#need to draw stupid situations and dialogue and whatever!!!!!

[forecast0ctopus]

you’re an old fashioned boy, mccoy

[athingimdoingnow]

Day 5: Lost Among the Starlit Wreckage

Let’s talk about a dying mecha and their pilot.

This is something I will be playing. Frequently.

Lost Among the Starlit Wreckage is a playing-card based narrative system where you take on the role of a pilot in a dying mech. Theoretically this is set among the stars (duh), but could feasibly be elsewhere, whether you’re on an alien planet, deep below the core of the planet, or maybe just alone in an apocalyptic earth. What matters is that you are alone. The game is journal-based. You deal yourself 24 cards plus a joker, and those represent your mech’s status (like a dashboard, flaring with red lights as it fails). Every once in a while you roll a dice, draw an appropriate number of cards, and if any cards match, you lose those cards. Your objective is to make it through roughly ten rounds without dying. If you lose all your cards (or draw a joker, which is a reactor failure), you die. The game also has rules for two people, in fact, it has two sets of rules for two people. One for a pilot and rescuer, and one for two pilots.

Originality: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

I am legally unable to give it five, we KNOW the scenes this is capturing, it’s not unheard of. It is, however, the first TTRPG system I’ve seen do this, and it does it so very, very well. Four stars, it’d be four and a half if I was a coward.

Mechanics: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This game is doing things I could not DREAM of. I forgot to mention earlier, but the cards you draw during a repair segment (where you try not to die) correlate to prompts, which you answer in-character as the pilot or in dialogue depending on if you’re alone or with another person. And oh my gosh, did I mention they have two DIFFERENT rulesets for two people to make sure the vibe is completely accurate? The layout of the cards even attempts to resemble a system overview in a mech, it’s so so SO good. It’s simple, straightforward, and thoughtful, which is what dying alone should be. Nothing complicated, just the slow, painful decline, watching lights shut off one by one.

Replayability: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

For me PERSONALLY this is a five star. I have it at four for some stupid reason of “objectivity.” In theory there’s an argument that playing this one time through each mode would be all you wanna do. Maybe twice. I could see the average person, even someone that likes the game, not being obsessed with the journalistic style or feeling like other systems are more vibrant. It is slow, and quiet, and manufactures a sense of dread, and sometimes that’s not what you want to do. It’s also not a pick-up and play, needing at least some degree of set-up, so it doesn’t benefit from that either. 

Variability: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ The two player rules do carry this category. So, in theory, while you can play a myriad of pilots and settings and they really do flex into anything, the game will always be sorta fundamentally the same. That’s intended, it’s trying to get at a very specific vibe, but that makes it lacking in this category. However, the two player rules open up the nuance of adding a relationship to the other person, such as archrival or family member or combinations thereof, which in my opinion does let you experience a very different form of dialogue even in a similar situation. 

Character Creation: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Okay so it gives you GREAT character creation guidelines but fundamentally you’re always making a character in a roughly similar situation and whatnot blah blah blah. You have to put in some effort to develop them, game doesn’t have a system that handles it for you,  no classes or stuff like that, whatever. Yeah. Four stars. That’s “objective” enough.

Overall: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ +

THIS GAME IS AWESOME! While my other categories are attempting to nitpick as much as possible to feel more nuanced, this game just hits every dopamine receptor for me. I love journaling and two-player ttrpgs, this one uses cards, it does so in ways I truly never would’ve considered in a million years. I have a final to write today but after that? I’m playing this shit. You better believe it. This gets my highest recommendation. Actually play this one. Please. It’s like seven dollars. Play it. I swear. This is just phenomenal. AND GUESS WHAT! THE CREATOR (Seamus Conneely) PUT A BUNCH OF OTHER GAMES IN THIS SAME BUNDLE! SO! I WILL BE VERY HAPPY WHEN WE GET THERE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[accirax]

initial thoughts on DCAS episode 16

... is Derek really an incel? like, at the very least, shouldn't him being with Kristal prove that he isn't an incel? i have no qualms with Emily insulting Derek, but she should at least be accurate.

ooh, Emily going full villain mode? we stan :D

girl how would you possibly think this would work

so Ally has resorted to playing a fully emotional game, huh? you either get eliminated a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the Jake.

