#me and my knack of making people look ~almost~ right when i draw them

[veryconfusedunlabeledguy]

personally, i like my men disheveled and bloody 🥰

[frogchiro]

I hope I’m not bothering you with my ancient greek mythology stuff my little brain is going into overdrive👉👈

Just…sculptor/painter reader using the gladiators as her nude model…running your hands over their muscles and gushing how strong they are and how amazing your latest piece is going to come out!

You don’t even notice they’re getting hard as you run your fingers over their adonis belt commenting how they’re your new muse for your art

I almost (s)creamed the moment I saw this ask nonnie dear you're a genius ;;

Also I feel the need to mention this; please do keep in mind that this is only my silly au and most probably will have historical inaccuracies so if you're a true history/ancient greece/roman enjoyer, please go mild on me ;;

But back to the drill...You are so right??? Like...I imagine that reader would be a young, aspiring artist with a knack for painting. Maybe she doesn't come from a wealthy family so any true school for it is out of the question, your own parents only came along when you started selling your painting and doing commissions for nobles and it actually started to bring in money. Your road to success is still long but you're managing! Plus you're 'stupidly determined like your father' as your mother says so you try to stay positive!

The one problem you had was something you believed many artists suffered from; inspiration and models. Specifically human models. The human body and physique fascinated you from an early age, the moving muscles, facial expressions to different stimuli and so much more but...the problem were the models, or rather the lack thereof.

You could probably hire someone but the money spend on that would be way too much for your limited budget so the next best thing was the coliseum! It was a blessing in poor disguise, the gladiators trained there almost daily and luckily the head keeper of the arena begrudingly let you stay there and practice in exchange for a satchel of money but to be honest...the practice wasn't the only thing you longed for when visiting the coliseum almost daily, it was the gladiators.

They were huge, burly men in their prime, all of them looking like they were born with a sword or spear in hand and to grow up to become warrior and you'd be lying if you said that warmth didn't spread through your body and centered in your lower belly whenever these big, loud and boisterous men didn't call out for you and purred in dripping, low voices how pent up they are and what they wouldn't give for a pretty soft thing like you :((

The worst (or best) part was when you were practicing nude drawings which were equally fascinating and hard to draw, especially with all these men being so...shameless with it. You loved the human body, all artists do but still you were a young lady and watching all the gladiators walking around the barracks all naked and proud was...an experience to say the least and brought a pang of warmth between your thighs, especially when they were so happy to parade themselves like proud stallions in front of you :((

Strong, toned bodies glistening with sweat and water, their hardening cocks proudly on show whenever you run your soft hands over their toned torsos to study the way muscles move and twitch whenever you run your fingers over a sensitive spot, the most reactive being two of the many foreign gladiators, Johnny or like he insisted to be called 'Soap' and Kyle or 'Gaz', like he wants to be called.

These two are always purring low withing their chests to you as you look all over them, their backs, chests, stomachs, making you promise to do a special commission only for them but you're just nodding dumbly because you're too transfixed on the god-like bodies to draw :(

Another gladiator you're very fond of is a huge, blonde foreigner named Simon, or 'Ghost'. A formidable warrior, a veteran for sure, it looked like Ares himself send this one here to grace the people with a demigod of war. He was always incredibly patient with you, letting you roam your hands over his body and all the numerous scars decorating his skin. Once you saw Simon up close you immediately realized why people called him a demigod-he was beautiful. A strong and powerful man in his prime, his muscles jumping and twitching beneath his thick skin and a layer of fat, power and virility was literally radiating off of this man, and you insistently tried not to look at the long and thick cock hanging between his legs, twitching and pulsating with arousal whenever you marveled over his body and your fingers ran over his adonis belt <3

[kel-lance]

Movie Night: fem!reader x Itadori, Megumi, Toge, Yuta Part 2

Warnings: MDNI, Group sex, camera use, teasing, humiliation, mmfmm, everyone’s bi/pan, overstimulation, worship, etc(?)

premise: You hosted a game and movie night, bc it was making and nobara s anniversary and they were going out for the weekend. Okay so sodas, pizzas, snacks, really really bad movies…. sad movies, and finally scary movies. Perfect to watch with whoever could make it to your last minute plans. Turned out to be Yuuji, Megumi, Toge, and Yuta… oh great…

————————————————

“Megumi, are you paying attention?”

“And if you want them to do this,” you yelp higher this time, more surprised than anyone that Toge knew exactly which spot Yuta was talking about. He does it again to show his underclassman, slowly this time drawing out the same noise.

“Remember what I said, if you make her come before I get to I’m unleashing mahagara on all of us.” The other guys sigh and let you go. They sit back, beaming, almost satisfied with what they got out of the moment.

You’re moved from everyone’s reach, to sitting in-between megumi’s legs, his body almost swallowing yours. His long arms tried to hide you away from the others’ greedy hands and you almost let him erase you before feeling more of him. It almost took you by surprise, that he was poking at you.

You let your head fell back onto his shoulder, wondering what face megs could be making. He’s trying so hard to hold back right now. The faint grinding of your ass onto his thighs was already enough. He gasped hard, trying not to look at you, focusing so his body could last.

You crane up and kiss his cheek, this was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Megumi never fights back against you, so seeing him trying to deny what he’s fantasized for years, you regained your playfulness and hopped off his lap.

Turning to face him, you grasp his face and pull him into a kiss, continuing his streak of pleasure. “They thought they had the upper hand because of numbers, hah.” You were surprised, they almost made you forget how they melt under your touch. You got them to keep up with you, though, of course no one else could compare to Yuuji’s.

Either way, you’ve got fresh meat now and everything from the past comes flooding back. You met tsumiki-chan in elementary school and knew she was going through hard times. You just had a knack of figuring people out as a kid and something drew you to her, more or less a curse found her because of the loss of her parents, you pitied her and exorcised it.

Megumi wondering what happened to that weird thing he used to see on tsumiki and she suddenly feels better when she’s around me? You didn’t mind as they were a fun duo, and you get how they grew up, though you had the school take you in for your sorcery instead of certain super famous super powerful super hot descendants of certain clans. *rolls eyes*

“This is my best friend’s brother, she knew about his crush but will she kill me?!” You’re brought back as you felt meg’s tongue trace your bottom lip. “She’d be happy for us.” You dive into him, pushing him back into the headboard, ignoring the other guys watching, commenting among themselves of the show before them.

You’re on all fours while kissing him into the bed frame, ass in the air, hands pressing onto his hard chest and abs. It was someone completely new, a body that you haven’t fully familiarized yourself with, yet it’s been waiting for you.

“Are you ready?” You asked, pulling yourself back to take off just the t shirt you were wearing for movie night. I mean it was your house and you asked them to come over… you could’ve started this whenever you wanted.

——switching writing style-——

- you hover over him and tease him by dipping your hips down, he’s barely entering you but still getting his raw head

- He’s whimpering and holding onto you as he cums right away and you’re loving it, giving him words of encouragement and saying how he’s so good

- He’s whisperer he’s sorry and you tell him he’s gonna fuck you as much as he’s waited for

- “She’s loving this” they chatter

- “I remember our first time…”

- “Salmon salmon”

- Tell me when you want me to move. You’re still hard, unless you need a second?

- He huffs as he holds you and says yeah

- Yuuji comes over to sit him up and hold him as he needs aftercare.

- I guess we have our order now. Don’t tire yourself out y/n yuujis bright eyes gave a lustful hint that he’s really going to enjoy todays session

- Toge pulls you to the end of the bed and has you bend kneed on the floor as he uses his fingers to fuck you into finishing and to make it easier to scoop out megumi’s cum

- He licks you clean and spits it onto megumi who both try to fight before you hazily ask them to help you do that again and you loved it

- Yuta has you sit on his dick, showing the others about the rules of your body and how to treat you until you try to move.

- He gets excited and start to go crazy with the angles and how he’ll manipulate how gravity will make you fall back onto his dick splitting you open, getting deeper and deeper, getting more intense, so intense you gave up breathing until the involuntary gasping comes.

- There was no one else but you two, his hand grabbing at your throat to keep you up, the other hand across your womb, feeling himself through and jerking his hips. Your arms were pinned by his chest and behind your back. “Yuta, plea-“ That was the final straw, he didn’t care anymore. Taking his time? Saving his energy? Fuck that, he’s known you once, letting you love him was a huge step from coming out of “neglectbernation” or his hermit phase, but he couldn’t choose between his trauma and you, his past or his future, Rika or you. You knew he didn’t need her, you were fine with it actually when he broke the curse, but then he started to be weird about it. almost forgetting that you and rika weren’t the same person, that you weren’t a body replacement for her, it just was bad to be around so you left, noticing that he and toge started to hang out together more if they’re not watching u.

- Anyway from this position if he lets go of the weight of your whole body falls onto his cock, and he bounces you back you in ease. This would be so hot if the other boys weren’t trying to claim your face

- Yuta was the most fixed on you while toge was the most needy. Yuuji was the most clingy and Megumi was the most yearned.

- Toge come over here and help us out. Toge puts himself in you too, you can feel yuta digging in deep from behind while toge rubs against your g-spot or is that your bladder?

- You don’t know as yuta holds you up between the two boys.

- You lol your head to the side and the boys nip at your neck and ear and kiss at each other, tongues twirling before they separate on soft parts of your body

- Toge pulls himself out and brings your head down on him. Changing angles yuta rhythmically pounds into you from behind. The angle making him feel larger, you waste no time taking toge in your mouth, you tasted megumis cum, your own juices and the precum of the other two.

- This was an average Tuesday tbh, sometimes yuuji comes by to watch, sometimes we just record and watch later with everyone.

- Right now could be a good time, maybe they set up a camera somewhere before you milked Megs.

- You’ll think about it later, right now why don’t you give him a show.

- You held yourself up with your hands, sometimes with your knees. Putting your hands on the back of his hips to pull and push him into your head rather they bob your head all around.

- You pull him all the way into your throat, letting him adjust and lose himself into the tight wet hot hole. Yuta moving you all around was also aiding in his pleasure.

- Looking up trying to get a glimpse of his pretty purple eyes, you loved being able to hear his voice, so him whimpering had you all sorts of messed up

- Yuta knew it too, his voice being so pretty though demanding, it was so cool. But he also knew because you’d squeeze in him whenever toge got loud.

- Megumi couldn’t stop watching you, he could only admire you, his best friend holding him as he caught his breath.

- He was eating up every angle of you, Yuuji also watching intently, patiently. His bulge was grinding into Megumi, his hands teasing and sensually grabbing at the mess you’ve created. “He could control himself.” We all hoped.

————————————————-

A/N: Next ch is 3/9 (megs fr this time, yuuj, n sukuna. (And finishing off these two.))

[wehaveimagineshere]

Hmmmmmm. Noticed no one has requested some Carlos smut yet and that last fic gave me an idea. How about a fic where the two "break in their new bed" for the first time. afab if you need specifics. Happy writing!

(Also idk if this will be an issue but could you avoid the topic of degradation? It's a bit of a trigger for me. Just wanna make sure cuz sometimes people add it in when I don't specify. Thanks.)

Thank you for being my first Carlos smut request <3 I've been so excited to write this, you have no idea.

Of course! Honestly, I'm not much of a fan of degradation myself. Besides, I think Carlos has a huge praise kink and wouldn't even think about degrading unless it was something his s/o was into. Thank you for specifying and making sure (: I always want to write something that makes the requestor happy, so I never want to make you uncomfortable. The more specifics, the better!

~*~*~

A new place always came with an undercurrent of excitement. Finding where each little nick knack belongs, decorating just the right way to scratch that long time itch, learning more about the person you're with by seeing how they unpack with you.

It was always a lot of work, but by the end of the day, seeing all the new placements and knowing everything is yours can't be beat.

"Look at it," you hear Carlos from the bedroom as you peek your head in. Hands on hips, you find his eyes surveying the bed.

"Look at...the bed?" you ask, lips pulling up.

"Yeah, look at it. It's so...neat."

"....Yeeaahh?"

"We can't have a neat bed."

"....Wwhhyyyy?"

"Because you and me don't do neat beds." He smiles at the utterly confused look you give him. "We need to break it in."

"Break in a bed?"

"Yeah. You. Me. Naked. On this bed. Having the hottest sex of our lives."

Your eyebrows raise as you give the bed another, different appraisal, and the heat in your eyes as you shift your gaze back to your husband makes him smirk. Giving a dramatic sigh, you lean against the doorframe. "I really wanted to get the kitchen all unpacked before the day was over though."

He takes a step toward you. "Did you?"

Looking at your nails in faux attention, you sigh again. "It might take all night."

You hear him chuckle, then feel his hands glide down your sides to rest on your hips. "You need to take a break at some point." His fingers find the edge of your shirt and push up, fingertips grazing your skin.

"Breaks are important." Abandoning your nails, you wrap your arms around his neck and plant a kiss to his jaw. "What did you have in mind?"

Warm hands trail up your sides and spine, tugging your shirt up with them. "You, me, and this bed." Before you can respond, he steals your lips with your own, diving his tongue into your mouth almost desperately.

You immediately draw closer, pressing your body up against his, returning the kiss with equal fervor. He breaks apart only to shuck your shirt off, hands immediately going back to trailing fire across your skin as your own fingers find their way into his hair.

His kisses are always intoxicating, and by the time your knees hit the edge of the bed, you've lost your pants and he's lost his shirt. As your back hits the brand new comforter, his lips find your collarbone, trailing down your sternum, find a nipple and suck it in, teeth biting down just enough to smart.

Your back arches without your consent, flames licking down your veins as his tongue flicks across your nipple before moving to the next, a stray hand stroking gently down your stomach and along the edges of your panties.

You're squirming by the time his lips abandon your chest and move lower, that incessant hand still stroking, teasing. It's not until his lips graze your panties that that hand hooks and takes the fabric down your thighs, bearing you to the tongue that quickly slides between your folds.

Hands grip the comforter as your breath hitches, and you can feel Carlos' smile against your skin as he licks you again, and again, gripping your thighs to keep you still. He keeps a slow, agonizing pace, pressure almost a whisper, and you love and hate that he's pressing your hips down to prevent the friction you so crave.

When your nerves are wired and anticipation drips between your legs Carlos finally leans back, quickly chucking the rest of his clothes to the floor and slides up, positioning himself at your entrance as he kisses you, your taste flooding your mouth.

"Ready sweetheart?" he asks, voice husky, and all you can do is nod.

He goes slow, giving you time to adjust as he slides in. Your hands grip his shoulders as he fills you, stretches you, the fire turning to molten lava when he makes it to the hilt and slides out. A nod from you tells him you're okay, and that's when he really moves.

Not too fast, not too slow, he finds just the perfect rhythm to get you a squirming, sweating mess. Breathing becomes an afterthought as his thumb pressing against your clit and all you can feel is him, the pressure, the movement, the friction, and you know he's driving you the climax when your stomach tightens.

"Look at you," you hear him breathe, thumb rubbing circles over your swollen clit.

"Carlos," you nearly beg, language slipping from your mind and tongue like sand.

"I know, baby. Cum for me."

So you do.

It slams into your hard and fast, wiping your vision into white as you arch back and cry out, nerves fraying and snapping as wave after wave of pleasure crashes into you.

"I've got you," you hear him beside your ear, not knowing when he'd wrapped his arms around you. "I've got you." Kisses pepper your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw. "I've got you."

Finally you can take a breath, the stars in your vision fizzing out. Carlos brings your head to his chest, his heartbeat loud and fast. "Give us both a couple minutes and we can keep going."

A chuckle escapes as you lean over and give his cheek a kiss, a hand already gliding down his stomach. "You think you get a rest, big guy?"

The smile he gives you is absolutely wicked.

[intrepidacious]

every dream gone

summary: After the events of Winter Soldier, Bucky slowly realizes just how much he lost after his fall.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: bucky being sad; vague mentions of brainwashing and a whole lot of guilt; don't look for a happy ending with this one folks (i'm sorry 🥲)

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i started writing this fic back in september and it took me until now to gather the emotional willpower to finish it. blame this song that inspired the whole thing.

masterlist | read on ao3

It took Bucky a while to remember you, after everything, but he did.

