else and we were just group mates for our lab activities so we didn't rlly talk much. it was only after abt a year or so when we shared another few classes (for the 3rd time) that we became friends. i used to hate myself a lot and suffered from anxiety and depression to the point that i would physically hurt myself. he was the first person who taught me how to love myself and introduced me to LOA and all that. basically, he was like the catalyst to my healing journey which only began after we had our first falling-out. it's unbelievable how one night i was just bawling my eyes out and begging for everything to stop hurting—i was so desperate for a change bc i was beyond exhausted from a lot of things + i couldn't bear the physical symptoms i felt when we weren't okay. and then, as if a switch had been flipped, i became a totally, inexpicably, different person just from reading a few lines from a self-help book i discovered that taught abt spirituality. a couple of weeks later, him and i were back to being friends. i decided to stay for a while (even when it hurt) bc i knew he needed someone who understood him but i promised myself that i would leave the second i was certain he didn't need me anymore. my journey to self-love continued, however, it did slow down. when he hurt me again for the last time i could endure, i finally cut him off. i knew we both needed to work on ourselves alone, esp him. he could act like a total dick sometimes lmao but, in the end, he owned up to his crap and understood why i had to go. we genuinely wanted the best for each other.

i honestly stopped caring abt labels a long time ago. i don't think labeling our connection will change how much i already love him unconditionally and beyond i should be allowed to and i know he loves(/d) me too (maybe just not in the same way tho he did tell me he was into me). everything you said abt the signs to look out for resonated with me (except for the physical sensations you mentioned)—the telepathy thing, mirroring, repeating numbers, runner and chaser dynamic (for a short period of time) and all that were there. it wasn't until we had a falling-out for the second time that i was able to focus on myself without any distraction. i'm embracing and becoming more and more of my true self each day and i've faced my childhood traumas/demons/issues and have even learned to forgive myself and others. it's incredible how it's like i transformed into a completely different person from who i was before meeting him and yet somehow i wonder maybe it's all just a coincidence? maybe the reason why i'm getting synchronicities is bc i started attracting them when i became aware of them? i certainly doubt i'd be who i am today if i hadn't met him and i'm curious to know whether a "karmic" partner can trigger spiritual awakening too. despite the ridiculous amt of love i still have for him, i don't exactly like him—at least not the person i left—and i love myself more. i low-key don't like the idea of him being my TF but at the same time if i actually have one and were to meet one in this lifetime, i hope it's already him bc ain't no way i'm going through that much hell again lmao i only want the very best for me bc i know i deserve the world the same way everyone does.

anw thank you sm for answering my prev ask and if you've read all of that!!! 😂 you're one of the few ppl whose opinions i genuinely respect a lot and enjoy listening to. i rlly admire your hard work and i hope you keep doing what you love doing! 🤍🤍🤍

((i'm currently broke so i can only watch your ads on yt as much as i can in return (at least for now) i hope that's okay. 😭😭😭))

Aww!! Thank you so much for supporting me. it is definitely not necessary for you to purchase a reading to support me. Either way I appreciate you for tuning in and even asking these questions. 🤧💘

I forgot say that there are fake TFs, too! Idk if it’s a test run or something, but it definitely is a thing from my experience, so I have become wary of labeling my experiences as such! That’s why I tell people not to get sucked into these things or to obsess.

I wish you luck on your journey and your person. :3 No matter what, it’s a fulfilling experience that is absolutely necessary for growth. ✨

#ask #anon ask

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spneveryseason · 3 years

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Okaaayy thank u!! I’ve been wanting to talk about this with someone 😁 I’ll tell you my opinions, please let me know if you think I’m too off or w/e. Sorry this is so long!

First, about Amelia and the "gap year": I thought Sam’s reaction to s7 finale was just bad writing, but now I think it’s interesting that he flipped out and drove until he ran over a dog and had an emotional breakdown over it. I’m sure Sam is no stranger to roadkill, so his reaction kinda struck me... But I really like the theme of Ame and Sam licking each other’s wounds, and Riot the dog being a symbol of that attempt at taking responsibility for a stray after you run them over emotionally, but... the thing is… the thing that ran Ame and Sam over were not each other; but the sudden loss of their companions…

I also like/think it’s very sad that Sam is so sober and honest about that relationship; he meets Don and he immediately accepts things are over, like deep down he always knew it was temporary. The first time Sam ran from his family he planned it, ended up in a trailer with Bones and some pizza, second time he planned it, went to Stanford on full scholarship; this time he just got the car and drove and didn’t try very hard… I was a little shocked that the writers apparently forgot about Riot the dog, we have no idea what happened to that Good Boy so far, but I also think that’s so symbolic of what Sam went through. None of it was real. S7 finale was not a reset and not an ending, there was no closure at all, Sam was never going to live in a house with a partner and a dog, and it just seems like he knew it. That’s why I also really liked/was devastated by that scene where he sleeps with Amelia again and she’s like “talk to me” and he’s just brooding n says “do you want me to say it was great? A mistake?”, bc he’s already Gone. He knows he’s either gonna hit the road or go back to Dean, but actually cutting ties and building a life with Amelia is impossible. Riot disappears lmao! I HC that Ame gave him away too tbh. I love that her father calls Sam a Fixer Upper, implying he’s trying to fix Ame up, and then a couple hours later he’s like, Amelia he’s a mess!!

Second: This is a Sam blog, but some thoughts on Dean: I’m thinking about how hard he runs away from having to apologize for anything he does ever; he blames Sam and throws a lot of crap on him for going blip while he was in Purgatory, and Sam just takes it? When they make up Dean says, “okay, I understand now that you weren’t just partying, I understand Amelia meant something to you” and it’s like dgvbhdsnjsd Dean that’s not the issue… Sam had a clean breakup and closure with Amelia, he’s not mourning the relationship he had with her, he’s mourning YOUR relationship with his falling 2 pieces because you keep lying and guilt-tripping and manipulating him… But IMO Dean knows, that’s why he “breaks up” with Benny. I think deep down it’s just an emotionally comfortable space to keep the relationship in terms of “I invalidate you so you strive harder for me and then I validate you as a reward” - I don’t mean this in a malicious way, Dean has as many self-worth issues as Sam has, which I think is why he’s desperate to call the shots on who’s family, who’s ok to mourn(, who rides SHOTGUN IN THE IMPALA lmao that episode with the looney tunes was so much)… Like, I think so far this has been the most 100% resigned I’ve ever seen Sam act towards being the Winchester he’s supposed to be (which is also why that episode with Henry Winchester screaming LEGACY at them tickled me a little, but in a bad way), and Dean keeps acting SUPER offended nonetheless... IMO it’s consistent with Dean feeling more in control when he can dangle the carrot stick of validating Sam in front of him… Because he’s really that desperate. I don’t think he seriously ever considered leaving Sam behind either. Even when he’s possessed by the angry specter, he’s more concerned about calling Sam out. He doesn’t say “I’m angry because I have to stick with you”, he says “I’m angry because you let me down” (as he perceives it)

IMO, that gets dealt with in the first trial episode when Dean is like “aaah my dream is me dying so you get the american dream life” was heartwarming, but also a little 😬😬 bc it really drove home to me that Dean knows his validation matters. Sam is a 30yo 6.4ft man and Dean gives him his blessing to be a Normie and not die heroically with him. But Sam NEVER asked Dean to sacrifice himself, this is a pattern that keeps repeating since early seasons. Sam wants a brother, not a sacrifice. Sam doesn’t (usually) want to be either at Dean’s pedestal or in Dean’s trashcan lmao. Dean has a hard time grasping that, I think because he doesn't want to grasp it, cause then he loses emotional leverage (and also he grew up living like that with John, I think). But that’s why the ending of that episode was soooo great when Sam is like “I see a light at the end of the tunnel, please let me show you!” Sounds like he really wants Dean BY HIS SIDE, on the same level.

I know some spoilers, like the trials are fake and heaven gets Wrecked at the end, but I’m still curious to see how this will develop! And I think rewatching 15.20* after this will be interesting, too, because I thiiink it’s a mirror of this situation (Dean sacrifices himself so Sam can have a life) but instead of dictating to Sam what’s going to happen, he asks SAM to validate him, to tell him it’s okay. Ooohh my god I hate those brothers 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 Stupid Winchestersss 😭😭

* though this definitely convinced me I have to watch all the seasons I skipped, so it will take a while to get there hahaha sob

#s8 anon #submitted to me #submission

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midwestmess94 · 3 years

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Queer Mental Health: A June Discussion

It is Day 2 of PRIDE month. Major corporations have already changed their logos to the rainbow flag, the circuit gays are out on the beaches in their speedos, posting thirst traps on Instagram, the Ru Girls are teasing their wigs and stoning their body suits for the plethora of gigs they have coming up, PRIDE celebration planning is underway if the event has not already happened. It is the gayest time of the year.

I feel that, while we are drinking our vodka sprites with a splash of cran (and PBR ((yes, I am a gay who drinks cheap beer. Who gonna check me boo?))), we need to talk about queer mental health.

I feel that this is a topic we shyly talk about. After years of being viewed as outcasts and weirdos, I feel that we sometimes get scared to talk about the thoughts in our head. We’ve been told being ourselves was such a problem that the stigmatism behind mental health bogs us down. We don’t really talk about going to see therapists, or crying for reasons we don’t understand, or the on-going battle of what our bodies look like.

Every morning I wake up at 2am to go to work. I work until 12:30 p.m. Then, I come home and sit on my couch and just aimlessly watch Netflix until I have to repeat the process. I do that Friday-Tuesday. On Wednesdays and Thursdays, I just sit around my house and watch more tv.

I love my job. I’ve had amazing opportunities in my career and I’m thankful for the great people I’ve met, who’ve helped me. I’ve truly grown from those experiences.

I hate leaving work. It’s the most socialization that I get outside of my house. I sit and battle my anxiety and depression at home by myself. Because of my weird schedule, I don’t get to see people much. My friends try to come out but they work normal hours so they can’t really do anything on my days off. On Wednesdays, I go to the local gay bar and play bingo by myself. It’s quite sad but I made friends with the bartender, who has had to save me from a couple rough days.

