#my effort and the process and time invested into it counts for nothing

[raplinesmoon]

i think the thing that no one tells you about being forced into being a high achieving child/teen is how much it comes to fuck you over later in life when you can’t do anything without holding yourself to an insane level of perfectionism and then you realize it’s basically leeched all the fun out of any hobbies you created for yourself and left you with a shell of a personality

[moonferry]

fsioy chapter 14? boy, you're gonna scream!

I CANT BELIEVE IT. i finally finished it. here it is - the "big one" i've been forewarning for days now. it's finally finished and possibly even more angsty than i anticipated. this may be the most gut-wrenching thing ive written for this fic. once again, nothing i say can accurately prepare you for what will happen. all i can say is that i'm truly sorry. also this would be a good time to mention that i have - unfortunately - began taking college classes so updates may be more sporadic but i will push through and keep going with this fic . trust. i've invested too much time and effort into this to just abandon it now. and - like i promised - i will be writing a short fluffy oneshot (and it will feature danny and lee !) as recompence. this one is going to be LONG and a doozy so strap in, folks!

warnings: CORPSE MENTION/BODY DECOMPOSITION, SPRAINED ANKLES, BROKEN BONES, AMBUSH ATTACKS, GUNSHOTS/ GUN FIRE, HAULICINATIONS, BLOOD, GRIEF, DEATH.

summary: kent leaves the medical tent in search of lee. lee is racked with guilt and convinces kent that the two of them need to bury the woman, just to ease his conscious. kent agrees and the two venture out into the town. the two manage to find the woman and begin the process of the burial, however, they are soon ambushed and run into a nearby building for shelter.

word count: 9283

other chapters: chapter master list

ao3 link: here

Kent nodded at Willy’s words and watched the older man leave the tent. Rest did seem like a good idea, but Kent had just woken up and felt particularly wired up. He glanced around, making sure the nurse was busy with another patient, before carefully standing. He winced as he used his arms to push himself up, but kept going anyway. Kent silently crept out of the tent. He wasn't sure where he was going or what he planned to do, but he needed to leave that tent. He needed to find Lee, anyway, so that was as good of a place as any. 

Kent squinted as his eyes adjusted to the darkness outside. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it appeared to be quite late. He continued walking in the direction that he saw the left figure exit towards earlier, hoping he was going in the right direction. 

Kent approached a small tree and was overcome with a small dizzy spell. He leaned against it and tried to avoid falling down. Now that he thought about it, leaving the medical tent when he had just been gravely injured probably wasn't the smartest idea, but it was too late to turn back now. He had to find Lee. 

However, it was Lee who found him. Lee opened the door of the nearby building - squinting at the nearby tree.

“Kent?” Lee asked, slightly confused. “Is that you?” He asked again. Lee didn't wait on an answer- instead, choosing to cautiously approach the tree. When he arrived underneath the branches and confirmed that it was, indeed, Kent, Lee let out a small sigh of relief before frowning. 

“What are you doing out here, man?” Lee asked, disapproval crossing his features. He crossed his arms and looked at Kent the same way a mother would look at their naughty child. “You're supposed to be in the med tent - you know, resting,” He scolded. Kent rolled his eyes.

 “You're acting like my mom, dude,” Kent joked, shaking his head with a small smile. Though, Lee didn't seem to react to Kent’s joke. His expression remained serious and Kent cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“Um.. anyway. I actually came to find you,” Kent explained. He watched Lee raise an eyebrow, his friend's eyes darting around and inspecting Kent’s condition skeptically. 

“I wanted to see if you were alright,” Kent continued. He looked up at Lee, his lips forming a small, sympathetic line before he added, “After, y’know, earlier. You seemed pretty shaken up back there..”

Lee sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Do you want the truth, Kent?” He asked, looking up to meet Kent’s eyes. Kent nodded. 

“No. I'm not alright. I don't know if I will ever be - after what happened today,” Lee confessed, shaking his head. He paced around anxiously, fidgeting with his hands as he spoke again, “I keep thinking about that woman, Kent. About what I did to her.” 

Kent nodded once again. He didn't know how something like that felt personally, but he could assume it wasn't a good feeling. He tried to comfort Lee, “It's alright, man. You did what you had to. If.. if you hadn't been there, I don't even want to think about what would've happened to me.” 

“No, it's not ‘alright’,” Lee spoke, shaking his head. He buried his face in his palms and let out an upset groan before adding, “I.. I hurt someone. Actually, even worse, I killed someone, Kent. That goes against everything I believe in. And you're going to sit here and tell me it's ‘alright’?!” Emotion coated his voice as tears welled up in his eyes. 

“I'm sorry.. I was just trying to hel-” Kent spoke, though he was soon cut off by Lee. 

“To help? Kent, you can't help me. I don't care if it was ‘justified’ or ‘self defense', I went against everything I believe in. Everything my grandmother believed in,” Lee spoke, angry tears now pouring down his cheeks. His breathing hitched as he mentioned his grandmother. Oma would be more than disappointed in his actions. She'd be furious. 

Another sobbed racked his chest and Lee slumped down, his back scraping against the rough bark of the tree. “The sad thing is, I didn't even hesitate at the time. All I was thinking about was saving you,” Lee admitted sadly, wrapping his arms around his knees. He glanced down at his shoes.

Kent’s lips formed another thin line, though he gave an understanding nod. He looked at Lee and exhaled a small sigh before moving and sitting next to him. 

“I, for one, am grateful you saved me, Lee,” Kent offered. He looked at the slew of bandages that covered his arms, his brows knitting together as he thought about how much worse it could've been. He spoke once again, “I mean, sure I'm a complete wreck, but at least I'm alive. I wouldn't be if you hadn't arrived.”

“I know you feel guilty, and I completely understand, but you have to admit,” Kent spoke, turning to look at Lee. He slowly raised his arm - trying his best to avoid harming himself further - and placed his hand comfortingly on Lee’s shoulder. He continued, “the thing you did today? That took serious guts, man.” 

Lee looked up, meeting Kent’s eyes. He tilted his head slightly - letting his friend’s words soak into his brain. He looked at Kent’s bandaged arms and thought about his own actions. Had he not done anything, Lee probably wouldn't be having this conversation with Kent right now. On the other hand, he had to choose between two people - two lives. 

“I don't think anyone should have that sort of responsibility,” Lee started, a small frown forming across his lips. “Playing Yoba, I mean. No one should have to choose between who lives or dies. No one needs to have control over whether someone survives or not.” 

“I mean, that woman - she probably had a life before this damned war. And now? She’ll never get to experience something like it again,” Lee spoke as he continued mulling over his thoughts. He sighed once again and looked down at his hands. Lee swore he saw the palms stained with a dark crimson - reminding him of his actions. He closed his eyes and added, “And it's all my fault. As always.” 

Kent frowned as he listened to Lee’s words. He knew Lee felt guilty, but he didn't like Lee blaming himself, especially this much. 

“You're always so hard on yourself, Lee,” Kent said, his expression drooping, before adding, “I don't get it. Why do you blame yourself for everything?” 

Lee pursed his lips, rubbing the back of his neck and debating how to approach the question. He could easily lie, blame it on his bad luck, or he could tell Kent the truth, admit his childhood wasn't the best and that took a toll on him. Lee looked at Kent - noticed how judgment free his friend’s expression was, how open minded and accepting Kent was - and nodded to himself. 

“Have I ever told you why I hate my name?” 

Kent shook his head. He turned his body towards Lee and eagerly listened to his friend’s words. 

“It all started with my father,” Lee began. He spent the next few moments recalling times from his childhood - explaining why he hated his name, his father, and even why he hated violence or arguments.

 He recalled the moments where his mother would blame him for her life or his father's choices. He spoke about the relief he felt when his mother remarried, about the sadness and guilt he felt when she didn't take him with her, and about how he spent several nights wondering what he did wrong. 

 He talked about how grateful he was to Oma for taking care of him and teaching him everything he knows. About how those moments stuck with him and shaped who he was as a person. About how he was so quick to blame himself when something went wrong, because that's all he's ever known. He had been told countless times that something he has no control over was his fault. 

Lee talked about how he had acquired so much guilt, so much parental disappointment, so much misplaced anger. As he spoke, Lee’s chest began to feel lighter. He had been holding these feelings inside for years - afraid to seem ungrateful if he ever spoke about them. Afraid to be scolded for feeling these things. Afraid to be punished for everything wrong with the world. Afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing because, somehow, it would all be his fault. 

“Wow.. I didn't know that,” Kent spoke once Lee finished speaking. He looked his friend, wondering what he could possibly say to offer support. “I hope you know that none of that was your fault, Lee. You were just a kid, after all.” 

“I know, but I can't help feeling like I caused everything to turn out the way it did,” Lee spoke, a small sigh slipping past his lips. He continued, “my parents were only together because my Ma was pregnant with me. My father tried - for the most part - until I was five, then he realized he wasn't ready for a kid. He left and I was just a painful reminder to my mother, since I shared his name, y’know? It makes me wonder, if that never happened, would she have resented me so much? Would she have taken me with her that day?” 

“I don't know, man,” Kent admitted, shrugging before he reached over and wrapped his arm around Lee’s shoulders. He spoke once more, “But I do know that I would've, if I was your mom. You're an amazing person, Lee. I'm sorry you had to experience that.” 

“It's okay,” Lee replied as he leaned into Kent's arm, draping his own arm around Kent’s waist. “I don't blame either of them, I guess. I just wish things turned out differently sometimes,” he admitted. 

The two sat in silence for a moment, letting the previous points in the conversation sink in. Lee mulled over his thoughts and his guilt began to slowly creep back in, covering his consciousness with images of the poor woman’s body as it slumped over - the red splotch growing in her chest. Lee needed to do something or he’d be racked with guilt for the rest of his life. 

“Hey, Kent?” Lee asked, glancing up at his friend. 

“Yeah, man?” Kent replied. He tilted his head curiously, waiting for Lee’s next words. 

“Do you think I'm a bad person?” 

Kent went silent for a moment, thinking over Lee’s question. Did he think he was a bad person? No, not really. In fact, quite the opposite. He thought Lee was the nicest and most thoughtful person he's ever met. If he was in Lee’s shoes, would he have reacted the same way? No doubt about it. Kent thought it was admirable that Lee felt the consequences of his actions - even if it was a “necessary action”. There were some people in this world who wouldn't have felt even a twinge of guilt or shame about taking a life, but Lee was not one of those people. Lee was amazing and forgiving - almost too forgiving at times - and Kent couldn't imagine having to make a choice as drastic as that. 

“No,” Kent replied. He turned and looked at Lee, giving his friend a compassionate look before adding, “I think you're a good person who was given bad circumstances. It's important to know the difference, Lee. You are more than whatever you think your actions mean. The fact that you feel guilty is proof of that.” 

“You really think so?” Lee asked.

Kent nodded before smiling at Lee and speaking, “Yeah, man. I've said this before, but you only did what you had to. I fully believe you wouldn't have done something like that under normal circumstances.” 

“Kent, I can't stop thinking about her. I feel awful thinking about how we just.. left her there, you know?” Lee mumbled, fidgeting with the sleeves of his uniform shirt. He frowned as the image of the woman filled his mind once again. “It doesn't sit right with me. I.. I think we need to go back. Just to give her a proper burial.” 

“Would that help ease your mind?” Kent asked as he thought over Lee’s proposal. He wasn't going to deny Lee, especially if this was something that might help him. Kent wasn't sure if it was a great idea - especially since it was quite dark and now late at night, but he was willing to go through with it for Lee. 

Lee nodded, “I think so.” 

“Okay, then let’s do it,” Kent agreed. He carefully stood up and motioned for Lee to follow him. Lee quickly stood and began walking behind Kent. 

“Uhmm, Lee, I know this is probably a bad time, but..” Kent started. He turned back towards his friend and nodded his head towards the weapons shack, “I think we should take one of those with us, just in case something goes wrong.” 

“I know.. you don't really like them or like using them, but it would make me feel safer. And.. since I can't exactly use my arms right now - especially with something like that, you.. might have to be the one to carry it.” 

Lee’s expression fell and he shook his head in protest as he spoke, “Kent, I.. I can't.” Kent looked at Lee, noticed how distraught the idea had made him, and sighed. 

“Okay,” Kent replied, giving a small curt nod, “If it makes you feel better, we won't bring one.” 

Against their better judgment, they decided to forego the weapon and the two boys headed towards the survey location from before. The only thing they took with them was a small, dimly lit lantern. It was amazing they could see where they were going - as the lantern looked like it would burn out at any moment. Along with this, neither of them were particularly great with directions.

As they walked off, a figure stepped out of the shadows - he had been anxiously listening to the boys’ conversation and disapproved of their lack of responsibility. 

“Those boys,” The person muttered, shaking his head with a small sigh. “I guess I better follow ‘em, just to make sure that nothin’ bad happens..” He added with a small grumble. 

Willy - being reasonable - managed to snag a weapon. He had experienced enough war to know that nothing good came from being unprepared. He grumbled to himself once again, mentally scolding the boys, and silently crept behind them as they walked. His pace was agonizingly slow, as he was trying his best to avoid crunching any stray leaf or snapping a twig so as to not alert Kent and Lee, and he kept a nice distance between himself and them. Willy squinted, searching the darkness for the faint light emitting from the lantern. 

Kent and Lee slowly approached the outskirts of the town and stopped. Lee turned to Kent, a curious expression crossing his features. 

“Hey, Kent,” Lee started, anxiously looking around at the array of similar looking buildings. They all had the exact same drab exterior - as if this was once a suburb or some sort of cul de sac. It was impossible to know which one was the “right” building. “You wouldn’t happen to remember where the building was, would you?” He asked with a small gulp. There appeared to be way more buildings than there were this morning. It would take them ages to find where they needed to go. 

Kent shook his head sadly. He barely remembered anything from this morning - let alone which of the buildings he entered. A small, frustrated frown formed on his lips - though the sagging motion of the skin caused a slight jolt of pain through his wound. 

“We could always pick one at random,” Kent suggested. He held up his hand and pointed towards a building in the middle of the row. “Like that one, for example...” 

“It’s worth a shot, I guess,” Lee replied, shrugging his shoulders. They cautiously approached the building. Lee held the lantern as Kent peered inside. 

“Nothing,” Kent said, removing his head from the doorway and turning back to Lee. “Let’s try some more. It has to be one of these.. This area feels too familiar for it not to.” 

The boys continued to look into the row of houses. Their frustration grew as they came upon yet another empty building. Eventually, however, Kent peered inside the correct building. He gagged as his nostrils filled with the putrid scent of decay. His eyes scanned the room before landing on the body in the middle. The scene was quite grotesque: the corpse had begun to bloat and sag with the summer heat, the flesh now swollen to the point it was barely recognizable as human. The pool beneath the woman had congealed into a jelly-like substance and its color had meshed into a deep, almost black, crimson. A large mass of flies swarmed around the formless blob of plump flesh, near what was once the woman’s face. The loud buzz of the insects was quite contrasting to the quiet stillness of the night that surrounded the scene. It made Kent feel uneasy - and like he was going to vomit. 

“This is the one, alright,” Kent called over his shoulder at Lee. His friend opened the door, reaching his free hand up to shield his eyes. Though, as the scent of death wafted towards him, Lee almost wished he’d covered his nose instead. 

“Yoba, that’s awful,” Lee exclaimed, his eyes watering as the scent threatened to fill his lungs. He grimaced, having to finally move his hand from his eyes to prevent more of the stench from latching onto him. Lee surveyed the room and his expression dropped further as he looked at the state of the woman’s corpse. He felt awful. The guilt began to creep in once again. He closed his eyes before exhaling a small sigh and speaking, “Let’s make this right. She deserves a proper burial.” 

Kent nodded before following Lee into the building - slightly reluctantly, but he wanted to be supportive of his friend. Kent grimaced as he thought about having to move the bloated corpse and looked around for something to wrap around it to avoid making direct contact. Luckily, there was a small tablecloth in the corner of the room. 

Unluckily, it was riddled with moth-eaten holes, making it threadbare, and was only big enough to cover one person's hands. He inspected it, thinking for a moment. He could easily give it to Lee, though that would mean he'd be the one left with that feeling forever burned into his finger tips. Or, he could keep it for himself and pass the suffering to Lee instead - but that would make him selfish. Neither option seemed like a good choice. He pursed his lips together, his finger resting on his chin thoughtfully. Eventually, he had an idea: they could place it beneath her and use it to drag her around.

Kent carefully unfolded the tablecloth, shaking it and accidentally stirring up a cloud of dust. He cough and used the tablecloth to fan away the dust cloud before gently placing it on the ground. 

“Lee,” He called out, motioning for his friend to approach. He pointed at the tablecloth and then the woman before explaining, “Help me roll her onto this. It'll make the body easier to move.” 

Lee looked skeptical, though he approached Kent and crouched down. The one thing Kent hadn't accounted for was exactly how they were going to get her onto the fabric. Guess we’re doing this after all, he thought to himself. So much for trying not to touch it. Kent cringed and extended his hand. He recoiled as his hand pressed into the squishiness of the fleshy mass. The feeling coated his fingers as the skin bulged and confirmed to his touch. He glanced over at Lee, who appeared to be having just as bad of an experience as he was, and nodded - signaling it was time. 

“Okay, on three,” Kent instructed. He took a deep breath, trying to get the awful feeling out of his mind before counting, “One, two.. three.” At three, the two boys gave a firm push and watched as the woman was turned onto her side - now laying directly on the fabric. Her head bounced as the impact jolted through her body before finally coming to a lull and hanging to the side. 

“Ew, ew, ew!” He protested, his face contorting into a distressed expression. Kent stood up and frantically wiped his hand against his uniform, making various noises of disgust as he flapped his hand violently. 

“That was so disgusting,” Kent whined, an uncomfortable look crossing his face, “It was all… squishy, and… and slimy.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me, please,” Lee pleaded, his own face turning green at the thought. He added, “I already feel like I’m gonna barf..”  

He looked at their handiwork and moved to stand beside Kent before speaking again, “Well, I guess it’s time to bury her.” 

Kent gave a small nod before reaching down and gripping the bunch of fabric closest to him. He and Lee then exited the building - dragging the tablecloth behind them and silently hoping it didn’t hit a rock and send the poor woman rolling down the hill. That would not be a fun experience for anyone involved. They slowly - but surely - made their way towards the nearby cemetery and started digging a shallow hole. It was shoddy work, but it was the best they could do, given how dark it was and how little time they had left. Just as they began lowering the woman into the pitiful excuse of a hole, they were met with a distant sound of shuffling leaves. 

Kent glanced up, holding the lantern near his face to aid his vision, and tried to determine where the sound was coming from. Another sound rang through the quiet night: a thundering crack - as if someone had stepped on a twig and snapped it in half.

“Kent?” Lee called, peering up at his friend from inside the hole. Lee was currently removing the dirt, trying to ensure that it was semi-decent. A look of concern crossed his face. When he didn’t receive a response, he spoke again, “Is everything alright up there?”. 

   Kent held a finger towards his lips and gave a small “shh”. He strained his ears, desperately trying to find the source of the sound. He was greeted with the faint sound of more rustling, followed by the crunch of dead leaves. He turned to Lee, wide eyed. 

“Do you hear that?” Kent whispered, panicked. The sounds slowly grew in volume, as if whatever - or whoever - was out there seemed to be approaching their location. If Kent was uneasy before, he was anxious now. Something about their excursion thus far had seemed too easy and Kent was honestly quite worried. They hadn’t encountered another person - or even any animals, for that matter - and Kent wasn’t eager to get caught playing around in a cemetery, his friend standing in an open grave and a body two feet from them at most. He knew it seemed too good to be true. 