The first memory came back while he was on the run. He'd been in Europe for a while by then, sleeping in freight cars, never staying anywhere for longer than a week, trying to keep a low profile while both HYDRA and Steve were still frantically looking for him everywhere. Those early days were the worst.

He spent most of his time on trains and tried to figure out why he hated it so much.

Being in England calmed him a bit. It was nice getting used to hearing people speak English around him again, and not in a tone that commanded obedience.

He didn't have much to go off, just scattered memories that didn't quite seem to fit together. There was always something off about them, something like the taste of metal where it shouldn't be. This time, the fragments led him to a flea market.

There were only a handful of people dotted in between the stands, which was probably for the best. His long sleeves usually attracted some curious glances this late into July.

He didn't exactly have money to spare for knick-knacks or secondhand souvenirs, but his feet carried him straight to one stand in particular, without him even realizing. His fingertips grazed along the spines of old paperbacks that were lined up like soldiers, but Bucky didn't spare them more than a glance.

He stopped at the next table over, a small frown on his face.

"Look at all those colors, Buck!"

Pastels and acrylics, steel nib fountain pens and piles of hand-bound sketchbooks. The woman selling them looked up from her novel when he didn't move for a whole minute, his eyes fixed on the notebooks.

"You can pick 'em up if you can't decide, you know," she said.

He nodded, blinked, almost embarrassed at the way his fingers shook as he picked up one of the books. It was bound in blue linen, and the deckle edged pages stuck to his gloves.

"You draw?" the woman asked, in a way that was more politeness than actual interest.

"My friend did," Bucky found himself saying.

Hands covered in charcoal. The smell of paper and something else.

"How dare you!" A laugh, carelessly loud and graceless. The most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. "My nose looks nothing like that!"

The memory passed through him softly, almost dreamlike, and for a second, he didn't know whether he wanted to cry or scream. He did neither.

The woman was looking at him strangely, but she accepted the note he handed her for the sketchbook, even though it wasn't Sterling.

"Young man," she called after him, and he almost wanted to laugh. "You're gonna need this, too." And she handed him a pen, as if she'd known, as if there was something in his face that told her how lost he felt.

It was cheap, surely, but it was also the first gift he'd gotten in decades, and so he kept it in his chest pocket. Right above his heart.

***

The next memory came not too long after that.

He was sitting in a rundown coffee shop in Edinburgh, barely paying attention to the room around him while he tried putting his past onto the page. The book was filling so achingly slowly it made him want to throw it against a wall most days.

A good chunk of it was about Steve.

Bucky supposed that was to be expected, because he'd been the one to first make him remember, and because it was Steve.

So page after page was detailing pneumonias and ill-fitting jackets and bruised knuckles in Bucky's narrow writing, trying to piece together a life that should have stayed his. It was desperate work, futile work most days, but he tried anyway.

And then the café owner switched stations on the old, dusty radio in the corner, and there was the song.

It took only a couple of notes until the images struck like lightning.

Swinging skirts and heels clacking on wooden floors. The smell of sweat and hairspray and something else. Something like May bells.

"You're quite good at this, aren't you?" Hands tightening around his neck in the most pleasant embrace.

"Only as good as my partner."

How could a simple hum sound so content? "And I ain't exactly called Rogers, either. But you’re the one leading."

"And thank God for both."

A dip, a scream. And that laugh again. He wanted to bottle it up and get drunk on it for the rest of eternity.

When the song ended, Bucky was shaking with it. He'd broken the pen in his hand, and the dark ink smeared all over his palm like black blood.

He didn’t do so well with presents these days.

***

He remembered your name when he heard a mother call out for her child in a park and it stopped him in his tracks because the corners of his mouth started to lift on their own accord. It was like you were muscle memory, your name so deeply ingrained that his body remembered you long before his mind could catch up.

And your name.

Whispered in darkened picture theaters until your skin prickled with goosebumps, shouted across dance halls sweltering with heat, spoken with reverence on dizzying fair rides. Bucky’d said it again, and again, and again, and for so long he couldn’t think of anything sweeter than the taste of it on his tongue.

He tried it out now, and it came out like ash.

The sound of his name on your lips came to him only hours later, because he kept prodding at that part of his mind that kept you hidden from him, kept trying to unlock the gate to his forgotten memories until finally it slid open an inch.

He was trying to make dinner.

He’d not had a warm meal for weeks at that point, but the past few days had been good and he’d bought vanilla extract for pancakes. The sugary smell filled his tiny apartment, but he didn’t even notice at first, not until he opened the window and then turned back to the stove.

“Bucky.”

Like a breath of air that echoed from deep within until it reached him and left him shaken.

He said your name again, called it into the silence of the room. It didn’t answer him.

He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than going crazy, and so he breathed in again.

“James! It’s almost nine, we’re gonna be late.” Nails drumming against the wood of a dresser. You’d painted it with flowers, purple and blue and yellow. Beautiful.

“And whose fault is that, sweetheart?”

His fingers wrapping around your waist, pulling you close, so young, so human. Your perfume, soft and lingering mist-like between you, and something else. Something like Christmas morning.

Smiles had come so easy to him back then. “I’ve been sittin’ by the door for a good twenty minutes now, waitin’ anxiously for you to finish up.”

“If you’re getting so anxious over me, you needn’t have waited, Buck.”

“I’d wait my whole life if it went you’re comin’ down the stairs, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t noticed he’d slid to the floor, trembling.

The pancakes burned.

***

Your name was so much and yet so little at the same time.

Bucky tried finding any record of you, in libraries, newspaper archives, even using a computer once he figured out how to go online. But you’d been a normal girl, a lovely, perfect, beautiful, normal girl. That had never been enough for the history books.

He had to put you together again himself, slowly. The smallest details took him months.

You would always get holes in your tights and scold him for prodding at them. You used to hate getting your picture taken, but you would benignly let Steve draw you as long as he kept you entertained. You’d liked dancing, and flowers, and sweet things, and somehow, inexplicably, you’d liked him.

“You are the worst date I’ve ever had.”

The taste of whipped cream and chocolate on your lips, and the feeling of your fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck. That little sound at the back of your throat.

“You were saying, sweetheart?”

Bucky’s hand balled into a fist. It wasn’t fair.

The worst part was that you were barely more than the memory of a beautiful dream, hazy and blurred. He was well aware he didn’t deserve good things anymore, but these faint half-images collecting in his brain were nothing short of cruel.

"I can't remember her face,” he told the only person who might have understood, because he himself didn’t. “Why can I remember every single person that I had to ...” He trailed off, dragging his hand over his face. “And yet I can't remember her face?"

Steve's hand was on his shoulder, a gesture that should feel comforting in its familiarity. Instead, Bucky had never felt this small in his own skin.

Wrong shoulder.

"I'll see what I can do," Steve said calmly, but there was a helplessness in his voice that made Bucky’s stomach churn.

It wasn’t supposed to spill out of his own eyes.

***

You would have loved Wakandan sunsets.

They were richer, more colorful than the ones Bucky remembered, but maybe that didn’t actually mean much. The beautiful things had a habit of evading him.

Sometimes, he was selfish enough to wish it had stayed that way, because at least in forgetting, he hadn’t known to miss anything at all. Years and decades worth of lack came crashing through to drown him now, more and more frequent, as if they were trying to make up for lost time. Or mocking him.

But you would have loved the sunsets, and so he tried to love them, too, just like he was always meant to do.

“Do you have to leave already?”

A sniff, a petulant sigh, his limbs heavy and warm, but resolve unwavering. He’d fancied himself so smart, then. “You know I do.”

Daybreak kisses that tasted contently like sleep. Slowly untangling his fingers from yours, something cool grazing them.

Steve brought back a small package, and that was all that was left to find of the part of the past that he’d shared with you. A thin stack of official papers, the dog tags he’d worn in Austria, and a ring.

Bucky sat down.

He knew, rationally, that you were long gone even before he saw the official documents. He’d never expected you to wait for him when it had always been the other way around. Still, to read it so plainly was like his insides were being twisted into the tightest knot, and his heart, his carefully guarded heart that had only just started to remember its own rhythm stuttered painfully. Like it was sick of this whole dance, the waiting, the longing for something so out of reach. So lost to time.

He didn’t want this, any of this, but there was nothing he could do but stare and wait for his vision to clear.

“There’s something else,” Steve said, his voice far away like he’d been wrapped in cotton. “Do you remember the house?”

A rickety porch swing and a picket fence that needed bleaching. Thorny rose bushes blooming in all your favorite colors. Two spare rooms.

“Are we going to be hostin’ a lot of guests, then?” That smug little curl of your lip he liked to kiss.

“I hope not.” Arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. Always the same gesture, as familiar as the smell. Vanilla and peonies, and something else. “We could find a more permanent use, don’t you think?”

“She kept it. It’s still there.”

Bucky traced the letters of your name with his thumb as if somehow, somewhere, you might have felt the familiar caress. It looked lonely there, all on its own.

Maybe it was lucky that he’d long run out of screams, because he might have never stopped.

“Thank you,” he said, and even though it didn’t seem sufficient, Steve nodded.

Bucky threaded your ring onto the chain of his dog tags and closed it around his neck before he hid them under his vest, the metal like a ghostly touch over his heart.

***

It took Bucky five more years to make it back to New York. Well. Five more years passed.

He’d lost so many of them it didn’t even seem to matter at this point.

The slip of paper had been kept inside an envelope he’d found between the books in Steve’s apartment, waiting for him, just like he’d said it would. At least some things were still there.

The bus drive took an eternity, but his feet found their way on their own accord. They’d known it well, once, after all.

He thought the hardest part would be to turn around the final corner and see it again, but that wasn’t it. He’d dreaded the drawn shades, the overgrown garden, the withered flowers, the faded paint on the front door. Dreading things made them easier to bare, sometimes, he’d learned that.

No, the hardest part was seeing the sign. Cottage for sale.

And the quiet.

The mailbox was battered from decades of wind and weather, but underneath the rust he could still see the remnants of your handprint, cracked golden yellow on the dark metal. It disappeared under his vibranium fingers.

“See? We left our mark now. We have to stay here forever.”

He found the key still inside. He used to scold you for leaving it so recklessly, but you kept losing every spare you got made, and besides, times were different, then. You knew the neighbors. So did he.

“Don’t forget, it’s Mrs Hopper’s birthday on Wednesday, and you promised to mow her lawn.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“And the Sawyers asked if you could take a look at their furnace, because it’s been acting up.”

“You’d think they’d hire a professional for that sorta thing.”

“Maybe you’re just nicer to look at.”

The plot next door had been leveled. The curtains in all the other houses were drawn, even though it was a lovely spring evening.

Bucky’s steps were heavy as he climbed the steps to the red front door. It was like he could hear whispers coming from all sides, his head pounding with the weight of something that was not quite there yet, not quite clear, not quite something.

The key slid into the lock.

“Leave your shoes outside, Buck, you’ll track mud everywhere.”

He almost did.

The first step inside was like going through the looking glass and finding himself in a world so different, and yet so familiar. Because he didn’t recognize the painting on the wall, or the color of the cabinets, or the rug next to the stairs.

But there was that smell. Vanilla and peonies. Something like baking and spring, something like home.

He carefully pulled the door closed behind him, the floorboards softly creaking. Dust billowed.

And then more memories came rushing in, as if they'd been waiting for the moment he crossed the threshold.

"Ready?"

"Yes!" He could feel your cheeks lift in a smile and grinned as he slowly pulled his hands away from your eyes. Could feel the gasp that fell from your lips as you took in the sight in front of you.

"Do you like it?"

"Are you kidding me? I love it!"

“I love you.”

He thought he saw movement just out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned, it was only his own grave reflection staring back at him out of one of the dirty windows. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like the ghosts of the past were surrounding him.

“There you are,” they seemed to say. “What took you so long?”

“Just picking up something sweet for my best girl.”

“This is exactly why I’m gonna marry you.”

“Just that? Really? What about my other qualities?”

“Those I tolerate.”

The plates his ma had given you, the porcellain chipped with decades of use, stacked neatly in the cabinets, gathering dust. Your favorite brass pot was out next to the sink, as if you’d just left it there to dry, intending to use it again in a couple of hours.

In the living room, the horrible curtains your aunt had forced upon you had finally disappeared, and despite everything, Bucky could feel himself smile. The bookshelf was still overflowing.

“We’re gonna run out of space soon, you know that, right?”

“Well, build me a new shelf, then!”

Another promise he’d broken.

He had to go upstairs. He knew it, even though every single cell of his body was screaming at him not to go.

Seventeen steps. The second to last was the one that creaked.

Deciding which door to open first was like choosing his own hell. In the end, the house decided for him, because the wailing behind the one to the far right sounded so alive he almost bolted through the entrance.

It had been locked, and Bucky only realized why when it was already too late.

It was the most desolate room yet, cobwebbed and stale, furniture hidden underneath white linens. A dusty wooden mobile dangled from the ceiling, trembling as the house settled, casting eery shadows over the dirtied green walls.

“Aren’t you a bit overzealous there, love?” He dotted some green on your nose and you shrieked.

“Do you wanna be caught unawares?”

“As far as I know, there’s a bit of a preparation period involved.”

“Hm. Maybe we should just get a head start, then.”

He couldn’t bear it a second time, so he took a lung full of stale air and opened the bedroom door.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Everything smelled like you, had your loving touch on it, had been allowed to live alongside you for all this time when he hadn’t been. The wilted flowers in the vase by the window. A book on the nightstand, your bookmark tucked between the pages because you weren’t quite done with it yet.

You weren’t done yet.

A pair of reading glasses lay on top of it, and Bucky almost laughed because he couldn’t quite picture you wearing them, and then, suddenly, he realized he could picture you, and his hand reached out blindly because he remembered that it was there.

“You know I hate these things.”

He didn’t let go of your hand for a second. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t you want me to have something’a yours to keep me company?”

Your laugh, again, and again. “You’re so lucky I love you.”

The bed creaked softly when he sat down on its edge, the frame shaking in his grip, and hey. There you were.

There was your smile.

It seemed to echo, or maybe he only wished it did.

“I’ll be back so soon, you won’t even notice I’m gone, sweetheart.”

“You better.”

The way you looked at him. Like you really believed him when he told the both of you that everything was going to be fine. That you would be the lucky ones. The exception.

He hated himself for letting you hope, but maybe this was his punishment; to be the one left behind, despite everything.

“I’m sorry,” he must have said, or cried, or screamed, because the house repeated it back to him, over and over.

“I’m sorry.”

And then, there was nothing.

anyone else need a tissue?

thank you so much for reading!! if you liked this, please consider leaving a comment or a reblog, or just come scream at me in my inbox. to see the less heartbreaking rest of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications <3

[brothersgrim]

FRUIT HEADCANON ASKS

@asteraex​ asked:

🍐- Taker

🍐  :    how intelligent is my muse overall?  are they smarter than the average person,  or less than?  are they primarily self-taught,  or did they acquire most of their knowledge in school?  are they more street smart or book smart?  

Oh, he’s a smart guy. He's had to be. He was fourteen when he stopped receiving any kind of formal education, mostly because he was dead. Also because he was a slave. That didn’t help. 

But he’s smart. 

Like, let’s just look at all the things he, canonically, knows how to do. First off, he’s a carpenter. Yes, he makes coffins and caskets, but there were other projects in the workshop WWE gave him, including wagon wheels and furniture. Given that that’s HIS workshop, those are also HIS projects, so it stands to reason he just makes all sorts of things. I like to think he handles most of the carpentry/repair jobs in the Valley. (This actually has historical basis, too. Most carpenters were also undertakers back in the day, and vice versa. That was the case in my home town, anyway.) He’s also a blacksmith. A lot of people forget this one, but he is - he works a forge in some of the late 90s promos. He makes most of the hardware for the caskets and his other projects himself. He also repairs his own tools. 

Speaking of repairs, he fixes bikes. He has a wide collection of them, and he’ll repair them, or even sometimes build them from scratch, on his own. It’s his favourite hobby, outside of working out and fighting, and he considers it almost a form of meditation. His bikes are his babies. 