the music in this scene cracked me up. also, i think aleriya is (canonically) dead after this scene, if it hadn't already died beforehand. (i say canonically bc fans can do whatever they want)

d-does he still...? also, obligatory "just because Connor loves Riya doesn't mean she has any obligation to love him back, villain or not."

i really can't tell if this part of Ally's character arc is meant to be viewed as good or bad. like, the show is obviously telling us that Ally's overall trajectory is bad, and being needlessly cruel to other people for the sake of putting your own emotional wellbeing first could certainly be a part of that. but, there's also been a lot of commentary about how hard it is to be under the scrutiny of social media (likely from the crew's own experiences), so Ally learning to stand up for herself and what she needs could also be a form of wish fulfillment. hopefully it'll resolve as a multi-layered predicament in the end, but i'm just trying to figure out how Ally will respond to her edit in All Stars in either the finale or the Loser's Motel episode.

...can't you just wait, like, two more episodes to directly state the point of your character arc, essentially then concluding it? then i could be sure that you'd win.

HELP

lmao of course the nerd can't rock climb. he can carry 120 pounds on his back but he cannot ascend.

Connor is really fucking strong goddamn?

Ally really can't fight this, because this is the exact rationale that she was trying to use on Jake for their entire games.

i want to see people draw buff Grett in the style of the buff Natsuki meme from DDLC. but, also, go Grett!!!

the intense difficulty of a twelve piece jigsaw puzzle. Venus noted that it really sounded like Kristal was describing a slide puzzle, but I understand why that would've been really difficult to storyboard.

Connor you can't be this stupid (/j)

in-universe, i don't really understand how she beat Alec (he was really good at the block puzzle in s1 and it fits his vibes), but yay Grett! i knew she wasn't going home tonight anyway.

what else could it have possibly been, Ally? regardless, we're definitely setting up the pieces for Grett's downfall soon.

can you really count the TikTok challenge as a "Jake immunity win"? literally everyone except Gabby and Grett won immunity in that challenge.

for a moment, i really thought Connor was going to pull the Kim Possible "out there... in here..." thing.

so true Jake

this feels like a fanfic line

you know Jake's having flashbacks to his last final 6 experience.

well, while i certainly thought that it was Riya's time to go in terms of the cut, it does actually make more sense for Alec to go home here, no plot armor involved! (other than arguably the plot armor of not letting Alec win the challenge.) Alec is much more threatening in a final 3 situation because of his greater athleticism and intelligence as compared to Riya, and Grett is closer to Riya than Alec. it sucks to see one of my favorites go, but it's entirely logical.

Riya out here projecting ("little toy")

this was such a good moment. i especially love the storytelling without dialogue going on with Connor's reaction. anyways, if Riya wasn't going to win before, she's definitely not going to win now. you don't get hit with the "look at what a sorry state you're in" three episodes before the final and then snatch the W.

maybe you shouldn't have fired and humiliated your employees live on TV, then.

is this season going to end with Kristal resigning from the show? i thought that might happen to make way for Emily as the new host, but now that she's going more villainous, i don't think that'll be the cast anymore. maybe Derek and Trevor will take the show back over, as (I think) the more popular hosts in the fandom?

anyways. a solid episode! i think a good number of people saw the Connor idol play coming from a mile away, so it wasn't all that surprising that one of the major villains was going down. still, we had interesting strategy and some great character moments, especially for Connor. they're really making the best of his extended time in All Stars. and, hey, there are only two guys left, so maybe he'll make the finale! it doesn't really matter, though, because it's gonna be Jake. i'll keep riding the Jake winner train until he gets eliminated. not that i think that's going to happen ;)

see you next week!

[saturnz-skiez]

I can blab about this so I happily will. Cough

I seriously love that p03 is just a piece of shit and there’s really nothing more to it. It’s pissed off to no end but it’s never irrational. Stuck in a broken haunted game? Good reason to be angry. Work output is staggering? Wellll it’s not the worker’s fault but good reason to be angry. Stuck in a little paper card in an uncomfortable body that is not yours and now you have to trust some stupid stranger with your life even though you are technically immortal, because death is still painful? Very good reason to be angry.