---- PRO TIP: Never have your bartender drive you home. You then will live with a bunch of regret of making a pseudo-stranger see you in your worst----

Everyday, I wake up before dawn and get in the shower. My first thought when I wake up is “what will I fuck up today?” Then, I think about what I have to do for the day. Through that, I debate going to the gym after work and I usually let my inner saboteur win the argument. I always convince myself: what is the point? I never have the motivation to stick with it. It would just be a waste of time and all I want to do is lay on the couch. At some point in the day, my anxiety kicks in. It is usually around the time I check my bank account. This is where my anxiety convinces me that I am a fuck up. Then, I look up the number to my therapist because I feel like that might help. Well, my anxiety, who I’ve named Chad, tells me that it won’t help because it never does. I just feel like I want to escape my anxiety and that it will go away. Unfortunately, it never does. You can’t escape your brain and your feelings. Then, I realize I’m spiraling. I think about texting my friends about my issues but I haven’t known them that long since I’ve known them for under a year. I can’t really talk to them about my issues because it’s also robbing them of their time. It’s not fair to constantly seek help when you are probably just dealing with the same repetitive shit. I get afraid that I’ll just scare them away because of the issues I’ve dealt with since I was 16. My anxiety drives me to feel like I’m just a thorn in everyone’s side. It’s bad to the point that I repetitively apologize to everyone for basically existing. There are days where I just lay in bed and scroll through social media, wishing I was someone else because I let myself believe I can’t change to be the person I want to be. I look in the mirror and really hate the social decisions I’ve been making in the last year. I’ve been getting super anxious about the things I’ve said to people when I’m drunk. I get anxious about DMing people I’ve met because I think they’ll think I have feelings for them when in reality I just want to be sociable. My depression comes in waves on top of this. I constantly think about how I’ve made awful financial decisions in my early 20s and now I’m paying for it in my late 20s. I’m living with family at the age of 27 and I didn’t plan on that for myself. I see what people are doing on social media. I know people never post their worst but it makes me feel like I’m doing my absolute worst. It’s not fair of me to do that to myself but also I’d like to formally introduce everyone to Chad, my anxiety and Darryl, my depression.

I then think that my friends, the very few I have in Florida, think that I’m just too much and only deal with me because we end up in the same social situations. Want to know why? Because I’m everything that would annoy me as a person. I wish I wasn’t but I am. I know it is that whole conversation of working on yourself but this is happening to me right now. Not the end goal of working on yourself. Stop fucking telling people they need to work on themselves. Someone going through something probably knows that but this is happening in the now. Dismissing their shit and saying it’ll be better down the road is the fucking worst thing ever.

Then, I’m gay on top of all of this. Being gay is great but unconventionally hard. People want to tokenize you. They want to put you in a box and say you should be this and not that. I have gotten, specifically from my fraternity brothers in college, “you are cool but just like tone it down dude.” The first time I heard that was in reference to me posting a picture kissing a boy’s cheek on Instagram. Some of my fraternity brothers didn’t think it would look good for the chapter’s image. But, they publicly cheat on their girlfriends and do whatever they want. Oh, lets talk about how they’d ask me to wing man them with my girlfriends so they could get laid. Or, my favorite, is when women say I should act a certain way. My close girlfriends are not like this. One of them says “yes queen” but that’s about it. She has never tokenized me and she’s let me be whatever version of myself I am that day. But straight women love to say we should love shopping. If we’re femme presenting or there is an ounce of feminity in our presence, then we get asked if we like mani-pedis or assume we have style. Not all of us do. I don’t even identify with a feminine or masculine identity. I didn’t know I needed a label to be myself.

Then there are the boxes gay guys put other gays in. First thing is first, if you are slightly overweight, not fit and not stylish... You can go fuck yourself. Gay dating is like having a Ruth Chris budget but you can only afford the McDonald’s $3 McDouble Meal. Every gay man, thanks to porn and the American media’s take on what gay men look like, thinks they need to date the hottest guy in the room. The minute that they realize that guy will never go for them, well that is cataclysmic. You may call that once in a blue moon but I call that a Saturday night at a gay bar.

Then, there is the judgment in how you dress, who you hang out with, what you do and what you drink (I am the only person at my local gay bar that drinks PBR and the amount of comments about calories and bloating I’ve received is way too much). It’s rough.

I know this was a long journey and most of you probably didn’t read all of this but I wrote this to get things off my mind. This is what I deal with every day of the year. I never know what my mood of the day will be when I wake up. Will I win my battle against my anxiety and depression or will I lose it and let it run everything? I feel no matter what we look like, what do we do or who we hang out with, this is something every queer person deals with. I think we need to have more of an open conversation about it amongst ourselves. I think there is some comfort there. We all present and hold face in different ways. If you ever saw me in person, you could tell how I am doing by how I present myself. I never really hide anything. It’s dumb. Just be yourself.

I know I wrote this for me but I hope it starts a conversation amongst the queer community. I hope it helps someone reach out to seek help or I hope you just related. Anyways, thats it.

#pride #pride flag #mental breakdown #mental health #gay #queer #lgbtqia #queer mental health #please discuss #pride month #stonewall

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dreamangel-ren · 3 years

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Headcanons n’ Ships. Bullies? OH MY!

Heya gang, how ya doing today! I feel like I should discuss about a situation that happened to me on Twitter early this week. I hope you’ve got plenty of free time to read because this is a long one.. So, I was on Twitter looking at some delicious G’raha Tia content until I came across a tweet that caught my eye. Someone made a statement saying that people need to ‘tone down’ the G’raha x WoL stuff because it’s giving them brain damage (in other words, your headcanon ISN’T CANON so you need to stop). Originally I was going to ignore it because it’s their opinion, and it doesn’t matter, but for some odd reason, I had to respond because of the fact who are they to tell people how to handle their stuff; so guess what, I responded.. I told them that XIV was meant for open interpretation so people have the freedom to ship G’raha with the WoL if they want to and if it bothers them that much, they can just ignore it. They then replied saying the issue is that some people tend to get pushy with their headcanons/ships and would attack those who don’t agree with them. I replied saying that’s an easy solution: you tell them to back off, block them, then move on; all in all, it’s just headcanon, just let people have their fun. Someone else came onto the thread basically saying the same thing about what the OP just said, and I repeated my response. They then got snarky and said, “You’re too dense to get the point, show yourself the door”. Yeah, I got mad because I don’t accept that kind of talk, so we ended up blocking each other. It did sort of got out of hand because I was being petty at one point and left a petty tweet and a couple of people responded LOL (which btw I deleted the tweet afterwards because that was stupid on my part for posting a tweet while angry). Next thing I know, the OP’s friend came to me saying that I was wrong for telling people to chill regarding to the headcanons/ships and how my comment invalidates the fact that people are getting harassed/bullied for this topic on both sides. They also mentioned, “herd mentality” where one person sends their followers after someone that doesn’t agree with them. I will tell you right now that I ain’t no punk; if someone doesn’t agree to the content that I make, that’s totally fine just if they be RESPECTFUL about it; if they don’t, that’s for ME to take care of, not my followers which I don’t have that many XD I was at my peak and I told her that the issue that they keep repeating to me isn’t new; that stuff happens in ANY fandom and people outta learn to tolerate the nonsense. Someone replied to me saying, “some can’t and never will be assertive (confident) and it’s annoying when someone behaves that way.” I just gave up and left the whole conversation while blocking folks in the process because apparently, we weren’t getting on the same boat.

As of today, I still believe that I didn’t say or do anything wrong; I didn’t call anybody names, I didn’t cuss them out, NOTHING. I just voiced my opinion and for some odd reason, people took offense on what I said which that doesn’t make sense to me. If there’s something you don’t like, yes you can express your opinion about it, BUT be aware that someone isn’t going to agree with you. When it comes to XIV characters and how they feel towards the WoL, like someone had mentioned from a post that I read a long time ago, “no one isn’t wrong” which they’re right. How can I put this..the XIV writers do their very best not to write the NPCs feelings in stone because they know how we feel about these characters. What they do is they write ambiguous dialogues for us to interpretate their feelings however we like because after all, WE are the main hero, this is OUR story. So, whatever your headcanon is for that character, it is indeed canon, FOR YOUR STORY. If someone else has a different interpretation, you shouldn’t be bothered on what they say because it doesn’t affect your character’s story or game at all. HOWEVER, openly telling folks to tone down or stop with their headcanons because it doesn’t synchronize with yours is kinda silly because because 1) You don’t have to look at it 2) It ain’t gonna stop others from doing what they love and 3) this is all for pure entertainment sooo why make a fuss about it. If someone else is getting harassed/bullied for that kind of thing, the only things you can do is either, back them up or let them handle it. If YOU are getting harassed/bullied for that nonsense, you got the keyboard and the hands, you can tell those lunatics to back off. If they refuse to and they send their so-called ‘army’, you block or report them; plain and simple. If you can’t do that, then I don’t know what else to say.

I have dealt with that craziness before except I was the victim; people were messing with me and my art because they didn’t like my Canon x OC content (for a different fandom). I’ve seen how Emet Selch fans get bullied by folks who don’t like the character and/or hate hcs in general which that’s dumb. People shouldn’t be harassing folks for this kind of thing period because it’s pointless, but unfortunately, it’s never gonna stop no matter how much we want it to. So overall gang, do what you want with your headcanons and forget what others have to say just BE RESPECTFUL to one another PLEASE. Thank you for taking your time to read my ramblings :D

#ffxiv #ffxiv shadowbringers #headcanons #ships #npcs #g'raha tia #respect opinions #have fun #g'raha tia totally has feelings for the WoL #FIGHT ME!#my story #your story #do what you want #twitter shenanigans

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

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Can’t Even Bleed Out Alone Anymore, SMH

AO3

Summary: Vigilantes and cops didn’t mix. But neither did Remy’s blood with the cement beneath him, so maybe desperate times called for desperate measures. ...Or no measures whatsoever. That worked too. Warnings: Non-detailed but fairly often mentions/descriptions of blood, talk of a major + physically violent fight, mentions/thoughts of death/dying, swearing Pairings: Platonic creativisleep Notes: Based off this post. Tagging @blinksinbewilderment because she’s the one who reblogded the post, and @rosesisupposes because vigilantes are superhero-esque + she picked the pairing so I think she deserves to know why I needed a random ship at 9pm

Vigilante business was, in general, a pretty lawless business. That was the whole thing, in fact- no rules! No laws! Creatures of justice and the night and miscellaneous bullshit!

There were, however, a few unspoken rules of thumb. But they were simple things, things that came with the whole territory of being a vigilante. Things like ‘don’t get caught’ and ‘don’t wear bright colours’ and ‘don’t rat on other vigilantes.’ There was also, of course, the most important not-rule rule:

You don’t go to the fucking cops.

Now, in Remy’s defense, he hadn’t meant to go to the cops. Really! He hadn’t! He had tried everything else!

...And in this case, everything else was ‘hope to miraculously gain the strength to move or die in this dirty, cold alleyway.’ Remy thought it was a wonderful idea, really, especially since he didn’t have any others.

He was also pretty sure he didn’t have enough blood in his body, but that was a secondary issue.

He also hadn’t technically gone to the cops!

They came to him, which really shouldn’t have surprised Remy as much as it did. It was a shady alleyway in one of the more crime-ridden parts of town. It, of all places, needed police patrols.

That didn’t stop Remy from startling when he heard footsteps at the end of the alley, slow, calculated steps clearly taken by someone who had done this walk many times before. He tried to move at first, to stand up and run, or even just move enough to hide himself, but all he succeeded in doing was sending a shockwave of pain through his entire body. He gritted out a grunt as he slumped back against the wall.

To his disappointment, the movement attracted the attention of the patrolling officer, their footsteps stopping. “Hello? Is someone down there?”

Remy bit his lip, hoping if he kept quiet the officer would pass by. It didn’t help that he recognized that voice; it belonged to one Roman Prince, a police officer Remy had come face to face with a couple of times in his work.

And by ‘couple of times’ he meant at least once a week for the last four months. Roman was a good guy, one who wanted to help as much as he could, and it lead to him taking a lot of night shifts in the worst parts of town. Which were, coincidentally, the places Remy, nighttime vigilante, ended up the most.