He can also draw, and, from the brief glimpses of his work we see, he’s a pretty talented artist. We mostly just see the blueprints he makes, but the anatomy is clean, the lines are crisp, and it seems to have a slightly cartoon-y style, which is oddly cute to me. I dunno. 

Anyway, he's also a practising mortician. He does the whole embalming, dressing, and clean up process on his own, especially when Paul's not around. That requires a lot of knowledge of human anatomy, chemistry, and colour theory, among a lot of other things. It takes a LOT.

He’s canonically at least bilingual, speaking both English and Ancient Gaelige. (The second is mostly in his Ministry Era, but he does speak it on multiple occasions - including the chants in the Ministry theme song.) 

He’s a great fighter, which requires strategy, problem-solving, and a knack for quick thinking. If you can’t make plans, you can’t fight, simple as. If your opponent can outthink you, you’re going to lose. And he’s a damn good fighter. 

He’s also pretty people-smart, which surprises a lot of those who know him. There are a few examples of this. First off, again, he’s a funeral director. He has to know how to talk to grieving families, and if he does a bad job of that, the home goes under. Second, he’s really good at handling Kane. Yes, he loves his brother, but there’s more to it than just that. The way he talks to Kane - and I know I’ve said this before - is actually exactly how therapists recommend talking to people in abusive relationships. It’s not your fault, it’s okay, you’re safe, I’ll be here for you no matter what, you don’t have to choose between us, so on and so forth. When Kane messes up the Last Ride in their match against Kai and Tai, instead of getting mad at him, Taker pauses the match, shows him how to do it properly, and makes a point of expressing pride and approval when Kane gets it right, because he knows that’s what his little brother needs. Even outside of Kane, the other guys in the locker room have a tendency to listen to and respect Taker, and even go to him for advice. This is most obvious during the American Badass era, and even more so during the Invasion era. Vince, Chris Jericho, and a bunch of other guys say that they need Taker in meetings for anyone to take them seriously. This even extends to other eras - in the mid 2010s, Team Smackdown can’t agree to work together, so, after Edge and Jerry Lawler fail to get them to play nice, they call in Taker to make people behave. 

It works. 

Yes, he threatens to murder them, but it works. He deals with different people different ways. 

The last example I can give of this is how he deals with Shawn during the feud with Triple H that lead up to the infamous cage match. This is a brutal thing that mostly involves Hunter gaslighting the fuck out of Shawn to pit him against Taker. Interestingly, Taker in this feud mostly retaliates by trying to build Shawn back up. Hunter convinces Shawn that Taker is shit-talking Shawn behind his back. This drives Shawn to yell at Taker, retaliate to how he thinks Taker is talking about him, and Taker doesn’t yell back. You can tell he’s annoyed by the whole thing, but he keeps it pretty reeled in, all things considered, and tells Shawn that Shawn should know him well enough by now to know he would never talk behind anyone’s back - but Hunter would. This culminates later in a face-off between Hunter and Taker, with Shawn standing by. Hunter was trying to get in Shawn’s head again, Taker comes out, and gives one of my favourite lines of his  - “Remember when I said that Shawn was better than you? … He is.” And leaves at that. It’s great on both ends, because he knows that’s what Hunter hates most, he knows Hunter’s insecure as hell behind the front he puts on, and more than that, he also knows it’s what Shawn needs to hear - and saying it in front of Shawn means Hunter can’t say it didn’t happen. 

He’s a manipulative bastard when he wants to be, that deadman. 

But, yeah. All this to say, he’s clearly demonstrated high intelligence in a number of different areas. As for where he learned it all, in most fields, he’s largely self-taught. Mortuary sciences, carpentry, smithing, he started to learn that from his parents, yeah, but he was twelve when they died. He got a lot of hands-on experience, he watched them his entire life, but again, he was twelve. He only had so much time, and there was only so much his parents would let him do at that age. Motorcycle repair, that’s self-taught. The Gaelige, he started learning that from his mother, picked it up later from some residents of the Yard (and the Morrigan, who is only there sometimes and doesn’t fully count). The fight smarts, that’s self-taught. It had to be. You either learn to fight, or you wake up in the crypt again. And his people smarts, I think it’s a mix of self-taught and learned. Some of what he’s working with, you can’t be taught, you have to just be the right person for it. Some of the kinder aspects, again, he learned from watching his parents. He learned from watching them with each other, with him and Kane, with the grieving families the home served before the fire. Some of it is, again, just who he is under all the emotional armour. The mean stuff… Well, that’s the same way. Except he learned it from Paul. He learned it from Paul, and Ted, and even Vince to some degree, and the people they dealt with. 

He learned a lot from them. 

[a-skirmish-of-wit-and-lit]

Book Review: Reminders of Him by Colleen Hoover

COLLEEN HOOVER IS THE QUEEN OF TEARS.

There, I've said it.

Something I've come to appreciate about her storytelling, aside from her simple diction and candid prose, is her knack for telling compelling romances that are as emotional in scope as they are human in their exploration of what it means for people to make mistakes or not have it all figured out. After all, who among us does?

Even though I know I'll need a box of tissues because I'm bound to bawl my eyes out at some point while reading, I like that her books make me ruminate in my feelings. That her characters, with all their flaws, with all their problems or moral gray complexities, feel accessible in a way that means I can almost reach out and touch them. Why? Because I know someone like that. Or, if I don't, if I haven't met someone similar yet, she makes it so easy for me to imagine that one day I could or that I will.

To me, that is the draw of CoHo's work. Her romances aren't just romances. They're Romance Relatable.

What I mean by that is her stories ingrain, they elevate. They are able to transcend the simple confines of the romance genre and transform into something more material, more real-life-bearing, because of their inclusion of universal themes (such as tragedy, empathy, pain, forgiveness, guilt, second chances, etc.) that not only plunge readers deep into the throes of relatable human experience with the characters but also, in the words of Adele, "play [their] hearts to the beat."

Reminders of Him is a book that manages to do this. And to do it agonizingly well.

After serving five years in prison for involuntary manslaughter, Kenna returns to the town where it all went sideways. Hoping to reunite with her four-year-old daughter, Diem, who was taken from her at birth and is now being raised by her dead boyfriend's parents, she finds herself rebuffed. Shut down. With nearly everybody in her daughter's orbit refusing to let her be a part of the little girl's life, no matter how hard she tries to do the right thing and earn their forgiveness.

The only person who doesn't write her off completely is Ledger Ward, the owner of a local bar.

The two of them connect at first meeting, but things get complicated when his connection to her past and present is made clear. Ledger's main priority is to protect Diem, whom he loves as if she was his own child, and not upset Scotty's parents, who are still mourning the loss of their son and cannot forgive the woman who took him from them, but the more he learns about Kenna the more he starts to question if keeping mother and daughter apart is the right thing to do.

As expected, this book was emotionally turbulent. Raw.

That said, I think its major strength came from the fact that it read more like a life story than a simple love story. Readers are thrown into a whirlpool of conflicting emotions to show that nothing in life is black and white, especially not for these characters who have suffered through a terrible tragedy and are justified in feeling the way they do as they try to come to peace with it. As they learn to move on. Forgive.

Aren't there a lot of us out there who can relate to that? Who are hoping for a second chance of our own? I'd like to think so.

I also really liked Kenna's letters to Scotty. They emanated a P.S. I Love You energy that both gutted me to the core because it was obvious how much she missed him, how much she once adored him, and filled me with a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he was still looking out for everyone he had to leave behind. Scotty's presence, though ephemeral, was felt in a real way throughout the book, and I appreciated that. Traces of him were everywhere, cherished as well as mourned by all the people he loved, and that felt authentic to me. It reminded me how we carry little pieces of the people we lose with us after they're gone. They become a part of us. Not only who we are, but who we become.

All in all, I thought this was equal parts heartwarming and heart wrenching. Compulsively readable. Kenna and Ledger were so easy to love because I empathized with them: their guilt, their regret, their connection. My only grievance is that the ending felt abrupt, the major conflict far too easily resolved.

Other than that, I was captivated this book. I was moved by it. I'd want it with me on any deserted island I found myself on because only there, alone, would my pigeon tears go unheard.

4/5 stars

**Follow me on Goodreads

[annakie]

One last self-indulgent Patchy post, from almost two weeks out.

It’s been some time. 

I’ve mostly been off tumblr, letting the queue run things.  Occasionally scrolling the dash, not much social media lately, it was a bit Too Much outside of some direct chats with friends and running/coordinating D&D stuff.

The weekend post-death I hibernated a lot.  I let myself cry as much as I wanted.  I reminded myself, and I may have posted this here, I don’t remember, but that the only good way through grief is to go right through it.

My work sent a nice little snack gift box.  Not much I liked in it, but the thought was very much appreciated.  And the vet sent the flowers I posted about last week.

It was a little better Sunday.  I ran my Sunday Night D&D game and just made sure to have a cry in the hour before to get it all out.

Last week was fine.  Still crying every day, but a little less every day.  I spent a lot of time on the couch watching Netflix when I wasn’t working.  And honestly, I didn’t work that much most days.  Watched mostly like, home makeover/cleanup shows.  You know, things that make you feel vaguely good without having to actually think. 

Better Call Saul finale and other ongoing shows were good distractions. 

Thursday I got the call that Patchy’s ashes were ready for pickup. I went in Friday at lunch.  Thanked the receptionist for the flowers they sent (which are still in the house but need to be thrown out.) 

Took the very nice little bag they gave me back to the car and looked inside.  The box with her ashes, tied up in a pretty ribbon,  I ran my hands over the very pretty box, and opened the box with the plaster paw print. There was also an envelope I declined to open at the time.  I cried for a few moments, got some takeout, went home.

Sat down and opened the envelope and saw the fur clipping in the little bag and for the first time in a couple of days I completely lost it.  A long, sobbing cry.

When I’d left the vets office after putting her to sleep I nearly went back in to ask them to save a clipping of her fur, but decided not to.  I knew I couldn’t have gotten through it.  And I thought about emailing them later but thought it might be too late by the time I thought if it and wasn’t 100% sure I wanted it.  I have a little clipping of Cebu’s poodle hair though, and it means a lot to me to still have.  But I decided not to.

So seeing that they’d done it anyway, without me asking, meant a lot, but also it hurt a lot.  I was so very relieved and yet it was also like a sledgehammer.  Having her ashes, and a little bit of her where they’d found a perfect intersection of her three colors was so thoughtful.  But it was also like that final “she’s really gone and she’s not coming back” moment.  Where mentally you knew it, but it’s what the heart needed for it to be final.

I at first put the three things on the shelves behind me here in the office/living room next to Jim’s ashes and picture but realized about thirty seconds later that that was wrong, the living room wasn’t her room.

I have a little knick-knack shelf in the bedroom filled with ceramics and figurines people had given me throughout the years for various reasons.  I curate it and swap things out occasionally but for the most part it’s just little mementos and decoration.  There was a tea light lamp on the top of it that was a thank you gift for helping run a big baby shower about 14 years ago, so I moved that lower on the shelf and set Patchy’s things on the top.  The master bedroom was her domain for six years, so a little space for her there seems right.

I’ve felt more at peace since doing that.  I spent a lot of time second guessing myself the first week.  And I still wonder if I should have done more.  Especially still kicking myself for not taking her back in two or three weeks earlier.  We may have bought her another couple of weeks of life if I had, but realistically I know time was drawing short, and she’d outlasted her best estimates.  I’m mostly at peace with it.  I don’t know if I’ll ever stop self-doubting, just a teensy bit.

Fry moved himself back into the master bedroom immediately upon my opening it back up, and barely has left it since.  It took Pemily a couple of days to understand that yes, it’s OK for you to be in here now.  It’s OK to get up on the bed.  You can sleep with me again.  They are both loving it.  Fry especially is rarely not in there when he’s not eating.  He used to watch TV with me all the time and now that’s just sometimes. 

There’s a small cat tree that Patchy loved to sit under but not into.  It’s Fry’s favorite thing.  I’d always kicked myself for not buying two when I bought the one on clearance.  Patchy literally never got into the bucket seat.  The few times I’d let Fry in there when Patchy was around he’d mostly just hang out in it, and now he is in it like 50% of the time.

He and Pemily are both sleeping with me again which is... mostly good.  They’re a lot more restless than Patchy.  They’re both also way heavier than her -- Fry is like 13lbs and Pemily is like 18 whereas Patchy was 10 or less. So when they wake me up to want to cuddle, it’s a lot more noticeable and there’s, you know, two of them.  Sleeping with the bedroom door open again is great insofar as it’s no longer stuffy in there as soon as the AC goes off, but also brighter with the hall nightlight shining into the room, and noisier as I can hear all three of them moving around and using the litterbox when they need it.  Leela also likes to just scream randomly, and it’s a lot louder with the door open.  Leela has walked around the bedroom but as usual, prefers her bed on the desk.

Peaches -- who I saw this week is actually a boy -- and Buster have been outside a lot.  I am in the beginning stages of seeing what I can do to domesticate them.  Peaches seems more likely than Buster. Going to change Peaches name, especially if I can get him inside/vetted/snipped/safe if possible.  Hoping Fry can handle it well if I can get one of them integrated into the house. 

Four is my limit, but Leela is 17.5.  Realistically, I know I won’t have a lot of time left with her.  Ever since her health scare last year I’ve been doing my best to give her the best, especially now Patchy is gone.  Her last few vet visits have gone great though, so who knows.  Maybe she’ll live to 20.  I’ve been trying not to pre-mourn her since the last 13 months were about pre-mourning Patchy.

ANYWAY. Aside from ALL THE CAT NEWS I went and played D&D4e at Marcus’ on Friday, and this Saturday is 13th Age game night.  Running my Wednesday night game tonight and going to run my SUnday night game.. tomorrow?  Since we’re in the middle of like, the Most Important Part of this campaign TBH and everyone wants to know what happens and not take a week off when someone can’t make it this weekend.  Also just going to run a B-team game for the rest of them Sunday anyway.

Gaming is healing.

Have been dicking around in Enderal, just going exploring/dungeon diving a lot and ignoring the main quest.  Just a few hours every few days.  I also replayed Boyfriend Dungeon since the DLC came out and I had only played it on release.  They’d added some cool stuff. I meant to treat someone else as my main romance this time but honestly, Isaac is perfect.  Still romanced everyone possible to romance except Sawyer (too young, too immature.  Nice kid) and let Sunder break up with me this time instead of me rejecting him for being... what he is.  It was a nice, light, fluffy break.

Also watched Abbot Elementary, and loved it.  Need more please.

Today is the first day this work week I’ve had a cry about Patchy.  And mostly because I re-read my previous entry to prepare for this one.  I am coming out of the grief stage, not there yet.  But getting close.  I miss her a lot.  I think about her often, but I am starting to move on.

[freetolanceyourheart]

"Hello, my friend, and welcome!" Sigurd almost missed the strange lad in the throng, though he couldn't have been sure how or why. When his eyes allowed him to focus on the boy, he was distinct - bright red hair, eager eyes and an open face - but somehow the closer he stood to another, the more in danger, it seemed, he was of being eclipsed. No, that wasn't right, it was more subtle than that.

Nevertheless, Sigurd was all smiles, and propped a brief bow, grinning. "Well met, my name is Sigurd, of Chalphy. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance - we hope, my sister and I, that you'll enjoy yourself! We always did, in our childhood, and we could not have found a reason not to share that with everyone. Oh! My manners - speaking of which - "

He turned away but briefly to grab a goodie bag from the nearby table, dropping it gently into the boy's hands. The bag is of a plush sapphire velvet with braided gold drawstrings. If he were tempted to peek inside, he would find the festive goodies of the typical Chalphy holiday season: roasted nuts coated in a caramelized warming spice mixture, a hand-pulled twisted peppermint stick, decadent candied orange peel, and a holiday cracker to be pulled later with little knick-knacks within.

"Treats of my home," Sigurd explained, his eyes twinkling with delight. "Please, enjoy - if you've anything you need, call upon me!"