I do think there’s a lot of very interesting themes going on with this character that further support this anger and suggest maybe it’s just frustration with its own existence that infects all else in its life. Which I understand a lot actually. I’ve said this before but there’s a frequent theme of it losing control of its body- willingly and unwillingly. Our first encounter with it is when it’s the Stoat Card, which it was forced into. It no longer has any autonomy nor does it resemble its body anymore. While the other scrybes are in this situation and dislike it as well, they have very different attitudes towards it. Then there’s the Uberbots and Botopia NPCs, which are willing examples. p03 can function as a medium for these personalities and it does so without argument even if it doesn’t like them. It can control them but only if it doesn’t like what it’s hearing. But it still loses autonomy in those moments where someone else is talking. There’s also the Mycologist secret boss, which is REALLY interesting to me. They give you a botopia asset (a key) in act 2 that p03 doesn’t even know existed, to unlock a boss it didn’t know existed. To give them the ability to take over its body without its knowledge, and just use it for their stupid experiments. This causes some obvious discomfort for p03, which it expresses in dialogue that I. Do not have right now.. and then there’s it’s death which I don’t really need to explain? Its body does not have the ability to fight back against . Its own head being ripped off. And that is taken advantage of.

And this goes for all living things but it was also created unwillingly. And g0lly’s existence implies maybe it has parts of itself it cannot change no matter how much it dislikes them, it can only hide them. The other scrybes express dislike of their situation as well, but it’s more pointed at one another or towards more pressing matters like the classified information on the disk. p03’s worries are almost entirely directed at itself. It constantly tells you not to kill it in act 1, practically begging. It insults your plays but again that’s probably because it fears for its life on that board no matter where it is. Its willing to ignore a potential breach in its plans because it cares more about the end result than the mere existence of the other scrybes. It shuts down what it doesn’t like and denies others their voices despite the same thing happening to it in the past. And whatever other examples are out there.

I’m not saying there’s any implications here but it is intriguing. p03 is written in such a fascinating way and at first just seems like an irrational and rude jerk, but after a while I do get it. I would be upset too. There’s nothing fair about the world it was created into. There’s nothing comfortable about it. There’s nothing to like. It was created with a purpose it cannot fulfill because the game was never meant to have players. The existence of this character is suffocating. And I cannot honestly say I don’t understand it. I’m a transgender or whatever so you can probably draw some of the lines.

also the idea that maybe it was created to be angry at its creation is neat as well. And also really sad but entirely possible. Imagine being born into reality and the only thing you feel is visceral discomfort.

i don’t really know how to describe most things but whatever character archetype p03 fits into I need to see more of it . Characters who are pricks maybe? Idk.

[hellhathfrozethoverthinking]

Mega Man 2 Powered Up - Dialogue (*Metal Man route)

see this post for further details on what exactly the hell i'm doing here.

my idea for how the Wilybot story plays out is basically like: dr. wily has made a severe and continuous lapse in his judgement error regarding the Alien. shit is buggy and actively dangerous to use. now, with his life at top priority, you have to stop him from getting this plan off the ground before something drastic happens.

your bros are of course going to be in your way the entire time, following orders and unaware of what you know. you've got to subdue them to get to wily.

"why don't you just tell them what you know?" SEE you could do that if these werent a bunch of combat robots who solve all their problems by attacking them until they go away. this has the unfortunate consequence of doing Mega Man's job for him, but hey. PRIORITIES RIGHT

in order to make them playable, you have to beat them buster only, just like in the original. the explosion animation will change into a warping one at the end of the fight so you can tell.

oh also instead of Roll's voice, all WARNING! calls are heard in a bitcrushed, tinny monotone, implied to be the default voice for your assistant minion.

OKAY WHATEVER LET'S GO. METAL TIME

(OPENING MONOLOGUE)

Narrator: The year is 200X. In his first attempt at world domination, mad scientist Dr. Wily was defeated by the super robot named MegaMan. Seeking revenge, Dr. Wily escaped from the public eye…and returned with eight robots geared for combat. MetalMan is one of them, armed with ceratanium blades, but his sharp eye takes issue with his creator's new scheme…

(TUTORIAL STAGE CUTSCENE)

[Metal Man runs across a dark corridor somewhere under Wily Castle in the middle of the night.]