“Kent, you’re worrying me,” Lee replied, a small frown forming on his lips. From where he was standing, he hadn’t heard the slightest hint of noise - other than the sound of dirt plopping behind him. 

“Whatever you do,” Kent warned, his expression turning serious, “don’t move.” He watched Lee freeze in place. Kent peered out in the direction of the sound and held his breath, intently watching and listening for any sign of movement. He heard the same sounds as before, though they seemed much closer than they were previously. He glanced at the empty tree line, his pulse racing. A brief flash of moment occurred and Kent felt something whiz past his shoulder. He turned to look, only to find a small rock that had plopped into Lee’s dirt pile. Confused, he glanced back at the forest entrance. His eyes widened as he looked at the once empty - save for a few sparse trees and greenery - lot, which was now teeming with vicious, glinting eyes. 

“Oh, shit!” Kent exclaimed. He turned towards Lee and frantically approached his friend. “We gotta go man, come on!” He extended his hand outward and hastily tried to pull Lee over the wall of the hole. 

“But we didn’t even bury her yet!” Lee protested, motioning to what was once the woman.

“We can worry about that later,” Kent scolded, his voice rising in fear. He glanced back at the mass of eyes - which appeared to have grown in size - and gulped. “We have bigger problems. We need to go - now!” He urged, finally pulling Lee over the edge and onto the soft, squishy ground beneath his feet.

“I don’t see what you’re so worked up about,” Lee sulked, a protesting frown crossing his lips, “You heard some noises, so what?”

“That’s what,” Kent replied harshly, snapping his head in the direction of  the growing crowd. Lee’s expression soon changed from reluctant to afraid. He gulped as he glanced towards the edge of the forest, his face paling. 

“Good idea.. We should get out of here,” Lee suggested, turning back to Kent. The two nodded towards each other and sprinted away from the forest. As they ran, dozens of bullets whizzed past them and they had to strafe on their paths to avoid being nicked. They managed a few feet before Lee glanced over his shoulder - checking to see if they were still being followed. Unfortunately, they were and the followers appeared to be gaining ground. Even more unfortunate, however, was the fact that Lee’s glance caused him to take his eyes off the path. He tripped over a jagged, misplaced stone. He stumbled before hitting the ground with a loud thud. Pain rocketed through his entire body, but seemed to stem from his left ankle. 

“Lee!” Kent called out as he approached his friend. He looked around warily before squatting down and speaking once again, “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” Lee confirmed, pushing himself up with a groan, “I think so.” His nose was bleeding from the impact, but other than that he seemed relatively fine - excluding a few scuffs where stray pebbles dug into his skin. That was, until he attempted to stand, of course. As Lee attempted to put weight on his left foot, a fiery pain scorched his body and he let out a pained yelp. Kent frowned at the noise.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, not believing Lee. He watched Lee cringe as the boy once again tried to put weight on his foot and failed. “You don’t look okay,” Kent said, concern layering itself in his voice. 

“I’m fine,” Lee said, gritting his teeth as he once again attempted to walk. Kent attempted to ask once more but Lee dismissed him, “We can’t worry about me right now. We have to get out of here - you said it yourself.” 

“Lee,” Kent pleaded, another frown forming on his lips. He glanced down at Lee’s ankle before adding, “At least let me look at it.”

“Fine,” Lee conceded. He rested against a nearby rock and allowed Kent to examine his ankle. Lee’s ankle was swollen and appeared to have some deep purple bruising from the impact. Kent sucked in a breath through his teeth and shook his head disapprovingly. 

“Yikes, it looks sprained,” Kent explained. He looked at Lee and pursed his lips together, preparing to deliver even more bad news, “I don’t think you can walk on that - at least for a while, and especially not for long periods of time.”

“Oh, Yoba,” Lee exclaimed under his breath, letting out a sigh of frustration. Of all the times to be clumsy and injure himself, it had to be now, didn’t it? Of course it did, he thought to himself with a shake of his head, after all, why wouldn’t it? 

Kent glanced around, exhaling a deep breath as he noted the position of the approaching crowd. They appeared much closer now - maybe a few feet away at most. He gulped and turned his attention back to his friend.

“We can’t stay here,” Kent began, tapping his finger against his chin in thought. He paced around, wondering what options they had. It would be too far to try and make it back to camp and going the way they came was out of the question. Kent surveyed their surroundings and noted they were quite close to the building where they had found the woman. That could work, Kent thought to himself. But how would he get Lee there safely? He turned back to Lee, wrapping his arm around his midsection and helping him stand before speaking, “We’re going to do something stupid, okay? We’re going into that house again. I need to get you off that ankle.” 

Lee gave a half-hearted chuckle, “Stupid is my middle name.” 

Kent carefully began walking - ensuring Lee’s bad ankle stayed elevated as long as possible. Lee slowly limped beside him, leaning into Kent and trying his best not to complain too much. They were now approaching the door, though the mass of people behind them seemed to be closing in. Kent looked around, slightly panicked. 

“We can make it, Lee,” Kent assured his friend, who was now slightly lagging behind - his limp becoming more evident the longer he walked. Kent had to frequently stop to avoid causing Lee to stumble. He looked at the distance they had to go and spoke once again, “We just need to do a slight sprint. Can you handle that?” 

Lee nodded. He waited for Kent’s signal before attempting to run, still leaning against his friend for support. Pain continued to shoot through him, but Lee simply gritted his teeth and kept going. They were so close - he could almost taste the comfort of safety.Only a few more feet to go and they would be fine, he assured himself. And then he suddenly stepped on another stray rock, sending himself tumbling forward once again. He instinctively pushed his arms forward to stop himself, though the weight of his body was enough to jolt his entire arm and push it to the side with an uncomfortable and sharp resounding snap. He let out a low groan of pain, tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Oh, Yoba,” Kent exclaims. HIs eyes widened as he looked at Lee, inspecting his friend for any more injuries. He grew nauseous as his eyes landed on Lee’s arm - which was now disfigured and pointed at a harsh angle, the faintest shard of bone peaking through the skin.

“Lee, your arm,” Kent spoke, horror filling his voice. 

“What?” Lee asked, he lifted his head from the dirt and glanced over at Kent - noting his distressed appearance. “What’s wrong with my arm?” Lee asked once again, fear washing over his face.

 Undoubtedly, Lee’s adrenaline had kicked in - overtaking the pain. Lee felt incredibly numb and only seemed to notice the distant throb of his ankle and a faint tingle in his arm. Kent pointed a shaky finger at Lee’s arm. Lee followed his gaze, his own eyes landing on his right arm. His eyes widened. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m left handed then, right?” Lee joked, a weak chuckle slipping past his lips. It was clear, though, that a layer of panic was hiding in his voice. He appeared to be in a state of shock, unable to register the pain that was likely coursing through his body at that very moment. 

Kent peeled his eyes away - desperately trying not to retch. He clamped a hand over his mouth and tightly closed his eyes. After taking a few seconds to compose himself, Kent opened his eyes and exhaled a shaky breath. 

“Okay,” He started, slowly looking back at Lee before continuing, “We need to get you inside. I don’t want anything to get worse.” Kent crouched down and carefully helped Lee up once more before walking at the fastest pace he possibly could while still supporting Lee. They managed to make it to the house - just in time, too. As soon as Kent slammed the door shut, several fists pounded against the door and attempted to gain entry. Kent yelped and pressed his back against the door, desperately trying to keep it closed as Lee looked for something to dress his wounds - maybe something they could use as a tourniquet. Kent heard several voices outside the door - all of which yelled out taunts and tried to urge the boys to leave the house. They were circling the building now, by the sound of it. It was still far too dark outside to see (and be able to accurately tell) but Kent listened to the shuffle of footsteps as they rounded the corner of the house - approaching the door once again. 

“This is for Misha!” A voice exclaimed from outside. Kent wasn’t sure who Misha was. He looked at Lee, confused. Before he could ask Lee his question, though, several rapid gunshots sounded. 

Kent yelped, ducking down and covering his head with his forearms. He silently hoped Lee had done the same. The piercing sound of the gunfire made Kent’s ears ring. He clamped his hands over his ears and tried his best to keep his breathing even. He couldn’t freeze up, not now. Not when Lee needed him to be strong enough for the both of them. Not when there were hoards of angry enemy soldiers surrounding this very building. Unfortunately, the sound was too much for him. His mind flashed images of a few days prior - to the distinct sound that still haunted his ears; the sound of the sharp bang that resulted in Danny’s death. Kent was crying now, rocking back and forth until the gunshots slowly dissipated. 

Even after the last shot was fired, Kent found himself unable to move. Unable to check if their attackers were truly gone. Unable to do anything. Except to sit there with tears streaming down his face, his hands still tightly clamped over his ears. 

“Kent, are you okay?” Lee called out. He cautiously approached his friend and crouched down to his eye level. 

“It’s all my fault,” Kent muttered, continuing to rock back and forth. “It’s all my fault,” He repeated. Lee noticed Kent was breathing much heavier than before. He pursed his lips together and debated what to do. 

“I don’t know what ‘it’ is, but it’s not your fault, man,” Lee spoke, attempting to cheer up his friend. Kent seemed unresponsive, as if he was trapped inside whatever was happening in his head. Lee racked his brain for anything that might help in this situation - had Oma mentioned what to do when your friend was in this state? She mentioned what to do if someone made something that tasted awful but you still wanted to be polite, however, that wouldn’t help much in this scenario. 

C’mon, Lee, he thought to himself, think. For once in your life, think. He let out a groan of frustration when his mind remained empty. He decided he would try and get Kent’s attention. He waved his hand in front of his friend’s face and even snapped a few times. Still, nothing. Not even a twitch or eyeroll.  He took a deep breath and slowly reached his hand towards Kent’s shoulder - silently hoping he wasn’t making a horrible mistake. He knew you were not supposed to touch someone who was experiencing panic - as you might make it worse - but he was running out of options. Lee carefully placed his hand on Kent’s shoulder and waited. The touch seemed to cause Kent to stir. He slowly snapped out of his daze and looked up at Lee, the panic still vivid in his eyes. 

“Kent?” Lee asked. He waited a bit, attempting to see if Kent would respond, before speaking once again, “Are you okay?” 

Lee’s words seemed to slowly seep into Kent’s mind and Kent gave a hesitant nod in response. Lee let out a sigh of relief, releasing a breath he wasn’t sure he was holding and gently squeezing Kent’s shoulder. 

“Okay, good,” Lee acknowledged. He glanced around - noting how suspiciously quiet it all seemed now. There’s no way they would have given up, just like that, was there? It didn’t sit right with Lee. He had a twisting feeling in his gut, as if it was all a trick. He turned back to Kent and explained what he intended to do, “I’m going to check if they’re really gone, okay? You stay here.” Kent replied with another shaky, slightly hesitant nod. 

Lee took a deep breath before pushing himself into a standing position. He gently scooted past Kent and slowly opened the door. He peered outside. To his dismay (and relief), the crowd seemed to have disappeared. Unfortunately, it was still rather dark and Lee no longer had a light source - the two had abandoned the lantern in their rush for safety and it lay discarded on the ground near the site of Lee’s latest fall. He grumbled as he looked at it. It would sure make things easier, as it was getting incredibly hard to see as the night progressed. However, leaving the safehouse seemed like a bad idea. 

Stricken with indecision, Lee pursed his lips together. If they had the lantern, they could properly tend to his wounds - both of which were starting to transition from a dull ache to a throb. He decided that the pros outweigh the cons and carefully stepped out of the building - wincing as he stepped onto his left ankle. He slowly hobbled towards the lantern - which looked closer than it actually was, Lee realized - and silently hoped it wasn’t another trick. He managed to approach the lantern and scoop it into his uninjured arm with ease and began his trek back to the safe house. 

However, a lone figure watched from the shadows. Their piercing eyes shining with rage as their gaze followed Lee - watching him as he slowly trekked towards the entrance of the building. Lee seemed to match the description Misha - the woman who attacked Kent - had described in her final moments. A barely contained rage bubbled beneath their skin, theri fingers twitching with anticipation - itching to avenge their fallen lover, but they waited. They sat patiently - noting the visible limp in Lee’s gait and the awkward angle at which his arm hung. As Lee edged closer to the entrance, they brought the scope of their rifle towards their eye - lining up the shot. 

He stepped one foot over into the entrance of the building and called out to Kent, “I think they’re gone.I even got our lantern back! Everything seemed o-” His words were abruptly cut off as one final bang resounded. The gun fired from somewhere behind Lee and the bullet traveled swiftly. It lodged itself into his side. “-Kay,” Lee continued with a gurgle, a small stream of blood trailing down the corner of his mouth. He swayed forward, collapsing with a distinct thud. As he was laying there, Lee couldn’t help but think about how if he could’ve ran a little faster or gripped the door with his right hand, he would have been able to safely close the door behind him. He would have been alright - for the most part. But there he lay, a fiery pain piercing through his side and coursing through his entire body. He let out a low groan, gritting his teeth. 

“Lee!” Kent called out, looking up upon hearing the sound of Lee falling against the floor. He snapped out of his stupor and rushed to his friend’s side. A small, surprised gasp slipped past his lips as he noted Lee’s state. His own adrenaline seemed to kick in and Kent used all his strength to pull Lee inside, promptly shutting the door behind him - likely ripping the stitches on his arms in the process. He let out a small grunt of pain but continued pulling Lee towards him - propping his friend up against the wall. 

“No, no, no,” Kent protested as he inspected Lee’s side, his stomach churning at the redness that was seeping into the fabric, staining Lee’s jacket. “Not again. Please, not again.” Kent desperately tried to keep himself calm, placing a hand on his chest and trying not to fall into another moment of panic-induced inaction. He paced around the room and tried to think of something to do. He couldn’t lose another friend. Kent was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of another resounding gunshot from outside, followed by a frantic pounding on the door. He yelped, his eyes widening - had they come back to finish the boys off? Kent hoped not. 

“Open the door,” A familiar voice called out, pounding on the outside once again before attempting to jostle the handle and speaking again, “It’s me, lads. I’m here to help ye.” 

“Willy?” Kent called out, skeptically. 

“Yes, lad!” Willy spoke, his frustration growing the longer the door remained closed. “Let me in an’ I’ll explain everythin’.” 

Kent cautiously approached the door, cracking it open the slightest amount to check if it was actually Willy. When he confirmed it was, he let out a small sigh of relief and opened the door - allowing Willy to enter before closing it once more. 

“Willy,” Kent started, gripping the older man by the sleeve of his shoulder, “I’m so glad to see you. Lee’s hurt.” He explained as he motioned to Lee, who was reaching across his body and clamping his uninjured arm over his side, his face slightly pale and nauseous as he tried to stifle the bleeding.

“Ah, I was worried somethin’ like this would happen. That’s why I followed ye, boys,” Willy replied, a small grumble present in his voice. He approached Lee, crouched down, and asked Lee to move his hand so he could inspect it. He grimaced, sucking air in through his teeth.

“Aye, that one’s quite nasty, lad,” Willy spoke, his voice sounding solemn. He fished around in his pocket before pulling out a small cotton pad and a general antiseptic. He turned back to Lee and sighed before adding, “This is going to sting.” 

Lee gave a small nod and gritted his teeth. Willy’s words, however, didn’t prepare him for the intense wave of pain he received as the antiseptic was placed against his side. He let out a loud, pained groan and attempted to jerk away from Willy’s grasp. It felt like his entire body was on fire. Lee had always been clumsy and managed to injure himself. He - more often than not - squirmed as his grandmother placed antiseptic on his cuts, but this was nothing like a small scrape on his knee. He let out another pained cry, tears causing his vision to blur. The pain seemed to overtake him. 

Lee tried to distract himself from the pain by glancing over at Kent. However, Lee noticed a faint silhouette behind him. He blinked, trying to focus his vision. Lee wasn’t sure if it was delirium or if what he was seeing was true, but he could’ve sworn that the silhouette resembled someone…familiar. He searched his brain, trying to place their name, but his mind wasn’t able to form a coherent thought. Instead, Lee watched the figure shift - the edges of their form seeming to wisp and reform every few seconds - and took in their appearance. Dark, shoulder length brown hair, a permanent frown and deep worry lines, and the faintest trace of stubble littering across their face. They wore a uniform similar to Lee’s own and had something gently clasped in their hands. A bouquet. Recognition washed over Lee and he let out a surprised gasp.

“Danny?” Lee whispered, extending his hand outwards in the direction of the figure. Danny smiled. Tears began streaming down Lee’s face once again - though this time they were tears of happiness. He waited for me, Lee thought to himself. He glanced over at Kent, noting the worried expression on his friend’s features. 

“Kent, look!” Lee called out, pointing in the direction where Danny was standing. “Danny’s back. He’s.. he’s alright.” 

Kent turned and looked, though all he saw was an empty corner of the room. There was a blank wall, the faded wallpaper peeling off at the edges, but no person. 

“Lee, what are you talking about?” Kent asked, his brows furrowing together in concern. He glanced back at Lee and shook his head, “There’s nothing there.” 

How can he not see him? Lee thought to himself, a frown spreading across his lips, he’s right there. He glanced back at the spot where Danny had been moments before and found it jarringly empty., He desperately scanned around - searching for where Danny might’ve wandered off too. He’s here, I know it, he thought to himself once again. Lee’s eyes landed on a spot closer to him and Danny came into focus once again - his smile comforting and inviting. Danny’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Lee narrowed his eyes, trying to determine what was being said. By the looks of it, it was his name. Danny tried once again, still mouthing the same word over and over. Lee. Lee. Lee. Lee. Lee. Lee. One after another, constantly. 

“Lee!” Kent called, waving his hand in front of Lee’s face and causing him to shake out of his stupor. Lee looked at Kent, confused. 

“Oh, thank Yoba,” Kent spoke, relieved. He let out an exasperated breath and added, “I’ve been calling your name over and over. It’s been like… five minutes, dude.” He paused and looked at Lee - noticing how he kept staring at a distant point just beyond his shoulder, “Are you alright? You seem…distracted.” 

“Yeah..” Lee mumbled, though he didn’t meet Kent’s gaze. He kept staring intently at the corner of the room, as if he was watching something. Kent turned to look once again and still found nothing. After some time, Lee spoke once again, “Yeah.. yeah.. I’m fine.” 

Danny smiled at him once again. Lee smiled back. Danny slowly approached and rested a hand against Lee’s cheek, his thumb brushing over the curve of Lee’s nose before landing on one of his dimples. His touch felt cool - too cool and almost alien. Lee felt the hairs on his arms stand up, a shiver traveling down his spine. A small part of Lee’s brain understood that it was highly unlikely, but that part was outvoted by the larger part that missed Danny more deeply than Lee knew. Lee wanted to believe it was real. He closed his eyes and leaned into Danny’s palm. However, when Lee opened his eyes, Danny was - once again - no longer present. 

Lee was brought back into the present by another wave of pain coursing through his body. He let out a low groan, gritting his teeth. Despite Willy’s best efforts, the wound continued gushing everytime Lee moved - and Lee was now thrashing, trying to pry himself out of Willy’s ironclad grip. 

“Son, you are not makin’ this easy!” Willy scolded, placing his hand on Lee’s shoulder to keep him in place. He glanced at Kent before motioning towards Lee’s legs, “Kent, help me out, lad. He’s goin’ to hurt himself worse with all that movin’ around!” Kent’s eyes widened, though he scooted closer and desperately tried not to get kicked in the face. He carefully clasped his hands around Lee’s ankles before trying to calm his friend down.

“Lee, I know it hurts,” He started, looking at Lee pleadingly before adding, “But you need to stay still, okay? Willy knows what he’s doing.” I hope, Kent thought, leaving that thought unsaid. He trusted Willy, and he knew the man had experienced things similar to this all the time, but there was a nagging suspicion that Willy was just flying blind and doing whatever he thought might work. He gulped and shook that thought from his mind. It’s better not to think like that, he decided. 