Xane was looking this way and that at all of these people- ohhh he was right to attend, this is a ripe opportunity for a new student like him to get familiar with plenty of faces to steal and cause mischief wi- er.. Borrow. And cause no lasting harm with no sir-ee. Looking around some people seem to have taken the opportunity to get dressed for the occasion! Xane doesn't exactly have anything fancy to wear (it’s not like he has the funds to get something in addition to the Hors d'oeuvres he managed to whip together, pulse he’s no magic time traveler who can retrieve ceremonial garb from ages long past.) but he’s not complaining. Just the academy uniform is plenty fancy enough for him thankyou!

He grins as ‘Sigurd, of Chalphy’ approaches him. So this is one of the fearless hosts who put this together- Xane has to admit he’s impressed. Looking this guy up and down- blue haired. Knightly. Seems like he either is a cavalier/would be good as a cavalier… maybe a lance wielder? Hard to tell without seeing the calluses on his hands. It wouldn’t be too hard to mimic the guy. Nothing interesting to note. Xane balances the covered tray of stuffed olives on one arm and takes the goody bag with his freed hand.

He passes the tray to Sigurd while Xane introduces himself. “Enjoy I will! Xane, pleased to meet you ‘Sigurd of Chalphy’. Here, a little contribution from me for this here festival- careful though, some of these have peppers in them 'case anyone is allergic.” Listen Xane may be a trickster but he draws the line at endangering people with his pranks outside of the battlefield.

He pulls open the goody bag and pops a roasted nut into his mouth as he makes his way to find where ever he'd been seated. What a tasty treat. This little potluck is sure to be a great time, Xane has a good feeling about this.

[rosevanhelsing]

WHAT IF

Vic McQueen went to the garage and took his bike to go for a ride. She was disgusted, all the people who were upstairs in the room, pretending that they were sorry for the death of his grandfather when in reality they had always despised him, even Chris McQueen himself. Also, she was worried, she had recently gone over a wooden covered bridge, which was supposed to have been demolished a week ago, to find a bracelet that her mother had lost and she thought she was going crazy.

As she pedaled, she thought of that bridge and suddenly it appeared before her. Vic felt a sting in her left eye and thought:

- I want to find someone to explain this to me...

And she started to run across the bridge at full speed… practically shooting out onto a road, Vic braked, skidded and fell into the road… a huge black car slammed on the brakes and skidded to a horizontal position in front of Vic.

Two minutes before:

The Wraith's radio began to make some strong interference, Charlie knew that possibly some creative was using her powers, although the car had never made so much noise, also that she began to sound the horn

- What the hell…

Manx suddenly saw how a boy or girl was crossing the road on a bicycle just 5 meters ahead and slammed on the brakes, making the car skid and it was stopped just in time not to crush the boy.

For her part, Vic started to get up a little dazed from the fall and the shock of having almost been run over.

- Holy Virgin! But what were you doing crossing the road without looking, girl? You could have been run over.

Vic turned her head and looked at the man who had spoken to her. A tall man with dark hair and dark eyes, with a few grays at the temples. He was wearing pants and a dark coat, as well as gloves and a chauffeur's cap, even though it was almost June and hot. However, he seemed kind and attentive and had a look of genuine concern on his face, so she accepted his outstretched hand to help her up. Charlie turned and saw a huge covered bridge on the side of the road and he understood everything. The girl was a creative one, a very powerful one, but she surely didn't understand her powers and she was disoriented.

- Are you okay, little girl? Charlie said.

- Yes sir. Sorry for the scare I gave you.

- It's okay, pretty. And my name is Charlie Manx, dear

 Vic suddenly complained with an “ouch” due to a scraped knee.

- Poor thing, you're hurt... Come, lean on the car, I think I have a first-aid kit...

- No, you don't have to...

Charlie made Vic sit on the hood of the Rolls, pushing her gently but firmly and went to get a small box from the glove compartment of the car.

- Well, Vic McQueen, I suppose you want to know how it is that you can make a bridge appear from nowhere...

Vic's eyes widened in surprise and she said:

- How do you know my name?

- I know a lot of things… Like that your father calls you “Brat”, that you want to be a painter and that you also draw very well, right? …

- Illustrator… Vic corrected him. - I just want to know if I'm crazy.

- You're not crazy, little one. You are just very creative. That is why you must also have a knack for drawing. Charlie said as he reached down and gently placed an alcohol-soaked handkerchief on Vic's knee.

Vic stoically endured the sting of the alcohol and said:

- Because I?

- I don't know, daughter. We just had to be like this...

- Are you like me? - Vic said surprised - Can you also find things or people?

Charlie smiled to herself; the girl had told him her powers without realizing it.

-Not pretty. You see… With this very special car I can access a place called Christmasland. It is a place where I take children to keep them safe from their parents… It is an amusement park, full of rides, trinkets and gifts… Every day there is Christmas and every night Christmas Eve

-Well, what a pain to always celebrate the same thing... she escaped Vic

Charlie looked at her surprised and seemed even disgusted. Vic regretted having been so loud, apparently, she had hurt that man's feelings and she hadn't done him any good. Vic began to be afraid and she didn't know why. She wasn't sure if it was the black-as-night car she was leaning on and that she saw full of gifts in the back seats, suspiciously things that she had wanted to be given..., or Charlie that, despite his kindness, there was something sinister about him. like the pointed teeth and long fingernails… he looked a bit like a vampire and she didn't understand how someone like that went unnoticed.

- And how can we do that?  she said trying to divert the subject and learn more

-The fact that?

- I find things and you go to Christmasland.

- Ah, well, because we all use something that we really like to do that. Christmasland is in my head and when I have someone in my car, the Wraith, then I can access the San Nicolas highway, the road to Christmasland. Tell me, what do you want most in this world, and I mean an object, not a person or a pet...

Vic was hesitant to tell him, but thought it best to clear up her doubts and said,

- I think my bike.

-Good. And can you get over that bridge without your bike?

- No. But you don't understand. That bridge shouldn't exist. I mean, it used to exist, but they knocked it down, but I keep going...

- I know, dear, you have that bridge in your mind and when you take the bike it is as if you took it out of your head into the real world, you use it as a knife. It's complicated, believe me. It's like magic.

- Do they always have to be vehicles? I have my bike and you have a car.

- No. It can be anything, as long as you like it a lot.

Vic nodded, her head and left eye hurt terribly, and she said:

- I'd better go home. I feel a little sick.

- That must be from using the bridge. -Manx said, grabbing her gently by the shoulders and looking into her eyes- This gift gives you powers, but it takes something away from you. That's why there are so few of us, and some burn out before they reach their potential. And you, Victoria McQueen, have a lot, a lot of potential. It would be a shame if you lost it, but I can teach you how to avoid it… You need a teacher and I could be that teacher.

Vic hesitated, for a moment, it was so tempting the idea of ​​a place where she could do whatever she wanted, without being judged and now she could take advantage of her powers…perhaps helping Mr. Manx find other children with her bridge… Vic shook her head as if that way he could get rid of that idea and said:

- I prefer to tell my parents. They will know what to do and help me.

- You know perfectly well that they won't believe you, Vic...

Vic yanked free, quickly jumped on her bike and ran out of there. Charlie didn't follow her; he already knew where to find her. Without Vic realizing it he had given her one of his candy canes and he was sure that when she found out she wouldn't throw it away. However, the Wraith's engine roared with a frustrated growl, sounding like a dog being removed the bone.

- Calm down, my friend, Charlie said, stroking the long hood of the Wraith- Vic McQueen will end up in Christmasland.

[veryconfusedunlabeledguy]

prince-y juraj inspired by the fic you should see me in a crown by @hard4softthings on ao3! i am absolutely obsessed with it, leo has this incredible ability to smash it out of the park every time especially when it comes to xhekuraj

!!based on the author’s guidelines pls do not post this anywhere outside of tumblr/private twts!!

[fairyoftbz]

it's never too late... | b. jacob

🏀 pairing: crush! basketball player! jacob x fem!reader 🏀 genre: high school!au, fluff, (sort of) strangers/acquaintances-to-lovers 🏀 word count: 5.2k 🏀 tw: very cliché 😳 and it goes kinda fast lmaoo 🏀 a/n: lisa I'm sorry I took this long to do your request, but I hope you'll like it nonetheless!! ALSO: to my fellow Americans, here football = soccer!! 🏀 requested: yes! thank you lisa!! @skrtbabe

╰☆☆☆☆╮

You had waited for this time since the beginning of your academic journey there. Graduating from high school was two months away, and it felt just as exciting as weird.

It felt like you had started your first year last week, but the amount of work and time spent in those dull buildings makes you feel like you’ve been there for at least five years.

It was exhausting to attend classes and see the same people every single day of the year, with repetitive subjects, annoying or cool teachers depending on your luck and everything that followed. The homework, the assignments, the small -or not so small- fights between classes or groups of people, you were praying that university wouldn’t sound like that.

However, at the same time, you were almost starting to feel nostalgic for this time. The last years where you could remain a bit silly before entering the adult world, being in your last teen years with people that you appreciated and met there. You chose to do this before letting them go and live your own lives, memories that will disappear if you don’t cherish them enough.

So, with Soyeon, your best friend, you decided to enjoy the time that you had left to do things together while still studying and revising for the exams, which was sometimes not easy to do. Yes, you shared classes, but personal and private activities sometimes came in the way and prevented you from hanging out.

“It’s life after all,” she said one night over the phone as you shared your opinion on this topic, “it’s good that we can be together almost 24/7, but sometimes, things don’t allow us to be together. It might be for the best, we never know,” she said, trying to be positive no matter the situation she was in, but you knew her well. As much as she wants to appear strong, you had found her many times crying on her own. But it was her personality, and no matter how hard you tried to change her, what's bred in the bone comes out in the flesh.

Soyeon wasn’t your only friend, you were getting along well with most of your girl classmates, as well as the boys that weren’t suffocating under the number of pick-me-girls that were populating your school and your class.

Sadly for you, you’ve been eyeing the most popular (and prettiest) boy in your whole school since you crossed gaze with him at the very beginning of your first year there. Jacob, your crush, was also the star basketball player of your school, and constantly surrounded and attracting cheerleaders or rich, random, good-looking girls, which had a knack for getting on your nerves. He was always spending time together with his pals and teammates, but other people as well. Everyone wanted to be his friend because you know, he had a promising career ahead of him, so it was always nice to be friends with a potential future celebrity.

As defeated as you were, there was still a small voice in your head telling you to do something before he left to go back to his home country, South Korea, where he had a career already planned and traced out.

You were confused as it was almost impossible for you to get a chance with him since you were not one of those girls and you simply couldn’t compete against them, but Soyeon and her boyfriend Sunwoo were always there to praise you and reassure you about your potential chances of dating him. Never convinced by your friends’ words, you had tried many times to get him out of your head and focus on someone else, but it never worked. Everything came back to him. He was unique and oh so nice, everything reminded you of him, and it was sickening at this point.

“He won't get out of my head, it’s getting on my nerves,” you shared your thoughts to your best friend as you braced your head in your hands, slapping your cheeks as if it were going to change anything and help you throw Jacob out of your brain.

“Why do I keep this stupid boy in my head when I know I don’t stand a single chance against those girls,” you slapped your cheeks harder and whined as Soyeon’s hand landed on your wrist.

“Y/N, stop your nonsense. You are perfect, you don’t need to change anything for him!”

“It’s easier said than done, you pulled the football star player!” you exclaimed, and she rolled her eyes, shifting closer to whisper.

“He pulled me because he knew that I am pretty, and that wouldn’t change a single thing for him. If he’s not happy with who I am, he can leave,” she shrugs, signalling you to do the same if you dated Jacob.

Sunwoo was also among the popular boys, but your friend remained the same, not even trying to fit in with the popular girls. She claimed that Sunwoo fell in love with her for her true self, so she didn’t see the point of changing to please other people. And you wished you had her confidence and her strength, admiring her for not changing anything about herself to please others.

Back to the present.

You felt stuck, desperately in love with an unapproachable boy who was too popular and way out of your league to be lucky to have his eyes sparing you any sort of attention. Even if he was a sweet young man, he was always surrounded by popular people, who were trying to hook up or use him for his school fame and sharp features.

One day, while studying with your best friend at the library, Sunwoo and one of his friends, Hyunjae, the football captain, burst into the library and come not so quietly to your table.

“For the love of God, can you both be quiet for once?” Soyeon whispered-yelled but her voice got toned down by Sunwoo vividly pressing his lips on hers, an arm wrapping around her shoulders. Hyunjae laughed but quickly gagged as they didn’t stop the kiss as quickly as the captain wished.

“Gosh, please, get a room,” he mumbled before hugging you, your knee resting against his as his arms pressed you against his chest.

Your friendship with Hyunjae felt more like siblings, he was genuinely nice and caring with you, making sure that you were okay and that you had enough of everything before allowing you to go home. Despite all the teasing and a few rumours going around school, you were not dating and didn’t have any romantic feelings for each other. He simply checked that you had an older brother figure since you were the first-born child, and it felt relieving.

The thing you did not know was that Jacob and a few of his basketball teammates, Juyeon, Eric and Younghoon, were a few tables away from yours, your back facing them, the future star looking at you and Hyunjae from the corner of his eyes. He nodded at his friend at your table, who gave him a wink as an answer, Jacob’s eyes burning holes into your back as Hyunjae was close to you. Too close to you for the basketball player not to feel something churn in his stomach.

Two long, manicured fingers snapped in front of his eyes to get him out of his reverie, lazily looking at the girl that sat across from him, who he was supposed to get help from.

“Jacob please, pay attention to meeeeee,” she whined and pouted, giving him puppy eyes that he couldn’t give a single fuck about, too busy in his mind to hear what she had to say.

She had volunteered to help him study History, but she wasn’t any better, probably worse than he was. It was already the third time Juyeon corrected her basic knowledge without being an expert himself, not even caring about the death glares she kept sending him. It only made him smirk as he knew it irked her dearly yet amused the rest of the table a lot.

They all sighed as she finally took the hint and left their table, Jacob bitterly chuckling as Hyunjae rolled his eyes when she walked past your table, his demeanour making you laugh.

╰☆╮

“Bro, do you think I should ask Y/N for help? Isn’t that a bit… lame?” Jacob sat on one of the soccer balls, hands joined and panting as Sunwoo practised his dribbling skills before shooting the ball in the cages, aiming for the up-right corner. He trotted to his friend and collapsed on the grass next to him, the last rays of sunshine offering his skin a wonderful, honey glow. He ruffled his hair after plopping down, checking his phone for any message before answering.

“If you need help, you shouldn’t be afraid to ask her. I mean, she’s super smart in every subject, but she’s just the boss in History. Her presentations are always golden, and she explains things a lot better than some of the teachers.”

“I got Smith as a teacher,” the basketball player grimaced, his left hand holding his right wrist as his gaze wandered in the grass.

“We’ve got Antal, and I can tell you that she’s always mad when Y/N does a presentation because they honestly just sound better than her lessons,” Sunwoo chuckled as Jacob pondered his friend’s words, the gears of his mind working at full speed.

How is he going to be able to approach you and get to talk to you?

╰☆╮

“Bestie, no. I swear I saw that in the other book,” you said as you found yourself back in the library the following week, bending over the table to grab the book your best friend was resting hers on. You started flipping some pages when a loud, masculine chortle followed by some whispers of annoyance drawing your attention.

“Hi, babe! Hi Hyunj- Oh hi Jacob!” your neck almost snapped as you abruptly lifted your head up at the mention of your crush’s name, a small, embarrassed smile making its way on your mouth. You were a bit sad that your brother best friend was not here with Sunwoo, but you weren’t going to complain to have your crush instead.

“Can I sit here?” the basketball player asked in a soft voice while pointing at the empty spot next to you, making you quickly nod and gather your stuff to make him some space.

You resumed searching for the precious paragraph you were searching for your project as if it were nothing, trying to ignore your stammering heart in your chest and the couple eating each other's mouths. The only thing you hoped was that Jacob couldn’t hear the loud, irregular beats in your ribcage because it would give in your attraction to him.

“Hum, Y/N?” the voice next to you made you flinch, surprised that he knew your name and that he said it aloud.