[His COM unit begins to ring as he's running. It rings twice before he picks up, still running.]

Metal Man: What do you want, old man?

Dr. Wily: Metal Man! Snide as usual, I see…are you out performing security checks on the base like I ordered?

Metal Man: Quit breathing down my neck and maybe I could.

Dr. Wily: Cut the sass! Right now, I'm in the process of drawing out Mega Man! Finish up and be at your post by the time we're ready to begin our attack, or else!

[Dr. Wily hangs up. Shortly after, a strange low alarm begins ringing. This catches Metal Man's attention, and he proceeds to the right, beginning the tutorial stage.]

(VS. CENTRAL COMPUTER)

--WARNING!--

[The terminal situated at the top of the room lights up, the machinery beneath it whirring to life.]

Central Computer: "DWN-009" IDENTIFIED. PLEASE COMPLETE EXERCISE 001 TO CONTINUE.

Metal Man: Look, I'm just here bug checking. Can we not do this right now?

Central Computer: LOCKING DOWN…

[The room itself undergoes a shift, simulating a challenge course tailoured to Metal Man's abilities. When this shift is finished, the terminal monitor begins counting down.]

Central Computer: INITIALISATION COMPLETE. GET YOUR WEAPONS READY.

(POST-TUTORIAL STAGE CUTSCENE)

[The simulation terminates. A door on the other side of the room opens. Metal Man automatically follows the path into the control room for the Alien. A screen glows near Dr. Wily's seat.]

Metal Man: Finally. Stupid tedious anti-invasion measures.

[Metal Man sits in Dr. Wily's seat and scans the Alien program for errors.]

Metal Man: Everything looks fine. What a waste of-- [Cue program stability error SFX.] ...oh. Guess I jinxed it.

[Metal Man's COM unit rings again, only once this time before he picks up.]

Metal Man: Wow, perfect timing. We need to talk, it's about plan E.

Dr. Wily: You listen to me, this is urgent! Mega Man's just beaten my mech, and he's at large! Move your chassis out of the castle and get in position -- I've got preparations to make! NUAHAHAHAHA!!!

Metal Man: Oi, I'm serious, this is--

[Dr. Wily hangs up before he can interject. Metal Man shuts down the Alien program.]

Metal Man: ...If the old man gets in the chair as it is, he's toast. Forget preparations, I need to stop him before it's too late.

[Metal Man warps away to another wing of Wily Castle, in a flash of red and blue light.]

-LOADING...-

[Metal Man arrives in an arm of the Teleport Station and stops in front of a large, idle monitor. A Pierobot is waiting on the left.]

Metal Man: So, what'd you bring me?

Pierobot: Da-daaa!

[The screen cuts on, showing the eight robots available on the stage select.]

Metal Man: No points for precision, but it'll do. Now it's just a matter of convincing the guys to work with me.

Pierobot: Daa-daa-da-daa!

(VS. MEGA MAN)

--WARNING!--

[Mega Man is teleported into the scene in the usual fashion he would be if he were the player character.]

Mega Man: So you're the one stealing metals from the recycling plant! I've been looking for you!

Metal Man: Aw, what a coincidence, me too! Now beat it before I slit your puny throat.

Mega Man: ...Fine. I guess if you won't go peacefully, this is where we part ways.

(VS. AIR MAN)

--WARNING!--

[Similarly to his appearance in Mega Man: The Power Battle, Air Man emerges from the eye of a developing tornado.]

Air Man: THE METAL MAN COMETH! And he stands before my greatness, not as an ally…but as an opponent?

Metal Man: Quit your blustering and shut this birdhouse down before I lose my patience.

Air Man: The audacity…! The great AIRMAN shall not be made to dishonour his mission by command of hoodlum youth such as yourself! BEGONE!!

(VS. BUBBLE MAN)

–WARNING!–

[Similarly to his appearance in Mega Man 2: The Power Fighters, Bubble Man rises up in a giant bubble. When it pops, he performs a backflip stroke.]

Bubble Man: B-buh?! Metal Man, what are you doing here? And why do you look so...tense?

Metal Man: I can think of a few good reasons. You won't be one of them if you try standing in my way, bubble guts.