Lee groaned once again as his lifeforce soaked through the cotton pad, slowly seeping on the surrounding skin and fabric. Nothing seemed to be working and Kent was quite worried. He squeezed his eyes shut and mumbled a small prayer to Yoba - begging for everything to be okay - but he didn’t feel the familiar comfort of the deity. Kent once again remembered that this was outside of their domain, their control. He sniffled. When Kent opened his eyes, it appeared that Lee had calmed down and ceased his escape attempt, though he was once again staring at the corner of the room. Kent frowned. He couldn’t fathom what was possibly so interesting about it - it was just a boring corner, filled with dust and spiderwebs. Whatever Lee saw seemed to comfort him, somehow. 

Everything seemed calm for a moment - far too calm. Kent knew something was wrong. His gut twisted and nagged at him. Just then, Lee started violently coughing - more blood dribbling down his lips, staining the skin with a deep red pigment. 

“No, no, no,” He protested. Kent reached out and used his sleeve to wipe away the spillage, tears of protest threatening to pour down his face. As he touched Lee’s skin, Kent noticed it was burning - as if he had developed a fever. Kent bit his lower lip, sniffling as he looked at Lee once more. He couldn’t believe he had been so preoccupied with Lee’s behavior to notice how faint he looked or how feverishly warm his skin had gotten. He frowned, though panic began rising in his voice as he spoke again, “Not again. I can’t lose you, too.” 

“Kent, I’m fin-” Lee tried to reassure his friend, though he was interrupted by another coughing fit, the blood bubbling in his throat and spilling from his lips with a low gurgle. Kent shook his head in protest, wrapping his arms around Lee and hugging him tightly. Lee’s skin was on fire now - and it felt hot enough to burn Kent’s own skin - but he couldn’t bear to pull away. 

Lee allowed Kent to hug him, though he glanced towards Danny once again. The boy gave a small, solemn nod before extending his hand. Oh, how Lee wanted to reach out and grasp it - to feel Danny’s skin press against him once more. He missed Danny terribly. Lee glanced back at Kent, a small frown slipping onto his lips. Part of Lee knew that this would be it. If he reached out and took Danny’s hand, he wouldn’t come back. Would it matter though, he wondered. His time on this planet would always be limited, so why prolong it? At this very moment, Lee knew.  He was dying. Yet, he didn’t seem afraid. In fact, quite the opposite. Lee found himself comforted; comforted by the fact that everything would be alright - eventually -, comforted by the fact that he’d see Danny again, and even comforted by the fact that he knew - even if it hurt in the moment - Kent would eventually forget him entirely. 

“Hey, Kent?” Lee spoke as he continued looking at Kent, though Lee’s own frown seemed to disappear.

“Yeah, Lee?” Kent replied shakily, glancing up at his friend. 

“I’m not going to sugar coat this but,” Lee started, his expression turning solemn as Kent met his eyes. He took a deep breath before continuing, “I think I’m dying… and.. I want you to have these.” Lee used the last of his strength to remove the chain from around his neck - the one that contained the I.D. tags of Danny and himself - and gently shoved it in Kent’s direction, forcing his friend’s fingers to clasp around it.

“No!” Kent protested, shaking his head. His voice rose as raw emotion coated his next words, “You’re not dying, okay?” He gripped the necklace and tried to return it to Lee, however, he was met with a disapproving head shake. Lee pushed the necklace back towards Kent.

“Keep ‘em,” Lee instructed firmly. His voice softened as he spoke the next words, “I won’t be needing them anymore.” 

“You aren’t dying, Lee. Not on my watch,” Kent spoke once again, though his words came out shaky and uncertain. He gulped, trying not to believe what was right in front of him. He began rambling, mostly to try and convince himself, “You’re going to be okay. Willy and I.. we’ll carry you back to camp ourselves if we have to. You’re going to make it back. The nurses are going to patch you up - everything will be fine.” 

“Kent,” Lee spoke, interrupting Kent’s ramble, and shook his head sadly. He spoke once again, a small, knowing sigh slipping past his lips, “No, Kent. I’m dying, I know it.” 

“No,” Kent protested, though, deep down, he knew Lee was right. He shook his head, as if that would make the reality of the situation any less truthful. “I won’t let you. I need you to stay with me, Lee. Please.” 

Lee smiled at Kent’s words. He glanced over Kent’s shoulder once again and noticed Danny giving him another nod and a warm, inviting smile that read “Come with me, Lee.” He gave a small nod in response to Danny before turning back to Kent. 

“I’ll say hi to Danny for you,” Lee replied. As the words slipped past his lips, Lee relaxed into Kent’s arms. Kent watched his friend, tearing up as Lee’s eyes unfocused and the light behind them began to dim before extinguishing completely. 

Kent sobbed and pulled Lee close to his chest, cradling his friend's body as the warmth began to slowly disappear. Tears streamed down his face once again and he let out a low, guttural cry of deep rooted agony - as if all of Kent’s grief and sorrow that had been slowly bubbling beneath the surface since his father died combined and pushed itself out of his system in one swift motion. He gripped Lee tightly, his arms shaking as he desperately tried to hold on to what little life was left in his friend. It was a fruitless effort. 

Willy watched the scene, his own expression growing solemn. He turned to Kent, placing a gentle and caring hand on his shoulder before speaking, “He’s gone, lad. I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t believe that! Not for once second,” Kent protested. He gently sat Lee down and tried to perform CPR, more tears streaming down his face. “Come on, Lee. Don’t leave me. Not like this. Please,” Kent pleaded, pumping his hands against Lee’s chest harshly. Lee didn’t respond. 

“Come on, man,” Kent pleaded once again. He closed his eyes before speaking again, “When I open my eyes, you’re going to be fine. This will all be one of your stupid jokes and we’ll laugh about it.” Kent opened his eyes and glanced at Lee’s still figure. The stillness was the most jarring thing about this whole ordeal. Lee had never been still, always bouncing around and teeming with energy and life. Stillness didn’t suit him. Another sob racked Kent’s chest, causing his whole body to shake with emotion. 

“Kent,” Willy spoke, his voice full of compassion. He extended his arms. Kent crawled into them and buried his face in the crook of Willy’s neck. He gave a small sigh, wrapping his arms around Kent protectively, before speaking once again, “He’s not comin’ back, son.”

[saerayofsunshine]

Two Times; One Time

Summary: Two times Naito hated her, one time were he just couldn’t get enough of her, even when they were destined to fight each other. TW: Brief mentions of blood and death, but nothing too detailed. Word Count: 2.5K A/N: Enjoy the ride, enjoy the ride (final A/N also at the end of the chapter because I don't wanna spoil anything)

feel free to reblog + like + comment if you liked my writing and enjoy the reads!

cross-posted on ao3

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three (current chapter)

The development of one’s life was fascinating. How someone could be affected by one’s environment so greatly, even if certain genetics had been inherited by the parents; how circumstances seem to affect a person more deeply than they might let on; how a child’s mental process changed with the flow of time, maturing alongside the physical vessel…such elements had a great influence on one’s being, or so Naito had learned.

Circumstances, whether those be good or bad, made him grow up faster: countless battles gave him scars that he wore as accessories, though that experience also made him wiser, which was useful as a teacher. Whether he had won or lost, Naito made it his mission to learn something out of the (mis-)fortune.

He had matured. He grew up both mentally and physically, expanding his knowledge and craving his own path. Whether that path was the right or the wrong one that couldn’t be known, but Naito knew was that it was the path that he chose to follow.

His principles, his choices, his actions. After so much time wasted, he understood what it was to stand for what represents his choices as correctly as possible.

With this realization came the flow of question that had no clear answer, other than his own opinion on the matter:

Could a momotarou and an oni ever love each other in earnest, as it was between lovers? Would it be possible for them to overcome the rotten history that stemmed in between them, for them to see the person who they are for, to cherish each other’s presence and find home within the other’s arms?

Was there potential for growth, for change?

So many questions and no clear answer.

Naivety was not a trace Naito possessed, for every trace of that had left him with his growth, but it wasn’t naivety that made Naito answer with a ‘yes’. Hope bloomed within his heart for the next generation: with every year that passed, with each school year he taught in the academy, he could only wish that the youth had a chance to spur this change.

Was it so wrong of him to want change? He liked the thought of not discriminating someone because of some physical (or psychical) attribution his partner might possess. The thought of not discriminating someone because of some physical (or psychical) attribution his partner might possess sounded rational, right to him. Why would he, or other people, care about such trivial things in the first place, when all that should matter in between lovers was the feeling they awoke within each other?

To love a person was to love them along their flaws they might possess, to gently right their wrongs, to tenderly take their hands into their own and walk the chosen path they craved for themselves. To be with a person requires effort, effort Naito was willing to give, instead of ignoring the butterflies that had been churning inside his stomach for ages whenever he thought of her.

Her face. Her voice. Those plush lips that curled upwards so deliciously into a wicked smirk whenever she was ready to spout a witty remark back at him. Her bright eyes, so contrast to her comments and practically a window to her soul, revealing the true feelings, showcasing her pain and suffering she continuously went through, her joy, her amusement, her love she was fortune enough to continue to experience.

She was like a book for him, easy to read and get lost in, and he was already too invested in her story long before he realized.

Sometimes, Naito questioned when his attraction even started. How he didn’t realize her ensnaring hold she had on his mind ever since they met each other for the first time had been beyond him. All he could recall was the churning within his stomach as he first laid his eyes upon her sauntering figure, black eyes crashing into her own eyes, unable to tear his gaze away anywhere else; all he could think of was the following adrenaline rush he experienced when he realized she was on pair with him, matching him in every step in their dance of death.

As much as it had disturbed him for harboring such strong intrigue towards his enemy, Naito tended to respect those who had worked to achieve the power they yield now.

Though, no matter his personal feelings or thoughts about her, one thing had always been clear to him: they were on the opposite sides in this endless war. That much had been apparent to him when he first encountered her, though the reality of their circumstance became more clear as he watched countless oni fall by her hand that second time they had met at the basement.

What a shame it had been, to see her on the other side of the board whenever they had an fateful encounter.

On rare occasions, when he had a moment to himself, Naito had ask himself, could they have been friends if it weren’t for this endless struggle, this continuous war they found themselves to be a part of?

In his younger days, Naito would ask himself such bizarre questions, and the answer and conclusion would come find him whenever he saw a glimpse of her blood smeared appearance, shamelessly looking him in the eye, a decapitated head gripped tightly its hair.

As much as she had effortlessly captivated his attention, Naito remembered the growing hatred he had felt towards her, remembered the anguish she had caused him by just doing her part of the job.

At that time, Naito had convinced himself that there wouldn’t, couldn’t, be anything between them. Considering their history and the emotional pain they had inflicted on each other (even if it was unintentional on their part most of the time), the damage had been long done.

Time flies and opinions (even hardheaded ones) change, like a leaf slowly transforming its color from green to brown with the change of season. Admittedly, Naito hadn’t thought this would apply to him as well (like the oblivious youngster he had been), but with growing up and learning to become an adult, starting to teach the next generation of onis within the academy, a change of heart was soon to follow him after.

Holding on to hatred that the conflict had been causing, on to rotten believes some of the older generation might desperately try to clutch onto was irrational, and Naito was anything but irrational. Being rational and efficient was one of his top priorities, and if holding onto principles some old geezers were trying to uphold, he would make the effort to escape those clutches.

And what a decision it had been. Definitely for the better, if he could say so himself.

It had been hard, at first, to not react he way he had been used to react, the way it was expected of him to, but a change of heart was what he desired, which required a change of structural changes in his thoughts and behavior; growth and patience for the process was needed to achieve such goal, something Naito was willing to practice.

Lost in his thoughts and unaware of his surroundings, Naito hadn’t heard the approaching figure, getting startled from the sudden question directed to him: “Hey, what are you doing?”

He slammed the notebook shut, quit to hide his scribbles and thoughts from the woman who had approached and wrapped her arms around him from behind, nuzzling into his neck. He felt lips graze his throat, softly traveling up and down the path of his neck. It was tingling wherever her lips touched, like a feather was softly grazing his skin. He sighed at the sensation, eagerly craning his neck to give her more space to place kisses across, basking in the loving bliss his partner showered onto him.

“Nothing concerning. Just got lost in my thoughts. Why are you doing up so late? It’s past midnight already,” he mumbled, gently squeezing the hand that rested on top of his shoulder.

He held his breath as the kisses traveled painstakingly slow from his neck, to the underside of his jaw, to his cheek, paying special attention to the tattoo on his cheek before she placed her chin on his shoulder. “Well… if a certain someone didn’t decide to leave the bed, I would probably still be asleep,” she whispered, tugging at his hands, coaxing him to get up from his office chair and leave the office behind for tonight. “I can’t have you walking around tired all morning tomorrow, love. What would you students say, hm?”

“They would have to deal with it, simple as that.”

“…That sounds incredibly inefficient for you, my love. You need to get some sleep in.”

Midnights were especially hard for him, his mind overflowing with memories that he was eager to note down. Nonetheless, he complied easily as his partner led him towards their shared bedroom and helped him get comfortable on their bed, eagerly joining him after and resting her head on his shoulder, shamelessly cuddling into his side. She was especially cute tonight, he thought as he shivered not only because of the cold, but because of the anticipation.

“What were you writing about?” she whispered curiously, as to not disturbed the quiet between them too much, tracing different shapes on top of his chest. The continuous coos of owls that lurk in the nature, along with the soft tingles of her finger wandering all over him was sure to lull him to sleep. “Something I should worry about? You won’t make me have to go through your stuff to know, right?” she added teasingly, leisurely moving her index finger over to the left side of his chest – right above his heart.

“Not at all,” he mumbled, slightly adjusting his position so he could play with her hair. “Just thinking about past evens and alike, you know how it is,” he confessed, nuzzling into her hair before placing a short kiss on top of her head.

“Oh, about what, exactly?”

“About our past…” he uttered vaguely, glancing down to the woman snuggling close to his chest. She looked at him, unblinking, urging him to spill the beans. He smiled down at her, slowly rubbing circles on her shoulders. “I just thought about all the events that brought us here. Kiyomizu Temple, to be precise.”

She huffed, squirming at the thought of the happenings. “Not really a bedtime story I like to think about, to be honest. It’s more like a nightmare.”

Naito hummed in agreement, still rubbing comforting circles on her shoulder and down her upper arm. “I know, but I just remember being surprised seeing you there all of a sudden. If it weren’t for Kyouya, who knows what would have happened.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t attack me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you didn’t but nonetheless, I was surprised.”

“Kyouya helped explaining the situation to me but even then, seeing you help the injured onis definitely helped me keep a cool head and not jump to conclusions,” he explained, his hand slipping from her upper arm to her hip, caressing as much naked skin as he could reach, before tugging and pinching at her, urging her to lay on top of him, which she complied happily by swinging her leg over his waist.

“I wasn’t expecting you to help anyone. I think that was the first time I saw you look so compassionate, and I think that was also the first time I admitted to myself that you weren’t just a momotarou trying to destroy all of us. You were just as lost as I was, I can see that now.”

“Hmm…” placing a peck on his nose, she teased, “That sounds like love at first sight to me.”

“Not at all.”

“It’s unnecessary to lie to me, I can tell when you’re lying or not, darling.”

Naito grumbled quietly under his breath, though a small smile was slowly etching into his face at her antics, far more amused and relieved than he liked to show. It would bother him far more if he saw her hung up on the past and lose her self-confidence and happiness because of it; he would rather have her annoy and tease him than her mopping around, overthinking all the fights and situations they had to go through to become who they are now.

“I thought of how different you looked compared to all the other times I saw you. I’m still curious on what exactly made you change your mind and help us out that day, but I’m grateful, nonetheless,” he said, absentmindedly caressing her cheek with his thumb, feeling her skin getting warmer as seconds passed by. “You were so gentle with Mei, I felt like it was the first time you dropped the pretentious act you seemed to put on around everyone.”

They looked at each other, unable to look away. Why would they, even? After witnessing such ugly events for a long time, he learned to appreciate the beauty in the smallest things, and her eyes, her eyes that were on him, the lovely crimson that slowly spread from her cheeks to her ears, was the prettiest thing he had the fortune to admire.

“Children have no business in this conflict. I’m just glad I could somehow, someway help… glad to have the opportunity to prove my worth.”

“You don’t need to prove anything,” he said, the intense stare practically daring her to disagree with his statement. “Anybody who can’t see your worth is a fool in my eyes.”

She smiled at him, his words meaning far more to her than she could ever try to describe.

Painstakingly slow, they inched forward, unabashedly making their intentions clear to each other.

She was eager to have his lips on her own, eager to reliving the excitement she knew he could give to her, her eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and lips for any sign of discomfort, but founding none. On the contrary, the small smirk told her just how much he wanted her, as well.  

Kissing her didn’t feel like fireworks going off; it felt familiar and smooth as she gently pressed her lips onto his, like a river that flowed nonstop, the current powerful enough to sweep him up alongside. He wouldn’t mind getting lost in it, more than happy to be swept away. Eagerly reciprocating, he moved alongside her, feeling his heart beating and fluttering like crazy with each drag of her mouth on his. His hands inched towards the back of her neck, and she gasped as he jerked her forward, pulling her impossibly close. Their bodies pressed together, breathing heavily, but unwilling to stop the shared passion. Her lips were soft, moving passionately against his, fueling his own desire.

Everything she was willing to give, he unabashedly took.

Naito couldn’t really answer the question of whether onis and momotarous could leave their dispute behind and love each other as they all deserve to be loved. Hatred was always going to exist, the past was hard to forget and even harder to forgive, but he was glad that he had found his own path, pleased that hatred hadn’t overpowered his heart and mind.

He couldn’t answer the question with certainty, but, tangled up in his lover’s arms and having her in his arms as well, he could say for himself that yes, it was a possibility, indeed.

A/N: Thank you all for reading my fic so far! Hope you have enjoyed my writing. I had something completely different planned for this fic because when the idea first came to my mind, I thought of a scenario where Naito and MC meet again (as the third time) but instead of fighting him, she helps him, which is them 'becoming lovers' part. So the first two chapter represent the enemies part (the first and second time they met each other) and the third repesents the lovers part.

I also had this idea in mind that with each chapter, the character are going to grow up and mature. So the first chapter represents the youngest Naito and him doing the things that is expected of him, the second chapter where he start to question everything a bit, and the third chapter where he is already on his own path. So yeah, I thought writing it like this would be fun and interesting.

Thank you all again for reading!

[j-graysonlibrary]

The Xiang Chronicles: Book Two Chapter 11

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Two

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 98k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: With another Xiang in the mix, for the first time in history, Pangu decides to reevaluate his methods and his place in the world. Along with taking his little sister Heidi as his last disciple, he also chooses to take the more political path in his efforts to end the discord throughout the land—particularly within Terra. (And gaining favor from the handsome Lord of Ultimos does not hurt.)

Heidi butts heads with everyone in the group, save Raine, and tensions are higher than ever. There are failed love confessions, in-group fighting, and demons from Kira’s past but that all comes to a head when they meet a servant of Shakti who is more than what she seems.

Could it be that the Mistresses of Shadow are more nuanced than previously believed? Or that the strict dichotomy between light and dark are, perhaps, a touch exaggerated? That and more begin to plague Pangu’s mind and his faith wavers…

Full chapter 11 under the cut

Chapter XI:

Negotiations had, so far, lasted for three consecutive days. The past two days saw Pangu and all of his disciples, along with the lords of Meala and Alf, sitting in a circle on the floor of the main hall, talking through every possible outcome of an alliance with Viren. Sometimes, things would get heated when Evie, especially, raised concerns and worries for the people being forced under new rules and a way of life they did not agree to. Every time, Pangu would sit, silent, and listen while taking notes, promising to add every point to the letter.