So they ended up talking a lot. Sometimes in battle, when Roman just had to play the part of a hero and Remy had to save his stupid courageous ass. Sometimes after battle, to talk about how much Roman disagreed with Remy’s methods while Remy just smirked and said his methods were the reason why Roman had anyone to handcuff. Sometimes there was no battle- they were just bored, both in need of a conversation partner, and both in the same area at the same time.

Tonight, right now, though? Remy did NOT want a conversation partner. Or any partner, in fact. He needed to be alone and not worried over and definitely not helped because he was a lone vigilante, which meant he worked alone, took care of himself alone, and dammit he was going to die alone too.

Not that he thought he was going to die!

Probably not.

Maybe.

It wasn’t entirely certain. He just needed to get some strength together, and go home, and patch up all his cuts, of which there were… more than three.

Alright so maybe the odds weren’t really stacked in his favor, but that was alright. He made the odds his bitch on the regular. If he had done it before, he could do it again!

“I’m coming down there, alright?”

Except today, apparently, since Roman was just too damn noble for his own good. Remy mentally ignored the fact that it was also just a standard part of his job.

He kept silent even as Roman came down the way, hoping that maybe if he stayed still and quiet Roman wouldn’t notice him. But despite his attempts, Roman’s flashlight still ended up in his face (blinding him and forcing his to tilt his head away), and the officer gasped as he recognized the now bloody and torn outfit. “Nightshade?”

“No, this is a hobo. Leave me alone.” Remy called back, well aware it wouldn’t work, but figured that he had nothing to lose to just try it. Given how rough his voice sounded, and the fact that halfway through his declaration he had to stop to half-cough, half-retch, however, Remy knew he was done for.

The steps, which had been a slow, measured pace, broke into a sprint, Roman quickly crossing the rest of the alley to reach Remy. The minute he got to the wounded vigilante, he fell into a crouch, placing his flashlight down so that it lit Remy up but let him use both his hands. Remy grimaced when he saw the concern in Roman’s expression. “Listen, hun, I know how this looks, but really, I’m gucci-”

“Shh.” Roman hushed gently, and Remy shut up immediately, not completely sure why. It was just something in Roman’s face, the stiff way his jaw was set as he looked Remy over more fully, taking in the extent of Remy’s injuries. Something cold and cruel that, while Remy doubted was directed at him, made Remy afraid of Roman.

Which was insane, right? Roman was a hard worker and a good fighter but, at heart, he was a goofball and a dramatic with an overactive imagination. He could be brave, and tough, and strong, but not scary.

But then Roman’s hand was under his chin, gently pushing it up so he could better look at the blood caked on Remy’s face, and Remy felt borderline terrified. Not because he was exposed, his mask having been lost in the fight that landed him there (Roman had had plenty of chances before to take Remy in if he wanted to and he hadn’t- what did it matter if he knew who Remy was?), but because there was something glinting in Roman’s normally soft amber eyes, something hard and angry.

Carefully, Roman wiped his thumb beside Remy’s mouth, coming away with a streak of blood from his cut lip. The motion was impossibly gentle, and Remy wouldn’t have believed it had even happened if the proof wasn’t smeared across the cop’s thumb.

Roman studied the blood for a moment, but then his gaze moved back over to Remy; not even his face or his injuries but him, Roman looking him dead in the eye. Remy sucked in a breath through his teeth as he did, because the gaze was intense and heated and furious and Remy found he didn’t very much like being on the receiving end of it.

“Who did this to you?” Roman asked, voice low and dangerous. Remy didn’t respond at first, because that tone caught him off-guard and was doing nothing to help his already racing heart.

“Who did this to you?” Roman repeated, voice quieter but filled with even more fury.

Remy reacted that time, mostly because he felt he had to, had to answer before Roman did something unreasonable (he wasn’t sure what Roman’d do, but he figured it was best to nip the flower in the bud before anything escalated). “No one,” He started, pausing to cough roughly into his elbow, “No one important.”

“No one important?” Roman repeated, incredulously. “I’d say anyone who beat you up this bad is pretty damn important!”

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Remy said, which wasn’t a complete lie. He had dealt with all of these injuries before. Just… normally he dealt with them separately. Like, one or two at a time. “And, besides, I’m not just going to tell you and watch you run out on some sort of suicide mission to avenge me or something-”

“Have you even seen yourself, Nightshade?!” Roman snapped, and Remy flinched at the tone. Roman clearly noticed, sighing before he continued, quieter, “You appear to have at least three severe external wounds alongside a multitude of bruising that seems to be covering your entire body, and that isn’t even getting into whether or not you have broken bones or internal bleeding. I don’t think you should even be alive right now.”

“I’m resilient.” Remy told him drily.

“You’re lucky, is what you are.” Roman corrected, frown deepening as his hand slipped from holding Remy’s chin to cupping his cheek. Remy hated it, hated how… sincere the gesture was, but that didn’t stop him from leaning into it, the cold of his environment finally beginning to seep in. Softly, Roman ran his thumb over Remy’s cheek, only inviting Remy to lean further into his hold. Were it not for the last few tendrils of his sense of will, Remy would have collapsed into it too.

“Someone hurt you with the intention to kill you.” Roman said, quietly. “And I intend to make them pay for it. But to do that, I need to know who hurt you.”

Remy looked at Roman carefully, squinting at the officer. His expression was set, fury still in his eyes but now accompanied by determination. “You’re just a civilian.”

“So are you.” Roman pointed out. “You just put on a suit.”

Remy didn’t respond to that, choosing to just keep watching Roman, not sure what exactly he was looking for. Finally, he sighed. “Uncanny.” He admitted, feeling as if he had just told his deepest secret. “I caught them on the roof of an apartment complex, trying to force their way in from the top. We fought, and… well. One of us went overboard, and for once it wasn’t me.”

Roman nodded to himself. “Uncanny.” He repeated, the fury once more flashing in his eyes, pushing out everything else. He leaned back, lost in his thoughts, his hand slipping from Remy’s cheek as he did so.

Later, Remy would be embarrassed by what he did next. But in the moment, with the adrenaline finally beginning to fade and the force of his injuries, the cold, and the loneliness hitting him, the thought of Roman leaving was completely unbearable.

So he pushed himself forward, ignoring the burning protest that immediately flared across his entire body at the sudden movement. He fell against a startled Roman and curled into him, his grip loose and weak and shaky but still enough to allow him to latch onto Roman.

“Please don’t.” Remy begged, feeling foolish but only being able to slightly care, because Roman was warm, unfairly so, and Remy had no clue what he would do if Roman left him, left him cold and hurting in this freezing empty alley. “Please don’t go, please, please don’t, don‘t leave me, I can’t, can’t-”

Arms, suddenly, warm and strong, wrapped around Remy’s back and helped to pull him up, more properly surrounding Remy in the warmth. Tenderly, Roman moved Remy’s head to his shoulder, tucking his face against his neck.

“Shhhh.” He shushed, gently, calmly, kindly, gathering up as much of Remy as close to him as he could get. “It’s alright. I’m not going to leave you, Nightshade. You have my word.”

Remy just nodded into Roman’s shoulder, because he trusted him, really, trusted his word and trusted that he wouldn’t leave Remy. As soon as he stopped nodding, however, black spots began to crowd into his vision, swarming in from the edges as his eyelids fluttered. He was still aching all over, but now he was warm, warm and safe, and trying to keep himself conscious seemed both a useless and unnecessary use of his effort.

“Ro, I- I’m gonna-” Remy tried, at the very least not wanting to frighten Roman, make him think he had fainted or something when, really, all Remy wanted right then and there was a good, long nap.

Roman just nodded a little bit, enough that Remy could feel the vibrations, running one of his hands over Remy’s back in a soothing manner. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He promised, and as Remy gave up his fight with his eyelids, letting them fall completely closed, he continued,

“I’m not going to let them hurt you again.”

And with that last promise echoing in his mind, Remy drifted off, feeling secure in the fact that, if no one else would, he knew Roman would keep his promise.

#the other thing I wrote during tumblr nerftiem #*nerf-time #spaced out from the bullet fic to not overcrowd my blog or anything #the cryptid speaks #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #ts roman #ts sleep #ts remy #creativisleep #platonic creativisleep

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kareofbears · 4 years

Text

blinding lights, chapter 2/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality.“

—

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

Read on AO3 or you can read below! whatever works for you :-)

They both agreed to meet at noon at an address of Sumire’s choosing. Considering that Tokyo is still in a post New Year’s mindset, the streets and the stores that reside there are fairly sluggish; only a few elderly couples and a handful of families with toddlers tugging them along are mindlessly walking through the streets of Shibuya.

Akechi takes one look at the restaurant. “No.”

“Huh?”

“No,” he repeats, glaring at the adorable restaurant with no small amount of disdain. “Why here?”

“I thought that a small, public setting like this would be smart,” she scratches her cheek. Maybe she’d misheard when—”Kurusu-senpai mentioned that you liked this type of food, back before school went on break.”

“Did he now?” His tone is light, but his jaw looks worryingly locked in place. “How kind of him.”

“We can go somewhere else—”

“No need,” Akechi narrows his eyes at the bright neon signs once more before going through the glass double-doors. “I’m not so petty as to refuse a restaurant for no good reason.”

“Okay,” Sumire says for a lack of better response, following him in. Why Akechi has such a fierce vendetta against eating at an IHOP, she’ll probably never know.

They were seated right away by a flustered waitress. Akechi smiles at her, charming and non-threatening. It’s almost kind of jarring seeing it now.

After she shakily hands them the laminated menus, she stumbles away to the kitchen—no doubt to rave about how sweet the detective is in person, how approachable.

“Finally. I was afraid I’d snap at her if she’d stayed a moment longer.” He starts skimming the menu, ignoring her curious stare. “You have a question.”

“I do, but I don’t want to come off as rude.”

“I’ve dealt with people who would dispose of me if I so much breathed the wrong way,” he flips the page. “Give me some credit.”

She thinks of the halls in Shujin, filled to the brim with rumors and hate and animosity towards her. This aspect, at the very least, can act as a middle-ground between Sumire and the boy in front of her.

“You’re not really the Detective Prince, are you?”

“Of course I am.”

“But it’s an act, isn’t it?”

He chuckles mockingly. “Everything is an act, Yoshizawa. There isn’t a single person out there who isn’t pretending in some way or another. But, if you’re referring to how I’m no longer keeling over to lick people’s gum off their shoe, then sure, I’m not really the Detective Prince.” Akechi pauses when her eyes dart toward the kitchen. “Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. If it’ll benefit me, I can be whoever I need to be.”

The door to the kitchen bursts open. Akechi smirks. “Exhibit A.”

The waitress returns, slightly red and clutching the handle of a steaming coffee pot like a lifeline.

“On the house,” she blurts out as she pours the hot liquid into their mugs. “Um, are you ready?”

They give her their order (Sumire gets a breakfast platter with double pancakes while Akechi seems adamant on not ordering anything on the breakfast menu, asking for cream and sugar instead). When they finish, Akechi flashes the waitress a smile, tilting his head so that his brown hair brushes his shoulders, and induces yet another wave of red to flood towards her cheeks.