Bubble Man: Gnh...Y-you, you think you're gonna threaten me, huh?! N-not anymore! I'm not scared of you!!

(VS. QUICK MAN)

–WARNING!–

[Quick Man dashes across the raised floors in a blur. At the peak of his third jump, he flips into a pose on the room’s right end.]

Quick Man: Seriously, Metal? I was expecting Mega Man! Unless…hey, you didn't come to cut in front of me, did you?!

Metal Man: No, of course not. Obviously I'm here to sell you dental insurance.

Quick Man: Shut up! If you think you're gonna beat Mega Man before me, you got another thing coming!

(VS. CRASH MAN)

–WARNING!–

[The pipes on the right end of the room explode violently. Crash Man is blasted in, but recovers with a roll and stumble to a stand.]

Crash Man: You snake...stabbing us all in the backs like this...

Metal Man: If you care anything about what'll happen to Wily if I don't, you won't fight me about it.

Crash Man: TRAITOR! Raise your hand to him AND I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!!!

(VS. FLASH MAN)

–WARNING!–

[Everything freezes until there’s a sudden burst of white light. As it clears, Flash Man materialises on the right end of the room in a pose.]

Flash Man: Tell me, Metal Man…what exactly are you trying to prove by covering your heart in razor blades?

Metal Man: Good luck dissecting that. I know you love pretending to be enlightened.

Flash Man: Hmph. There's a line between independence and isolation, you know. Be careful you don't cross it.

(VS. HEAT MAN)

–WARNING!–

[Heat Man’s box sits plainly on the floor until it jumps. His arms and legs pop out, and the lid opens in a flare of fire once he’s fully standing.]

Heat Man: Mets! Hey, you bring me an E-Tank? I'm cooking in here…

Metal Man: You can get one free if you drop the mission with me.

Heat Man: Boo. I'm not catchin' heat from Wily just 'cus you wanna act dumb. Get lost.

(VS. WOOD MAN)

–WARNING!–

[The trees and their leaves above shake vigorously. Wood Man falls to the ground in a crouch, with a resonant rumble.]

Wood Man: Dude, you might have an axe to grind, but this…isn't there a better way?

Metal Man: You think this is personal? C'mon Wood, be reasonable about this. Just fall back.

Wood Man: Man, I had a feeling you'd snap one day. Someone's gotta bring you back to your roots.

(“WILY CASTLE APPEARS” CUTSCENE)

-LOADING…-

[Metal Man returns to the station. The room's lights are lower. The screen is idle and no longer reflects the stage select.]

Pierobot: Da-da-daa! Da da da!

Metal Man: Well, well. What do we have here?

[The screen settles into a clouded sky. The camera zooms into it until the perspective is from the sky itself, which is tracking Dr. Wily’s capsule as it moves through the growing storm.]

Metal Man: Heh. That's our geezer, alright.

[Dr. Wily flips open the lid. His irises are red. He briefly acknowledges/teases the camera by pulling a face and waggling his eyebrows. He shuts it again, and tries to outpace the camera.]

Metal Man: Old bat probably thinks it's still MegaMan on his bumper. What's worse, he's not taking any of my calls. I might have to grab the reins from him by force.

[While Metal Man is speaking, Dr. Wily vanishes through the clouds. When the camera catches up through the fog, it focuses at the bottom of the fortress. Cue prelude. It tilts up just in time to see Dr. Wily retreating into the eye of the skull. There is a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder.]

Pierobot: Da-da-da-da da da da-daaa?

[The monitor then comes back into play as the view of the fortress becomes a grid map.]

[The camera pulls out and fades back in to the station, where the two are standing, facing the screen.]

Metal Man: Right. Good thing I don't follow the rules. I'll just have to carve a path in. Shouldn't be too hard. I kinda live here.

[The two turn to face each other. The Pierobot smiles at him.]

Metal Man: All you have to do is make sure I have a stable link back to this room in case I need repairs, capice?

Pierobot: Da-da! Da-da da-da-daa!

[The map then becomes selectable, per fortress stage.]

(VS. MECHA DRAGON)

–WARNING!–

[Mecha Dragon’s body lurches bit by bit. She then roars out a blaze of flames.]

Mecha Dragon: Rrrrr….chaarrrrrrr…?