The letter, itself, had been written, re-written, edited, and re-written again at least seven times—each version being more fine tuned and precise.

But, there still seemed to be no end so the disciples, having grown tired of sitting around and, essentially, contributing nothing, decided to leave Pangu by himself on the third day. So far, they had seen what the process was like and they knew he would be safe in there without them.

While he was holed up in the lord’s abode, they took to the streets of Kuniser to do some exploring.

Kira was pretty sure Pangu was glad for their absence anyway—he probably got more work done. Or, at least, he did not have to sit there and worry that one of them (Heidi) would say something out of line at any moment. It was almost funny how she had taken that position from the second disciple. Although, when Kira compared the things he had done and said in the past, he started to wonder if his offenses were even really that bad. 

At the very least, he knew when to say something catty under his breath.

Heidi’s bluntness and lack of tact regarding social situations was not the only thing on Kira’s mind as he stared at her from across the market plaza.

Since they had, collectively, decided to leave Pangu to his own devices, the woman had been attached to Raine’s hip. She picked out jewelry from one of the stalls, holding each piece up to her own body while Raine nodded occasionally, giving his feedback.

Kira was not alone in his viewing of the two. Baiya stood right beside him, although he was far less invested in the scene across the way.

“You know,” he said as he shuffled through the selection of beads and crafts before them, “if you squint really hard, you can pretend Heidi is just Pangu.”

Kira’s eyes narrowed and he jerked his head over to address Baiya. “That has to be about the dumbest idea I have ever heard. Possibly the dumbest thing you have ever said. Which has some heavy contenders.”

Baiya rolled his eyes and decided not to take the bait and fight him. Instead, he suggested, “Or, you could go over there and join them.”

“You go over there.” Kira did not skip a beat.

“No, you go.”

“No, you.”

The Agni disciple nearly argued back again but then he closed his mouth and crossed his arms. With his scarred eyebrow arched, he subverted Kira’s expectations. “Maybe I will.”

Yet, Kira did not respond with any flavor of surprise. Rather, he seemed quite doubtful. “Last I noticed, you were still pissed at her for the supply town incident.”

Of course, as the Terran menace was the only one Baiya could vent to about the topic, he was the only one who knew. And, while he was technically correct, Baiya did not appreciate the fact being wielded against him in such a way.

“Don’t bring that up.”

“What are you going to do about her knowing your secret anyway?” Kira carried on despite the upset, “Are you not worried she will say it at any moment?”

Baiya’s eyes narrowed until they were practically gone.

He did not especially have anything to say since Kira, pretty much, covered the expanse of his worries. With Heidi’s rather loose lips, it was a constant threat that she would just blurt it out, perhaps even without intending to. Still, he did not like to think about it if he could help it as constant fretting would only give him gray hairs.

“…Do you think she is telling Raine right now?” Kira tossed the idea into the air as they both watched the other pair—talking and sharing a quiet laugh.

Baiya’s eye twitched. “Looks to me like she is just flirting.”

“But your secret is soooo much more interesting.” The tone of Kira’s voice changed to a higher pitch, causing him to look over. In front of the Terran disciple’s face was a child’s toy—some cloth doll with cold, dark eyes that Baiya could only describe as soulless and off putting.

He raised his arm up, in defense, while stepping away. “Get that thing out of my face. Put it back where you found it.”

“Does it bother you?” Kira grinned and bounced the doll around closer. “Do not tell me you are one of those people with an irrational fear of dolls, Baiya. How embarrassing; what would Pangu think?”

To show he had no fear, only irritation, Baiya swatted the doll and, by extent, Kira’s arm away. “You know, I could bring up plenty of your secrets to harass you with too.”

“Plenty?”  Kira scoffed. “I only have one left.”

“Only one?” He found that hard to believe.

The other disciple stood his ground, finally setting the doll back onto the vendor’s cart and resting his hands on his hips. “Yeah, just one. I care little about hiding all the people we have thrown in ditches together—I just keep my lips sealed for your stupid sake since you do not want Pangu thinking badly of you.”

“That is—” Baiya attempted to come back with something but was interrupted by a voice at his side.

“Excuse me.” The intrusion caused them both to turn around in sync. It was not often they could be snuck up on but, considering the bustling nature of the market plaza, it was difficult to be aware of every single person. Luckily, the man who called out to them did not seem to be a threat. He held out an envelope and asked, “Song Raine Sei?”

Kira took the letter. “Yeah, that is me.”

The courier smiled and ran off, giving them their privacy back.

Baiya immediately looked down to Kira. “Are you seriously going to open Raine’s mail?”

“No.” he rolled his eyes dramatically. “I plan on taking it to him.”

Even if he said that, he still looked the letter over in his hand. It was definitely an official letter and the seal on the envelope suggested a lord had written it. Upon further inspection, Kira could say for certain it was from the King of Kyrie.

The two walked across the marketplace, disrupting whatever bit of flirting Heidi was sadly attempting in order to hand over the letter. “A courier mistook me for you—looks important.”

Raine’s face twisted in confusion as soon as he took it. “King Din Raime Cast…? Why would he have sent me a letter?”

“Must be urgent, right?” Baiya guessed.

“Oooh, open it,” Heidi enthused.

Raine was clearly reluctant but also too curious not to. He broke the seal and pulled out the parchment inside. There was only one page which, unfortunately, did not clarify whether this would be good or bad news.

As his eyes scanned over the script, everyone else leaned in, a little bit at a time. “Well?” Kira asked after a moment.

“He asked for aid if we have the time,” Raine repeated the general message, although there was not much context to be lost in. In fact, the details of what he needed help with were incredibly vague. “He fears there is an issue regarding a Chaaya but he is not sure…that is why he wants Pangu’s help.”

“I suppose the news of the necromancer has not reached Kyrie,” Baiya muttered.

“Yes, but couldn’t there be another one?” Heidi asked. “Kira was one before, right? What if Shakti is just making some all over?”

Raine sighed—she was not wrong. “I just worry that, if Pangu hears of this, he will immediately want to head for Kyrie. He is so eager to prove his use now that he will undertake anything.”

“A trip to Kyrie could also clear his head,” Kira offered a difference of view. Personally, he was eager for any adventure that took them out of Terra. Even if the scenery and atmosphere in Meala was worlds away from the plains and hills he was used to, it was still Terra and he could feel it on a gut level.

“It would be my first time seeing the country,” Baiya added with a smile.

“Come on, Raine,” Heidi egged, “Road trip! Road trip!”

The first disciple closed his eyes and knew there was no maneuvering around this. Even if he kept the news to himself, one of them would tell Pangu and, once the Xiang was made aware, he would insist on going. At least to check out the situation.

When Pangu was finally released from his meeting for the day, he looked tired but happy. In a serendipitous turn of events, Dio and Evie had decided to aid Viren and they approved the letter Pangu had written and rewritten many times over the course of the past three days. Everything was set up to be sent back to Ultimos and, other than following behind the carrier falcon, there was nothing else for them to do.

He sat down with his disciples in his room at the inn they had been staying at and kicked his shoes off to better relax. Though his head still throbbed with all of the new information he had taken in, there was relief in it being over for the moment.

The things Pangu had learned about Meala, it’s history, and it’s important cultural fixtures that Dio and Evie wished to preserve through any treaty with Viren, were more vast than his old mentors had ever suggested. From their brief and cursory lessons on the region, Pangu would have guessed the indigenous people were simple or, at least, less structured than the rest of the world. He had been proven ignorant and lacking.

A faint thump pulsed in his brain but he hoped it would ease as the information overload settled in. Thankfully, the joy of succeeded in his negotiations helped to take some of the edge off of the headache.

Raine laid out some food in the meantime which was less of a cohesive meal and more of a collection of snacks from the market outside. Kira and Heidi were the first to take their pick while Baiya collected some of the vegetable heavy dishes together to pass to the Xiang.

Dinner was silent and, once the food was cleared out, Raine retrieved the letter from his King. “I received this today,” he told Pangu and passed the paper over. “We do not have to go but I figured you should have a chance to decide.”

The other disciples either leaned in or held their breath as the Xiang read. His eyes scanned over the page in a matter of seconds and his brow started to knit together.

“This is from the King?”

“Yes.”

“It is quite vague.”

Raine sighed and took the page back. “He does not appear to know the details of the situation. Or, he worried about including them in a letter that would pass through another country to reach me.”

That made sense so Pangu started to nod. “It must be a desperate situation for him to reach out to you when he knows your position.”

“I figure he must also believe your power as Xiang would be helpful as well,” Raine added.

He paused but then resumed his nodding. Kira leaned even closer. “So…? What is the verdict?”

“Road trip?” Heidi asked with restrained enthusiasm and then stuck her bottom lip out.

Pangu gave a small smile. “After I send off my falcon for Viren, we can leave for Kyrie. If we come across any miasma we missed on the way over, we can stop and take care of it.”

“You are sure?” Raine asked, regarding the Xiang with concern. Of course, he knew that he would want to go and there would likely be no way to talk him out of it but he still worried. He knew from experience how badly pushing oneself too hard could turn out. He did not wish to see the same thing happen to Pangu.

***

The last three disciples were notably more excited about the trip than the Xiang but that enthusiasm did not last as long once they were on the road. Kira kept having to remind himself that he would soon be out of Terra but the country’s territory just kept stretching out in front of them. Then, the weather changes were frustrating Heidi who could not figure out when to remove her outer robe as it kept swaying from one temperature to the other. Baiya went mostly silent—especially after Pangu kept muttering to himself about his concern for Viren. Knowing that the Xiang’s focus was still on the Ultimos Lord was quite disheartening.

Raine was the only one who had expected this exact outcome. It was because they had not talked through their issues as he had wanted them to. Traveling to Kyrie could not act as a distraction when all of their same problems were traveling with them, in their hearts. It was not as if, once they passed the border, all would be forgotten.

Kira only wished that were the case. As the sun began to set, it became abundantly clear that they would not be escaping Terra’s grips by the end of the fifth day of travel. He had never seen so much of the country before this past week and he had lived there for most of his life.

While he understood they could not simply speed through, pushing their mounts and themselves to the limits, he did feel they were taking a few too many breaks. Heidi’s training could have been cut a little shorter, at least, he considered. She was decent enough with her element and, if Pangu insisted she needed more work then it could have waited until after they passed the Kyrie border.

In the meantime, Kira sparred with Raine and Baiya, keeping in top form and also needing to expend some of his anxious energy into something. The closer they came to the border, without passing it, the more unease started to settle into his chest.

Already, he requested—privately—that Pangu take them a little further north in order to avoid one of his old childhood towns. They would wind up passing through another place familiar to him but, at least, he had never stayed there with his mother.

As the less populated border town came into view, Kira gulped regardless. All things considered, he had been living there not too long ago as it was home to one of the first hideouts he had procured after fleeing the military. His saving grace, he hoped, was that he had lost quite a bit of color in his skin and, perhaps, because of that, no one would recognize him.

The wooden shacks of houses were just as he remembered as well as the half paved path winding between buildings—pebbles focused more on the Kyrie side and dirt on the Terran side. Accordingly, there was a Terran flag flying at one end and a Kyrie flag on the opposite. A couple of soldiers, from either military, milled about which was definitely a change from the last time Kira was there although they did not seem particularly militant.

In fact, the soldiers barely gave them more than a weak salute. At least, until they spotted Raine and then their backs straightened and they greeted the group more properly.

“Song Raine Sei,” one of the Kyrie soldiers, naturally, addressed him directly. After a deep bow, he looked to Pangu, “and the Xiang. What I can do for you?”

Raine looked to the horizon, at the disappearing sun and large, pink clouds that were, already, losing their glow. “Point us into the direction of the inn, for the night. In the morning, we can meet with whoever is in charge.”

“I can arrange that,” the soldier easily agreed and then shuffled around, his eyes bouncing from one end of the town to the other, just about able to scan the entire place with that simple motion. “To the inn…follow me.”

“It really is like a power of his,” Heidi mumbled under her breath as she kept her eyes on the star-struck soldier.

They were taken to one of the larger buildings on the main road. Unlike those around it, there were two stories and parts of it were reinforced with newer wood, evident by the brighter hue and lack of tarnish. A balcony wrapped around, up top, and a couple stood there, watching the group as they walked inside.

Kira turned his head away, unsure if he actually recognized the two or if his paranoia was getting the better of him. No one else had noticed as they were most likely too tired to think of anything besides crashing onto a cot and, for that, Kira was grateful.

 Just one more day, he told himself. 

[lalitsethia101]

Title: "Unveiling the Flaws and Benefits of Instagram Paid Verified Accounts: A Reflection by Lalit Sethia"

I wanted to delve into a topic that has been making waves in the Instagram community - the paid verification feature. As an avid observer of the platform and an advocate for authenticity, I feel compelled to share my thoughts on the flaws and benefits of Instagram paid verified accounts. So, let's embark on this insightful journey together.

Benefits of Instagram Paid Verified Accounts: When it comes to credibility and trust, nothing quite compares to the power of a verified badge. It's like a shining beacon, guiding your followers and potential collaborators towards your genuine self. A verified badge inspires trust by reassuring others that you can be trusted in this vast digital landscape. Improved visibility is another great benefit that comes with the coveted "Verified" badge. With a verified account, your content will get more exposure in search results and research sites. This increased visibility means your posts are featured, allowing you to reach a wider audience and share your unique perspective with the world. As an influencer, the advantages of a verified account are many. Brands and businesses are naturally drawn to verified accounts as they are seen as industry leaders, influencers, or standouts. With a verified badge, you open the door to exciting collaborations and potential partnerships that can take your impact to a new level. Finally, let's not lose sight of the importance of protecting against identity theft. Unfortunately, even in the digital realm, there are malicious actors who want to emulate and damage your hard-earned reputation. However, with verification, you get an extra layer of security that protects your brand image from scammers and ensures that your followers are interacting with you authentically.

Flaws and Limitations: Now, let's address a concern that has been voiced by many dedicated influencers who invest significant time and effort into creating engaging content. It's disheartening for them to witness accounts with minimal followers receiving the verified badge while their own accounts, despite their hard work, remain unverified. This situation highlights a few key issues.

Inequality and Unfairness: The verification process can sometimes appear to be unfair, as it seems to prioritize follower count rather than content quality or engagement. Influencers who pour their heart and soul into creating exceptional content, fostering genuine connections with their audience, may feel overlooked and undervalued when they see accounts with only a handful of followers receiving verification. This creates an uncomfortable sense of inequality within the platform.

Limited transparency: Instagram's verification criteria can be a bit unclear, leaving many influencers unsure of the exact requirements needed to earn the coveted verification badge. This lack of transparency can be frustrating and has influencers wondering what steps they need to take to improve their chances of being verified.

Cost of participation: The current system puts a lot of emphasis on the number of followers rather than the quality of an influencer’s interaction with their audience. In fact, engagement is often a better indicator of an account's authenticity and influence than follower count. Influencers who invest substantial time and effort into fostering meaningful connections and interactions with their followers may feel undervalued when they see less-engaged accounts being verified solely based on their follower count.

Aspirations and Motivation: The disparity between hardworking influencers without verification and accounts with fewer followers obtaining the verified badge may demotivate aspiring creators. It sends a message that follower count, rather than content quality and audience engagement, is the primary determinant of success on Instagram. This can discourage talented individuals from pursuing their passion and may hinder the platform's overall diversity and creativity.

Conclusion: While the flaws and limitations surrounding Instagram's paid verification feature can be disheartening for hardworking influencers, it is important to remember that the pursuit of success is not solely defined by a verified badge. True influence is based on real connections and the impact an influencer has on their audience. Instagram should strive to create a grading process that honors these deeper connections and provides an equal chance to recognize deserving creators. Until then, influencers must remain focused on creating exceptional content, nurturing their audience, and building a thriving community built on trust and engagement.

Join Fast Our Digital Marketing Classes and Visit www.lalitsethia.com

[im-invisible-erased]

So for like the past two days this person has been messaging me on twitch whispers. giving me “advice” on what to do with my channel... and like the advice makes sense but I had to hit them with the “This is too expensive right now, and I’d rather not cheap out on emotes/starting screens/ending screens etc.”  Them: Its not expensive you can find cheap. You can always just get cheaper ones to start out with.  (my internal perfectionist screaming... if you’re not gonna do it right the first time just don't’ bother, like I had emotes that I made sloppily and didn’t keep any of them except one that I just genuinely like.) But obviously I’m in the process of trying to get to a point where I could commission a friend to do all these things.

And I explained that it just wasn’t in my budget currently. And they just ignored it so I said “You clearly don’t understand the poverty struggle do you? When I say I can’t afford even 50 dollars right now I mean it. Between bills and rent. and Feeding myself and my cats. Without proper income to break even with these cost...I can’t invest anything else into a hobby that makes me 0 dollars an hour currently.” 

after that I found the “do not accept whispers from strangers” function on twitch.

Like I understand all these things would make my channel more appealing. Having a proper banner. Having good emotes. Having a good Starting soon/Ending Screens. Cleaning up the panels to be more streamlined. Having a proper BRB screen.  (which I actually did the panels and BRB screen downloaded from a free overlay pack)  

But realistically I understand that my channel will never even break 15 consistent viewers. I’ve been on Twitch since before it was Twitch. I’ve been a watcher since 2009 [JustinTV days]. And I’ve been a part time/hobbyist streamer off and on Since August 2013. I had to beg multiple communities to open my stream and mute the tab just to get affiliate. I did that for like 3 months streaming over 200 hours each month just to hit affiliate. If I didn’t network to do that. my stream would be forever 1-2 viewers with an average viewer count of 0.5-1. Because unless i get raided by someone else that is my statistics on most days. 

I don’t really care about low views. I don’t care that my community is basically just other peoples community that I am also a part of. I got my one goal to hit affiliate back in September and that’s all I wanted. Like I’m just a little invisible stream. which is honestly the vast majority of channels. Streaming to maybe nobody maybe 1-2 people but I still like to stream so I keep doing it. Not because its profitable or because I have like unrealistic goals with it. Just cause. 

Like if I put in more effort did more networking and stuff. I would probably grow but I cba with it all. I’m just a part time streamer and nothing more. 

sorry this was just stressing me out and needed to write my thoughts down in a place where I'm invisible. 

[danielleverboski1a]

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[nkogneatho]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘

— 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

#series m.list #m.list #taglist #tip me

—word count: 1.5k

—cw: fem!reader, semi-public sex, cunningulus, fingering, protected sex.

—A/n: was rubbing my thighs while writing this. Anyways. Enjoy. Send feebacks.

—Reblogs are appreciated.

You know how there's always a man that people find annoying, but somehow you're the only one ridiculously attracted towards him? Yeah. Gojo Satoru was like that to you.

Don't get me wrong. Girls loved him. A lot of them in fact. And why won't they? He was rich, tall, good-looking, and known to be extremely flirtatious. A prince charming. But anyone who had met him in real life found him egoistic, immature, ignorant, and annoying. In fact, he had a nickname among the people who back bitched about him. 'Self obsessed whore.' Sounds about right. But these same qualities turned you on. You found that self-obsession and ego laced voice—when he would say something to piss the higher ups off—sexy. So, when the Kyoto School principal ordered you to go to the meeting with Satoru, you almost fainted from happiness.

You had put more than usual effort in your makeup. Made sure your shirt missed a few buttons to flaunt the bare skin that might catch his eyes. You even shaved. You felt like a clown because what were you expecting? The leader of the Gojo clan would be interested in fucking me? Haha. Yes. Maybe I should've put on a clown makeup. You thought. But you shaved anyway. Who knows? Perhaps you'll get lucky.