“Y-Yes?” you said, cursing in your head as you stuttered.

“I heard that you were the Ace when it came to History,” Jacob started, and you couldn’t look at him in the eyes, fire spreading in your chest up to your face.

“I can’t really say that I’m the Ace, but I really love that subject, so yeah I have some… knowledge,” words tripped over your tongue, and your best friend pulled away from Sunwoo and scoffed.

“Some knowledge? Are you kidding?” she said, Sunwoo placing a hand on her mouth as she was louder than intended. She removed his palm and furrowed her brows at him, before turning her head back at you with the same angry expression.

“She knows so fucking much that Antal hates her because she feels humiliated compared to Y/N. So let me tell you one thing, Cobbie, if you need help, you’ve come to the right person. Y/N is just a living encyclopaedia,” your best friend proudly smirked as you glowered at her, Sunwoo chuckling at his girlfriend’s behaviour before immediately stopping.

“Wait, did you call him Cobbie? How come you call him like that when I get nothing other than babe or baby?” Sunwoo argued while pouting, and your best friend sighed, ruffling his hair before pressing her lips against his one more time, making you slightly grimace as envy flooded your veins.

You sighed and dared to look at Jacob, who was reading the beginning of your essay written on your computer, leaving Sunwoo and your best friend bicker like the cute couple they were.

“Do you have this project too?” you asked, and he shook his head, eyes remaining glued on the computer screen.

“It’s so interesting what you wrote, I like your way of writing and explaining stuff,” he offered a small smile as he looked at you, clearing his throat. For someone that was super popular and constantly surrounded by friends or people at parties, he behaved and sounded quite like an introvert.

“W-Well, thank you,” you said with a smile and turned your head to the side for a second, taking a deep breath before looking back at him, opening a new tab on your computer after he gestured to you that he was done reading.

“What do you need help with?”

╰☆╮

You were astonished at how quick-minded Jacob was. Behind his fit, muscular appearance and obsession with basketball, he had the soul of a thinker and grasped the knowledge of historical concepts quite easily and rapidly. He just wasn’t good with the way Smith was teaching, the method not suiting him.

“You retain things well for someone who hates History,” you joked, and he shyly smiled, scratching his neck. His smile looked gorgeous, and you were pleasantly surprised at how much of a genuine person he was.

“Well, History is not my cup of tea, but it might be a bit more thanks to you,” he said, and you tried to stifle a smile, thankful that your best friend was no longer sitting across from you because she wouldn’t have let you two live.

“It’s nothing. You can come back to me if you need help, I really don’t mind. I actually like explaining things,” you said, and he nodded, clicking your pen close before placing it in your pouch.

“Thank you, really. Sunwoo was actually the one that told me about you, so I have to thank him as well,” you stood up and slowly started to pack your stuff, shutting down your computer with a smile.

“I’m glad he did so, I just hope it was positive,” you giggled, and he quickly joined you, twirling his pen in between his fingers as he cleared his throat.

“You know, it’s Sunwoo. It can only be nice and positive,” you genuinely smiled at him and fall in silence, throwing glances at each other from time to time as the conversation was slowly starting to die down.

“And... How’s basketball going by the way? Is everything going well?” you asked, and his heart skipped a beat at your question as it took him off guard.

“I-It’s going pretty well, I’m excited to finish high school to be able to focus on basketball. I’m gonna have to take some of my last finals in South Korea because the season and the training start pretty early in Summer so…” his voice trailed as his eyes widened, a hand slapping his mouth as you both stood up.

“What?” you quizzed, confused by his sudden change of behaviour.

“I… was meant to keep this a secret,” his voice trailed, the end of his sentence falling in a whisper as he started panicking. “Can we pretend you didn’t hear what I said?” he asked as you placed your bag strap on your shoulder, taking your sweater before pushing the chair against the table.

“Said what?” you replied with a smile, and Jacob sighed in relief, somehow feeling like his secret was safe with you, even if you’ve talked to him for the first time at the beginning of the afternoon.

╰☆╮

The rest of the month rolled off smoothly, yet the stress and the revisions became more intense as the days went by. You didn’t hear anything back from Jacob, but you’ve caught him staring at you a few times, offering him an awkward wave and a smile as not to get noticed by some of his “fan girls”, as they called themselves.

You still had a whole month left before finals, and you felt blessed as summer decided to start a bit earlier this year. It was only the beginning of May, but you were already able to wear shorts and dresses. It felt good to see the blue sky and being surrounded by the warmth of the sun hitting your exposed skin after the cold, lonely winter and spring you’ve just got out of. Everything looked prettier and warmer, and it did nothing but make you happier and brighter, despite the stress of the finals piling up on your shoulders.

So, to get rid of this pressure, you decided to leave town with Hyunjae and let him drive to one of the lakes that surrounded your town, knowing that the beach and parks would get crowded in no time. It was a place that you used to go to with your parents when you were still a child, memories that you shared with your friend coming back flooding in your mind.

Hyunjae and his family tagged along to give you some company and take care of you as your parents were busy looking after your newborn twin sisters, Hyunjae and his younger brother acting like elder siblings to you.

After driving for a few dozens of minutes, you settled your stuff in the shade, right under a weeping willow that offered you freshness throughout the entire day. Your best friend napped almost the entire time you were there, hand lingering on his abs while the other plucked out some grass until he dozed off, trying to store as many hours of rest as possible before finals. By his side was you, reading a book and enjoying the chilly water to cool down from the hot temperatures of early Summer, playfully nudging the young man next to you each time he was starting to snore.

It’s near the middle of the afternoon that you heard another car pulling up near the lake, a bunch of excited teenagers coming out of a van. You didn’t pay much attention to them, only sighing as your peace was about to get ruined, their screams when they jumped in the water woke your best friend up.

He abruptly sat up next to you and rubbed his eyes, some sleeping marks lingering on his face, making you giggle. Being the short-sighted idiot that he was, he squinted to try and recognise some people, but he didn’t have to.

A young woman screamed and started jumping up and down, waving her arms above her head in your direction, hearing her scream something towards you.

You looked at each other with Hyunjae, confusion painted on your faces, hearing your phone buzz in your small bag hidden by your folded clothes.

“Hello?” you said as Hyunjae’s phone started vibrating too, picking up the call as well.

“Y/N, it’s us! We’re on the opposite side of the lake! Come and join us!” you heard your best friend yell in your ear, hearing her as well through Hyunjae’s phone, who picked up a call from her boyfriend.

“Okay, we’re coming!” you excitingly said as you hung up, waving at your best friend from your spot as you started packing your stuff to get back in the car and meet up with your friends.

Your best friend excitingly jumped in your arms as soon as you got out of the car,

“Tt’s crazy how we’re so connected! Did you also think that the beach would be crowded?” she asked, and you nodded with a smile, happy to see her this joyful to see you.

The inseparable duo was here, as well as Younghoon, Jacob, Eric, Juyeon and Sangyeon, the striker of the football team. They all engulfed you in a tight hug, Jacob staying in the background the entire time.

“Hi Jacob!” you brightly said and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him close. “Hi Y/N,” his answer vibrated in his chest and had repercussions in yours, sending your heart flying in your ribcage.

You looked so good being this carefree, it was thankfully a sight that he managed to imprint in his mind despite the shortness of the moment. Being surrounded by all your friends felt so good that you forgot to be awkward and worry about the stupidest things, and Jacob adored seeing you this natural and smiling in the company of your friends. He was a bit sad that he wasn’t fully the reason for your smile though, but he still managed to enjoy the rest of the day with you and your mutual friends, whether you were on the ground or in the water.

Sangyeon, Younghoon and Juyeon copied Hyunjae and joined him in a restoring nap, while Eric, Sunwoo, Jacob, Soyeon and you played different games in the water, improvising a volleyball match with an imaginary net and the ball Sunwoo took with him as the volleyball, but it did the job. It was just a bit hurtful for the liberos since it wasn’t as soft and bouncy as a volleyball, but the joy of the moment allowed any type of pain to become bearable.

The evening eventually started to settle in, and you all got out of the water, drying yourselves before deciding to spend a part of the night here. You helped Sangyeon build a bonfire in the safe area by bringing some different branches, the eldest placing them correctly before lighting them with his pocket lighter.

“Hyung! I didn’t know you were a boy-scout,” Sunwoo exclaimed and made everyone laughed as you all were sliding some marshmallows on a stick, Sangyeon smiling with modesty at everyone.

“Ya, don’t say this,” Sangyeon mumbled, and you smile, rubbing his upper back as he sat down next to you, thanking him when you handed him over his marshmallow stick.

“Oh no! Mine burnt,” Soyeon pouted when she retrieved her snack from the flames, and her boyfriend was quick to give her his sweets, Eric cooing at the gesture of affection.

“Give it to me, I like them burnt,” he mumbled as he bit in the fluffy texture, immediately regretting it as it was boiling. His girlfriend handed him water as he stood up, bouncing up and down to try and reduce what felt like flames in his mouth.

“Oh my, thanks babe,” he muttered with his mouth stuffed when he gulped down everything with a pained expression on his face. Eric’s eyes filled with boredom locked into yours and you both chuckled, your friend shaking his head.

“When is it gonna be my turn,” he huffed and Sunwoo hit him playfully in the back as you all laughed around the bonfire, relating to your friend.

“When you’ll stop being obsessed with football and mango juice,” Eric grunted and folded his arms over his chest as Sangyeon called him out, making you coo and playfully run to him, holding him against you as he fake-cried on your chest while everyone was laughing at him.

Except for Jacob, who only offered a weak smile, but you didn’t catch it, too busy having fun and being light-hearted with your friends.

After your stomachs were filled with sweets and soda, Sunwoo pulled out his guitar and strummed a soft melody until some became heavy-eyed or fell asleep against the other, his girlfriend succumbing to his musical talents first. Jacob looked exhausted as well but forced his eyes open, finding him even hotter with hooded eyelids and his hair slightly curling with the humidity of the air and the lake water.

When it was time to go home, Hyunjae, as well as Younghoon, Sunwoo, Soyeon and Eric decided to jump into Hyunjae’s car to go to the beach, feeling the urge and the thrill of going skinny-dipping. On the other hand, you and the rest of the boys were too exhausted and modest to do this, only wanting to go home and get some good rest.

Just like they had arrived, Sangyeon was behind the wheel while the rest was either next to him or in the back seat. And you didn’t know how it happened, but you got stuck between the window and Jacob, who was struggling to keep his eyes open.

“You good?” you asked, and he turned his head towards you before offering you a tired yet sweet smile, moving his head up and down.

“I'm just exhausted, tonight was simply amazing,” he mumbled, and you expressed your agreement by a happy hum and a nod, bringing your attention to your eldest friend.

“Are you sure you’re awake enough to drive?” you enquired on the current situation and Sangyeon looks at you through the inner rear-view mirror, eyes forming two crescent moons as he smiled.

“I just jumped in the water, I’m nothing but awake,” he clapped in his hands to motivate himself and started the engine, your best friend’s car already gone.

Jacob rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, his head rolling to the side each time Sangyeon took a turn. You settled yourself on the window and let the vibrations of the car lull you to sleep, the small talk that Sangyeon and Juyeon were having in the front seats acted like a background noise, which helped you dozing off.

However, when the car pulled up in front of your house, they didn’t expect you to have your head resting against Jacob’s shoulder, his hand on your knee. The two men smiled at each other before Sangyeon got out of the vehicle, drawing the door open. As he was about to carry you to your doorstep, Jacob’s arm was quick to wrap itself around your waist, keeping you close to him.

You woke up confused, blinking a few times as you saw the striker standing next to you with a wide smile on his face. He removed a limb around your body, and you felt someone groan under your right shoulder, noticing in dread that you snuggled up to Jacob for some warmth in your sleep.

“You gotta go before the beast wakes up,” Sangyeon joked and winked as he helped you get out of the car, closing the door behind you. It opened again a few seconds later, Jacob looking just as confused as you were.

“Come on, lovebirds, we don’t have the night.”

“Lovebirds?” Jacob and you asked in unison, the basketball player rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. He jumped out of the van and gestured to Sangyeon to get back in.

“You can go, I live just around the corner,” he drowsily said as he vaguely gestured behind him.

“You sure? Your house is on my way back home, I can drop you off,” Sangyeon suggested but he refused, offering a handshake to the striker before letting him go.

Being more awake now, you waved at your friends driving away before turning to your crush, who looked even more adorable as he was super sleepy and just woke up.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay? You look really tired,” you asked, voice still laced with sleep yet sounding caring, which made Jacob’s heartbeat fasten. He nodded and weakly smiled, taking a step closer to you. His attitude was a bolt from the blue as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to him, nuzzling his face in your neck.

“You felt so warm during the ride, it’s almost like I could get used to this,” he tiredly said with a smile, gently pulling away to stare at you, his fingers leaving your back to come and slide a wild piece of hair behind your ear. Your whole body stiffened at his words as he stared at you in the eyes, noticing a small, washed-out smirk plastered on his face.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit... late to start something with someone? I mean, we have finals and then y-you’re le-leaving for South Korea and-” you started stammering as his thumb gently stroked your cheek, loving watching you lose your composure at his display of affection.

“It’s never too late when you love someone,” he whispered, feeling his warm breath tickling your lips in such a delicious manner that you have to resist the urge to move forward and press your lips against his.

His words punched the air out of your lungs, leaving you breathless as he kissed your cheek, mouth slowly moving to the side until it reached your lips. The kiss was soft yet a bit on the rougher side as if he wanted you to understand every feeling he had for you. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and you kissed him harder, deeper, his hands on your lower back pulling you flush against him.

You had dreamt, wondered about what it was like kissing Jacob, but it never felt as good as you were experiencing it now. Fireworks and butterflies were erupting in your stomach, leaving you dizzy with love and passion as one of his hands came and cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb gently caressing the skin.

Once you pulled away for oxygen, you held onto his shoulders for your dear life and he chuckled, his mouth slowly travelling down to your neck.

“I-I think my… my- oh my god, my parents will worry,” you gently pushed him away and he stared at you with a smile before diving in to capture your lips in another soft kiss.

“I'm only letting you go if you're free tomorrow. Let's put that off to tomorrow, shall we?” he asked, and your eyes widened at his suggestion.

“We can go back to the lake if you want, but only if we’re alone,” he said, his hand caressing your cheek while the other was busy stroking your upper back up and down.

“I want to enjoy this with you and you only,” he added, mumbling against your mouth and this time, you’re the one pulling him for a kiss.

“Come and pick me up at 10, then,” you said as you pulled away.

“I’ll be there, I promise,” he answered and started walking towards your house, closing the front gate behind you, waving at him with a smile.

He sent you a flying kiss with a smile and you waved at him one last time before closing the main door of your house behind you, both sighing with a huge smile and warmth painted on your faces.

You peeled the clothes off your skin and went straight to the bathroom to take a shower, shaking your head left to right while chuckling as you recalled what just happened in your last month of high school.

Nothing was making sense, you didn’t know how you got there, but you were happy.

And that’s what mattered the most.

[whaleofatjme1920]

ELSIE IDK IF IM LATE BECAUSE OF TIMEZONES

But can i have fluffy headcanons with kondraki, cimmerian, roget, and someone of your choosing?

I seriously need to manage my sleep

Dr. Kondraki, Dr. Cimmerian, Dr. Roget and Dr. Rights Fluff Headcanons

I got you <3, but for the fun of it these aren't tied to an SO

Dr. Kondraki

He actually doesn't mind being called 'Konny'. Like, he'll make a big deal about it but it actually makes him feel kinda warm and fuzzy inside. If Clef calls him Konny, he might through hands though.

He has pretty long hair? Like, long for guys, I guess. If he lets it out of a ponytail or a bun, it reaches his upper back. He takes pretty good care of his hair as well.

He has a very small sweet tooth. He likes pastries that look like little things?? Cat chocolates, little smiley faces, they just make him happy.

Gentle giant tbh. If he recognizes someone is deeply uncomfortable, he will keep an eye on them and make sure they feel safe and secure.

He likes taking pics of baby animals. I'm not elaborating any further on that.