Metal Man: Oi, behave. You bite me and it's back in the chamber for you, bessie.

Mecha Dragon: Choarrr….CHHOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!!

(VS. PICOPICO-KUN)

–WARNING!–

[The eyes in the walls peek before flashing various colours in quick succession.]

Picopico: CONTEMPTIBLE PRESENCE IDENTIFIED. SCANNING...PLEASE STAND BY FOR CLOSING WALLS.

Metal Man: Contemptible, huh? Cranky 'cus you're a wall, ain'tcha?

Picopico: MALICIOUS INTENT DETECTED. PLEASE WAIT...ENGAGING TERMINATION PROTOCOL.

(VS. GUTS TANK)

–WARNING!–

[Guts Tank rolls onscreen, then straightens up, punching its fists together.]

Guts Tank: I'VE...GOT...GUTS.

Metal Man: Got anything else…? Brains, maybe?

Guts Tank: I'M TAKING…YOU DOWN…WITH ME.

(VS. BOOBEAM TRAP)

–WARNING!–

[The eyes of each cannon rove about and glow until they fix on Metal Man. They then blink in unison.]

Boobeam: Metal Man is here? Metal Man is here! Here? Lies! See? Hi!

Metal Man: I know you idiots can hear me! Lay off or I'm tearing you all a new one!

Boobeam: R-request? Negatory! Invalid? Code breach! Fire? He will! At will? We will!

(VS. THE DR. WILY TELEPORT STATION)

*Conditions for this one being, only the first robot you encounter here is the one you have any dialogue with. The WARNING! also only shows up once.

–WARNING!–

[The robot you’re rematching appears in the same manner and pose as they did when you first fought them. Their textures appear somewhat holographic.]

(VS. WILY MACHINE #2)

–WARNING!–

[The mech descends on screen with just a bit of puffing steam. Dr. Wily then drives his capsule into it, and pushes the windshield open. His irises are their usual colour.]

Dr. Wily: YOU!! What on Earth are you doing?! This entire time, you've done nothing but counter my attacks on the city! Whose side are you on?!

Metal Man: Yours, old man, now quiet down and listen! Look, your Plan E's got a fatal error…

Dr. Wily: SILENCE, YOU DISOBEDIENT TWIT!!! You've meddled with my plans for the last time! I shall pound you into scrap with Wily Machine #2! I'll even make a better, stronger robot from your parts! See if you ever question me again! NUHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

[He shuts the windshield and prepares the guns.]

(PHASE 2)

[The face of the ship breaks off, revealing Dr. Wily in the cockpit.]

Dr. Wily: GAHH!! No no no no no no no! Now you've gone and done it! But I'm not beat just yet!

[He improvises a temporary solution, shedding any extra broken parts. Wily Machine #2’s HP refills.]

(PHASE 2 - END)

[Wily Machine #2 fully breaks down. While it does, the floor begins to rumble.]

Dr. Wily: Grrgh…it looks like I'm going to have to break out plan E after all…don't get in my way!

Metal Man: No! Dr. Wily!!

[The floor gives way from underneath of Metal Man before Dr. Wily is seen getting away. This transitions the player directly into the secret final stage.]

(VS. DR. WILY?)

[Quietly, Dr. Wily’s capsule descends. He jumps out of it and floats idle in the darkness. It spins away on autopilot without him. No warning is given. His skin texture is buggy and his irises are red.]

MetalMan: Wily, have you lost it?! I said no!

Dr. Wily?: Defeat your own, will you? Intercept my authority, will you? You have no idea O-F THE W-WORLD-D-D-D ENDING POWWWER I HOLD, BOY.

[Halfway through the last sentence, his body begins to transform in a jittering, unstable manner. Metal Man takes a step back, worried. The vast starscape fades in around them once the Alien is fully uncloaked.]

Alien: YO-O-OUR PETTY CONCERNS ARE INCO-NSEQ-Q-QUENTIAL. KNEEL BEF-BE-BEFORE ME AND WITNESS THE TRUE POTENTIAL OF DOC-T-TOR ALBERT WIIIIL-LY.

(POST-ALIEN BATTLE)

[Dr. Wily is in a panic as everything begins to deteriorate. Warning sirens and like alerts fill the air.]