The whole time in the meeting, you were staring at him. He might've thought you were seriously invested in what he had to say, but all you could think was of those lips. They were glossy. Maybe he had a lip balm on. And if he did, you badly wanted to know what flavor. Perhaps smell it. Or even taste it—

“So anyway. That brings me back to my point that we're not going to execute Itadori unless it's officially clear that he's a threat to humanity,” he confirmed, fidgeting the matcha tea cup in his hand. “Although even if he was a threat, you know I won't have any trouble to put Sukuna in his place.”

God. You hated that you blushed at that. And you hated it even more knowing that it was clearly visible to him. But it all went away when you saw a faint smile appear on his face. You couldn't see his eyes, but you knew they were staring right at you.

“Thank you so much for your assistance. I'll confirm this with Principal Gakuganji. We shall look forward to carrying out the concluded plan,” you said as you shook hands with him. He had this slightly firm grip on you and send shivers down your spine. Wow. I am holding hands with Gojo Satoru. When what you were actually doing is having a professional handshake at the end of the meeting, just like how any other person would.

“Well, if you may, I shall leave.” But he didn't. Instead, he was staring at you with an expression you couldn't comprehend. Then you looked down and realized that you hadn't let his hand go. Shit. You dumb bitch. Now he might know you have eyes for him. You felt embarrassment creep over you, but Satoru saved you and just laughed it off.

You both left the room together. He headed towards his car and you towards yours. You both once again noticed each other in the same place. Apparently, he had his car parked next to yours. You gave him a warm smile, which made him say something totally unexpected.

“I thought you just had a crush on me. But now you stalk me too?” He laughed. Your brain did a 180° after processing what he had just said. He knew?

“Wh–what? I wasn't stalking you. My car is parked here too,” you stutter.

“Oh. So, I am only right about the crush part then.” Dammit. You knew it was a joke. You knew this was his nature. And wasn't this exact thing why you liked him? Then why did it piss you off?

“I— ugh. No wonder they call you a self obsessed whore,” you mumbled. It was supposed to be inaudible. You didn't realize you were thinking out loud.

“Come again?”

“What? Nothing. It wasn't about you—”

“I am a self-obsessed whore. You knew that then, why the heart eyes in the meeting, baby?” He got closer and closer. It was becoming difficult to breathe. Shit. He is an asshole. But people should emphasize that he is also hot, flirtatious, attractive, and tall. That same tall body was towering you now.

“Please. If you come any closer, then…”

“Then what, baby?” he held your chin, making you look up at him.

“Then I will end up kissing you.” Your breath was heavy.

He took in all the air you had exhaled, before consenting a “then fucking kiss me.”

That was all that it took for you to lose control and crash your lips on his. He didn't budge, letting you do everything you wanted. After some minutes, he wrapped his arms around the waist, lifted you off the ground, and placed you on the bonnet of his smoke gray car. He then started pushing his tongue through, rubbing his hands on your back. You found yourself moaning into the kiss. He did have a lip balm on. And now you could taste it. It was a mix of blueberry and mint.

“Need you.” You pleaded, breaking the kiss and catching a breath.

“Right here?”

“Mhm. Please.” And there it was. Something he can't resist. A kind request from such a pretty person. And there is no way in hell he was gonna miss a chance of fucking you in an empty underground space, which was apparently also a parking lot for the abandoned school.

Gojo quickly went inside his car and pulled out a condom and all the other needed things. When he came back to the front, he saw your hands reaching between your thighs. Your eyes closed. You looked so sexy.

“Baby?” He whispered. “Hold on to this for me, please.” He pleaded, tugging the hem of your shirt between your teeth. He inserted two wet fingers that he spat on, stretching you out nicely. You whimpered, feeling erotic. The hands that you were thirsting on earlier were now into you, fingering you.

“Need to feel those lips.”

“They are already on your lips, baby” he assured, kissing you, but you pulled away.

“No, no. Uhm—fuck. Need to feel them—” your hands traveled between your legs, pointing on your pussy, “right here.” All those feelings he was holding back emerged from his body as he bent down, kissing your pussy. Thank god I shaved. Your drooling cunt was fluttering at how good those lips felt on your wetness. He pushed his tongue, rubbing them harshly on your clit. He was so passionate. You loved the feeling.

A few licks later, your orgasm came crashing down on you. He held your legs when they were shaking from the pleasure. He crawled up to your lips, trying to hear your moans clearer. They felt like music to his ears.

“I wonder how blueberries lip balm and my cum tastes together?” You grinned.

“Why don't you taste it yourself?” His lips once again crashed yours. It tasted surprisingly good.. Fruity, but a little sour. You loved it.

Satoru wore the condom. He gathered your wetness, teasing your clit before pushing past your hole. “Holy shit,” you moaned so loud. His length was long enough.

Halfway through the sex, you were losing your grip, but he held your hips tightly, guiding you on his cock. He brought one of his hands to your clit and started rubbing it. You once again closed your eyes, feeling another orgasm approaching you.

“Fuck, baby. Ah! You're so hot. So fucking tight. Wanna cum.” His hips thrust hard into you.

Satoru was close too. It was one of the reasons he wanted to make you cum while he does, so you milk him dry.

Your legs shivered and wrapped tightly around his hips. “Ah! Fuck. Oh shit, baby.” He groaned, stopping his thrusts. With a stuttering hips, he came while being inside you. There was a barrier if rubber, but you could feel how warm his cum was.

“Well, that was…” he wiped the sweat off your forehead. “—amazing. I was good.”

You laughed at his comment. “You really are a self-obsessed whore.”

“Never denied it, baby.” He pressed his forehead against yours.

You both were just looking into each other's eyes. Just two half naked bodies in a parking lot. But it didn't feel cold. Your hearts warmed up at how fondly you gazed at each other. How gently your body was pressed against each other. That's something you never wanted. Yet needed.

Taglist: @hyenalite @katsukichu @half-baked-biscuit @jjstsksen @dukina @koifish69 @bbytamaki @kyanyakya @arlertslove @certified-dilfhunter @romiyaro @aasouthteranoswife @xxrwzy @xo-lynx @crtlove-com @mutsu422 @hollowpurpl @megumischubbycheeks @sleepy3 @valhallawhispers @solar-starlight @kirislilwhorewife @suguruwrx @dassmyname @chaotic-nick @crackheadwithtoes @lordbugs @hanmasbunny @jujutsukaisenfan @eyetachi @kawaiitoga @m00k83 @imvivian @hoe4katsuki @ryumiii @lumpywolf @stygianoir @kaylabee06 @luvjiro @vodkasjedi @ebiharachan @sauza @sanjithesimp @garoujo @callistos-woods @dorogaya-lena @taihjj @yuujispinkhair @temptedbysyn @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn

[solarstellarstar]

A Letter Addressed to No One || dialover OC shortfic

Written by Lady Sakamaki Beatrix

Summary: A letter from Beatrix that doesn't have a clear recipient, but a lot of her personal feelings are disclosed. Warnings: none (the fic is SFW but obviously there's a process of how babies are made- it's only implied and nothing is described) Word count: 783 Author's notes: Lore dump time! I find it really fun to reveal tidbits of my OC's backstories by writing them out in little fics (if you can even call this one) of some sort. If you do actually get to read to the end, I'd like to ask you something: did you see this coming? Note that this is heavily edited from canon like all fanfictions are-

No matter how many times I am going to be told that I'm a "filthy courtesan that not even the best man could silence the greed that boils inside me" by that woman, I simply will not believe it. I am not a courtesan and... I'm certainly sure that everyone is greedy deep down inside somehow.

First things first, let me make this absolutely clear: Karl Heinz is my one and only husband. What I did does not (in no way, shape or form) renounce the love and utmost respect I hold for him.

What I did was simply me being nostalgic. Do I regret doing so? Yes. Do I wish I could abandon the thing that was produced of it? No.

I have made many mistakes during my lifetime and by writing this letter, I hope that it can explain (not justify) why I chose what I did to do.

I originally derive from the Kanemoto clan where my parents housed me and my sister. It was quite obvious who held their favour the most. My sister is a very pretentious woman, but she does have her own fair share of talent. Most, if not all, of the men that sought out our family, were just to request her hand in marriage. For some reason, she had turned every single one of them down.

As someone who had grown by her side all my life, I believe I can understand why she did so. Eventually, constantly being overwhelmed by an abundance of marriage proposals can invite unwanted distress.

So when my parents suddenly arranged for me to marry a man, that just supplied me with many more questions than answers. Why me?Why not... her?

Upon meeting this man officially for the first time, he actually was quite a humorous fellow. Although he was awkward and made me question why I was going to marry such a frivolous person, this man actually made me feel feelings of security and affection even though we never met outside of arranged dates and meetings by our family.

You can only imagine how I felt when we found out that he met the unfortunate fate of being murdered. It was really one of the darkest moments I had ever lived. We were only told that by his family, so not once have I ever got to see him one last time. No ceremony celebrating his life was held and his gravestone was nowhere to be found.

Obviously after experiencing such a dreadful loss, I refused to invest any more time or energy into such relationships. I could never love again.

Or so I thought.

It happened when I was still mourning the lost time I had invested into love. "Fantastic, another man that seeks my sister." I thought to myself.

That man turned out to be Karl Heinz.

I will not get into the details, but what happened was like some sort of miracle. Of course, I still had some doubts when I found out he sought out me- not my sister. Why me? Why not... her?

It was like all my grief and sorrow were swept and washed away by him alone. There were a few impediments- but I must not question his choices as I'm sure he has a valid reason why.

Centuries into the marriage and having 2 dear sons, I suddenly received news that my first fiancé was alive.

I am not sure what came over me, perhaps it was desperation for me to live my youth once again (I didn't even question why or how this has come to be) but I immediately set off to meet my first love.

There he was, alive and well. Nothing could make up for all that effort we had lost and was destroyed.

One thing led to another in our reunion and that's how I came to carry my third child.

There was absolutely no way under any circumstances that I would endanger the child by revealing her to the Sakamaki household, meaning I decided to hand the girl over to my sister.

I may have birthed the child but I cannot raise her or love her as my own. As much as I want to love her as the child I had with my first love, she cannot be my daughter.

Which means she cannot call me 'mother' once.

She cannot hold my hand once.

My last wish for my sister is to not make the same mistake I had already made when raising Shu and Reiji. That's all I ever ask for.

My sister decided to give her the name 'Lily', isn't it beautiful? She even has my eyes.

[youryanderedaddy]

Honey dripping

 Yandere! Jumin Han x reader

tw: nsfw, murder, non-con, dub-con, mentions of cheating, mentions of blood, slight sugar daddy vibe, dirty talk, degradation, mention of threats

Summary: Your boyfriend provides everything for you and the only thing he expects in return is your love and loyalty. So of course when you fail to give him that, he gets a little angry. 

 It was useless - all your struggling and pained little pants. Nothing could stop the brutality unfolding before your eyes, glossy with tears. They were red and sore from the crying, but your despair wasn’t enough to melt his cold black heart. You knew that it was your fault and now someone had to pay the price. You couldn’t deny it, not when it was obvious to the outside gaze exactly what had happened while your loving caretaker was away, working hard to support you and give you anything your heart desired. The bed was messy with the white sheets all crumbled and the smell of adultery in the air still heavy and thick. No pretty words and sweet talking could get you out of the sticky situation this time around.

 “Please, tell them to stop!” You whispered, looking at Jumin with the big doe eyes you used when you wanted something to go your way. You even gently touched his hand, trying to wrap your fingers around his to calm him down, only to be met with a cold empty stare of disgust in return. It pierced through your heart like a thousand sharp arrows and your throat tightened in fear as you watched the bussinessman’s bodyguards beat your lover into a sweaty mess of flesh, snot and blood, weeping on the floor. The poor unfortunate soul was two punches away from the afterlife and there was no one to blame, but yourself. Shivers ran through your body from the cold and you realized you were still half - naked, the only thing protecting your most intimate parts being the oversized shirt of the dying man. Jumin glared at you for a long moment, studying the soft features of your delicate face before making an important decision. 

 “Kill him.” He finally ordered, voice monotone and unbothered by the inhuman whim. With a quick snap of his slender fingers the CEO-in-line had your paramour lifeless, dead on the ground. It happened so fast you found it hard to process down the murder, despite seeing clearly the unmoving figure and all the red sticky liquid he was drowned in. A hard lump stuck at the back of your throat, making it hard to swallow or even breathe, but the panic rising in your chest went unnoticed by Jumin, who was ready to turn his full attention to you, pining you with his cruel gray eyes. “I thought you were different.” He started off slowly, moving closer to you. “You were always so sweet and innocent I almost fell for your little tricks.” The man smiled bitterly, the sadness reflecting in his pupils as he took another step towards you. Now you could feel his big hands grabbing at your hips, drawing you in, and his hot breath on your neck - but he didn’t bite just yet. “I should have known better, that’s on me. After all you are just like those women who use my father for his money and status.” He whispered into your ear as he dig his nails deep into you bare thighs, squizing the naked flesh roughly. “You may be a cheap lying whore, but I still love you.” The bussinessman scratched at the vulnerable skin on your lower body before placing a small wet kiss on your collarbone. “I have invested so much in you, darling, but you seem to have forgotten that.” Jumin finally raised his head, smashing his lips onto yours, pushing his tongue all the way in, leaving you breathing hard and brushing off the saliva running down your chin. “I will teach you what happens when you forget your place, kitten.”

 WIth that the man dragged you towards the unmade bed, a harsh reminder of your betrayal, and despite all your squirming and pulling away, begging him to let you go, soon he had you pinned onto the mattress with your wrists trapped beneath his. The director wasted no time in ripping apart the clothing, soaked with the smell of another man. The swift aggressive move left you fully exposed and bare in front of the hungry lustful monster, the fear and andrenaline in your veins turning everything into a hazy mess of ugly emotions and silent sobs. You tried to close your legs, but the attempts to cover yourself were fruitless as the rich man simply tied your thighs, spreading you all to himself. Jumin couldn’t help running a finger up your slit, circling the small sensitive bud in the center until he felt your walls clench around his forefinger, and eventually it came out wet. 

 “How interesting.” The director stated, smirking with malice. “I thought you didn’t love me anymore, but your body is pointing otherwise.” You whimpered at his words, but your body gave you away as your hips rocked in the air in hopes of finding more stimulation. “I just killed your lover and your wet little pussy still wants me to fill it up, kitten.” Jumin started undoing his belt, taking out his member, hard at the sight of you so open and flustered, ripe for the taking. With one hand he groped your breast, messaging it gently, pulling slightly at the stiff raspberry tip, while the other kept fingering you in a steady pace. 

 “J-jumin!” You cried out in pleasure despite your best efforts to stay quiet while he played with your body like it was just another one of his possessions. It was humiliating, infuriating even, but there was nothing you could do except lay there and take it like a good little doll. You couln’t even fight off the moans coming out of your scarlet lips because his touch felt so good in such a wrong way. “Please, I am sorry! D-don’t do this to me.” You sobbed, letting the logical part of your brain speak as your cunt twitched in the upcoming orgasm that soon washed over you in one powerful wave. It was painfully satisfiying and left you panting heavily, trying to catch your breath. 

 “You want me to stop?” The bussinessman suddenly pushed the head of his throbbing member into your entrance, but stopped to look you straight in the eyes. There was no sight of defiance in them, only guilt and desperation - and to him you were the prettiest when needy, broken down and obedient for him. The tears were streaming down your face leaving a salty red trace on your puffy cheeks, and he licked it, running his tongue slowly and teasingly on your hot skin. “If you hate it so much, then, perhaps, you won’t come all over my cock like a little slut, yeah?” Jumin replied huskily, sucking and biting at your neck until several lovebites in all shades of blue and purple were formed, like a collar. The man then forced his lenght into your responsive hole without giving you the time to get used to it properly. Your expression changed from pleasure to pain and you whimpered in agony while the CEO-in-line shoved himself mercilessly into your heat, hitting the overstimulated nervs over and over again. Despite the initial discomort and shock your body managed to relax under the rough treatment and after a few minutes you started to arch your back to meet the harsh punishing thrusts. 

 “Look at you.” He spoke out, the coldness in his voice piercing your skin while you watched the sweat cover his pitch black hair. “ You are moaning like a dumb little slut while I fuck you silly even though you should be fighting be off. ” The director squeezed your tits, rocking his hips faster and faster - he was very close. “And now I am going to blow my load into you and mark you as mine.” The bussinessman kept hitting your sweet spot, abusing the sensitive place with his manhood. “We will do it together, I will count. You are not allowed to come before me.” The man commanded sternly without losing speed or strenght, staring at you with an intense gaze filled with lust, obsession and adoration. “One, two...” He lowered himself onto your tight hole as he kissed you passionately, invading your mouth with his wet tongue. “Three.” Jumin thrusted lastly before releasing the white thick liquid into your pussy. “Cum for me, my love.” He whispered softly into your ear while playing with your hard nipples. “Cum while I fill you up with my seed.” The bussinessmen kept stirring you up, teasing you, until he felt your cunt clench down, throbbing with need. You finally orgasmed, throwing your head back during the high of the terribly delightful sensation. You closed your eyes - there was nothing left to do or say after the violation.

 “Your punishment has come to its end now.” You heard his cold voice from far above you and it felt awfully distant but at this point you didn’t care. You just wanted to qucikly fall asleep and drift away to a different place. Somewhere warm and cozy where no one could hurt you. Unfortunately, his last sentence caught your attention. “But if you ever betray me again, I won’t be so loving anymore. What goes around comes around. Beware, darling.”

[wildingrose]

spilt tea

dark alley help part 10

part 9: care

word count: 2.8k

》 ignored kink, cunnilingus, oral sex in office

- ✿ -

You sat on the desk in your office cabin while Cindy watched you hold the pile of documents. Your eyes scanned over the lengths of the legal sized papers that contained detailed information on the clients and their wishful properties. Flipping through them and resting the reviewed next to you, your heart froze when coming across the name of one particular client.

Facing the paper her way, you asked, "Him? He's our client?"

Cindy squinted her eyes to read the inked name and nodded. "Yes, it's your fiancé. He's been our loyal client for a long time."

You groaned at the unofficial title. "He's not my fiancé. Never was." That made sense as to how your mother found him and why she really liked him. "Doesn't he have a gazillion properties? Why does he need more?"

"He mentioned that this one was for... a reunion, I believe. It's a new property under construction and will be underway for closing soon."

Your head pounded painfully and your fingers went up to relieve it in circles. Raymond was purchasing a property just for a reunion instead of holding the event at one of his currently owned hotels. That guy was just flexing his money through property ownerships. "Whatever," you mumbled and took a quick glance at the company name that was responsible for the construction. Then, your eyes immediately fixed on where it was located.

It was the block where Taeyong mentioned that he was working at. You hadn't seen the structure yet, and now you were overjoyed to.

"Oh my God," you muttered and hopped off the table, your hand flying to your mouth in utter shock before your shoulders shook and a loud sinister laugh escaped from you.

Cindy watched you in concern as you jumped gleefully in your spot. "Um, Y/N, are you okay?"

While you weren't hundred percent positive for what his reaction was going to be, you couldn't wait to rub it in Raymond's face that he had purchased something where Taeyong had contributed to building. You waved Cindy off with an ecstatic smile. "Yeah, don't worry. I was just thinking about something."

She stared at you for a moment longer before letting it go.

Shortly, a knock on the door was heard, followed by a head popping in. "Can I come in? I have your tea," Chris smiled, shaking an acrylic tumbler with iced tea. "This should help with your headache and slight nausea."

"Thanks a lot. Of course, come in," you waved him in.

He nodded and strode over to you. You retrieved the drink and took a long sip of the tea, humming happily. "Perfect."

"Hope it helps. Also, there's someone waiting for you outside."

"Really? Who?" Your lips connected with the straw and sucked in another long sip.