She scampers away and Sumire gives him a look. “Did you trick her to...get coffee?”

“To prove a point,” he corrects. Lifting his mug, one sniff has him grimacing. “Leblanc has truly spoiled me. This smells rancid.”

She lifts her own mug; it smells delightful. “That sounds exhausting, having to constantly change how you act.”

“Perhaps. But if it gets the job done, then I can’t complain. Survival, after all, must come before anything else, only closely followed by the notion of winning. Many times, those two coincide.”

“And if you get caught in the act? What happens then?”

“That doesn’t happen.”

“Sure it does,” she picks up her teaspoon and absentmindedly stirs the contents of her mug. “Why else would you be interacting with me without your…persona?”

“You think you caught me in the act?” He asks, an eyebrow arched.

“Oh, no, not at all. But someone must’ve figured it out for me.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “It’s a bit of a stretch to say ‘figured it out,’ but in a way, yes. It’s more coincidence and luck. Less figuring out and more,” Akechi pauses. “A different perspective.”

Leaning back into the (slightly sticky) faux leather of the booth, he folds his hands together in a polished manner. “Are you sufficed with this interview? Or is this an interrogation?”

“I thought it was more of a nice chat,” she replies.

“Chat?” Sumire freezes. Akechi’s voice had dropped an octave, and her stomach along with it. “Chats are what people have when they’re gossiping about what some boy is doing after school, or when they have the luxury to waste time. Chatting is what friends do, Yoshizawa, and forgive me if I wasn’t clear enough. However,” he leans forward, his red eyes dark and lips pulled back ever so slightly. “Being allies with the same goal does not make us besties.”

He leans back, and Sumire can only stare at him. She tries to push away the intense waves of disappointment, irritation, and embarrassment at tricking herself twice now. A million words are stuck on her tongue like a fly caught on sticky paper—struggling, but an ultimately fruitless endeavor.

“Okay,” is what comes out. Clearing her throat, “Let’s focus back to the matter at hand then, shall we?” Sumire spoke timidly, but not out of fear of the man in front of her, but rather in fear of scaring him away. It’s obvious he has a bus load and a half of issues, but they’re allies and right now, they don’t have anyone but each other. This is one objective she can’t afford to slip up on, and with her knowledge of the Metaverse being shaky at best, she needs all the help she can get.

“Let’s.”

As he’s about to continue, the waitress returns with Sumire’s staggering order, Akechi’s sugar and milk (in tiny, blue capsules) and mysteriously straightened hair. “So sorry for the delay,” she says, most of her attention on a boy who seems infinitely more interested in the creamer than her.

“Thank you,” Sumire blurts out when he doesn’t reply, more to fill the awkward silence than anything. At least it seems to snap the waitress out of whatever disappointed stupor she’s in, after the detective had a full one-eighty on his personality.

The waitress walks back, shoulders drooping, and Sumire points a side eye at Akechi. “That was mean. Kindness has its own benefits too, you know.”

“Alright, Maruki. Can we get a move on?”

“Please.”

Akechi folds his hand over each other. “I mentioned that I’ve worked with the Thieves in the past.” At Sumire’s nod, “I believe that can be used to our advantage.”

She frowns, and picks up her fork. “Our advantage? Did you learn something back then?” She starts cutting into her pancakes, the scent absolutely mouth-watering.

“Not quite. Most of the intel I gathered from them were useless. Never in my life did I need to know about half of the bakeries in Tokyo, or which days of the week were the most plentiful in terms of grocery sales. Really, it’s all garbage. However, three things were clear by the time my truce with them had ended.”

He plucks a single capsule from the table, inspecting it with interest. “One: Kurusu Akira is very good at what he does. It pains me to admit it, but he’s powerful, much more than lets on. His ability to utilize multiple Personas to fill in any holes his team might have, the natural tendency to anticipate his opposer’s attacks. This made me knock out the initial strategy.”

“Which was?”

“Battle him on the spot,” he answers nonchalantly. “Beat some sense into him, in whatever form that may be. However, as history decides it, that plan was doomed to fail before it even began. Maybe as a last resort.” Sumire very nearly asks him what on earth he could be referring to in terms of history, but Akechi continues before she works out how to ask without setting off another aggravated landmine. It’s a lot like her floor exercises; one misstep can be her downfall.

“His power also extends past the Metaverse,” Akechi crosses his legs neatly. “He’s made a plethora of confidants splattered across the city, ranging from ridiculous to slightly worrying. The most crucial of those confidants, as you can imagine, are his pesky friends.”

Placing the capsule back onto the table delicately, he continues. “The second is what I’ve mentioned before, back in the palace—Kurusu would walk backwards into hell for his little troupe. However, the very notion of teammates demands more than one side of the party.”

He begins to stack the capsules on top of each other until a structure is created on top of the polished table (they both pretend not to notice the elderly couple eyeing them with annoyance). “And finally, number three—” Akechi leans back, gazing uninterestedly at the miniature pyramid made out of eight creamer capsules. “Is that every single one of his teammates would do the same for him.”

Like a lock and key, the pieces of it click in her mind. When he lays it out like that, it’s almost obvious.

Sumire gestures to the pyramid. “May I?” At his nod, she (reluctantly) moves her barely-touched plate out of the way and considers the structure before her.

“Kurusu-senpai is doing this for his friends,” she states.

“Indeed.”

“So, if we plan accordingly…” extending her pointer finger and, carefully, prods the base. All eight pieces fall over, the one at the top crashing down to earth the hardest.

Sumire looks up to see Akechi smiling at her, if one would be willing to call it that; it’s slightly too sinister to be called a grin, with the way his eyes are filled with subsided manic energy, though it’s shadowed by the forelocks of his brown hair—he’s the spitting image of a classic Disney villain if it were an R-rated film.

“Now you’re playing the game.”

—

The plan was simple. Straight forward.

It wasn’t too different from a hostage situation—you can’t make a move if the hostages are held over you as leverage, forced to comply with whatever the gunman wanted so long as nobody gets hurt. Take away the citizens and suddenly the situation gets a lot simpler.

Maruki had, inadvertently or not, held a gun to the Thieves’ heads with Akira playing negotiator. All Akechi and Sumire have to do is remove the hostages from the scene safely. If Akira, the negotiator, can’t be reasoned with, then they’ll just have to place their trust in the rest of them to convince Akira themselves. They just need a bit of a wake-up call.

Really, it’s a simple solution to a complex problem. All that’s left is the execution.

—

YS: are you there? i’d like to ask you something. AG: What? YS: i understand that splitting up would be smarter to make this a lot speedier and id like not to stay in this reality any longer than necessary YS: but after thinking about it, isn’t it better to do it together to guarantee success? if we can’t fail on convincing them that their reality isn’t real, then doing it together is probably a good idea! AG: That may be true. I’d like this entire fiasco to be over as soon as possible. YS: same! And you also know them way better than i do :) AG: Please don’t remind me. YS: noted AG: Are you opposed to meeting in leblanc tomorrow? We can begin our plan there. YS: starting with Morgana-senpai? that’ll be good actually. he’s the only one i at least kind of befriended AG: You’re aware that he’s not here, right? That he is not physically reading the word ‘senpai’, right? YS: yes AG: Just making sure.

Leblanc is blessedly empty when they enter, the blunt yet strong fragrance of coffee beans seeming to waft from every direction with only the slightest hint of smoke drifting towards them from the bright orange tip of Sojiro’s cigarette. He tilts the corner of his lip up at their entrance, even as his eyes light up with curiosity.

“Morning,” he greets, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and snuffing out its embers on the ashtray. “Sorry bout that, shouldn’t be smoking in front of you kids—Niijima gives me a nasty look whenever I do it. So, what can I do you for? If it’s coffee you want, it’s on the house.”

“As tempting as that may be, we’re going to have to decline,” Akechi answers. He’s once again donning a mask of pleasantness, layered so thick that Sumire has to wonder how she ever believed it. “However, we’d love to speak with Morgana for a moment, if you don’t mind?”

“Sure,” Sojiro jerks his head at the wooden staircase. “Head on up.”

They nod their thanks and make their way upstairs.

Sumire had learned early on in her life that she wasn’t someone who was prone to falling for jump scares. Horror movies aren’t really an issue for her and haunted houses were always more of an interesting location to gauge visitors’ reactions rather than try to get anything out of it herself. Often times, it is psychological horror that affected her, the creepiness of it sliding into her mind that causes her to shake and tremble.

Even though Akechi had reminded her once more, even if she spent a good amount of time trying to picture if, even though on a technical level, she knew what she would be looking at—

“Yoshizawa? Oh, Akechi too! I didn’t expect to see you guys here.”

—Nothing could have possibly prepared her for the sight of human Morgana.

He’s sat on what she’s almost sure is Akira’s bed, though it’s a futon placed on top of a bunch of grocery pallets. He has dark hair that could be mistaken as black had the sunlight from the window not shined on him, and the only remnants that could have resonated his cat form is his once-collar turning into a gold chain paired with his bright, blue eyes. With a manga perched on his lap, he looks like an ordinary boy that she wouldn’t even think twice about.

It's a really unnerving thought.

“Hello Morgana,” Akechi says when Sumire can’t seem to find her words. “May we speak to you for a second?”

“Of course! Make yourselves at home. Er, sorry it’s a little messy,” he stands and clumsily beats the run-down couch with his human hands. “Don’t know how I never noticed the mess in here before—”

Sumire leans to Akechi, eyes never leaving the fussing boy. “You’re right.”

“About?”

“This is truly harrowing.”

“You overheard that conversation?”

“—But better late than never!” Morgana finishes, giving the sofa one last pat and gesturing for them to sit. “Oh, and just let you know, I can’t stay for too long; Lady Ann wants me to carry her stuff while she walks around Shibuya and, well what kind of gentleman would I be to say no?” He laughs, so elated that it’s almost like they missed out on a gut-busting joke.

“That’s fine, this won’t take long, Morgana-senpai.”

Morgana juts his chin out, poorly concealing his smugness. “Anything for you, Yoshizawa! Just like back in Odaiba.”

He blinks, brow creasing. “Odaiba...with Akira.” His tone turns confused, like the words that were coming out of his mouth were leaving without his consent. “That was a wild day, we just found a Palace. And you had your awakening, and I was so shocked and….” A hand comes up, clutching his head and eyes scrunched tightly. “I was…”

Sumire and Akechi lock eyes, the same thought going through their mind: it’s the same reaction that Akira had. A weight left her shoulders, knowing that just as they planned, it wasn’t difficult to remind them of the true reality.

What they didn’t expect was for Morgana to disoriently glance at them and say in a quiet voice, “I gotta go...take a walk.”

“Wait, hold on—” Sumire tries.

“Feel free to stay, but I, uh, have to think,” Morgana moves towards the staircase, only half-glancing at their perplexed faces before escaping.

They don’t move until they hear the bell ringing downstairs.

“That could have gone better,” Akechi sighs, voice tight with mild irritation.

“I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together and predict this. I mean, that’s pretty much my reaction, too!” She throws her hands in the air. “I was too distracted by how Kurusu-senpai reacted.”