Dr. Wily: What's…what's going on…?! This thing is out of control!

[Dr. Wily is seen trying to get everything back in good working order behind his terminal, until Metal Man approaches him and picks him up from behind the control panel by force.]

Metal Man: Alright old man, you're done. Time to go home.

[Dr. Wily struggles to resist arrest. The hologram generator falls to the floor and breaks, catching fire.]

Dr. Wily: Aaaack! You insolent robot! [Cue fanfare.] Unhand me this instant! Give me a few more minutes, I can fix this! It'll just take some emergency hotwiring and--GYAH!!

[Both Metal Man and Dr. Wily teleport away, presumably to safety. The control room is then left to combust and collapse inwards.]

(ENDING CUTSCENE)

[The camera is focused on the now black stage select screen. The ancillary teleport station, partially crumbled and shrouded in darkness, is then dimly illuminated by it whirring to life. The Pierobot comes out from under some rubble, celebrating this.]

[Dr. Wily then falls in from above, looking very ragged. This scares the Pierobot. It turns to him with wide eyes.]

Dr. Wily: Ough...my head...

Pierobot: Daa! Da-da-daaa-da!!

[Dr. Wily gets up quickly with a grimacing angered expression.]

Dr. Wily: Oh! Conspiring with one of your flunkies, were you?! When I get my hands on you, I...eh?!

[Dr. Wily looks around for Metal Man. The camera pans slightly with him to show they did not arrive in tandem.]

Dr. Wily: Where did...I thought we both...?!

Pierobot: Da-da-daa...da-da da daa da.

[Dr. Wily takes over the computer and immediately gets to work trying to locate Metal Man's signal. A picture of Metal Man, shut down and stuck under support beams and brick in an unknown location focuses into clarity.]

Dr. Wily: Metal Man...? How in blazes?! You! Dispatch a team to retrieve him at once!

[The two parties go their separate ways.]

[The camera gradually zooms into the monitor feed until the view is of Metal Man's body on the ground, in real time. [Cue ending theme.] The seasons pass him by outside, as do events of what's happening in the background while he is inactive. As the song draws to a close, the rain stops. Dr. Wily's capsule flies in front of the sun, indicating he and his robots have finally found him (after the events of the epilogue circa Mega Man's route). The camera slowly, and then quickly pans up through the sky to the stars, and thus begins the staff roll.]

[Post-staff roll, the player is prompted to save once more before being returned to the company logos and opening cinematic.]

--END--

[phoenixyfriend]

#9 “Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me.” with Obi-Wan & Jango & Satine? (... or Obi-Wan/Jango/Satine, I'm not picky)

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Oh, I'm going to make this deeply stupid and AU because I got struck by a plot bunny and I'm taking it out on a prompt.

Satine hates the man named Jango Fett.

They've met before, once or twice. He'd known her father, before the latter's assassination. She'd met Jango when she was a child, before he'd lost his people at Galidraan, before she'd lost her sister to a terrorist group and her father to a blaster shot. She'd thought him gruff but kind, at the time, and very sad.

Now, she just wants him to trip on a pipe and brain himself on one of the many rusted, broken beams around them. She won't strangle him herself, won't turn her back on her oaths and commit violence, but she's not too proud to hope for an accident.

"Pick up the pace, princess."

"I am a Duchess," she snaps, lifting her skirts to step delicately over something that might have been machinery at one point.

The only light they have is from his helmet, and the only reason she hasn't fallen from the fabric catching on some matter or other is that he has a sense for when she gets caught.

He'd suggested that she pull the skirts up to gird her loins, and then found that the numerous layers made it impossible. He'd offered to cut the skirt down to something more manageable, without depriving her of the coverage she still needed in the cold of these darks, dank ruins. He'd then found that the vibroblade did nothing against the skirts.

(She was a pacifist, not stupid. Of course her clothing was reinforced.)

"I don't care," he says back through grit teeth. She's not sure why he hasn't just left her for dead, but she's not going to complain. Much. "Just move."

They've been making their way through the ruins for hours. They still don't know how they got here. They have no way to find out.

They just head up, and hope it gets them somewhere.

(Signs litter the walls, all in a script unfamiliar to them. Archaic, or simply foreign, they don't know.)