His brows furrowed as he tried to recall the name. "I think his name is... Taeyong?"

You spurted out your tea in surprise that he came to your workplace in the middle of the day and set the tumbler down on the desk. "It's Taeyong? Bring him in!"

Chris nodded and went to fetch for your man while Cindy eyed you curiously.

Chris stepped into the main area where Taeyong stood by the desks, more specifically by Shannon's desk who wordlessly stared at him. "Hey man, come on in!"

Taeyong straightened his back and cleared his throat, avoiding the gaze of the young woman drilling a hole in his head. Her gaze remained on his retreating figure with a slight frown creasing her forehead.

Your colleague reappeared with the man that you were looking forward to trailing behind. Taeyong smiled subtly as you jogged over to him with a bright smile.

"Baby," you chirped and wrapped your arms around him. He faintly chuckled and held you close, pecking your forehead. You turned around in his arms and found Cindy's jaw hanging low and Chris whistling in amusement. "He's Taeyong, my fiancé-to-be," you introduced him, mainly for Cindy. Taeyong was stunned by the unexpected title but happily accepted it, wanting nothing more than to be bonded with you in the utmost ways possible.

Chris quirked an intrigued brow. "Now that's some real tea right there. Have fun now," he said and with a salute, he walked out the cabin.

Cindy closed her mouth and reminded you of an important task. "Mr. Riley is expecting a call in..." She glanced at her watch. "... about a few minutes. Should I stay here to help you?"

You shook your head. "It's pretty straight forward so I'll be fine. Thanks though."

She nodded and headed to exit the cabin, closing the door behind her to give you privacy.

You pulled away from Taeyong and asked, "I love seeing you here, but how? Don't you have work?"

He pointed to the window in your office. As if on cue, the light droplets shifted to pouring rain outside. "It started onsite, so we had to stop working. Thought I'd come here and see how you're doing."

You hummed. "Good thinking. But I have work to do, so no funny business," you warned with narrowed eyes.

He exhaled out of his nose and nodded, seeming disinterested by your words as he shuffled his feet towards your desk and hopped on. His eyes landed on your tea and picked it up, taking a huge sip and frowned at the bitter taste before setting it back down. Taeyong then scanned his eyes around the cabin, making observations of how clean and polished the walls were with modern design.

You arched an eyebrow at him to which he didn't catch. Was he really going to sit there and not do anything? Good for you. You strolled over to pick up your client's portfolio and cell phone from the desk. "I have an important call to make. Do not make a sound, and no distractions. Understood?"

Taeyong merely shrugged in response, and you began dialing your client's number. While you waited for the call to be answered, you glanced at Taeyong and noticed that he wasn't doing anything except for swinging his leg.

"Hello, this is Riley speaking."

Startled, you fumbled with your greeting. "Oh hi! Good afternoon, Mr. Riley. I'm Y/N L/N and am calling on behalf of my father regarding your interested properties. I'll be taking his place so it will be a pleasure to work with you," you spoke with politeness.

Taeyong huffed and mumbled, "Only I give you pleasure." You smacked his arm.

"I'm sorry? I didn't hear the last part well."

Your eyes widened. "Nothing!" You gave Taeyong a glare and moved away from him, balancing the folder on one hand. "So, I see your investments and interests..."

Taeyong watched you as the call droned on, getting immensely bored without your attention on him, and so he decided to make himself comfortable.

You took a sneak peak to see what Taeyong was up to and did a double take. "I'm sorry but could you please hold on for a moment, sir?" Pressing the mute button, you gritted your teeth. "Taeyong, why are you unbuttoning your shirt?"

He kept moving his fingers downward, undoing the buttons slowly and pushed the flaps to the side for his handsome torso to be on full display. "I'm feeling hot," he said with his voice laced in pure boredom.

You gave him a pointed look. The air conditioner was blasting in your cabin, therefore having no reason for him to feel uncomfortable. You ignored him, turning your back on him and resumed your call, but now you were partly distracted by replaying his beautiful skin in your head.

Taeyong sighed when seeing you ignore him again and hopped off. He rounded the desk and plopped down into the massive leather chair, putting his feet up on the table and rummaged through the drawers to look for anything that could entertain him.

Your ears picked up on the soft sounds of drawers sliding open and shut. There was a brief moment of silence followed by a container lid clicking open. The faint chewing sounds made you turn around and your heartbeat stilled before kicking into full racing mode. You were paying almost zero attention to your client as you watched Taeyong bite into a cherry, the juice spilling out of its flesh and past his lips, traveling down his chin. He made no efforts to wipe it off as he finished the fruit off, spitting out the seed and discarding the stem onto the lid. Picking up another one, he repeated the action, making more of the sweet red juice coat his chin.

You wanted nothing more than to lick his skin clean, and then straddle yourself on his lap to have a heated make out session with him. But you held yourself back and blinked a few times, shaking your head and focused on the reason why you were doing all of this.

When the cherries were all done, Taeyong huffed out in frustration from having nothing else to do, your phone call seeming to run way longer than anticipated.

Just then, his lips curled into a smirk as an idea hit him.

He stalked over to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and you didn't notice his approaching presence from behind until he swiftly bent down to grab your waist from the front and hoisted you over his shoulder, holding you effortlessly by your legs. Your hand lost balance of the folder and it crashed to the floor, and your eyes bulged out as he carried you over to the desk.

He put you down on the table and shoved everything aside with his arm, not giving a glance as to what was being knocked over. Taeyong positioned you until you were laid flat on the sturdy desk and crawled on top of you, bringing his gaze to meet yours. With your mouth agape, you stared at his dark eyes as you were no longer processing a single word that your client spoke.

"Ignore me," he mouthed without a single sound and then he began.

He unbuttoned your shirt enough to expose your bra. Your heart crashed in your chest, fearing for what he had in mind when being in the office with a client on the phone and the door to your cabin left unlocked. But you were thrilled to see what Taeyong was going to do while you 'ignored' him.

His tongue poke out to coat saliva over his cherry-dried lips and dipped his head in between the valley of your breasts, sucking on the skin there with his soft lips sending excitement down to your core as you began producing your own sweet juice. Your hand came up to cover your mouth, stopping your sighs from reaching the speaker. You could have muted your voice and took full advantage of the situation, but this was 'ignore Taeyong' game and you were going through with it to see its end.

"Miss Y/N, are you still there?" Your client's voice snapped you back to your main responsibility.

"Oh sorry. Yes, I am." And with that, he resumed talking.

Taeyong pulled back and observed the faint colour of the fruit transferred onto your skin, and you nearly sighed aloud when he took long strides of his hot wet tongue to lick it clean, your grip on the phone tightening. When done, he pulled back with a smirk, and your eyes blew up when one of the most insane things happened next. Taeyong leveled his face with the zipper of your pants and grasped onto the small sliding piece with his teeth, pulling it down undone with such ease that you thought was not possible with the difficult task.

His hands yanked your pants down along with panties to midway. To prevent the hassle of taking your shoes and pants off completely, he crossed your legs, keeping enough space to dive his head into the opening from underneath. His hands firmly held your legs in place to stop you from squeezing around his head. His face leveled with your glistened core till you felt his hot breath fanning over it. Taeyong was amused to see you turned on and took a deep breath in with his nose touching your sweet flesh. "Smells nice, doll," he whispered ever so softly that you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't completely focused on him. Your legs quivered around his head as you spilled more juice out.

At last, his tongue strode over the length of your heat and your jaw hung open without a single sound parting from your lips. He repeated the action and after dipped his wet muscle in between your slick folds. You used every muscle in you to keep your hips grounded to the smooth surface of the table while your free hand clenched into a tight fist beside you. It would have been at his head gripping his hair, but you weren't sure if that counted as ignoring him.

Your walls hugged him as he began rolling his tongue. A small hum was felt against your flesh, causing your belly to tighten and spill more of your delicious juice onto his tongue. He hungrily lapped up every drop, his moist muscle flicking against your clit that resulted you to slip a mixture of moan and whine past your deep breathings.

"Is everything all right?"

Your blood ran cold when you had momentarily forgotten all about the phone call. Your ears had completely droned out your client's voice to focus on the squelching sounds that your man made in your cunt. Your brain quickly tried to come up with a sound excuse. "Oh um, I spilled something on my desk. I'm sorry about that. Please continue."

Taeyong snickered, sending sinful vibrations throughout your body and further tightened your belly for the incoming orgasm. Unfortunately, another desperate whine escaped from your mouth. Mr. Riley was silent for a moment before speaking up. "I do have another matter to attend. We can end our discussion here for now. I look forward to working with you, Y/N."

Finally! "I see. I will too. Have a great day-" and you quickly ended the call before a pathetic moan could travel through the speaker as Taeyong began having a make out session with your cunt, sucking your throbbing clit in between his lips. Chucking your phone aside, your hands lightly played with the wisps of his dark hair. "Oh Tae," you choked out a quiet sob. Your legs ached and trembled the longer it was forcefully kept open.

"Look at me, doll," he whispered.

You looked down at the sinful view of his head in between your legs. His gaze heavily burned into yours and gave a few harsh sucks, resulting in the final snap of the coil in your stomach. Your vision blurred as your back arched off the surface to generously cum into his mouth. He hummed as he sucked up every drop of your essence, still lapping over your heat even after it was over, and the sensitivity caused you to push his head away. "No more," you weakly whispered.

He kissed your cunt two times before completely pulling his head out, helping you put your pants back on. "You taste so good, doll," he drawled seductively he licked his lips clean.

You smacked his chest, feigning anger as you buttoned up your top. "We would have lost one of our biggest clients if he figured out what I was up to."

"But he didn't. You did a good job ignoring me... for the most part anyways," he snickered.

A series of knocks was heard and the door flew open, revealing an unsuspecting Cindy. Her eyes went on a tour as it scanned over the dropped portfolio on the floor, your shocked eyes on her, Taeyong's disheveled state and open shirt, and the mess on the desk.

She huffed out at the sight of drenched documents. "If you were going to have fun, couldn't you have done it without getting anything spilt on the documents?"

Your brows scrunched, confused with what she meant until you spotted the acrylic tumbler tipped onto its side with the tea no longer in its container as the papers soaked the liquid up. "Oh shit," you muttered and shot a look at Taeyong who simply shrugged and feigned innocence as if not his fault.

Cindy sighed. "We'll just have to prepare all those again."

"I'll prepare them myself. It's my fault anyway."

She shook her head. "It's fine. I'll help too. You owe me a drink for overtime," she cracked a smile and winked.

You breathed out in relief that she wasn't too mad at you. "Of course."

Taeyong turned to you with bright eyes. "I'll help too." Not only would he be able to spend more time with you, but also receive a free drink, your drink, while at it.

Your jaw slacked, aware of his underlying intention, and pushed him out the cabin with all your strength. "No! You're leaving, mister!"

tag list: @cosmiclatte28 @mel-yjh @johnnysuhisnotmyproblem @kttyongie @chantellsievert

[spookypotato]

Leo - Just Leo 2

Characters by @lumosinlove

Thank you to elisa my beta <3

And thank you everyone for being invested! I did not expect people to care that much, but I'm happy you did :))

part 1

TW: coming out, anxiety, stess

He started sobbing. This is ridiculous. Everything was alright. Nothing had gone wrong. He could cry if they rejected him. He could cry, if everything he feared for became reality. He should not do it now. He had no reason to. 

Finn’s hand on his back and Logan’s on his knees, drawing small circles with his thumbs, grounded him a bit. He tried to focus on his breathing. Leo knew the process. He counted things in his head, took a few more deep breaths and the tears pretty much stopped again. He could feel a hand on his cheek. 

Finn wiped away the wetness there and Leo had to actively hold back the new ones that were threatening to roll down. He inhaled deeply. 

“There you go.”,  came in Finns voice from next to him. “Are you alright, baby?” 

Leo only nodded. He didn’t trust himself with words just yet. He should take a few minutes to calm himself down and then tell them. Bursting into tears in between his words wouldn’t be good for any of them. 

Finn’s hand stopped on his back, feeling the muscles underneath it relax. He slowly got up and went to the kitchen. 

“He’ll just get you some water. Can I do anything else for you, Nutty?”, Logan asked as he also got up to move next to Leo, his hand replacing Finns. 

Leo shook his head. He could feel his throat getting less tight and letting more air through. Maybe even enough to start the conversation, the one he wanted to have for quite a while now. 

He hadn’t practiced. He still had no clue what to say, but he had his boys next to him and his determination had returned. 

Leo downed the glass Finn had brought him. It helped, he was positive, he would get out more than a sentence without crying again. He could do this. 

“So”, he croaked out the same fucking opener he wanted to use less. Now was not the time to try to change his habits. 

“So”, he tried again. Fuck it. “I have something I wanted to talk about with you.” 

Both of his boys looked at him. He felt less nervous now that he had started and was still feeling their hands on his back and knees. He turned a bit to face them both more fully. 

Just start in some way. 

“I don’t want you to call me your boyfriend anymore.” 

And damn. He could have said anything else and it would have been less stupid. He needed to fix this. Logan’s hand was no longer on his back and Finns had simply fallen to the ground next to his feet. He looked over to Logan, who’s eyes were beginning to become shiner than usual. He looked hurt. 

Of course he looked hurt dumbass, you basically told them you want to break up with them. He hit himself mentally for his poor choice of words. 

“Leo, do you not want to be in a relationship with us anymore?”, Finn asked softly, his bottom lip worried between his teeth. 

Seeing both of them this distressed at once seemed to snap him out of his paralysis. 

“No! No, no, no, no, no. I really, really don’t. I would never. You two are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you so much I meant it differently. I’m sorry.”, Leo had forgotten to take a breath in between. He needed to correct his mistake. He needed them to know how much they meant to him. 

Finn’s expression turned into a more relaxed one, which quickly became confused. “I love you, too. Why don’t you want to be called our boyfriend anymore though?” 

Finn left the question open ended. He provided no potential answers. He didn’t try to guess what was going on, he just asked and Leo was grateful for it. 

He started again. “If I’m going to say this, I need to say it all at once. So until I’m done with the main part, please don’t interrupt me, yeah? I don’t know where this bravery is coming from, but it’s bound to leave at some point. Can you do that?” 

He looked at Finn, who nodded. They both looked over at their boyfriend. Logan was clearly still not over the fact that, Leo almost told them he wanted to end their relationship. A few tears had rolled down his cheeks and Leo moved his hand to wipe them away, tilting his head up so green eyes met blue. 

“Can you listen to me, sweetheart?” 

Another tear rolled down Logan’s face and Leo wiped that one away too. He saw the brunet nodding. 

Okay, here goes ... everything, he thought to himself.

“I’d like you to use they/them pronouns for me, please.”, Leo saw things click behind Finns eyes, but they both knew Leo wasn’t done, so the boys listened as they continued. “I’ve thought about this for a good amount of time and I’m not completely sure how I feel, but I don’t feel like I’m a cis man. I know I’m trans. I figured that out, but I don’t know what label would fit me best yet. I do however know, I’m not a man and I’m not a woman. That’s why I’d like to try out they/them pronouns.”, their stare was fixed on the ground. Leo couldn’t bear to look their boys in the eye. They couldn’t bear a rejection. Curiosity got the better of them though, and dragged their blue eyes slowly off the ground and into brown and green ones.

Leo knew, their eyes must look stressed, nervous or even desperate, but they needed some kind of reaction. 

“If I call you Leo, are you fine with that?”, Logan’s voice came from beside him. Not disgusted or distant, just as loving and considerate as it always was. Hope bloomed in Leo’s chest. 

“Yes.”, they answered the question. “Leo is perfect. It’s gender-neutral and I like it. It makes me feel comfortable. Thank you for asking.” 

This didn’t feel real. Neither Logan nor Finn had moved a muscle in an effort to get up or scream at them or push them away. They were both simply sitting on the couch next to them, listening. 

Finn must have seen the distressed expression on Leo’s face and moved closer, his thigh touching the blonds. At least Leo now knew he couldn’t be that disgusted with them, that he couldn’t even bear to touch them. That wasn’t a lot, but it was a piece of hope Leo didn’t want to let go. 

“Peanut, baby. We love you.”, Logan moved closer to them as well, putting his hand back on Leo’s back, “We love you for you. That will never change. I don’t care what your gender is, the thing I care about is that you are you. That you’re comfortable in your own skin and feel understood and accepted and loved. Unconditionally.” 

Leo was so close to tears again and when one slipped down their cheek, they couldn’t help but let the rest stream down as well. They weren’t sad, but the pure relief they felt was enough to coat their cheeks with tears. 