He listens to lofi on the late nights.

Hums when he's in his office alone. Smooth, gentle things. Almost like a lullaby.

Sometimes, if you've caught him in an especially tired mood, he'll whisper Polish fairy tales to you.

Dr. Cimmerian

I feel like this man is always up for a lowkey adventure. He's really good for just hanging out with while the two of you giggle about stupid things on reddit in the corner of some godforsaken Dunkin.

He has a weird, weird knack for knowing how you want your coffee/tea/hot chocolate. He just glances at you, and it's like using the force or a 6th sense.

He's super comforting to people without realizing it.

When he argues his point, he's weirdly polite about it?? Just???

He likes listening to podcasts, specifically the ones on weird Florida man-esque stories.

You can come hangout with him in his office at virtually anytime. Door is almost always open.

Sometimes, people are intimidated by him because of the whole "wrong" thing, but he's open to a lot of different things.

Dr. Millar (the Volgun, who I believe is written as a sentient tape recorder) resides in his office. They talk a lot.

Dr. Roget

He's a huge nerd and I mean that lovingly with every bit of affection.

I swear this man is into so many niche things you just gotta accept it. Ask him about his interests!! He has theories upon theories and will end up roping you into many, many fandoms!! His enthusiasm is adorable.

He's actually not that immature he just likes the element of surprise.

Funko pops.

He strikes me as a Hamilton phase kind of guy,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Plays video games and would probably excel in the "let's play" sphere.

He's a really great writer and sometimes, he shows those writings to other researchers and is surprised they get received well.

Honestly he just gives me really strong sweetheart vibes that's it.

Dr. Rights

She's a sweetheart and that's that. Foundation mom with slightly chaotic energy.

She's prone to leaving people food if she notices they're not taking care of themselves, and the food always fits the mood or craving you didn't know you had.

I know her stereotype is flirting and femme fatale but I think she gets along platonically with a lot of people and SCPs. Not everything is off the wall horny with her.

I get the feeling she makes some light puns.

Will give you her jacket if you mention being the slightest chilly.

Please play with her hair if the two of you are friends. I like to think she has relatively long, thick curly hair. It shines in the light and bounces with her step. It's just really pretty.

I also get the feeling she'd help someone with makeup in they asked. Is she a makeup artist? No, but she thinks of it like art - which it is - and honestly she'd love the practice.

Has a knack for drawing, very cute. Will doodle her coworkers from time to time.

[greenygreenland]

Dream A Little Dream of Me: Norman x Reader (Part Three)

-part three is here! I had to slice it in two because apparently there's a certain word block limit (at least on mobile). So get ready for part four!

Summary: You can’t remember anything.

Month four, 08:00

The last thing you recalled was the face of a boy with light hair. His eyes were bright, swirling with love and affection you looked for everyday. Whenever you woke up, you couldn’t remember his name, or his sweet voice that called out to you in your dreams.

All you had was the light of day and the rising sun. It made you sad to look upon it alone in your room. Someone else were supposed to be by your side, right next to you. But who?

And then there was the absence of a motherly figure--a woman you only recalled through song. How was it you remembered that melancholy tune but not a name or face? You wished you knew, and you prayed everyday to whoever was up there to give you another chance. Another go at life--with the people you never knew the names of.

“Good morning, Letha.”

You met the old man’s gaze with a simple nod. His crinkly voice was one of the things you actually didn’t mind, even if it was hard to hear at times. 

The old man, Alex, was kind, but the most you conversed about were your lost memories, your insane knacks for weapons, chess, and lastly, intelligence.

Time wasn’t friendly, and a month passed uneventfully. It turned into two, which turned into three and so on. Every now and then, you wondered if you’d stay like that: a blank slate. Alex said there was this one philosopher who called it a ‘tabula rasa’. For some reason, that fact reminded you of someone long ago.

Dark hair, the smell of old books, dust hidden between bookshelves...

You began to make out the image of a boy. He was no older than you, with cool eyes, a warm, yet small smile. Who was he? His name was at the tip of your tongue, yet it wouldn’t come out.

Ren? Reylo? Tired Cyclops? No, that wasn’t it. Obviously.

It hurt to think too much about it, and before you could grasp onto it, the memory faded, along with the name.

“Don’t think too hard,” Alex warmly said. “I’m sure it’ll come with time.”

He hoped to help you recover your lost memories, but in the meantime, he’d do his best to support you, just as he’d done with his long, dead daughter. For that reason, he felt it was time to bring you to the world outside. In this town you both resided in, everyone died in a war.

Alex was the only survivor.

For that reason, he was the only person you ever got to know these past seven months. There was no one your age around here, and it wasn’t like you went far anyway. Every now and then, Alex brought you a few towns over to experience a nice train ride to his favourite shops. Then he’d buy you something and take pictures.

But now? He felt it was time to take it a step further. He wasn’t sure if you’d like the idea, but it was worth a try.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER, 06:28

“Come again?” you inquired. Alex took a sip of his coffee and stood from the chair. The wooden floorboards of the cabin creaked under his weight. He waddled over to the window, drawing open the plaid curtains. Warm rays of sunlight fluttered upon your face and Alex smiled warmly like he always did.

“It’s time you get out more,” he said, “and experience the world outside this old town. I want you to look across the horizon because there’s more than the cabin.” You knitted your brows together. You didn’t like how cryptic he was being. It reminded you of someone you once knew, someone who you held close to your heart.

“Gramps, what are you trying to say?”

Alex heaved in a long breath, as if he were afraid of saying it himself. “I want you to go to school. College, if you want the specifics.” Your eyes doubled in size and you hoped, prayed, that he would take it back and say it was a joke. College? You didn’t need a degree! And besides, it was expensive. You couldn’t afford something like that. But alas, Alex wasn’t one to joke about serious things like that. He was an old man, so he always meant what he said.

This time was no different.

“You mean it,” you practically whispered. “That you want me to go to college.” Alex nodded, absentmindedly running a hand through his thick, white beard. There was a long pause and you took the time to sip your tea. Would school benefit you in some way? Was it worth the time? The work?

It didn’t make sense. You were smart. Alex said it himself: “I haven’t met anyone as smart as you”. So why did he want to send you to school? It had to be more than just to “meet people” because you did that all the time on the train every few days.

“What’s so good about college, Gramps? We can’t afford to pay for something so expensive. I don’t want to see you in debt just because of me.”

Through your calm façade, Alex noticed the spark of uncertainty in your eyes. Throughout the long days he got to know you, he realised one thing: you were never keen on showing your emotions.

“I want to give you an opportunity to find yourself,” he finally replied. “If the people you knew are around your age, then going to school might bring something back. You know, jog your memories. Besides that, I want you to have a life more than that I can offer. There’s nothing in this small town.”

“I don’t know about that. I have you here. You’re all I know, Gramps.”

Alex knitted his bushy brows together. “I know, but I can’t always be the only one you know. Don’t you want to see the world?”

It wasn’t that going to college was excruciatingly disappointing, only that it was a means of giving out false hope. How could you cling onto something so child-like and unreliable? 

Hope could only get people so far. You were no different.

That night, you lay in bed, wide awake. A nagging thought kept pulling at the back of your mind, repeating itself over, and over, and over again until you couldn’t stand the phrase. But as soon as you repeated it with your own lips, it vanished as if it never existed.

You lay in bed for a little longer, fighting the lull of sleep. It pulled on your eyes, and your head nodded as you forced down a yawn. Sleep was for the weak. If you stayed awake a little longer, maybe you might remember something, right?

-----

The grass tickled your bare feet. If it were any normal day, you would have liked to lay down in its warm embrace with Emma, Ray and Norman. You could watch the clouds together, and wonder about life outside these concrete walls.

But that was stupid to think about, wasn’t it? The liberty to relax and do absolutely nothing had been striped from your very being, like the air that you gasped and chocked on. You held your shoes tightly to your chest and frantically glanced past your shoulder. Good. All clear, just how you liked it.

Norman and Emma lay a couple hundred meters behind. They were your eyes, the two little owls that perched high above with all-seeing eyes. With a grunt, you hopped over a thick tree root and tossed aside your shoes. They landed somewhere in the brush, right where the trees parted.

You came to a stop and glared at the concrete wall towering over you. If you completed your mission and everything remained as straight-forward as you wanted it to be, then you’d escape with everyone. Just like Emma wanted. Just like you tried so hard to believe.

But what if something happened? What if Don and Gilda were caught? Or worse, what if Mama suspected that Ray betrayed her? Surely she wouldn’t go as far as to eliminate him on the spot...

...right?

You clenched a fist so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Stop. Stop it, you told yourself. You had to have faith in your family. They were just as capable as you, maybe even more, so they’d have no issues. You had to focus on your job so they could do theirs.

“My, so this is where you’ve run to?”

You sucked in a sharp breath.

No, that couldn’t be. You made sure she wouldn’t know where you were. You told all the precautions, too. Were Emma and Norman okay? What about Ray? And Don and Gilda?

“I’m surprised you managed to make this far.” Mama stiffly said. “You never were as strong as Emma, or fast either.”

It was like the sun stopped shining. Your blood ran cold. The warm rays turned to ice.

“It’s not too late to turn back (Y/n).” Her voice was silky smooth, tempting almost, as if she were coaxing a frightened sheep to the slaughter. “You’ve improved, my dear, but is it enough? Once your plan crumbles, what will you do then? It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama. It’s the reliable path. You will survive and you will be happy.”

For a moment, you wondered if she actually cared about you. Maybe her love was all fake from the beginning and she didn’t care about you. Or your family. Or anything but survival in this cruel world.

You never loved us.

That was what you wanted to say, yet the words stuck in your throat like glue. If she didn’t love you, then why did she hold you so tightly when you had a nightmare? If she didn’t love you, then why did her eyes shine with pride when you got perfect scores?

“Come, my dear,” Mama coaxed. “Let’s go home.”

The sudden urge to laugh bubbled in your throat like lava.

Home? This was a prison in disguise.

It’s not too late to turn back? A lie.

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama? As if.

You couldn’t afford to betray your family. Not after all you’ve done, and not after all the effort. They relied on you. You weren’t going to let them down.

You turned on your heel to face Mama. She smiled at you, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It made your stomach twist and turn, reminded you just how much of a danger she could be. Your gaze focused past her shoulder, where a familiar head of orange stood.

Emma peeked out from behind the trees and held up the bag of rope. Norman stood from a cluster of bushes and motioned the the wall. They were going to climb it while you distracted Mama. Perfect.

A bright grin broke out onto your lips. “I’m sorry Mama.” you began.

She stood like a statue with wide eyes. “Are you now?” she inquired. You were finally conceding in this fiery war of wits. After all that fuss and now would she have you back by her side? She opened her arms to welcome you. It was all she could do with her prized little girl. Finally you were being smart. Finally you were choosing the reliable path. You were going to follow in her footsteps. Survive. And outlive everyone in this house like she had.

But then something happened. Emma burst from the bushes, followed by Norman who helped throw the rope up a nearby branch. That triggered you into action, and you lunged at Mama with all the strength you could muster.

“I will never--!”

You wrestled for her watch.

“--ever--!”

Mama tugged on your little arms.

“--leave my family behind!”

You yanked the stupid watch out of her hands, but just as you stood, Mama grasped onto your leg and tugged. Hard. She gave it a squeeze, and a sickening crack echoed in your ears. You screamed. Your ears rung and you heaved in a strangled breath.

“You should have taken the reliable path.” Mama’s calm voice made you want to vomit. “None of us would be here if you had listened to your mama.”

-----

Your eyes shot open and you jolted awake. The faces, the voices, the senses--they flashed before you in a whirl of colours and sounds. Why couldn’t you recall who they were? Or what their names were? You knew every single one of them by heart, yet your mind lay completely blank. Again.

The urge to punch your mattress overwhelmed your senses.

“Good morning,” came Alex’s crinkly voice. That snapped you out of your frustrated stupor. He stood in the doorway, a warm smile on his lips and a spatula in hand. “Pancakes are almost done. Today we’ll get you settled in your dorm.”

Oh. Right. Gramps was sending you to a boarding school. The thought of leaving your beloved bed left you queasy and sluggish. Why should you go somewhere so far away from this cozy, little cottage? It was only recently that you settled here too. Maybe Gramps was taking it too fast.

With a heavy heart, you lugged yourself out of bed and threw on a pair of warm clothes. The unforgiving climate of this land was not one you would challenge. Ever.

The moment you emerged from your room was the moment you understood Gramps’s insistence. He meant well, you knew, but in a way you didn’t appreciate. Going out gave you a higher chance of meeting whomever you knew. It was completely logical.

“Are you worried?” Gramps began, placing a stack of pancakes on your plate. “I’ve already informed your school teachers of your amnesia, so they’ll understand. As for your dormitory, everything has been set. And don’t forget your breakfast, lunch, and dinner plans, as well as your--”

“You seem more anxious than me, Gramps.” you said with a subtle smile. He stared at you, wide-eyed until he mirrored you with a chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. I just want to make sure the transition goes smoothly.”

“Of course.”

“And that you’re safe and okay.”

“Gramps--”

“And that you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“--the pancake’s burning.”

That set him off. He jolted out of his chair faster than his age and capabilities should have allowed. It was a miracle too, because the poor pancake was seconds away from catching fire on the pan. A long sigh left Gramps’s lips as he turned off the stove. “I think I’ll give this to the birds.”

“You best do that, because I won’t eat that piece of charcoal.”

You shared a quick chuckle between each other, savouring the warmth and comfort that came. If someone else had found you that day in the field of endless grass, you weren’t sure if you’d be so lucky. It was by chance Gramps was the one to discover you, so you couldn’t imagine life otherwise.

Once your pancakes were gone and your bag all packed, you traveled to the train station in the early rays of sun. Gramps was the type of enjoy the silence of nature, but to you, it was excruciating.

It didn’t matter where you went. Each time, you looked past your shoulder, to the fading mountains, to the little rabbits that scurried by. It was like you were on survival mode. But why should you be when there was nothing out here? It was so peaceful, so wonderful that you couldn’t imagine anything coming out to get you.

Smile. It’s okay, I promise. I’m here.

You froze and glanced past your shoulder towards the rolling hills and the fading grass. That voice--you knew it. But had you dreamed it up? There was no one here but you and Gramps. A short sigh left your lips and all Gramps could do was ruffle your hair comfortingly.

The train ride was nice. With the calm chugging and the way it swayed, you didn’t mind it at all. Every now and then, your eyes fluttered open and closed. Maybe you were tired. Maybe you weren’t a morning person. Whatever the reason, you submitted to the lull and closed your eyes.

-----

Not a single soul moved for what felt like centuries. The moment Ray, Gilda and Don arrived at the scene, it was clear that nothing else could be done. Mama smiled at her children viciously. She wasn’t here to play nice any longer. Today, she was the hunter and her children the prey.

“It was a clean break. She will recover smoothly,” Mama curtly announced. “And Norman?”

You didn’t like the way she looked at him, or the way her grip seemed to tighten on your limp arms. Her gaze dangerously narrowed and she said, “Your shipment date has been set.”

Your heart stopped and your blood ran cold. Norman’s shipment date had been set? No, that couldn’t be. Your plan required at least another week until everything fell into place. Norman was the core of it all. Without him, what would you do?

And speaking of which, he was going to die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

He was going to die.

You squirmed in Mama’s grasp, hoping--praying that you could maneuver around this. Norman wasn’t going to die. You wouldn’t let him.

“Let me--let me go!”

It was reckless and it was stupid to think he’d be able to evade Mama’s sight just like that, but you had to try.  Didn’t Emma say you’d all leave here together? “Norman--!”

He blinked as if he’d woken up from a long dream. The forced smile the sprouted on his lips looked painful. Don’t struggle, it said.

Don’t struggle? How did he expect you to sit around and do nothing? If anyone should be shipped out first, it should be you. Why? Because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you let any of your family go.

Mama glared down at you with a cold smile. “You can’t fight me more than you can stop the sun from setting,” she said, heaving you higher off ground. Your leg hit her arm and a cry escaped your lips. Norman flinched and Emma remained frozen in place.