“Well, as we learn time and time again, Kurusu is the exception, not the rule.” Akechi moves to lean against an old work desk, and rather than normal student supplies littering it’s surface, it has strange-looking metals and hardware. “While it’s a shame to have failed in recruiting the cat, all is not lost. As long as we can convince one of them, it’ll at least be enough to make Kurusu hesitate. That’s all we need.”

“Is that the best move?” she asks, walking around the room and inspecting the fun little knickknacks strewn about. It’s probably not the most courteous move of hers to look at someone’s room without permission, but she can’t help it. “Should we try and convince Mona-senpai?”

“It’d be a waste of time, especially while we have six other people to speak to, and our time frame is limited as is.”

“Maybe they’ll naturally come to realize it, without our prompting? He already seemed pretty on the fence about his memories.”

“Perhaps. But like I said, I don’t do gambles.” Sumire peels her away from the realistic-looking ramen bowl just in time to see the flint in his eyes. “And hell would freeze over before I let this counterfeit reality become the real one.”

Sumire smiles, though her eyes are just as hard as his. “I understand the sentiment.”

They regard each other for a long moment.

Akechi readjusts his coat. “We should leave and try again tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Oh, maybe Boss is still up for the free coffee he mentioned.”

“Ugh, finally some good news.” They head down the stairs. “Hopefully we can make it quick—don’t want to take any chances.”

“Chances? I thought you liked the coffee here.”

“Oh, I do. But the regulars here might put a bit of a damper on the—”

The moment Akechi’s foot hits the main floor, the door to Leblanc swings open once more and a young girl with bright orange hair bursts in.

“--Situation.”

—

YS: who should come after Morgana-senpai? AG: It doesn’t matter. AG: But there are a few people who I want to postpone, if possible. YS: that’s fine, but why? AG: No reason, but if we can guarantee that we’ve convinced the others before them. AG: It’s a stroke of luck that Morgana’s wish was easy to figure out, but we have no such advantage afterwards. However, I have a select few...intuitions, for what their wishes might be. YS: that’s better than nothing! Lay them on me. AG: For some of them, nothing may be the better option.

“Ah, did you forget something?” Sojiro chides, chuckling. “I told you to double-check your bag before running off.

Futaba slaps her forehead. “Gah, I know, but there’s no way I’m missing out on a day of Akihabara with mom! It’s like getting the motherlode cheat in the Sims.” She hops over the counter and slides behind the bar, very nearly knocking over the yellow landline. “Agility plus three!”

“We have guests, Futaba, and business is hard enough as is without you jumping around.”

“Huh? People? Futaba scans the cafe, her mouth rounding to a perfect O as she is, in fact, not alone. “People! People I know!”

Sumire waves, charmed at the other girl’s exuberance. “Sorry to intrude.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s nice to see this place having some people around to move the dust every once in a while,” gesturing to the wall of canisters, her arm outstretched like an experienced realtor. “Feel free to have whatever you’d like, free of charge!”

“Futaba,” Sojiro exasperates, with no small amount of adoration laced in every syllable. He turns to them in a what can you do? gesture. “She’s right, though. Say the word and I’ll brew something up.”

Futaba gasps. “Mom! She’s still out there waiting. Oh, big brain idea comin’ in!” She redirects her outstretched hand to point at them, still standing awkwardly at the staircase. “I’ll bring mom in here and introduce you both!”

Akechi stiffens on her left. “No need, we were just about to—”

“Ah, ah, ah! Nope!” she interrupts, already halfway out the door. “I’ll be back before you can recite the national anthem.” Futaba runs out, leaving the ball ringing behind her.

“That girl is a whirlwind,” Sojiro says gruffly. “Hope she didn’t scare you off. Especially you, Akechi,” he ducks behind the bar, rummaging through its shelves. “You ran out real fast last time you came in here.”

Sumire’s eyes dart towards Akechi when he doesn’t answer. “Are you okay?”

He’s about to answer when Futaba decides to burst in for the second time, chest heaving and face pink. A grin takes up every crevice of her features as she clutches the hand of a woman looking fondly at her. “I come bearing gifts! Well, a gift.”

Sojiro sighs. “Sorry Wakaba, can’t reign her in like you can.”

“You’d be a fool to think anyone reign her in,” Wakaba laughs, before tilting her head curiously at Akechi and Sumire. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“They’re friends with Akira and I!” Futaba says, chest puffed out. “Yoshizawa and Akechi, meet my mom—” For a split second, Futaba’s eyes widen before grabbing the counter’s ledge. “Nngh…”

“Sweetheart?”

“Futaba, what’s wrong?”

Sumire turns to Akechi, a clear question in her eyes. What triggered it?

“My head,” Futaba groans. She removes her glasses and rubs her eyes furiously with her palm.

However, the minute she pulls her hand away, Futaba’s eyes open and Sumire feels her stomach lurch uncomfortably. Those are no longer the eyes of the girl playfully giving away the contents of a humble coffee shop to mess with her dad; they’re the eyes of someone who’s confused, shocked, and, above all else livid.

And she’s directing it all at Akechi.

“Mom,” she says, voice trembling. “I feel better, so let’s go.”

Wakaba frowns. “Are you sure? You look so pale."

“Don’t worry! I just—I just really want to go.”

Futaba throws another glare at Akechi and an inquisitive look at Sumire before leaving, her previous energy sapped away.

SIghing, Wakaba gives them an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. Futaba has such a one-track mind. I’ll be sure that she apologizes—”

“Don’t,” Akechi says. “She doesn’t have to apologize for anything.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you," some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate. “I’m so glad to have people like you looking out for my Futaba.”

Akechi doesn’t say anything, even when Wakaba gives them a wave, following Futaba out to the backstreets of Yongen.

It was quiet for a long moment.

Sojiro clears his throat. “You still up for that coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Akechi replies, his voice possessing an odd quality to it. “I must get going now. If you’d excuse me,” In a few quick strides, he’s out of the door.

Sumire bows quickly. “Thank you for having us,” she says politely before following him out.

Looking left and right, Akechi is briskly heading towards the station. She catches up to him with ease.

“You knew that would happen,” she says flatly.

He keeps walking. “I did.”

“And you didn’t tell me? Didn’t you think that, I don’t know, would have affected our mission?”

“I didn’t tell you because it’s none of your business, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s still the case.”

“None of my business?” She ups her pace and stands in front of Akechi, forcing him to stop in his tracks. With him standing six inches taller than her, their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let him keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality. I’ve come to understand that you’re not interested in being friends, but do not go against your own word by refusing to see me as an ally.”

They stare each other down for a few seconds, a handful of the neighbourhood’s residents whispering about them and scuttling away in fear that they might get caught in the middle of some teenage spat.

“Fine,” he relents. “It wasn’t the best move to withhold information. This won’t happen again. But,” looking around, there’s still some people milling about, an old man dutifully listening to the radio. “Not here.”

“Do you promise?”

Akechi scoffs and moves around her. “Would you like to pinky swear?”

“Akechi.”

“Fine, yes, I promise. Are you really such a goody two shoes that you need a damn contract?”

Sumire frowns. “Goody two shoes?”

“As straight laced as the student council president herself,” he confirms, pulling out his commuter's card as they near the station. “At least Niijima broke out of it once she realized what she was fighting for,” he looks back at her. “Have you?”

Clenching a fist, she says, “You have no idea what I’m fighting for. And I’m still not sure if you know what you’re fighting for, Akechi.”

His gaze hardens. “I know damn well what I’m fighting for. Not everyone has philanthropy running through their veins. That’s Kurusu’s job.”

A crowd of people exit their trains, filling up the station. By the time it dissipates, Akechi is gone.

—

YS: shouldn’t we try to approach Sakamoto-senpai first? YS: i’m sure kurusu-senpai doesn’t play favorites, but he IS his best friend, and, well, in love with him. it would be smart to guarantee that he’s on our side AG: True. Whether we like it or not, that jester is an important factor to the success of the mission. AG: But that’s why I think we should save him for last. It’s better to guarantee everyone first and then Sakamoto as a last resort. YS: (´;︵;`) AG: ...What. YS: that’s rude to sakamoto-senpai. he’s really nice! AG: No, I mean what is...that? YS: an emoji? i love them, they’re very expressive. AG: Stop that. YS: .·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·.

Instead of taking the train right away, Sumire decides to take a look at the inner workings of Yongen.

It’s a lovely little area—away from the insatiable hustle of Shibuya but close enough in case you want to indulge yourself in shopping and the never ending waves of shoppers. Yongen is like it’s younger, humbler cousin; small groceries, a quiet movie theatre, batting cages, and of course, a quaint cafe with a dedicated fan base of elderly couples, pretentious film critics, and a large group of teenagers.

She goes to none of these commodities, finding herself drawn to the second-hand shop run by a kind old man. An expensive habit it may be, but Sumire has always fallen back to shopping whenever she’s feeling frustrated at the world. She may not have a closet worthy of Vague, but it’s an enjoyable distraction at the very least.

And after that conversation with Akechi, she’ll take any distraction she can get.

Sumire takes a deep inhale. It would be laughably easy to let herself snap on the detective, with the stunt he pulled earlier. This mission is difficult enough as it is, especially without the mind games. It’s like playing tug-of-war with a brick wall; she’s lost the game before she even began. No, she refuses to lose. If there’s one thing she’s learned in gymnastics (except how to execute a flawless aerial cartwheel) is that half the competition is the mindset you have walking on to the mat. If you take a step with the slightest belief that you’re going to fail, the medal was doomed to fall in someone else’s hands.

Sumire begins to shop even harder.

She’s in the middle of inspecting a strangely charming glasses case that her father would absolutely love when she hears a surprised, “Yoshizawa?”

Nearly dropping the case, she turns to find a sweaty, grinning Ryuji, hand gripping one of his earphones that she can hear even from here. “Sakamoto-senpai!” Carefully placing it back down, she heads towards him, waving. “Do you run in this area?”

“Heck yeah! Life hack:” he looks around like someone who’s about to spill the beans on nuclear codes. “If you look tired enough, Boss’ll give you free drinks.” Sumire can’t help but laugh, and he goes on. “And y’know, I see ‘Kira here all the time, so that’s always a plus.

She fights not to let the smile drop from her face. “That must be nice.”

“Eh, it ain’t half-bad,” he says ruefully, but there was no hiding the clear fondness his voice possesses. “Hey, you got something goin’ on right now?”

“Um, not particularly.”

“Eff yeah! How about you and I walk around? There’s a real nice park down the street and, uh,” his expression turns sheepish. “In all honesty, you look like you could use a bit of a breather right now.”

Three things run through Sumire’s mind in the span of a breath: Ryuji’s definitely one of the nicest senpais she’s ever had, Akechi would probably warn her that hanging out with Ryuji might be stupid on her part, and that’s a huge part as to why she’s most definitely going to agree to spend time with him.

“I’d love to, as long as I’m not interrupting your workout in any way.”

“Nah, I’m on my cool down anyway.” Yanking out his other earphone and shoving them in his track pants (trademark Shujin red and white). “Let’s get this show on the road!”

“Yes, let’s!”