Logan and Finn knew. Both of them just moved closer and hugged Leo. It was grounding and it actually slowed the sobs down that had started escaping their lips again. Just as Finn pulled back and kissed them on the cheek, Logan whispered in his ear, “Sweetheart, we love you for you, not for your gender. Nothing can change that.”

~~~

The following Monday, there was luckily no practice, so they all slept in. The doorbell was what woke them up at about 9 am. 

Finn grumbled something an got up, kissing them both, Leo on the shoulder and Logan on his cheek, maybe whispering something, but Leo was still to sleepy to care. 

What they did however care about, was Logan getting up as well, leaving them alone in their bed, cold and with no body heat to snuggle into. 

After a few minutes of rolling around, trying to get comfortable again and failing, they reluctantly got up as well. 

“Leo!”, he heard a shout from the main room. 

Answered by Finn in an almost scolding tone. “Let them sleep, Logan. They had a few stressful days.” 

It warmed Leo’s heart to hear them use their pronouns correctly, even after only a day. 

Their boys were in the living room, grinning at them like they knew something Leo didn’t. They probably did. 

Leo was almost in front of them as they pulled out, what had been behind their backs.

Light blue, pink and white was staring back at them. Logan and Finn had bought them a trans pride flag. 

Both of them were beaming and Leo couldn’t help themselves from covering their faces in kisses. They really were loved. 

“We can get another one, if you decide on a label, you like more, but we got you this. You also don’t have to keep it, we just thought you might like it.”, Finn told them.

“And it’s a part of you and as we in this household love all things Leo Knut related, we wanted to have a symbol for that. For you figuring out your feelings.”, Logan added. He got a bit quieter at the end, like he was questioning if they had done the wrong thing. 

Leo’s eyes, their fucking eyes, just didn’t want to give them a break. Tears were starting to form again and they had no way of stopping them. Logan and Finn accepted them. Not only that, they embraced Leo’s gender identity. And they had shown them, just like Eloise and Wyatt had. 

“Thank you.”, Leo got out through their tears, “I love you both so, so much.”

[lalitsethia101]

Title: "Unveiling the Flaws and Benefits of Instagram Paid Verified Accounts: A Reflection by Lalit Sethia" 

I wanted to delve into a topic that has been making waves in the Instagram community - the paid verification feature. As an avid observer of the platform and an advocate for authenticity, I feel compelled to share my thoughts on the flaws and benefits of Instagram paid verified accounts. So, let's embark on this insightful journey together. 

Benefits of Instagram Paid Verified Accounts: 

When it comes to credibility and trust, nothing quite compares to the power of a verified badge. It's like a shining beacon, guiding your followers and potential collaborators towards your genuine self.  A  verified badge  inspires   trust   by   reassuring  others that you  can   be   trusted  in this vast digital landscape. 

 Improved  visibility is another  great   benefit  that  comes   with  the coveted  "Verified"  badge. With a verified account, your content  will   get   more  exposure in search results and  research   sites.  This increased visibility means  your  posts   are   featured,  allowing you to reach a wider audience and share your unique perspective with the world. 

 As an influencer, the advantages of a verified account are  many.  Brands and businesses are naturally drawn to verified accounts as they are seen as industry leaders, influencers, or  standouts.  With a verified badge, you open  the   door  to exciting  collaborations  and potential partnerships that can  take  your  impact  to  a  new  level.  

 Finally,  let's not  lose   sight   of  the importance of  protecting  against  identity   theft.  Unfortunately,  even   in  the digital  realm,   there   are   malicious   actors   who   want  to  emulate  and  damage  your hard-earned reputation. However, with verification, you  get  an  extra  layer of  security   that   protects  your brand image from  scammers  and  ensures  that your followers  are   interacting  with  you   authentically.  

Flaws and Limitations: 

Now, let's address a concern that has been voiced by many dedicated influencers who invest significant time and effort into creating engaging content. It's disheartening for them to witness accounts with minimal followers receiving the verified badge while their own accounts, despite their hard work, remain unverified. This situation highlights a few key issues.  

1. Inequality and Unfairness: 

The verification process can sometimes appear to be unfair, as it seems to prioritize follower count rather than content quality or engagement. Influencers who pour their heart and soul into creating exceptional content, fostering genuine connections with their audience, may feel overlooked and undervalued when they see accounts with only a handful of followers receiving verification. This creates an  uncomfortable  sense of inequality within the platform. 

 2. Limited  transparency:  

Instagram's  verification  criteria  can be  a   bit   unclear,  leaving many influencers unsure  of  the exact requirements needed to  earn  the coveted  verification  badge. This lack of transparency can be frustrating and  has  influencers  wondering  what steps  they   need  to take to improve their chances of  being   verified.  

 3. Cost  of  participation:  

The current system  puts  a  lot   of  emphasis on  the   number   of   followers  rather than the quality of  an  influencer’s   interaction  with their audience. In  fact,  engagement is often a better indicator of  an   account's   authenticity   and   influence  than  follower  count.  Influencers who invest substantial time and effort into fostering meaningful connections and interactions with their followers may feel undervalued when they see less-engaged accounts being verified solely based on their follower count.  

4. Aspirations and Motivation: 

The disparity between hardworking influencers without verification and accounts with fewer followers obtaining the verified badge may demotivate aspiring creators. It sends a message that follower count, rather than content quality and audience engagement, is the primary determinant of success on Instagram. This can discourage talented individuals from pursuing their passion and may hinder the platform's overall diversity and creativity. 

5.  Conclusion: 

While the flaws and limitations surrounding Instagram's paid verification feature can be disheartening for hardworking influencers, it is important to remember that the pursuit of success is not solely defined by a verified badge. True influence is  based  on  real  connections and  the  impact an influencer has on their audience. Instagram should strive to create a  grading  process that  honors  these deeper connections and provides  an  equal  chance   to   recognize  deserving  creators.  Until then, influencers  must   remain   focused  on creating exceptional content, nurturing their audience, and building a thriving community  built  on trust and engagement.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Gold Rush

Finally venturing into writing for Brock, and so excited to put this out there!! Very appreciative of the encouragement I’ve gotten throughout this from @brockadoodles who had (rightfully so, man deserves it) made loving Brock her BRAND. If there was any hockey who’s made to be a dad, it’s Brock Boeser, and I’ve genuinely loved getting to put this together. Love hearing feedback and what your favorite parts were, so reblog and pop into my inbox!

word count: 3.8k+

Brock had loved kids his whole life. Being around them, looking after them, the first day a kid asked him to autograph his jersey was burned into his brain alongside precious few other memories, most of the others involving you. And anyone who had ever seen him with Easton could tell that Brock Boeser loved babies. He had wanted kids since he was old enough to know what being a dad was, and knew so strongly that was a path he wanted — needed, honestly, there was too much love in his heart to not share it with everyone he could — that he wouldn’t ever have let things get serious with you if that wasn’t a life you wanted for yourself. Parenthood wasn’t for everyone, and he never held it against the women he had dated who didn’t want to be moms, but it was for Brock Boeser. 

He remembered the day he brought it up with you, his voice soft and hesitant as your head rested on his shoulder, a blanket thrown haphazardly over their laps as Return of the Jedi played on the TV. “Do you want kids someday?” Brock asked. He spoke gently, not wanting to scare you off with thoughts of the future coming too fast for you to handle, wondering if maybe seven months into a relationship was too early to bring up the type of commitment that lasted a lifetime. But he had to, had to protect himself from getting more invested and one more broken heart in a relationship that wasn’t just headed down the wrong set of train tracks, it was going the opposite way entirely. But, as you spoke, it turned out that he never had anything to worry about, and Brock wasn’t sure if he’d ever been more relieved in his life. 

“I do,” you said, looking up at his face, trying to read his expression. “Always have. Not sure how many, I’ve always thought two or three sounded good. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” 

Brock couldn’t help the way his heart absolutely swelled, the way you spoke of him in your future, with such ease and certainty as if you weren’t even entertaining a possibility that he wouldn’t be a part of it, that he wouldn’t be the one you would have children with. He twisted his neck, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. “We will.” 

So Brock loved kids, and you loved kids, and it had been established over a year before he put a ring on your finger that they were something in your future. You bought a four-bedroom in Shaughnessy, the idea being that one would be a guest room and two would be reserved for the kids, whenever they came along. “We can always add on,” Brock had said as you signed the papers, the real estate agent dropping the keys into your palm with a warm smile. And you knew that he would, you knew that Brock wanted as many kids as you were willing to give him. But you’d start with one. That was the plan. That was the plan, so a few months after you got back from your honeymoon in Scotland you went off of your birth control. Kids would happen when they happened, but you both knew you’d rather them sooner than later, and thus had begun your journey towards starting a family. That was the plan, so a year and a half ago you had swapped the pill for a stock of pregnancy tests, taking one a month and whenever you were feeling even slightly off for good measure, sure that your nausea and headache wasn’t the beginnings of a flu but rather your baby making themself known. 

When six months of trying came and went without a single positive test, you both started to get a little antsy, but you knew that these things took time, and you knew that it hadn’t been long enough for there to be any real cause for concern. But you still called your doctor, started exercising more and taking folic acid like she recommended, you and Brock both cutting down on your alcohol. “If you’ve got to do all this, it’s only fair I have to make some changes, too,” he had said. You loved your husband for many reasons, chief among them being the fact that no matter the circumstance, where you were or who you were with or how people were acting, he never made you feel like you were on your own. Everything was a team effort in the Boeser household. 

It was six months, and you were doing okay, and Brock was genuinely winning the award for the world’s best husband with how deftly he could calm you down every time you saw the words not pregnant show up on a pregnancy test, but then it hit a year of trying without success and you started to get worried. It was July, and you knew it was common in the NHL to try and time births for the offseason — if you got pregnant in the summer, your baby would have been born in the middle of a playoff push — but you honestly would have settled for any timing. So you visited a fertility specialist at the Mayo Clinic, a quiet recommendation Brock’s mom got from a friend’s daughter. You loved your own mom, but Laurie truly had been your saving grace in everything. A quiet, steady presence who offered more love and support than you could ever ask for, giving her advice only when asked and never once betraying your trust by telling anyone. But Dr. Gonzalez got the tests back, both yours and Brock’s, and said that nothing was wrong. “Unexplained infertility,” they called it. It was nothing anybody was doing wrong, nobody’s fault, not a matter of hormonal imbalances or obvious lifestyle factors or anything that would have let you blame it on yourself. Which, on one hand, was so good and so relieving, so desperately needed. You needed to know that it wasn’t your body, and it wasn’t Brock, that was keeping the two of you from finally being able to grow your family. But on the other hand, there were few things more hopeless or frustrating than hearing that they couldn’t find a cause. That meant that there wasn’t anything you could have done differently, true, but that also meant that there wasn’t anything you could do. It was a waiting game, and you were never good with being patient. 

Pregnancy scares were more common than people might know, if the experiences of you and your friends were anything to go by. There were high school boyfriends, college roommates, half of the people you knew had worried they were pregnant or had gotten someone pregnant far before they were ready. But now, when you were settled down and established and were building a life with the most amazing man you had ever had the fortune to love, and you wanted a baby, it wasn’t happening. The clinical definition of infertility was the “failure to achieve a clinical pregnancy after 12 months or more of regular unprotected sexual intercourse.” You had committed the definition to memory over the past 14 months, and whether you knew it or not, Brock had too. You had always been good at tests. Good grades, always the essay the teacher used as an example in class, graduated top of your class at UBC. But this was one test you couldn’t study for, and one you couldn’t believe you had failed time and time again. 

Which brought you to December, normally one of your favorite times of the year but one that you had recently begun noticing all the doom and gloom in that others had always mentioned when speaking about the winter months. You still loved the holidays, Christmas and New Year’s and everything in between, but you thought that in your second year as a married couple, you wouldn’t still be a family of two. It was a year and a half since you and Brock had started trying for a baby, and there was still no luck. It was a year and a half, and you had started talking about options. Vancouver had some amazing fertility specialists, and adoption was something you had discussed looking into, but you had both agreed on waiting a few more months before taking that route.  

---

Which brought you to almost three weeks later, two days before New Year’s Eve, your head in the toilet and your husband leaning up against the doorway. “God, I feel like shit,” you said, leaning up against the wall when your nausea had finally seemed to subside. “I bet, last time I threw up was our honeymoon,” he said, trying to make you laugh. Brock had insisted on trying haggis in Scotland, saying he needed the “full experience,” but regretted that decision as soon as he spent the better part of the second night of your honeymoon in the hotel bathroom throwing up from food poisoning. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, gratefully taking the cup of water Brock handed you as you leaned up against the bathroom counter. 

You caught his eyes searching yours as you set the glass down, his face wearing an expression you had come to know well in the four years you had been together. There was something on his mind, but he wasn’t sure if he should say it. “Yeah?” you prompted, raising your eyebrows. 

He gave a tiny shake of his head. “It’s nothing, seriously.” 

Now it was your turn to look at him. “Brock, it’s going to eat you up if you keep it all inside. Spit it out.” 

“How long has it been since you took a test?” Brock asked gently. 

You should have known. God, you should have known that’s where his mind would go, and the worst part of it all, the part that made you feel even worse for getting your husband’s hopes up that maybe this was finally it, maybe it had finally worked, was that you couldn’t even blame him. You had been snappier at Brock the past few days, something both you and he had attributed to your overall weariness about the whole process, you had to practically slap his hands away from your breasts the other night while you were having sex, and this wasn’t even the first time you had thrown up this week. But it was flu season, and you worked with kids, and seemed to catch it more years than not despite taking the flu shot religiously each October. You’d be looking for a missed period, but they had always been light and you had experienced some spotting when Brock was on a road trip the week before. 

You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, shaking your head. “I don’t know...A month? A little over? I just hate that it’s getting so clinical, that’s not what it was supposed to be about, that’s never what it was supposed to be about.” 

Brock ran his hands up your arms, back and forth, the same way he had been comforting you for years. “I know, baby. And I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel that way, more stressed or disappointed in yourself, because it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. We’re going to have a baby one way or another, because I love you and I’ve never met anyone who’s more excited, and ready, and made to be a mom quite like you. And whether you have the baby yourself, or we adopt, or whatever path we decide is the right one for us, they’ll be ours, and they’ll be so loved.” Brock ghosted a kiss over your forehead, his eyes closing. “You don’t have to take another test if you don’t want to, the last thing I want to do is make you more anxious over all of this. But I think it might be good. I think it might help.” 

You breathed out deeply through your nose, shooting your husband a weak smile. God, he was so good to you. “I’ll tell you if I do.” 

Brock nodded, stepping towards you and wrapping you in his arms, whispering your name as he leaned his forehead against yours. “No matter what happens — tomorrow, next week, next year, I don’t care — nothing you do will ever make me love you any less. We’re good. We’re gonna be okay.” You could have filled a hundred books with the reasons why you loved Brock Boeser, and this was one of them. The way he loved you, so selflessly and sacrificially, without an ounce of ego and never expecting anything in return aside from your heart. You didn’t know what you had ever done in this life or any past one to deserve him, but there wasn’t a day you didn’t thank God for the privilege of letting you love this man. 

---

It was finally New Year’s Eve, festivities having taken over the city — really, they hadn’t stopped since Christmas — and hardly a flat surface was left undecorated with posters or metallic tinsel, or both for good measure, including almost the entirety of yours and Brock’s house. He had volunteered your place weeks ago as the site for the team’s New Year’s Eve party. It didn’t generally draw a crowd as big as the holiday party earlier in the month, which usually had not only the players’ partners, but children and whatever family was visiting at the time, so Brock had asked if you’d be willing, and you agreed easily. You loved getting to spend time with the team, and you were even more inclined than usual to gravitate towards any kind of distraction that would take your mind off of the stress you were under. The stress that you put yourself under, to be fair. So you threw yourself into planning and preparation, pulling out the ice chest from the garage and filling it up, making sure people were bringing enough champagne, cleaning every inch of the house with Brock until it was spotless despite the fact that you both knew you’d have to do the same thing in the morning. 

Some two and a half hours into the party and most everyone who was drinking was sufficiently drunk, the TV in the living room flipping back and forth between the broadcast from Times Square and Youtube karaoke that nearly everyone had been roped into at some point or another. You sipped your soda, half-sitting on one of your barstools next to Holly. “You’re not drinking?” she asked curiously. 

“I had some earlier, trying to pace myself” you said, waving your hand. “Someone’s got to look after that one.” You nodded towards Brock, who was having what looked to be the time of his life in your living room while badly singing along to One Direction. Holly nodded. You knew she probably wanted to ask more, but she was too tactful to push. “It’s so nice to see them all like this, just letting loose, having fun. It’s hard to remember sometimes that these are just guys in their 20s and 30s when they’re constantly off travelling or away at games, doing things most people their age only dreamed of. They don’t get the chance to be normal hardly ever. And the season can get stressful...It’s just good to see,” you said. 

“It is,” she agreed. 

You checked your phone. Twelve minutes till midnight. “You want to help me get the champagne ready?” 

Holly smiled. “Let’s do it.” 

Nearly twenty flutes of champagne later — you had no idea where Brock had managed to find all of the glasses — you walked around the corner, your head poking into the living room. “Champagne’s in the kitchen, everybody. Five minutes till midnight!” 

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Brock said, leaning in for a kiss after walking over. 

You scrunched your nose. “Babe. It hasn’t even been ten minutes.” The second you had gotten back from refilling your drink earlier, Brock had dragged you into what turned out to be a very endearing but not-so-successful rendition of I’ve Had the Time of My Life in the living room, minus the lift. He wanted to go for it, and you trusted your husband with everything, but you really didn’t feel like spending your New Year’s Eve in the ER after having crashed into the Christmas tree. Dirty Dancing was one of the first movies you had ever watched together, so there was more than a little meaning behind the choice, but you doubted you were exactly making Jennifer Grey proud. 

“Ten minutes away from you is ten minutes too long,” he said, nuzzling his head into your neck. 

The fingers of your free hand carded through the hairs at the base of his neck; you loved it when he let his hair grow out like this. “Okay, babe, I believe you. How much have you had to drink tonight?” 

Brock pulled back, rolling his eyes at you in exaggeration. “Only two beers since the night started. I’m not drunk, I’m not even tipsy, I just love my wife.”

“Could be worse,” you quipped. You squeezed his hand as the two of you walked into the kitchen, after half of the guests had already grabbed their flutes and made their way back into the living room for the countdown. Grabbing your drink from the other side of the counter, you held it in your far hand as you and Brock turned back around, taking your place by the Christmas tree. You glanced towards the TV, where the Times Square ball was slowly inching towards the ground. “Anyone else think it’s a little weird that we’re all staring at a TV waiting for something to happen that already happened 3 hours ago?” 

“I don’t believe in tape delay,” Elias said. 

Quinn nodded seriously in agreement, but the corner of his mouth twitched up. “It doesn’t exist. That little notice in the corner, saying ‘this is a recording of an earlier broadcast? Fake.” 

You snorted into your glass as everyone’s attention turned back to the screen. Three minutes till midnight. “I was a little apprehensive at first when you said you’d put us down to host,” you said, leaning back into Brock’s chest, “but I’m glad you did. This is nice.” 

“I’m glad we’ve got everyone around,” he said, looking down at you. “What are you drinking?” he asked curiously. He hadn’t noticed before, too caught up in the euphoria and exhilaration of the night, but the more he looked at it, the more he realized that your glass looked different than everyone else’s. 

“Sparkling cider,” you said, your heart rate picking up. “I brought it in case any of the kids came.” 

“But there was plenty of champagne left?” Brock questioned. “We’re at our own house, it’s not like you need to be playing designated driver.” You let out an airy laugh, the kind that made Brock’s eyes immediately snap to yours because he knew you so well, he could read even the slightest actions, the smallest shift in tone, and he knew what that particular laugh meant. It was your nervous laugh. “What is it?” he asked, guiding you around the corner to the darkened hallway, the residual glimmer of the lights from the Christmas tree glowing softly on the walls. 

You looked up at him, the purest most radiant smile you had ever given him crossing over your face. “You’re not supposed to drink when you’re pregnant,” you whispered,  your top lip trembling and letting you know that you were only moments away from tears. 

Brock was speechless as he looked at you, the near-silence of the hallway a strange contrast to the growing noise in the living room as the clock ticked closer and closer to the new year. “And you’re...You’re not drinking because…” He faltered. 

You gently took both of your glasses, setting them on a side table before taking his left hand in your own, running your thumb over his wedding band. “I’m not drinking because I’m pregnant, Brock,” you repeated, your voice cracking. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. You felt a twinge in your heart, but you knew you really couldn’t be upset with him for not being sure. It had been a year and a half and there had been more than once where you both thought it was finally it, that it had finally taken. 

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I took a test the other day, after you had asked me if I was going to. God, I wasn’t expecting anything different, Brock. I wasn’t expecting anything,” you said. “But three minutes was up, and I turned the test over,” his hand tightened almost imperceptibly around yours, “and I saw a plus sign. I’ve never seen one before, Brock, it’s never been positive.” You didn’t realize you had started crying until Brock reached up with the hand that wasn’t holding yours, wiping away a tear that had fallen onto your cheek. “But I didn’t want to get my hopes up again. Not until I was sure. So I found a midwifery center online, called — thank God they had a cancellation — and went in yesterday. I wanted to get it confirmed, but I didn’t want to do anything without you. I didn’t even look at the ultrasound, all I had her tell me was that everything looked absolutely perfect for seven weeks along.” 

It was your husband’s turn for tears now, neither of you paying any mind to the deafening countdown that was happening just steps away. “You’re really pregnant?” 