You were always the strong one, not Emma, not Ray, and not Norman. Because you were one of the eldest, it was your responsibility to be the shoulder to cry on and to stand when no one else could. To see you holding back tears and gritting your teeth tight enough to make your gums bleed made Norman’s little heart break.

He didn’t care about his shipment date. All he wanted was to see you safe.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of faces, voices and regrets. The sharp pain in your leg long faded, leaving only a dull throb that stayed as a reminder of your failure. Yes, that was what you were, right? You couldn’t complete the plan even with Don, Gilda and Ray distracting Mama. You were pathetic. A waste of space.

The door creaked open and you sat up a little straighter. You smiled at the trio as they entered the room. “Hey guys.”

“How are you feeling?” inquired Norman. He took a seat by your bedside and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Ray pulled up another chair. He hid his face behind his fringe to conceal his grim frown. It didn’t work though, and you merely smiled at him. He huffed irritably, as if he didn’t want you to know he worried so much.

“I didn’t think she’d go that far.” Ray quietly muttered. You knitted your brows together with a absentminded shrug. “And to think I was that close to getting her watch.” Emma’s shoulders sagged. “I wish I had--”

“It’s fine Emma.” you said with a warm smile. “Broken bones heal, it’s not permanent.” She looked like she wanted to say something, but with the warm smile on your face, she couldn’t gather the courage to. Instead, she settled for a tight hug.

It was hard to look her in the eye anyway. The sadness she tried so hard to force down only added to your guilt, and you weren’t sure if you could think straight with all the regret.

“I’m sorry this happened.” you began. “Now that I’m hurt, you’re worrying for me.”

Emma pulled away as Norman gave a firm shake of his head. “None of this is anyone’s fault.” he stated. "None of us saw that coming, and even if we did, I’m not sure we’d be any good outwitting Mama on the spot like that.” He offered a gentle smile that made you feel just a little bit better.

-----

Gentle smiles. A warm summer breeze. Soft kisses. Tender touches. That was what reminded you of the boy in your dreams. Although you couldn’t recall his face every time you awoke, you remembered the fact that he was handsome and kind.

Gramps offered a warm smile. “Good morning.” You covered your yawn with a hand. “I’m assuming we’re here?”

He nodded. “Are you excited?” It was obvious Gramps knew the question. He only wanted to hear the answer from your mouth rather than from an assumption. As much as you wished to be excited for such a grand opportunity, you weren’t sure you’d like school. Well, how could you guess when you’ve never been to school in the first place?

At least from what you could recall.

“I still don’t know how to feel about this,” you quietly say. Gramps guides you along the walkway and out of the train, where you step out of the station and to the bustling streets of the city. You frown. Gramps said you were going to a boarding school, was it supposed to be somewhere as crowded as here?

From what you read, boarding schools needed large spaces to accommodate dormitories, classrooms, and sports fields. Was there such a thing as space in this congested collection of skyscrapers?

You shook your head to yourself and followed Gramps down whatever path his old-fashioned map led him to. He walked slow. Too slow for your liking. Not only that, but with all the people around, you couldn’t bear not to stick close to his side. What if he got lost? What if you got lost? Or kidnapped and sold on the black market for organs?

Maybe you were just paranoid.

The looming skyscrapers offered no comfort, and the cool breezes that sent shivers down your spine weren’t helping either. You hopped over a patch of ice and pulled your jacket closer just as Gramps came to a stop.

A lot of land stood in the middle of all the skyscrapers, where a pale field of grass stretched out over the acres of land. Buildings that looked like castles peppered themselves out in the form of classrooms, mess halls, and corridors.

You stood in the shadow of the tall brick walls. It separated the school from the rest of the city. An overwhelming feeling of bittersweet hope filled your system, as if you’ve stood in front of a wall like this before. Had you been here? No. You were sure this was your first time seeing the school.

“Take care Letha.” Gramps said. “Don’t forget to eat and exercise, as well as make some new friends. I expect you to call at least once a week, just so I know you’re doing fine.” You smiled a little, cheeks warm in embarrassment. “Gramps, I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

“I know, I know. Just...this is a big step for you.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Be careful, and have fun. Even if you don’t remember anything, as long as you have fun, it’s fine.” He wrapped you in a tight hug. “And most importantly, I love you Letha.”

You basked in the warmth of his arms. You didn’t need to worry about your memories in that moment because you had Gramps. He was your world. Your family. What more could you ask for? But then he pulled away, and the warmth didn’t linger.

You were still incomplete.

The next day, you found yourself wandering the halls aimlessly, picking apart each detail and escape route in sight. The hall to your left had an exit to the school courtyard, a peaceful place with metal chairs and picnic tables. To your right sat another hall, which also had an exit to another courtyard. Then in front of you stood the front entrance, where the side exits fanned out in the halls next to it.

“Hey, you’re the new girl, right? Letha Meek-aye...Mikhaylov?”

You spun around faster than the speed of light. In front of you stood a girl, perhaps a year older with an unfriendly frown. She wore the generic school uniform: black skirt, long socks, white blouse, gray sweater vest, and a tie. Her bright, red locks stood out like a sore thumb. They curled past her shoulders in beach waves, framing her narrow, freckled face in rouge.

For a moment, you blanked out. When was the last time you spoke to someone, much less a teenager your age? Even though this girl wasn’t intimidating, it wasn’t like you wanted to talk to her. The point of coming here was to figure out if anything jogged your memory and then leave. It wasn’t playtime. “I’m new.” Your voice came out calmer than you felt. “Is that an issue?”

Despite the pointed look on her face, you had a feeling she was one of the nicer people in the area. She had a soft look in her green eyes, as if she understood what it felt like to be a new kid. “I’m Flanna Morris,” she said with a small smile. “Nice to meet you Letha.”

Flanna had an accent. By the hard ‘r’s and the elongated ‘oo’ sounds, you guessed she had to be from Ireland. Gramps told you it wasn’t too far from here, but still a while away.

You sent Flanna a cautious side eye. She was being too friendly. “Yeah, nice to meet you too...Flanna.” A hearty laugh that bellowed in her stomach echoed in the quiet corridors. “Look,” she said, “I’m not here to bully you. I just wanted to offer some help.”

Help? Yeah right. No one in this world offered help without asking for something in return. Besides Gramps maybe--but he was a special case, it didn’t count.

“Come on, I’ll show you around Letha.” The look on Flanna’s sweet face made it hard to decline. If you weren’t interested in seeing if there were any places you missed, then you would have declined. But perhaps Flanna could show you more than the shallow surface of this boarding school.

You passed to through the quiet corridors, where the sun shone through the windows overlooking the street. The sun rose over the horizon and up the edge of the skyscrapers’ base. Cars bustled about, and even through the thick brick walls, you heard all the honking and yelling of the early morning traffic.

“So, where’re you from?” Flanna inquired. You tugged on the strap of your bag’s shoulder strap. “Far away.”

“What do you mean by ‘far away’?”

“I mean the countryside.” you clarified. Flanna ‘ohhh’ed. “The city must be a huge change for you then, I know it was for me.” You knitted your brows together. So she was from the countryside in Ireland? That’s more than a simple change of scenery. No wonder Flanna wanted to help you.

“Okay, so here’s the science hall. Ms. Darsey is one of the best teachers you can have around. You’re a juniour, right? I’m a senior--if you couldn’t already tell...”

Flanna talked a lot. No, she didn’t just love talking, she loved explaining all her experiences with x, y, and z teacher, as well as what classroom and what day of the month it was. She had a wonderful memory, you had to admit, but that made her stories long. Her energy was like a breath of fresh air, and that red hair of hers sparkled like jewels in the morning light.

Flanna’s hair was fiery just like a girl’s you used to know. Her face wasn’t clear in your mind whenever you thought of her, but the joy she always brought you stayed. It made your heart warm. Flanna seemed to have a similar effect, but not as strongly as the girl you once knew.

“You have Mr. Dursley for English,” she noted. “Make sure you don’t stick out. He’s a big pain and if you’re late, he’ll give you a detention.” You raised a brow. Mr. Dursley detained teenagers for being late? What kind of nonsense was that? You decided to phone Gramps later and ask him if that were true. He’d know. Hopefully.

The look on your face made Flanna chuckle, but you had a feeling she didn’t understand your thought process. “Don’t worry,” she casually said. “You’ll be fine. I bet’cha Connor and James will be the first to get a detention. They’re both trouble makers--little devils. Especially James.” You stared up at Flanna’s bright, green eyes. They sparkled like the sun against her hair. You’ve seen that look before, the one of unsaid love and adoration. Long ago, someone looked at you like that.

But who?

You wracked your brain for answers. It was on the tip of the tongue. Right there--just in front of you. Yet it was as if something were preventing you from seeing the truth. The one postulate you knew stuck throughout the days you’ve forgotten who you once were.

Backtrack. Backtrack.

A boy. Light hair. Soft eyes. Kind smile. A laugh that was like music. And the calling of your name.

“(Y--n)!”

Yes, that was the sound of his voice, right? Or maybe it was a stranger’s instead, someone’s you’ve heard on the street. Then whose name was that? Was it even a name to begin with? Maybe it was a word instead and you misheard it as a name. That thought made your heart throb in the worst way possible. Ice filled your veins, and you found yourself pausing to stare out the crystal, clear windows.

“Something wrong?” Flanna inquired. You blinked away the haze and turned to her with a shake of your head. “Just nervous.” A bright smile burst onto Flanna’s lips. “Ah, I see. No worries, you’ll do great. And if you don’t it’s your first day, right? Nothin’ wrong with messin’ up a little.”

You wished you could believe Flanna, but something deep in your heart said otherwise. A slip-up could cost someone more than their reputation. Possibly their life. You couldn’t speak from experience, but you were sure you’d seen a sacrifice. Long ago. Far away in the distance.

Flanna stopped in front of your first period class. “We still have about fifteen minutes before school starts. Everyone’s probably in the cafeteria eating breakfast or fooling around in the field. I recommend you come early to class so you don’t get caught up in the crowd.” And with that, she waved, turning on her heel to hurry away. “I’ll see you during lunch! We have it together, so I’ll come find you in the cafe!”

She rounded a sharp corner and disappeared, leaving you alone in the quiet hall. You peeked in through the open door. At a long desk sat a teacher, who stood at the notice of your presence. She wore thin glasses on her old squarish face, a white blouse with a tie, a woolen navy blazer, and black trousers with heels to match.

The teacher had a kind face, with eyes that were soft with years of wear and tear. The smile on her lips said it all--she had seen things. Many things. “Welcome, I assume you’re Letha Mikhaylov?” She had a crinkle in her voice like the edges of her eyes when she smiled. It complimented her kindly face.

“Yes.” you replied. “That’s me.”

“Well I’m Mrs. Walker.” She motioned for you to come in, that sweet smile still on her lips. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been informed that you have amnesia. May I ask how much you remember?” You folded your hands together. It was the least you could do to look less nervous.

“I remember skills, knowledge, and the arts. I do not recall my original name or what my life was like before, but I am still highly-functional. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Walker. ”

The way you worded your sentences was off-putting to the teacher. It wasn’t normal for high school students to be so in-line, much less well-off with their manners.

From the report she read, you were taken in by Alex Mikhaylov, a writer who lived in an old, deserted town. He claimed he’d been trying to help you re-gain your memories for nearly a year, but from the looks of it, there wasn’t much to go off of.

Mrs. Walker took a seat at her neat desk. A pencil sharpener sat at the corner along with a tissue box, stapler, tape dispenser, and a plastic name plaque. In bolded letters it said, Mrs. Walker. Of course, in cursive. A few photos were cramped by her computer, where she stood there, smiling with a young girl and a man. Mrs. Walker looked to be around twenty-eight to thirty in that photo.

You stood by her desk awkwardly. Were you supposed to sit in the back? Near the window? Or in the front? The sinking feeling of unfamiliarity plagued your mind as you ran a hand through your locks.

There weren’t any other students here besides you.

“You may take a seat wherever you’d like Letha,” Mrs. Walker said. “I do not assign seats in this class, but if there is an issue, I can if you’d like. Is there anything I should know about you?” You shook your head and took a seat by the window. The football fields, frost-bitten and white, stretched out as far as the eye could see. A little to the left of that were the dormitories. Red brick walls and sparkling clean window panes, just like every other building at the school.

Winter was a wonderful season, but you wished it weren’t so cold all the time. Maybe if there were a bit of snow, it would cheer you up, jog your memory even. “I’m not sure if I have anything of importance.” Your voice echoed in the deserted classroom like a bell. “But I hope I can do my best.”

A smile broke out onto Mrs. Walker’s lips. “Don’t hope, do.”

And so you did. You vowed to do what you could with whatever you could. You weren’t going to hope to do your best, or hope to find your memories because you would. They’d come back to you, and you were going to do everything in your power to get them back.

PART FOUR COMING SOON [GIVE ME LIKE THREE DAYS TO ADD A BONUS PORTION BECAUSE I LOVE YOU GUYS] -->UPDATE: PART FOUR HERE <--

[givemea-dam-break]

hello there! could you maybe write a fic with alina where the reader is a shadow summoner and the darkling’s sister (she keeps to herself but isn’t evil like her brother)? and alina happens to shine a light on her dark heart and they fall in love?

a/n: ok i love this so yes definitely and it also means i get to add a new section to my masterlist! i like adding new sections hehe. anyways, i hope you enjoy this - i brainstormed ideas for it during study while making music flashcards :) Warnings: none Words: 1.2K Female reader part 2, part 3

Candles flicker around you, illuminating your dark corner of the library as moonlight seeps in through the large glass windows of the Little Palace. There's no one else there but you, providing the silence you always craved during the days when every part of the Little Palace is filled to the brim with Grisha, all of which argue with each other the second they get the chance to. You're particularly glad that it's your brother who has to deal with them and not you. When you reach a particularly interesting part of the book you're reading, the library doors slide open, barely making a sound. The only giveaway to knowing that someone else was coming in was the sound of footsteps - heavy ones, followed by significantly lighter ones. You cast your gaze up, eyes catching the people approaching. "Brother," you say, feigning a smile. "What do you need this time?" Your brother, more commonly known as the Darkling, strides over, standing straight before you. "Sister," he says, voice tight. "I need you to teach our Sun Summoner about Grisha history - it seems that she's not as caught up as we need her to be." Your eyes dart over to the figure next to your brother. You haven't personally met the Sun Summoner before, she had only just arrived a few days ago, but you've seen her from a distance and heard her name in the Grisha gossip during the day. She's around your age (or, at least, how old you look) with long brown hair and sunken brown eyes. Her skin is sallow as if she hasn't eaten and slept enough, and she seems absolutely drained but there's something about her that draws your attention, though you're not sure what, "At this time?" you ask. "It's almost midnight." Your brother's grey eyes darken - it isn't a request, it's an order. Unfortunately for him, you don't take orders. "I'll do it in the morning," you negotiate. "She looks like she's about to drop down dead and I was about to head to bed." You stand from your chair, rising to the same height as the Darkling, quirking an eyebrow in challenge. This is how things always went and, luckily for you, you always have a knack for winning - a knack for winning arguments, which is why your more diplomatic brother took charge. "Fine," he says, relenting. Then, he looks to the Sun Summoner and gives her a glimpse of a smile. "Alina, this is my sister, y/n. As you might have guessed, she'll be teaching you Grisha history. Y/n, this is Alina Starkov, the Sun Summoner." I gathered that, you think, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. Alina manages to smile at you, tugging at the sleeves of her blue kefta. "I must get going," your brother says. "Goodnight, Alina. Goodnight, y/n." Then, he turns on his heel and makes his way out of the large library. There's a moment of silence before Alina speaks. "I didn't realise the Darkling has a sister," she says, voice smooth like honey. "No one does," you say, tucking your book back into the slot you keep it in. "I'm not really a point of interest. I got banned from assisting in anything; he's more diplomatic, but sometimes you need a good argument to get your point across. Honestly, I couldn't care less, and at least he gets the backlash for the Fold and not me." It's well-deserved, too. "But he didn't create it," Alina says, brows furrowing. "The Black Heretic did, centuries ago." It's a hard task keeping your mouth shut, but it's not the right time to say anything. Let her go to Bahgra, first, you decide. Then I can talk to Bahgra and decide the best way to go about this. "Can I give you a little advice?" Alina nods. "Don't trust anyone, not even yourself." "Not even you?" Alina's brow quirks. "Or your brother?" "Especially not us." From the glint in her eyes, you can tell she thinks that you're playing with her. You're not. You're far from doing that. "I'll walk you to your room," you say, "and I'll get Genya to fetch you in the morning." -- The next few days are spent doing as your brother demanded and helping Alina in her studies of past Grisha and Saints, of which she already knew a little bit from her