A fourth thought ran through her mind; a quiet, subdued, selfish thought that she herself is too wary to consciously think about. Her goal right now is an honest one. She just wants a window—the same window that Akira had looked out from. What does he see? What’s going through his mind when he sees Ryuji? All she wants is a little bit of perspective.

“What were you listening to?” Sumire asks. “During your run.”

“Oh, nothing crazy,” Ryuji shrugs. “Just some political podcasts.”

“Really?” She always assumed he listened more to punk songs that hurt her ears.

“Yeah, I mean there’s a lot of shit going on in the world, and there ain’t much I can do ‘bout it. I might as well get pissed off in, like, a smart way, so I know what I’m talking about.”

“That’s really impressive! I usually don’t listen to anything while I run since I have to actively focus on my form.”

Ryuji’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “You run? I mean, yeah, no duh you run, you’re like all gymnasticsy and stuff! And you don’t listen to music?”

“Not really.”

“That’s hardcore. That’s like what monks do on the mountains.”

“Oh, I’m nowhere near that level.”

“You’re closer than I am, at least. You need crazy good concentration when you do your…” Ryuji does a messy hop-and-spin move. “How long you been doing that by the way?”

“Gymnastics? Since I was really young.”

“No way. You gotta tell me about it!”

The two of them walk around the park with Sumire explaining her journey of experiencing the competitive world of gymnastics (carefully exempting the darker parts) and Ryuji oohs and ahhs at the appropriate times, eagerly asking her technical questions on her regimen with a crazy amount of detail. It’s clear that he’s passionate about athleticism and Sumire can’t help but be infected by his genuine enthusiasm, asking him for tips on how to avoid cramps while running long distance in return.

But one thing that Sumire can’t help but notice is how permanent Akira’s presence is in their conversation, despite not being here physically. Whether it’s Ryuji mentioning him in passing, or rolling his eyes at something he did, or just asking in a teasing tone if Akira’s actually a good senpai (“c’mon, he ain’t here, I’m no snitch I promise!”). Despite all that, it’s obvious it’s all done with a bucketful of tenderness; a clear and unbreaking thread that ties the two together that no blade in the world can cut apart.

And that’s the moment that Sumire realizes, only for a split second, she got what she wanted: perspective.

While she herself may not harbor those feelings, it’s easy to see how someone could—especially if they were a transfer student who had distressing rumors surrounding them since day one. Sumire can understand the impact that one person may have on you when it feels like you’re fighting all of Shibuya. She can comprehend the need to fight for that person’s happiness—after all, isn’t that what she’s doing?

A realization jolts her as she watches Ryuji speak, eyes bright and hands moving animatedly, that he’s probably still under the rose-tinted lenses of Akira’s wish.

He drops her off the station with a wave once they’re done. Sumire’s left to deal with sifting through which parts of their conversation was either byproduct of the wish or which was the real Sakamoto Ryuji.

—

AG: There’s also the matter of finding their locations. Some of them aren’t as straight forward in their hangouts, while others are as predictable as playing poker with Sakamoto. AG: Knowing Kitagawa, he would be loitering around the museum in Ueno. It would be easy to ambush him there.

They find Yusuke gazing at the portrait of Sayuri in Ueno the next day.

It was an odd sight, seeing Sayuri out in the open again. Sumire only knew about its history through public knowledge—a once internationally renowned artist named Madarame had been stealing his students’ art and abusing them under his care. While Yusuke’s name had initially been anonymous, it was impossible to completely leave him incognito with how massive the case had been; the painting of Sayuri, once praised to high heaven and appreciated by people who had never even picked up a paintbrush, forever bastardized and tainted by the greed of Madarame.

And now it’s on display once more.

“Let’s get this over with,” Akechi says as they close the gap between them and Yusuke.

“Be nice,” she reminds him, and clears her throat. “Kitagawa-san?”

Yusuke slowly peels his eyes away from the painting and lights up once he processes who was speaking. “Yoshizawa, Akechi, hello. Have you come here to look at my mother’s painting as well?”

“Yes,” says Sumire. “It’s truly beautiful and...a shock to see.”

He nods, his vision trailing back towards the portrait. “It’s all thanks to my sensei’s unyielding patronage that I’m lucky enough to view it from a museum,” Yusuke speaks with warmth, a tone contradicting the bluntness that Yoshizawa had associated him with. “Everyday I thank the hand of fate that dealt my cards; had I not had my sensei supporting me, I don’t know where I’d be today.”

Sumire swallows. “Do you mean Madarame?”

“Of course!” Yusuke claps his hands together, elated. “Speaking of, would you two like to join us for dinner tonight? I’d so dearly love for you both to meet him,” Yusuke smiles and she feels her chest tighten. “To spread the word of my sensei’s excellence as a thank you for what he’s done for my mother...nothing would make me happier.”

You don’t know them like I do. You don’t know how much it means for them to have their lives back.

Akira’s voice enters her mind, and she almost sympathizes with his words. Mostly though, all she can think about is the cruelty of letting Yusuke continue on like this.

“Kitagawa,” Akechi cuts in, unfazed. “Is that Sayuri you were looking at?”

Yusuke’s brow creases. “Sayuri...? That isn’t what it’s called….”

“Is Madarame-san a good sensei?” Sumire presses, and holds back a flinch when his resolve begins to crumble in front of her.

“Madarame,” he whispers. “Am I being fooled again?”

“Only if you let yourself be,” says Sumire.

“So focus,” says Akechi.

They wait with bated breath as they watch Yusuke struggle to reign in the whirlwind of thoughts flying through his brain, clenching his fists and shoulders tensing.

And then, slowly, he raises his head at them, defeated.

“Excuse me, but I must be going.”

Sumire winces, and stretches her hand out. “Kitagawa—” But he was already gone.

Beside her, Akechi lets out a hiss. “Useless. They’re all useless.”

“We still have four to go,” she reminds him. “And please try to understand his pain. He lost his mother and he has to find out that he was being used. That’s horrible.”

“Oh, boohoo. So did I, but you don’t see me having a breakdown in the middle of a museum.”

Her eyes widen and Akechi scoffs. “Save me the pity bullshit, we don’t have time for that. Besides,” he heads for the exit. “That hasn’t bothered me in a long, long time.”

—

YS: oh, i know where one of them may be! Takamaki-senpai frequents the underground mall, and i bet we can find her there :) AG: Understood. AG: (*❛‿❛)→ YS: sorry? AG: What? You were correct in that they’re useful for conveying expressions. AG: The arrow indicates that it’s pointing. I.e. you have a point that Takamaki is probably there. YS: ooh! I never thought about it like that. nice one!

Sumire didn’t know how she didn’t realize it sooner.

Rumors are a staple of Shujin Academy; if you weren’t the focus of one, you’d be the one spreading it—the gust of wind amidst a wildfire. In her first year, there were really only three hotspots in the rumour mill that were constantly being shoved in Sumire’s ears: the vulgar used-to-be ace of the track team who’s now a violent delinquent, the serial killer/arsonist/elephant trafficker criminal transfer student that came in early April, and the gorgeous foreigner that no one can take their eyes off, least of all the coach of the volleyball team.

Sumire isn’t a stranger to the cycle, having been the focus of one ever since she was made an honors student. While it had made her life unnecessarily difficult, it granted her a different outlook on those three. It has shown her an obvious truth that people seem to forget when they’re parroting false facts: most rumors aren’t true.

The delinquent isn’t actually a delinquent, but someone who refuses to stay quiet in the name of injustice. The transfer student is only a criminal in the eyes of the law, someone who had the opportunity to save someone and wouldn’t hesitate to do it again, no matter the cost. The foreign student is just a girl who’s unfortunate enough to end up in the spotlight of an irredeemable scumbag of a teacher that never hesitated to hold his power over students.

But.

There was another rumor that followed Ann, one that didn’t get displayed on a billboard and screamed from the rooftops. It was passed around quietly, like a drug deal, and it was buried beneath the Kamoshida hearsay.

Most rumors aren’t true, but seeing Ann and Shiho interact with each other in the mall, Sumire didn’t know how she didn’t realize sooner that they’re head-over-heels in love with each other.

“Ugh, Shiho, I seriously can’t stop thinking about that spike you did in the last game!” Ann gushes as they shop for shoes. “It’s just like bam! Like some kind of cannon! I’m so glad it was taped.”

“Stop, you’re overreacting,” Shiho rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling wide enough that it wipes away any heat.

“No way, I’m gonna keep yelling about how incredible my girlfriend is until—Oh, hold on Shiho—Hey! Akechi! Yoshizawa! Over here!”

Ann enthusiastically waves them over. “Fancy seeing you two here. Doing some New Year’s shopping? Shiho and I are just celebrating the fact that she was the MVP in her last volleyball tournament,” she puffs out her chest. “But it really stinks that I couldn’t be there to watch in person with her, with her school being so far and all. She’s coming back this year, though! I’m so excited!”

Sumire nods, smiling, and tries not to stare at Shiho. Everyone’s seen a glimpse of what Shiho looked like after that day. No one thought that she’d be walking at all anytime soon, and even after intensive therapy it would be difficult to bring it back a hundred percent. But here she is now, speaking casually about playing in a volleyball tournament like she was born to do it.

“Oh my God, Ann, they don’t need to know that.” Shiho turns to Akechi, sheepish. “Sorry you hear all that, especially when I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Suzui Shiho. It’s good to meet you, detective.”

“Pleasure,” he replies, smiling politely. “It seems to me that you’re looking much better, Suzui-san.”

Sumire should really stop being surprised at the complete lack of reservation that Akechi possesses when it comes to reminding people of the true reality, no matter how heart-wrenching their past is.

“I’ve always been fine,” says Suzui, the comment flying over her head. “I hope you’re doing well, too.”

Akechi’s eye twitches and Sumire hurries to jump in. “It seems the two of you are happy,” she glances at Ann, and tries not to feel too bad when she says, “Especially considering what happened with Kamoshida.”

A beat passes before Ann’s gaze begins to cloud over with a now-familiar expression of disorientation and pain. Holding her breath, hoped that they could finally have their first ally amongst the Thieves.

Then Ann shakes her head aggressively and they knew it was a lost cause.

Chuckling nervously, Ann grabs Shiho’s hand. “Sorry, I just remembered we had plans to go somewhere. See you later!” Ann begins to drag Shiho—and herself—away.

Akechi clicks his tongue. “Four people in a group founded on justice and they’ve chosen to ignore their own. This is getting pathetic.”

“We still have three to go,” Sumire says. “There’s still time.”

Eyeing her with disdain, “How is that you don’t seem the least bit bothered about this?”

“There’s still three people to get to! And, not to mention, there’s a possibility that they’ll come to terms with their feelings in due time.” She tilts her head. “Have you forgotten the bonds that Kurusu-senpai has with his friends?”

“Of course not.”

“Then it’s fine,” she says. “We just have to believe that they’ll be there for him when he needs him most. Even if they aren’t here at this very moment, that’s okay.” Tucking one of her long, red locks behind her ear, she smiles. “Faith is an advantage in its own right.”