You nodded again. “We have an appointment again in two days. They’re going to show us the heartbeat.” 

That was what broke him, bringing Brock down to his knees in front of you, his hand slipping from yours as he brought it up to rest on your lower stomach. Where his baby was. Where your baby was. “I’m finally going to be a dad,” he said, as if the knowledge that both of your lives would be changed forever come next July was just now hitting him, as if he’d never known purpose and fulfillment quite on the same level until you spoke those words to him. 

You knelt down next to him, dropping a kiss on his lips just as the clock struck midnight. It wasn’t like any kiss you had ever shared before, not overwhelmed with passion or desire or want, nor the small, steady sort of kisses you had grown to love in your years as a married couple, the kind that said you’re my best friend in not so many words. This was a kiss of adoration, of devotion, of pure reverence for your husband and the life you had finally created together. “We’re having a baby.”

[destiny-smasher]

Life is Strange: True Colors

Leading up to the release of Episode 1 of TellTale's The Walking Dead game, I was working freelance for GameRevolution at the time, lived in the area, and had the chance to play a build of the game to write a preview on it. I remember comparing it to Mass Effect because, at the time, there just...weren't games of that subgenre. Of course, by now we've seen an explosion of this type of game - the 'narrative/choice-driven game,' spearheaded and even oversaturated by Telltale to their own demise.

Out of all of the games that have come from that initial boom, Life is Strange by DontNod was and still is the most influential on my life, but I also have always harbored really conflicted feelings about it - especially with how it resolved its narrative. Hell, if you're reading this, you're probably aware that I spent a few years of my life creating a sequel fanstory which I even adapted a chunk of into visual novel format. Hundreds of thousands of words, days and days of life spent essentially trying to process and reconcile my conflicted feelings about this game's conclusion(s). Since then, I've been experimenting with interactive fiction and am currently developing my own original visual novel using everything I've learned from both creating and playing games in this genre. It's a subgenre of game I have a lot of interest and passion for because, when handled well, it can allow a player to sort of co-direct a guided narrative experience in a way that's unique compared to strictly linear cinematic experiences but still have a curated, focused sense of story.

Up until this point, I've regarded Night in the Woods as probably the singular best game of this style, with others like Oxenfree and The Wolf Among Us as other high marks. I've never actually put any Life is Strange game quite up there - none of them have reached that benchmark for me, personally. Until now, anyway.

But now, I can finally add a new game to that top tier, cream of the crop list. Life is Strange: True Colors is just damn good. I'm an incredibly critical person as it is - and that critique usually comes from a place of love - so you can imagine this series has been really hard to for me given that I love it, and yet have never truly loved any actual full entry in it. I have so many personal issues, quibbles, qualms, and frustration with Life is Strange: with every individual game, with how it has been handled by its publisher (my biggest issue at this point, actually), with how it has seemingly been taken away from its original development studio, with how it chooses to resolve its narratives...

But with True Colors, all of those issues get brushed aside long enough for me to appreciate just how fucking well designed it is for this style of game. I can appreciate how the development team, while still clearly being 'indie' compared to other dev teams working under Square-Enix, were able to make such smart decisions in how to design and execute this game. Taken on its own merits, apart from its branding, True Colors is absolutely worth playing if you enjoy these 'telltale' style games. Compared to the rest of the series, I would argue it's the best one so far, easily. I had a lot of misgivings and doubts going in, and in retrospect, those are mostly Square-Enix's fault. Deck Nine, when given the freedom to make their own original game in the same vein as the previous three, fucking nailed it as much as I feel like they could, given the kinds of limitations I presume they were working within.

I'm someone who agonizes every single time there is news for Life is Strange as a series - someone who essentially had to drop out of the fandom over infighting, then dropped out of even being exposed to the official social media channels for it later on (I specifically have the Square-Enix controlled channels muted). I adore Max and Chloe, and as a duo, as a couple, they are one of my top favorites not just in gaming, but in general. They elevated the original game to be something more than the sum of its parts for me. And while I have enjoyed seeing what DontNod has made since, it's always been their attention to detail in environmental craftsmanship, in tone and atmosphere, which has caught my interest. They're good at creating characters with layers, but imo they've never nailed a narrative arc. They've never really hit that sweet spot that makes a story truly resonate with me. Deck Nine's previous outing, Before the Storm, was all over the place, trying to mimic DontNod while trying to do its own things - trying to dig deeper into concepts DontNod deliberately left open for interpretation while also being limited in what it could do as a prequel.

But with True Colors, those awkward shackles are (mostly) off. They have told their own original story, keeping in tone and concept with previous Life is Strange games, and yet this also feels distinctly different in other ways.

Yes, protagonist Alex Chen is older than previous characters, and most of the characters in True Colors are young adults, as opposed to teenagers. Yes, she has a supernatural ability. And yes, the game is essentially a linear story with some freedom in how much to poke around at the environment and interact with objects/characters, with the primary mechanic being making choices which influence elements of how the story plays out. None of this is new to the genre, or even Life is Strange. But the execution was clearly planned out, focused, and designed with more caution and care than games like this typically get.

A smaller dev team working with a budget has to make calls on how to allocate that budget. With True Colors, you will experience much fewer locales and environments than you will in Life is Strange 2. Fewer locations than even Life is Strange 1, by my count. But this reinforces the game's theming. I suspect the biggest hit to the game's budget was investing in its voice acting (nothing new for this series) but specifically in the motion capture and facial animation.

You have a game about a protagonist trying to fit in to a small, tightly knit community. She can read the aura of people's emotions and even read their minds a little. And the game's budget and design take full advantage of this. You spend your time in a small main street/park area, a handful of indoor shops, your single room apartment. It fits within a tighter budget, but it reinforces the themes the game is going for. Your interactions with characters are heightened with subtle facial cues and microexpressions, which also reinforces the mechanic and theming regarding reading, accepting, and processing emotions. And you get to make some choices that influence elements of this - influenced by the town, influenced by the emotions of those around you, which reinforce the main plot of trying to navigate a new life in a small town community.

When I think about these types of games, the conclusion is always a big deal. In a way, it shouldn't be, because I usually feel it's about the journey, not the destination. And as an example, I actually really dislike the ending of the original Life is Strange. I think it's a lot of bullshit in many ways. The setpiece is amazing and epic, sure, but the actual storytelling going on is...really hollow for me. Yes, the game does subtly foreshadow in a number of ways that this is the big choice it's leading up to, but the game never actually makes sense of it. And the problem is, if your experience is going to end on a big ol' THIS or THAT kind of moment, it needs to make sense or the whole thing will fall apart as soon as the credits are rolling and the audience spends a moment to think about what just happened. When you look at the end of Season 1 of Telltale's The Walking Dead, it's not powerful just because of what choice you're given, but because through the entire final episode, we know the stakes - we know what is going to ultimately happen, and we know the end of the story is fast approaching. All of the cards are on the table by the time we get to that final scene, and it works so well because we know why it's happening, and it is an appropriate thematic climax that embodies the theming of the entire season. It works mechanically, narratively, and thematically, and 'just makes sense.'

The ending of Life is Strange 1 doesn't do that, if you ask me. The ending of most games in this genre don't really hit that mark. When I get to the end of most game 'seasons' like this, even ones I enjoy, I'm typically left frustrated, confused, and empty in a way.

The ending of True Colors, on the other hand, nails everything it needs to. Handily, when compared to its peers.

If you're somehow reading this and have not played this game but intend to, now is probably where you should duck out, as I will be

discussing SPOILERS from the entire game, specifically the finale.

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Firstly, since I don't know where else to put this, some criticisms I found with the game. And honestly, they're all pretty damn minor compared to most games of this type.

Mainly, I just wish the whole Typhon thing was handled a bit more deliberately. It's a bit weird to do the 'big evil corporation' thing (especially when a big corporation like Square Enix occupies as much as or even more of the credits to this game than the people who actually MADE it?) without offering more explanation and subtlety. The game certainly makes some efforts but they're mostly small and mostly optional, like background chatter or a handful of one-off bits of documentation/etc. you can find in the environment. I feel like Diane in particular needed to be fleshed out just a little bit more to really sell us on how and why things like this happen, why corporations make decisions that cost people their happiness, security, and lives and they just get to keep on doing it. I think just a little bit that is unavoidable to the player that puts emphasis on maybe how much the town relies on the money/resources Typhon provides would've helped. Again, this is minor, but it stands out when I have so little else to critique.

I would've liked to get more insight on why Jed is the way he is. No, I don't think we really needed to learn more about his backstory, or even really his motivations. I think we get enough of that. I just think it would've been great to somehow highlight more deliberately how/why he's built up this identity overtop of what he's trying to suppress. Maybe even just having Alex internally realize, "Wait, what the hell, Jed has been hiding these emotions and my powers haven't picked up on it?" or something to that effect could have added an extra oomph to highlight how Jed seems to be coping with his emotions by masking/suppressing them. Also really minor complaint, but again...there's not much else here I can think to really improve on within the confines of what's in the game.

The game doesn't really call Alex's power into question morally. Like. Max has an entire meltdown by the end of her story, second-guessing if she's even helped anyone at all, if she has 'the right' to do so, how her powers might be affecting or expressing her own humanity and flaws...this story doesn't really get into that despite a very similar concept of manipulating others. There's like one bit in a document you can choose to read in Alex's 'nightmare' scene, but that's really it. I feel like this sentiment and how it's executed could have easily been expanded upon in just this one scene to capture what made that Max/Other Max scene do what it did in a way that would address the moral grayness of Alex's powers and how she uses them, and give players a way to express their interpretation of that. Also, very small deal, just another tidbit I would've liked to see.

When I first watched my wife play through Episode 5 (I watched her play through the game first, then I played it myself), I wasn't really feeling the surreal dreamscape stuff of Alex's flashbacks - which is weird, because if you're read my work from the past few years, you'll know I usually love that sort of shit. I think what was throwing me off was that it didn't really feel like it was tying together what the game was about up until that point, and felt almost like it was just copying what Life is Strange did with Max's nightmare sequence (minus the best part of that sequence, imo, where Max literally talks to herself).

But by the time I had seen the rest of the story, and re-experienced it myself, I think it clicked better. This is primarily a story about Alex Chen trying to build a new life for herself in a new community - a small town, a tightly knit place. Those flashbacks are specifically about Alex's past, something we only get teeny tiny tidbits of, and only really if we go looking for them. I realized after I gave myself a few days to process and play through the game myself that this was still a fantastic choice because it reinforces the plot reasons why Alex is even in the town she's in (because her father went there, and her brother in turn went there looking for him), and it reinforces the theme of Alex coming to accept her own emotions and confront them (as expressed through how the flashbacks are played out and the discussions she has with the image of Gabe in her mind, which is really just...another part of herself trying to get her to process things).

By the time Alex escapes the mines and returns to the Black Lantern, all of the cards are on the table. By that point, we as the audience know everything we need to. Everything makes sense - aside from arguably why Jed has done what he has done, but put a pin in that for a sec. We may not know why Alex has the powers she does, but we have at least been given context for how they manifested - as a coping mechanism of living a life inbetween the cracks of society, an unstable youth after her family fell apart around her (and oof, trust me, I can relate with this in some degree, though not in exactly the same ways). And unlike Max's Rewind power, the story and plot doesn't put this to Alex's throat, like it's all on her to make some big choice because she is the way she is, or like she's done something wrong by pursuing what she cares about (in this case, the truth, closure, and understanding).

When Alex confronts Jed in front of all of the primary supporting characters, it does everything it needs to.

Mechanically: it gives players choices for how to express their interpretation of events, and how Alex is processing them; it also, even more importantly, uses the 'council' as a way of expressing how the other characters have reacted to the choices the player has made throughout the game, and contributes to how this climax feels. We're given a 'big choice' at the end of the interaction that doesn't actually change the plot, or even the scene, really (it just affects like one line of dialogue Alex says right then) and yet BOTH choices work so well as a conclusion, it's literally up to your interpretation and it gives you an in-game way to express that.

Thematically: the use of the council reinforces the game's focus on community; and the way the presentation of the scene stays locked in on Alex and Jed's expressions reinforces its focus on emotion - not to mention that the entire scene also acts as a way to showcase how Alex has come to accept, understand, and process her own emotions while Jed, even THEN, right fucking at the moment of his demise, is trying to mask his emotions, to hide them and suppress them and forget them (something the game has already expressed subtly by way of his negative emotions which would give him away NOT being visible to Alex even despite her power).

Narratively: we are given a confrontation that makes sense and feels edifying to see play out after everything we've experienced and learned. We see Alex use her powers in a new and exciting way that further builds the empowering mood the climax is going for and adds a cinematic drama to it. No matter what decisions the player makes, Alex has agency in her own climax, we experience her making a decision, using her power, asserting herself now that she has gone through the growth this narrative has put her through. Alex gets to resolve her shit, gets to have her moment to really shine and experience the end of a character arc in this narrative.

Without taking extra time to design the game around these pillars, the finale wouldn't be so strong. If they didn't give us enough opportunities to interact with the townspeople, their presence in the end wouldn't matter, but everyone who has a say in the council is someone we get an entire scene (at least one) dedicated to interacting with them and their emotions. If they didn't implement choices in the scene itself, it would still be powerful but we wouldn't feel as involved, it'd be more passive. If they didn't showcase Alex's power, we might be left underwhelmed, but they do so in a way that actually works in the context through how they have chosen to present it, while also just tonally heightening the climax by having this drastic lighting going on. If they didn't have the council involved, we'd lose the theming of community. If they didn't have the foil of Alex/Jed and how they have each processed their emotions, we'd miss that key component. And if we didn't have such detailed facial animations, the presentation just wouldn't be as effective.

Ryan/Steph are a little bit like, in this awkward sideline spot during the climax? Steph always supports you, and Ryan supports you or doubts you conditionally, which is unsurprising but also ties into the themes of Ryan having grown up woven into this community, and Steph being once an outsider who has found a place within it. They're still there, either way, which is important. The only relevant characters who aren't present are more supporting characters like Riley, Ethan, and Mac. Ethan being the only one of those who gets an entire 'super emotions' scene, but that also marks the end of his arc and role in the story, so...it's fine. Mac and Riley are less important and younger, as well, and have their own side story stuff you have more direct influence on, too.

But damn, ya'll, this climax just works so well. It especially stands out to me given just how rarely I experience a conclusion/climax that feels this rewarding.

And then after that we get a wonderful montage of a theoretical life Alex might live on to experience. Her actions don't overthrow a conglomerate billionaire company. She doesn't even save a town, really. If the entire council thinks you're full of shit, Jed still confesses either way - because it's not up to the council whether he does this, it's because of Alex, regardless of player choice. Honestly, even after a playthrough where I made most choices differently from my wife, there weren't really many changes to that montage at the end. It'd have been great if it felt more meaningfully different, but maybe it can be. Even if not, the design intent is there and the execution still works. It's a really nice way to end the story, especially since it's not even a literal montage but one Alex imagines - again, her processing what she's gone through, what she desires, expressed externally for us to see it. And for once, the actual final 'big decision' in a game of this type manages to be organic, make sense, and feel good and appropriate either way. You choose to either have Alex stay in Haven Springs and continue building her life there, or you can choose to have her leave and try to be an indie musician, with the events of the game being yet another chunk of her life to deal with and move on from (I haven't really touched on it, but music, especially as a way to express and process emotions, is a recurring thing, much like photography was in the original game, or Sean's illustrations in LiS2). For once, a climactic 'pick your ending' decision that doesn't feel shitty. It's pretty rare for this genre, honestly.

I could - and already have, and likely will - have so much more to say about this game and its details, but I really wanted to focus on touching upon a main element that has left me impressed: the way the entire game feels designed. It feels intentionally constructed but in a way that reinforces what it is trying to express as a story. It's not just trying to make people cry for the sake of 'emotions.' It is a game literally about emotions and it comes to a conclusion in a way that is clearly saying something positive and empowering about empathy and self-acceptance.

Storytelling is a craft, like any other, and it entails deliberate choices and decisions that can objectively contribute to how effective a story is for its intended audience.

A good story isn't something you find, after all.

It's something you build.

[project-ohagi]

Keigo Takami ღ Hawks {Omegaverse AU}

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Fantastical visions of the future were few and far between - the hectic nature of professional heroism always managed to choke the life out of other, more selfish pursuits. Romance is considered within this category, for it seems to benefit none but those whose involvement is direct. Finding a mate under such conditions becomes an endeavour worthy of Hercules himself. The pain and fatigue were discouraging, and no-one kindled his interest - not even remotely.

Yet, instincts and unbearable yearning dictated his Omega's flight pattern. Although his heat wasn't in-bound, his heart refused to beat alone. To the contrary, its canary-song extended both encouragement and guidance to the love-lost and wandering Keigo: "In aeternum, find your forever."

Forever, huh? Who'd be willing to spend the rest of their life with me? Bet I seem a tad too cocky for an Omega, being the Number Two and all that. What does 'forever' even mean? I could do forever, without a doubt, but...who'd do it with me?

Naivety glimmered behind his eyes, as he contemplated 'forever'. What were his requirements for an Alpha? How could an equipoise be bridged between work and domestic life? Which mask would he choose if...if 'forever' remained elusive? Keigo's prior method of coping was simple, but effective: KFC and cry. While ultimately refreshing, in the moment, death always seemed sweeter. It never advanced into a viable option, but a dramatic flair was par for the course.

"-and that's the courting process of a Red-Tailed Hawk!"

Keigo's over-investment in daydreams and quandaries had apparently immunised him from any outside force, until that very moment. Sparing a glance toward the ground, he recognised the familiar figures of humans and...hawks?? Wait...there were falcons, too.

So many birds of prey...and they're all so well behaved. That woman...is she a Falconer? The Omega nestled within Keigo's soul soared at the mere thought. ...Is she an Alpha?

Little cooperation could be plucked from his mind, which knew wisdom from folly. However, despite its best adjudication, Keigo and his Omega (at this point, almost assumed to be two separate entities) decided against rhyme or reason. After all, if a bird squawks at you for submission, squawk louder to assert dominance. That tactic was flawless. Keigo puffed out his wings, swooping ever-lower, praying for even an ounce of attention. He received far more. At the instant of his descent from the heavens, the birds alerted you. Every syllable rolling from your tongue became jumbled, a crimson hue paining the canvas of your cheeks. This man...celestial, god-born...he was no stranger to your heart.

"Is that Hawks??" One of your students yelled, excitably. "What's he doing here?? We're nowhere near Fukuoka!"

"He does have wings, idiot." The venom-laced retort went unchecked - you were busy ogling those symbols of beauty and strength.

Subtlety wasn't an art you had perfected, but where was the consequence? Keigo certainly relished the experience, finding comfort in every sweep of your eyes, every compliment and feather-light touch. Had you asked permission? No. Did he care? Did he fuck. The opportunity for a congenial introduction had passed, and if honesty took the reins, How in the Fresh Prince of Hell do I approach this? KFC won't solve every dilemma. Think, Keigo! What would the Colonel do? How would he weasel his Kentucky fried ass out of this? Not like...I need her to like me, obviously, but I need to say something! She could be my forever...

Unfortunately, your avian protectors (whom Keigo had ignored and then forgot existed) deliberated among themselves for all of two seconds, settling on a guilty verdict and sentencing him to death. His crime? Fuck knows, who cares? Their shrill cries and fiercely-beating wings sliced through the mirage of tranquillity.

You sighed. "Hestia, Rhea, inside voices please. Juno, Asmodeus, you aren't menacing, so stop pretending to be. Why don't you greet him, rather than saying all that nasty stuff, hmm?"

"You can understand them?" Incredulity punctuated his words - how fortune must finally be favouring him.

The birds were indignant, but eventually resigned. Just one of hopefully many triumphs for Keigo.

"Yes, that's my quirk. It's confined to birds though, so not particularly useful." You smiled, failing to notice your students silently slipping away. "Oh, and eh...sorry. I didn't ask before touching you. Your wings are just gorgeous."

"Haha, nothing wrong with that. You've got good instincts." He mused, feeling his cleverly-constructed character melt away, bit by bit.

Strident melodies and the giggling of tiny cherubs played games with his ears. "About that...are you an Omega, by any chance? The news always says you're a Beta, but you don't have that scent."

"I am." He was too eager and willing to provide such information.

"You're an Alpha?"

Do you wanna get married? No...I can't ask that. That's beyond stupid.

You nodded. "Yeah, both my parents are Alphas, so it was practically a guarantee. Don't mind the birds," You added, after noting a sudden stare-down between Keigo and Asmodeus. "they're...flighty."

"That one hates me, for sure." He huffed.

"He hates everyone, especially the people who get my attention. And...most male birds. He doesn't get to decide how I spend my time though, despite his best efforts." The gentle caress you afforded Asmodeus sent envious, yet calming whispers to his heart.

She'd be good with kids. Can I...can I make this work? Am I allowed to...? She's looking at me the same way I'm looking at her...

Was he a hostage, or a voluntary captive? What did it even matter? If this happiness, so pure and unbridled, was a vice, then hurry and cast him to the depths of Hell.

In aeternum...I think I've found forever.

[Word Count: 946]