childhood. For a girl claiming she isn't Grisha, she's extremely interested in the history, though you can't fault her. At first, you were the exact same, and, plus, Grisha history is some of the best history. You find yourself smiling more during the time spent with Alina. It's like she can control the light in more ways than thought, making it spiral inside of you. It leaves you feeling happier, less gloomy, and makes spending time with her more enjoyable. "Why don't you wear a black kefta?" Alina asks one day. You both sit by the lake a small distance away from Baghra's little hut, meaning there's less chance of Alina being late when her lesson starts. The breeze is light and cool, the scent of freshly rained on soil and apples woven through like flowers through hair. "I'm technically a Summoner," you say, hands brushing over the blue kefta you wear. The only hint to your power is the black embroidered patterns on your cuffs. "And I don't like the dramatics of my brother; black this, black that, make everything black! I mean, the entirety of his bed-chamber is black, it's terrible." Alina laughs. "He tried to get me to wear a black kefta, too." "You also want to fit in, huh?" "Like calls to like." Who's she quoting, Baghra or your brother? "With what we Darklings face," you say, "I guess he's allowed to have his dramatics. The only way for people to listen to us is through fear." "Not for me." You look at Alina. The sunlight hits her at such an angle so that her brown eyes look like pools of copper and bronze, simultaneously making her face look less sallow and tired. Genya would be over the moon at how... beautiful she looks. "I don't fear you," she says. "Baghra and Zoya are scarier." You laugh. "Zoya will warm up to you eventually, she just hates not being the centre of my brother's attention." "What about Baghra?" Alina picks up a dried leaf and twists the stem in her fingers. "What's her story? Why's she so... Baghra?" "It's not my place to tell you her story," you say. "She'll tell you given time, I'm sure, but if there's anyone you can trust, it's her." "I thought you told me to trust no one?" You smile softly. "I did, but I'm sure you can make an exception for Baghra." Alina frowns, but her eyes are playful and the corners of her lips quirk up. "I'd rather trust someone who doesn't poke and prod at me, or slap me with a stick." "Like who?" "Like you."

[lilover131]

Syaoran and Kaito Analysis

So I’ve mentioned recently in a recent fanart and in my analysis of chapter 55, but I have noticed quite a few similarities between Syaoran and Kaito, and upon some observations, I have some theories, particularly in regards to how Kaito views Syaoran. I decided to delve into that a bit, so see under the cut for more! Warning: It’s long. I wrote a lot. >.<

 I have a lot to cover, so I thought it might be best to outline in the most simple way possible some things we already know about Kaito.

 ·         He was born gifted with incredible magic. His parentage is unknown and he was “alone for as long as he could remember”.

·         It’s unclear where Kaito originated from, but it seems he spent a majority of his life in England.

·         He has moon based magic and has a wide variety of talents, but specializes in time magic. It’s unclear if he already had a skill with time magic or if this was obtained after he met Momo. It seems implied that he made a magical contract with her and maybe gained his time abilities from this. But we do know he has the ability to fly, to locate objects, teleport, to talk to animals, and to make something vanish in a mere moment.  

·         He is also talented in housekeeping skills, such as sewing, cooking, etc.

·         He used to be very cold hearted and preferred spending time alone. Kaito changed considerably in personality at some point in his life. It is uncertain exactly what caused this change, but it seems likely that Akiho’s mother was the catalyst for this.

·         He is part of a very powerful group of magicians called as we know it ‘The Association’ and is revered as one of its most powerful with the title ‘D’. He recently betrayed them and left, taking Akiho with him.

·         He protects and seems to care for Akiho

·         He is preparing for an event labeled as “that time” and needs Sakura to create a specific card.

·         He is putting himself in extreme physical danger for his goals, seemingly for Akiho’s sake.

·         He has been noted as always smiling to ‘hide his pain’.

 So when I look at all of these facts about Kaito, I noticed something interesting. Syaoran too could be described by almost all of these things. You might think “Wait a minute Chrissy! Kaito and Syaoran are nothing alike!”, but please hear me out.

Syaoran too was born gifted with incredible magic. He also draws his power from the moon (a connection that has already been pointed out by CLAMP) and has a knack for household skills as well, being very independent from a young age. Like Kaito, he was cold hearted in his earlier years, preferred to be alone (according to Meiling in the original 90’s anime in episode 43), and had a drastic change in personality later on, particularly after meeting Sakura. Syaoran is part of a very powerful group of magicians as well, the Li clan, and is one of the strongest within it and destined to be the next leader. Similarly, Syaoran too is preparing for some kind of event, a future seen by his mother, and is doing everything to prevent this, even if it causes him physical harm (as we’ve seen with him struggling to conjure the Sakura cards). In order to keep Sakura in the dark as to not worry her, he has been using a smile to ‘hide his pain’.

Now you may be wondering “Okay, so they have a few things in common, but they are still completely different!”. And you would be right. They are two completely different people after all, but try to think of them as two sides of the same coin. This beckons another question: How did two people who are so similar turn out so differently?

This is really where their differences in personality shine through, but part of it I believe is due to their backgrounds as well. For example, Kaito was picked up by the Association at a young age due to his skills with magic and was taken in to “use that magical power to accomplish their own tasks”. Based on their record of not having a great reputation, according to Eriol, and their treatment of Akiho by assisting her Clan in turning her into a magical device, it seems likely that Kaito was not treated kindly by anyone in the Association. In fact, he was probably left alone nearly all of the time unless his strengths were needed, and took care of himself in the remainder of that time. He was surrounded by people but still completely alone, and he preferred to be this way. This cold background of his really prevented him from being able to open up his heart to anyone. But he does seem to be much different around Akiho.

Syaoran, on the other hand, was surrounded by loving and caring family members. Although he preferred to be alone in his earlier years, he wasn’t actually alone at all. His mother was protective of him (like cutting his hair until he was strong enough to protect himself from things like scissors near his neck), and his sisters adored him and undoubtedly showered him with love at every opportunity. But even with that love from them, he was still somewhat cold hearted (though not as much as Kaito) until he met Sakura.

Their backgrounds do differ from each other, but I think the biggest difference in them of all is how they handle their feelings. When Syaoran first started to realize his feelings for Sakura, he struggled quite a bit and was in a great amount of denial, even physically running away at times when confronted with them. It was when he finally came to terms with his heart and confessed his feelings to Sakura that he underwent a great change and became the Syaoran we know today.

So what about Kaito?

Well, Kaito I believe is in that same stage of denial where he is refusing to come to terms with his feelings, whatever those may be. It’s clear that he cares about Akiho, but when she or Momo try to have a serious discussion with him or get him to talk about those feelings, he goes out of his way to change the subject (or once with Momo, actually fled at the first opportunity, which is just like Syaoran used to do!). It is something he is clearly uncomfortable with, and I think that is because it is unfamiliar territory for him. He is used to not feeling anything at all, so having to actually think about his feelings and reasons for doing things is unbearably frightening. He can handle any magical opponent any day (except Sakura of course), but being open and honest about his feelings? That’s another battle entirely that he doesn’t know how to handle without his magic to use as a crutch.

Momo mentioned in chapter 39 how Kaito had made a great deal of changes, all so that Akiho could live comfortably and pleaded internally “peer deep inside your heart. And don’t avert your eyes”. This was said again in chapter 51 when she stated “I implore you Yuna D. Kaito. Listen…to your heart”.

In the very next chapter, it is none other than Syaoran who has a discussion with Sakura about how his mother had told him “If you possess great magic power…when you feel pounding and stirring in your chest…you shouldn’t ignore it. You need to listen to your intuition. I think that goes for everyone, magic or no magic. I don’t think anyone should turn a blind eye to their own heart”. We also know that in that same conversation with his mother, thanks to the mini chapter provided with the special edition of volume 9, that Yelan said to him then “If there’s something you want to accomplish, then training with your spells is surely important, but...more than anything else, you have to face your heart”. She went on to tell him how important it was to listen to his heart and that “If you lie to yourself, you will sadden the person who loves you so dearly”. 

And that, my friends, is the major reason for Syaoran and Kaito being so different despite their many similarities. One listens to his heart while the other adamantly turns away from it. This leads me to my next topic (thank you for anyone who has read this long into it. I appreciate it!), and that is in regards to Kaito’s feelings about Syaoran.

I have noticed that Kaito in general tends to act quite differently in regards to Syaoran than he does anyone else. It starts at the very first time they met, when they made their introductions. Despite working so diligently to keep himself hidden from Akiho and Sakura, he did the complete opposite with Syaoran. He had to have known that being able to sense his magic and being given his name and title, that Syaoran would go and research who he was. He wanted Syaoran in particular to know who he was, which I believe is also why he allowed him to speak with Eriol initially. I say allowed, because we know he clearly had the potential to cut off communications at any point in time, and he only stepped in to shut this down when Eriol started talking to the others (Kero and Yue). He clearly wanted to control what information people knew about him, and Eriol crossed a line. He also put spells on Syaoran that would not allow him to communicate with others about him, so again showing he wanted him to know about him, but not to be able to tell anyone else about him, especially Sakura.

Another occasion I found intriguing was chapter 34 in the scene with the pool. Kaito stopped time, but for some reason, allowed Syaoran to move freely as well. Why is this? He could have easily frozen Syaoran too, but he made a conscious decision to allow Syaoran to move.

Then we come to perhaps the most telling scene so far, which is the battle he and Syaoran had in chapter 41 and 42. In a moment where he could have easily stopped time and rewound so that Syaoran never approached him, he instead decided to have a full discussion with him and even go as far as to engage in battle with him in stopped time. In this ‘discussion’, he stated several facts that he knew about Syaoran, who was pointedly not responding to them and seemed solely focused on Sakura. Some of the details about him were probably common knowledge to the magical world, but some of them seemed oddly personal, such as him being a ‘diligent student’, as if to show he had been watching him for quite some time.

Something about the interaction was different than others. It was as if he was observing Syaoran in that moment to see how he would react to hearing certain things. He then mentioned after seeing Syaoran use the Sakura cards how rewriting a contract once written takes a toll on even the strongest magician and he said “Is this all…for Sakura too?”. I think what he was trying to say here is that he recognizes the efforts he’s making for Sakura and may even feel a connection to him because of his own efforts for his own wish.

In chapter 42, continuing on with this conversation, Kaito seemed ready to turn back time the moment he realized they were no longer alone and that Sakura was able to move, but he still had more to say. Syaoran reacted to Sakura calling out for him, and it was at this moment that Kaito said “You certainly are honest, aren’t you? One look at your face, and I know exactly what you’re thinking” (even Eriol made several comments about Syaoran’s honesty in the original series). Once again, he’s showing here that he’s observing Syaoran, but why? For what reason does he bring this up? I think he says this because it is something so foreign to him and fascinates him. Kaito is so used to hiding his feelings and being unable to express them, but Syaoran is the complete opposite in the fact that he can so easily show his feelings and it is not his nature to conceal them. Kaito followed this by bringing up that Syaoran had suppressed that honesty when he came to Japan, which we know was through his fake smiles (something he is all too familiar with). Yue also said to Syaoran in chapter 27 that he had been hiding behind a smile and ordinarily was much more unrestrained in how he expressed his emotions, no matter what that emotion may be.

I wonder if Kaito said this because he wondered “how is it that he’s able to be so honest?” or maybe he was trying to show that he understood his reasons for hiding behind a smile, pointing out the similarities between them; that they were not so different despite having different goals. Kaito’s next comment in particular is probably what caught my attention the most. He divulged the detail about how Syaoran suppressed his honesty particularly to try and prevent the future that his mother saw. Even Syaoran seemed surprised by this, and he had good reason to be! This was likely a very personal moment, one he hasn’t even told Sakura about yet, and this implies that he might have been there when this particular moment happened. It makes sense too, considering Akiho had stated in her very first appearance that she was in Hong Kong just before coming to Japan, meaning she and Kaito were certainly there at the same time Syaoran was, at least for a brief time. This means he probably saw all the effort he was putting in for Sakura’s sake and maybe this resonated with him. I think maybe he also saw how his older sisters, even though they had no magic of their own, are treated with respect in the Li clan, unlike Akiho with her own. Kaito has only ever known a world where those who are strong are used and those who are weak are deemed worthless (like Akiho), but yet Syaoran lives in a world where both live harmoniously. Sakura’s world in Tomoeda is the same as well and filled with kindness, far different from any other experience Kaito has had, and this must have been quite the culture shock! But more importantly, Syaoran and Sakura have all the things that he and Akiho never had.

Another interesting thing to note here is that Kaito was supposedly expelled from the association about a year ago due to stealing a powerful magical instrument that was forbidden to be taken (which we now know to be Akiho herself). And guess what else happened about a year ago? About a year ago, Syaoran went back to Hong Kong to handle his ‘important things’. Coincidence? Well, famously CLAMP series often say there is no such thing as coincidence...only hitsuzen. 

Just as he is about to send another attack at Syaoran, he talks about how he and Syaoran both do not have the power of divination, but that “it is for the strong to decide…what the future holds in store for us all”. I think what he meant here is “Neither of us know how this is going to turn out, but the both of us are working hard for our own goals, so may the best man win”. However, before he could go any further, Sakura used TRANSFER to switch places, and he is both surprised by this, but quite quickly decides to end things and rewind time at this moment, indicating that he had not really wanted to engage with Sakura at all at this point in time. He had even stated at the beginning of chapter 42 that he had intended to keep her frozen and only have Syaoran able to move, meaning this whole situation had only been kept going for this long so that he could talk to Syaoran.

After rewinding time and talking to Akiho later that evening, he mentioned how Parent’s day was “quite illuminating”. This could have been said about his newfound knowledge of Fujitaka, but I also believe he learned quite a bit from Syaoran as well.

Now we finally get to the more recent chapters, like 54 and 55. While sitting together at the botanical garden, Kaito puts yet another spell on Syaoran to force him to smile against his will to avoid any suspicion. I feel like this was not just to keep the peace but also somewhat of a way to toy with and tease Syaoran. What better way to get under the skin of someone so honest and open with their feelings than to force them to hide these under a smile unwillingly? I think this was the mischievous side of Kaito showing and almost like a big brother teasing a little brother, but unfortunately for him, he pushed things too far with this, and not only did Sakura notice something was wrong, but this allowed the spell to be broken, and Syaoran wasted absolutely zero time saying the things he had been suppressed in saying before.

Cue to chapter 55, our most recent chapter. Sakura has managed to keep herself from being frozen in time, and she starts off with a few basic questions. The first one was if he knew about her being able to use cards. Kaito answered simply “Yes”. But when asked about if he knew about Syaoran, he gave two very specific details about him, particularly that he knew he was a gifted sorcerer and that he was the next head of the Li clan”. He could have just answered yes, the same way he responded in regards to Sakura, but instead he seems to have wanted Sakura to know in that moment that he knows a lot of information about Syaoran and not just that he can use magic. The two then exchange meaningful looks, and it’s right after this that she looks over to Syaoran and Akiho, looking almost worried. Now, it’s not clear what they were both thinking in this moment, and it’s possible that I am overthinking this one, but I find it fascinating that his answer was so detailed here, and I don’t feel like that was for nothing. Ohkawa has always been very thoughtful about the words she writes in her scripts, and I think this is no exception.

Anyways, I feel like we’ll get more definitive answers in the future, but I’m incredibly intrigued to see if there are any further and more concrete connections between them. I feel like CLAMP has done quite a bit to point out similarities between the two, and it should be a wild ride from here on out!!