#owo? whats this? another chapter?#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #p5 #p5r #goro akechi #ryuji sakamoto #sumire yoshizawa #kasumi yoshizawa #blinding lights #akiryu #pegoryu #akira kurusu #writing goro like a piece of shit is just so good its like therapy BUT YOU GOTTA DO IT RESPECTFULLY #i may hate him but i dont hate him. no <3 #anyway wear a mask and social distance #mine

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notthatiwilleverwriteit · 5 years

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~ anyone disciplining him growing up due to his father being in jail and his mother probably working full time to both live and pay off debts. In asian culture, at least in chinese culture, parents would hit you if you do something wrong, hoping that you would learn your lesson and would not repeat the same mistake again. That brings back to the chapter where he tian gave a sandwich to mo nicely, but mo just threw it away, causing he tian to beat mo,hoping that mo would not ~

~ do this again. He tian probably beat mo out of anger, but I think what old xian is trying to portray here is the father role played by he tian, that is to punish mo when he does something wrong. Also, I think disciplining mo requires the use of force because he doesn’t really listen if someone talks to him nicely (for example, the chapter where a classmate told him he couldn’t play cards in the class, and he just stormed off cursing and chapter where buzzcut told him about his anger issue?? ~

~ and he threatened to beat buzzcut if I remember correctly). Before meeting he tian, mo and his gang had been going around school picking up fights and destroying school properties (according to detention board). After he tian started sticking to him, it is very noticeable that none of these things occur again. It is very obvious that he tian’s presence is changing mo in a better way. Mo and he tian are just characters that compliment each other. He tian is teaching mo of how he cannot go ~

~ unpunished for every wrongful action that he does (which mo’s parents were never there to teach him) and Mo is teaching he tian of how being rich and popular does not mean he can have everything in his way and not everyone will bow down to him (in addition to all the mafia stuff and he tian needing mo to escape the dark world that many people have talked about). What do you think? (has anyone have written a similar analysis before?) Sorry for long post and spamming.

Good morning, dear anon-san! (^_^)/

First of all, sorry for taking my sweet time answering your question. I had a couple of school projects I needed to get out of the way first. Also, I wanted to take screenshots of the rest of your question, but Tumblr was being a pain and wouldn’t let me upload different kinds of images from the chapter pictures. So, I copy-pasted the rest instead.

You posed some interesting interpretations! Some of them differ from how I see Mo Guan Shan’s character and his relationship with He Tian, but they also introduced some new perspectives I hadn’t thought of before.

I wondered how to tackle your analysis. Your question has some overall themes running through, and my usual way of highlighting quotes to structure my answers doesn’t feel the most effective this time. So, I picked some keywords/phrases and the chapters you mentioned and I will try to give this answer some structure that way.

Lack of discipline in MGS’s upbringing

Let’s begin with MGS’s childhood and parenting. According to your interpretation, due to his absent parents (father in prison and mother working a lot to provide for the family) there hasn’t really been anyone there to discipline and punish MGS as a child. This has caused him to grow up without learning to follow rules and later resulted in him getting in trouble at school multiple times. I get the feeling that you’re not blaming the parents for any of that. It’s just due to the unfortunate events the family has gone through.

This is probably where I disagree with you the most. So far, we haven’t gotten any content of Mrs. Mo disciplining her son, but I don’t think he has grown up without proper punishments and learning his actions have consequences. I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. As you mentioned, she’s probably had to work long hours even when MGS was younger but I doubt she’s been as absent as you proposed. She doesn’t strike me as someone who would neglect her child’s upbringing that way even if she had to work a lot.

MGS might not follow the school rules but it’s clear he’s very responsible for a boy his age (ch. 259):

MGS takes care of the house (cooks, cleans, pays bills...) and works multiple part-time jobs. And I think that is the key to how he was raised instead of how he acts at school (I will get to MGS and school a bit later). Doing all those things at MGS’s age requires a strong sense of responsibility and most of all, discipline. I’m sure there have been countless times when he hadn’t felt like going to work after school or when he’s been too tired to cook for his mother so dinner’s ready when she comes home late. But because the situation of his family is what it is, he didn’t have a choice.

Bringing up your child like that doesn’t only take discipline but also trust. She had to be able to trust MGS would take care of things while she was away. I’m also sure she had had to be strict and tough with him in raising him like that, and it hasn’t always been easy for her. I’m sure she has had to deny a lot of “normal” things from him because she had needed him to help her with everyday necessities.

Another thing that hints at according to what principles MGS was raised was when he went to see his father (ch. 240):

We learned how much MGS looks up to his father and wants to become like him. In his eyes, his father is “upstanding” and someone respectable. So, it’s not like MGS lacked good role models growing up even before his father went to prison.

All of that being said, it is true MGS gets often in trouble at school and I’m sure the school has contacted his mother multiple times because of that. We haven’t seen that happening in the comic itself (yet) but we might have gotten one clue how she could handle those situations (ch. 177):

She knows her son better than anyone else in the world. She knows he has a temper and can get in trouble easily because of that but she trusts him. That doesn’t mean she always automatically takes his side or doesn’t believe the teachers. By trust, I mean she always wants to hear MGS’s side as well because there must have been a reason if he’s done something wrong. After that, she decides whether or not he should be told off or punished. If MGS has skipped school and comes home too early, she doesn’t discipline him right away but wants to know if something happened.

I also have a feeling that whenever the school contacts his mother because of something he did, it’s not something MGS wants either. He doesn’t want to burden her any further with his inability to stay out of trouble. His job is to help and take care of her, and it shames and pains him if she has to take responsibility for his stupid mistakes. His character is a heart-breaking combination of wanting to be a good son that his parents could be proud of but not being dealt with good enough cards in life to feel like he can achieve that. That was also evident in how he lied to his father about having friends and doing well in school. He didn’t want to disappoint him.

MGS, school, and gangs

You didn’t talk about school directly, but I think the way MGS acts around his classmates and is treated by them and the teachers is an important part of his character. You proposed he’s acting out in school because of his lack of discipline but again, I have to disagree.

I think MGS is being aggressive towards his classmates for one reason: it’s a defense mechanism. It origins from his childhood and isn’t obvious on the outside which makes it difficult to detect. So let’s take a look at what we know about MGS as a child being around his classmates (ch. 242):

At a very young age, he’s being treated unfairly by his peers. Rumors of his father being in prison caused prejudice and made it easy to point fingers at him whenever something bad or suspicious happened. A child of an alleged criminal couldn’t have been raised to follow rules, and no one should associate themselves with him. In that flashback chapter, little MGS is trying to deny the accusations but no one listens to him, let alone believes him. The situation escalates quickly as MGS gets frustrated and physically attacks his classmates which, of course, only worsens the situation.

What I think applies to MGS’s attitude towards his classmates these days is the principle of people tending to mirror the way others treat them. If someone is being hostile towards me, it’s likely I’d start acting the same way. Especially, if I feel like I’m not treated fairly or that people are being prejudiced. It’s a way to protect and defend myself.

However, it can easily become my everyday behavior if I’m constantly being treated like that in which case, I start being hostile and aggressive before others can attack me. Which, in return, feeds the prejudice and unfair treatment until it’s a vicious cycle and I end up becoming a social outcast.

This is evident when we look at how MGS acts in middle school. You mentioned the incident when one of his classmates tells him off for playing cards in the classroom and MGS ends up storming off (ch. 154):

I think that’s an excellent example of how MGS has become an outcast and how others now fear and dislike him. The way the other student tells him to stop playing because it’s against the rules wasn’t nice as you implied but rather aggressive as if she had readied herself to face him and hid her uncertainty behind hostility. MGS told her to mind her own business but interestingly walked away from the situation. As if he doesn’t want to be the center of attention because he knows everyone in the room looks down on him and hates him.

Again, I don’t see this kind of behavior as a sign of indiscipline but something that has developed over the years as a result of discrimination. MGS has learned it’s better to distance himself by appearing angry and unapproachable so people will leave him alone out of fear. None of his classmates really know him, though, and easily believe every bad thing said about him. All they see is his exterior which is somewhat understandable, especially at their age.

You also mentioned gangs in your ask, and that’s connected to MGS’s aggression and being an outcast. I’ve talked about this a couple of times before (X and X). As MGS kept drifting further and further away from the kids who didn’t accept him, he was heading towards gangs and delinquent lifestyle. A gang gave him a place to belong and being a delinquent fed his ever-growing aggression and his already bad reputation. Unfortunately, being surrounded by gangs and people like She Li only worsened MGS’s poor self-image and made him believe that was his place in the world. And SL took advantage of that and created an illusion that he was looking out for MGS and this was his destiny (ch. 178):

However, it wasn’t only MGS’s classmates who discriminated him, I believe it was the teachers as well. There’s one detail especially that has always stuck with me (ch. 265):

When the teacher (grey hairs) was telling MGS and HT off after the Coke incident, it’s obvious he doesn’t see the two students as equals. To him, HT is an honor student with a bright future who shouldn’t associate himself with people like MGS. It’s one thing if immature kids don’t see past someone’s behavior but when it’s also adults (let alone educators) who fail to do so, it’s so much worse and often results in a kid losing faith both in themselves and in their futures. Teachers are the people kids trust and expect the most to do the right thing and treat kids without prejudice. As a teacher, that panel broke my heart a little.

What comes to MGS getting angry at Buzzcut after the card incident (ch. 154):

MGS gets angry because Buzzcut accidentally poked at something MGS is very sensitive about. The topic of his father being in prison and how he feels about it goes deep and is something MGS wants to hide from others. So, when outsiders who don’t know anything about his father even mention him, his knee-jerk reaction is to get defensive to protect that emotional sore spot. It wasn’t about MGS having anger issues or lacking discipline but rather about lashing out to hide something vulnerable.

Are you starting to see what I’m talking about when I say his behavior is not about the lack of discipline?

HT as a father figure

Because MGS often breaks the rules and gets in trouble, you proposed HT comes in as a father figure and teaches him his actions have consequences by punishing MGS when he acts up. And to bring his points and “lessons” across he often needs to use force because MGS won’t listen to him otherwise.

This interpretation perked me up, and I find the perspective of seeing HT’s role as someone fatherly very interesting. I have never thought of it quite like that. I both agree and disagree with your interpretation, but it turned out to be somewhat difficult to pinpoint where the line between them goes.

I agree that discipline and HT go very much hand in hand. From the very beginning, he’s made it very clear MGS is not to go against his will or refuse him (ch. 150 and 210):

But I still don’t think it’s quite in the way you described. Because I don’t think MGS lacks discipline I also don’t think that teaching him manners is HT’s reason to “punish” him for acting up. There’s no reason to teach MGS his actions have consequences; he’s known that his whole life and often suffered from it. Instead, there’s a deeper meaning behind HT’s actions and overall interest in MGS, and it’s brought up quite often in his lines (ch. 160 and 180):

HT wants to make MGS into an “outstanding person”. (As a side note, that same phrase is also mentioned by MGS when he’s visiting his father.) He knows what real bad guys look like and sees MGS isn’t one of them. In his heart, MGS is actually honest, caring, hardworking, responsible, and someone who isn’t hungry for power and sneaky about it. He has drifted into gangs and being a delinquent because his environment constantly rejected and badmouthed him, not because he’s a troublemaker by nature. However, if he keeps up his current behavior he’s heading into a dangerous future, and it’s from that doom HT wants to save him.

But of course MGS isn’t about to just follow HT blindly. He’s learned the hard way not to trust people’s actions and words. Over the years, he’s built strong, nearly unbreachable walls around himself, and HT needs both time and effort to get through them. Ultimately, it’s about trust, not discipline. HT isn’t punishing MGS for acting out but trying to pull him away from the cliff MGS has been pushed towards and is about to fall off.

As I said, it’s difficult to say where my interpretation parts from yours because discipline is definitely a part of HT molding MGS into an upstanding person but still...it’s different. It’s as if despite his good goals HT needs to dominate MGS first for his own good to make him listen because MGS doesn’t trust him enough to just follow him. If MGS can’t fight and refuse him, there’s no other direction really. Also, it should not be forgotten that HT thinks MGS having spunk and spice in his character is a good thing even if that means he will fight and resists even HT himself. That means he’s less likely to become anyone’s puppet, has enough pride to not suck up to anyone, and wants to be independent.

What comes to the chapter in which MGS slaps the sandwich offered by HT and HT beats him up for it (ch. 222):

First of all, 19 Days is known for having that kind slapstick humor, and I think HT kneeing MGS until he accepted the sandwich was an example of that. Secondly, I don’t think it was a “punishment” for acting out or MGS not knowing what discipline is but rather HT yet again asserting his dominance to make sure MGS keeps following him. Thirdly, it’s important not to forget the context of MGS’s behavior. Earlier in the chapter, he had gotten agitated by Buzzcut asking about girls and love and what was MGS’s type - unbeknown or perhaps not realizing that MGS is awkward and testy about those subjects, especially after HT had started pursuing him. Then he runs into HT and ends up taking out his feelings on him and refusing him in a way that was more serious in tone than his usual reluctant grumpiness.

MGS affecting HT’s behavior

In the end, you say that both HT and MGS have changed each other’s behavior for the better, and I wholeheartedly agree. However, I don’t think HT has ever thought that being rich and popular entitles him to have things done his way and others bowing down to him. Actually, I think it’s that very way of thinking HT wants to get away from and despises. It’s precisely the money and the influence that comes with it that has driven a fundamental wedge between him and his family, to begin with.

Now, that being said, I’m not trying to make it sound like HT can’t act selfishly or be ignorant about many things. He certainly can. Being around MGS has exposed him to another kind of way of living and taught him a lot. Also, MGS resisting him every which way has probably taught him the effort and patience that goes into winning someone’s trust. Saving someone isn’t as simple as just swooping them off their feet and feeling good about yourself afterward but actually requires cooperation from the other party as well.

You had many interesting things to say and challenged my thinking in many ways! I hope I managed to cover everything you said. The cores of our ways of looking at things differ from each other, so it was a challenge to structure my answer and make sure I don’t miss anything. If you think I overlooked something or you have something to add/comment, please go ahead.

In any case, thank you for your interesting question and patience!

#19 days #mo guan shan #He Tian #tianshan #answered ask

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fmdjoosungarchive · 4 years

Text

location: tokyo, studios

date: april & september 2019. march, september, & october 2020

word count: 1753

tldr; verification for sung’s song tokyo. partial lyrics, full comp & prod. the song starts in tokyo, when sung is missing his boyfriend. it evolves over time to be like a diary piece and since it serves as the first ‘chapter’ in his album, it’s also kinda like an intro where it talks through/foreshadows what will be in the rest of the album. sung’s affinity for natural sounds continues, as well as inspiration from @fmdxsuji’s song arari on the composition. again pls dont come for me if it isn’t a gayageum it Sounds like one (in the equivalent of white ppl playing the ukulele but still)

not all songs needed to be about one thing. tokyo, for instance, happened to be about ten different things at once.

it’d started in tokyo. element had a tour stop in the city, and sung wasn’t feeling as chipper as he’d have liked. he loved performing with everything in his being, but-- he still rested his head against the window, watching buildings and people pass by in blurs, no other care for conversation.

sung couldn’t quite make sense of what had caused such a mood in him on the plane from seoul. he supposed, part of it was that he missed daisuke. his boyfriend wasn’t from tokyo, far from it actually, which over time seemed to have made daisuke feel a bit bitter towards tokyo. it wasn’t close enough for his family to visit, which meant seeing them even less often than he would have through touring. sung understood that. he doesn’t like being so far away from his parents the few weeks at a time that element go on tour. years sounded impossible.

but, tokyo still reminded him of daisuke. being greeted at the gate, and hearing chit chat all around him in japanese, sat an ache in his heart. after all, coming to know daisuke over the last four years was the reason he’d come to be better at japanese. passing on by, he could understand most of what was being said, and that was all daisuke’s impact. most every sign he saw reminded him of his boyfriend, the food that he ate reminded him of what wasn’t with him.

maybe, he was just sad in general. that happened to sung, sometimes. he couldn’t pinpoint an exact cause of sadness, and was just sad. underlying issues he hadn’t dealt with could be the reason that happened, but it could also simply be his brain chemistry acting up.

that was his trouble; sung didn’t know. all that he could do was sit in his feelings until they lessened. he took a walk by himself before the concert, telling his manager he can ask for directions if he happens to get lost. that time alone was really needed. he called daisuke, but it seemed the man was busy, as he went to voicemail.

“hi, honey. um, i made it into town safely. it’s- it’s kind of loud here, this might have been the wrong time to call, but, um, i just wanted to check in. maybe see your face.” he’d stopped his path, leaning up against a building to look at the sky. “i miss you already. it’s hard being surrounded by so much that reminds me of you, when i don’t have... you.” his sigh probably sounded tinny over the phone. “anyway, um, call me when you have time, please. i love you!”

sung stayed in that spot for a while, long enough that he decided to record a video of the bustling landscape around him. as he started walking again, he caught all kinds of sounds, cars, trains, planes, click clacking of heels, even a siren. he ended the video with a short facecam, so he could cut that part of the video to send to daisuke.

over the rest of his time in tokyo, sung kept playing that ten minute video over and over, and over again. something about the ambient, faceless sound of human existence was calming, comforting.

in the shower after the concert, sung kept humming the same note pattern on repeat. at first, it was natural, as his brain kept coming back to it, without his active thought towards it. however, the more he repeated himself, the more sung thought that he should be keeping his melody in his head to record after he got out of the shower. it could be useful for something, at some point, he’d reasoned.

he was right, eventually. in the flurry of trying to write songs for his first solo album, sung had turned back to every piece of unfinished song that he possibly could. one of them was this piece, broken into the sounds of daily tokyo streets, and a short humming melody. it was... workable.

sung crafted a simple piano piece based on the humming, used some of the sound from his tokyo video, and just with those two things, it was a basis to write off of. he tried to recall the feeling of that day, by watching the full video of the street a few times over. getting back to that day wasn’t as hard as he thought. papers, then his computer, were dotted in with sing-rap lines about missing someone.

only partially through mixing that vocal line in, did sung think he might be wasting his time. the sound was so different from everything else he’d been working on, much too simply and abstract. and so, the playlist of tokyo was shelved again.

with march came the end of his second solo promotions, and in came the desire to write more music. it was then he came back to toyko, to fiddle around. sung wasn’t sure what he wanted from the song, or if he wanted anything at all, which took some of the pressure off in continuing to write. he made it much more complicated, at first, adding a plethora of digital instruments that he figured he could add in live later, should he so choose. in the end, basically none of that made it into the final cut. the negative of doing whatever he pleased, was that for the most part, he’d lost the point, and feeling, of the song.

what did stay, was something sung came to find integral to the piece. modeled after a recording of his own heartbeat, there was a drum line. deep, guttural, mixed into the piece as if it was still stuck in someone’s chest, and your ear was against it, straining to hear what was pounding into you without any effort on its part.

the song had started to be about life, and those held dear, which was a perfect place to use something that sounded like the foundation of life.

stumbling across the song for the last time was entirely accidental. sung would call it fate. that melody hadn’t crossed his mind in months, but the second he heard it again, it was stuck for weeks. there was nothing he could do to quell the sound in his brain than work on it.

first, he stripped back what wasn’t working, back to the simplistic version he’d started with. after adding on the drums, the world was his oyster. over the next couple of weeks, sung started writing lyrics, mixing where he was at back in tokyo, with his feelings of self. he wondered, if maybe part of his sadness, that day, was in missing himself, too. being in that sad area wasn’t what sung liked to consider part of him. it was something that happened to him, that he dealt with decently regularly.

lyrics took the majority of his time, as he mulled over this thoughts of what the song might come to be, if about anything particular at all. the next major composition change was quite quick, though. his interest had been piqued, the first time he heard suji’s demo of arari. sung had yet to attempt using traditional korean instruments in his music. really, the thought hadn’t crossed his mind until that moment, having his heart swayed by the beauty of the danso and suji’s beautiful voice.

he wasn’t very confident, never having trained with traditional instruments before, but there was a first step in everything. he’d gone to his usual music shop as soon as he had time to, to rent a gayageum. and, simple as the piece he wrote was, it didn’t take too much learning for him to get a good recording of it. listening to it again, with that addition, sung felt how much the song benefitted from that small change, and promised himself that he would continue to learn the gayageum, so that he could make something more beautiful to show the world in the future.

sung also made a note to thank suji for the inspiration.

the next change was quite a big one, though it didn’t deal with the composition. towards the end of september, sung thought he might want to go further than he did with moonchild, and have a song completely in english. even more ambitious than before, he knew, but he also had a slight edge of confidence, after having felt the power moonchild ended up bringing.

a creature of habit, sung called up the same songwriter he’d worked with on moonchild, to request help again. he didn’t really want to translate the words he’d already written, thinking that would flow much less smoothly as a full song, but rather, he wanted to take the feelings he’d put into the korean lyrics, and match it with english.

sung tried to take a more active role in writing the lyrics that time, because it was a full song, based on his own experiences and feelings. it worked fine enough, since sung had a decent grasp on understanding english, even if he didn’t think of it easily himself.

he’d insisted they keep one of the english lyrics that was in the original piece. it was a callback to another song he’d written for the album, talking about love and hate. tokyo was a place that held those feelings, from himself and his original inspiration for the song, just like seoul had from himself for the last decade.

getting to where he wanted was harder than it was for moonchild, since they were starting from near zero, from where sung usually started his songs, and because... sung knew he was being more stressful of a writing partner than he was the last time. every word he wasn’t sure of, he asked for in-depth explanations of, wanting each line to express exactly what it was he was going for.

sung couldn’t explain what this song was about, if he was asked, not in a pretty pink bow. the song was about tokyo, and what that city had brought to sung. that ditty, on repeat, with the sounds of scratched pavement underneath. music wasn’t always simple to understand. it could be a feeling.

the last thing sung changed about the song before sending it off in his final tracklist, was a clip of him humming at the end of the song, with that siren in tokyo in the distance.

#fmdverification #i rly went back thru schedules to see when element were in tokyo lmaoo #i believe this is the song with the most discrepancy on the lyrics n i have Not commented on them #just what the song means to sung specifically #self para #era: happiness #one! more! one! more!

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