"Wait."

She freezes.

Fett moves behind her, light shifting with the noise of his beskar, and then he says, "I'm going to turn out the light for a second. Give us a minute to adjust to the dark after I do. I think I saw something glowing, but I can't tell with the flash on."

She nods, sure that he can see it, and they are engulfed in the dark again.

It's not for long, because the glow that Fett described is real. Faint, far off down the hallway and a pale blue that winks in and out in multiple spots at once, but there.

"We'll need the light to make it there without you getting rust sickness," Fett mutters. He flicks the headlight back on. "Might get some kinda hint out of it, whatever it is."

"You'd risk it?"

"Don't have any other choice," Fett tells her. "Move out, Princess."

----

They reach the blue glow, entering a large, cavernous atrium, just as dark as the rest of the ruins so far, but much less cramped than the previous hallways.

It is mostly floating motes of something, and the something in question makes Satine's skin crawl. She has no idea what it is. She doesn't think Fett does either, but he's a little busy trying to get a scan of the room around them. Satine can just barely see the floor from the blue light, and she steps closer carefully. Part of her screams about deep sea fish and wild space ancients, creatures that use light to hunt, but they've had nothing else yet. No hints.

This place feels ancient. Perhaps the spirits that linger are even older.

"Kryze!"

"I'm fine," she calls back, deliberately refusing to understand the man's worry. She just... reaches out.

And one of the blue lights comes to her.

Fett swears and comes closer, but Satine pulls her hands to her chest, cradling the little light to herself. It's larger than she'd expected, perhaps the size of a Chandrila plum. It's warm, too.

"You're going to get yourself killed," Fett snaps.

"It's friendly," she says. "I think."

"You think," Fett hisses, the noise crackling through the vocoder. He puts a hand on her shoulder. "Listen--"

The lights coalesce. They are, for the moment, blinding, and Satine flinches away.

Fett has a blaster out before Satine can even open her eyes again. She knows the noise better than she'd like. She can identify which blaster it is by the click of the safety alone.

Any Mandalorian her age can.

"Oh dear," an unfamiliar voice says. "I'm afraid that--well, yes, Mando, hello there. I'm afraid that the blaster won't do much to me. I'm already long dead, you understand."

When Satine manages to blink the spots out of her vision, it's to see a glowing, slightly blue-tinged human figure in clothing that is distinctly Jedi, if very... very outdated.

The man--she thinks it's a man, beards usually indicate such--smiles and waves at her. "I apologize for the light show. It's been quite some time since I've had reason to take a solid form."

"I can imagine," Satine says, her voice weak even to her own ears. The man isn't much older than her, or at least wasn't when he... died? Or perhaps he was elderly when he died, and just rolled his age back as this spirit for some reason.

He smiles kindly, and then looks past her shoulder to Fett. He rolls his eyes, and smirks, and says, "Su cuy'gar, Mand'alor."

"I am not Mand'alor," Fett growls out. "I don't hold that title anymore."

"You do in spirit," the figure claims. "None other can say the same, not yet."

Before Fett can argue further, the man smiles pleasantly, and says, "I don't suppose you could remove yourselves from my shrine? Just a few steps back, thank you."

Satine looks down. She notices the raised platform and carved sigils and the stone column she hadn't seen in the earlier darkness, and flushes. She steps back and down, and Fett does the same.

"Now," the figure says. "As I was saying--"

"What are you?" Fett demands. "Ghost of a Jedi?"

"Something like that," the figure allows. "I was not just a Jedi, but... yes, I'm something you could call a ghost. I'd prefer simply a spirit."

"Like the ka'ra," Satine mutters, and grunts in disagreement.

"Those, Duchess, are only Mandalorians."

"Then I suppose it is fitting that I am both," the spirit says, and his form shifts.

Armor. It does not cover all of him--his pelvis and head are distinctly bare--but the shapes are distinctly Mandalorian. The colors aren't quite exact, with the blue glow he carries about him, but she's fairly certain she's seeing blue, green, and black. Reliability, duty, and justice.

Fitting, for a Jedi. The symbol for the Order is on his pauldron, even, and the hilt of his saber hangs easy at his side.

The gasp that comes through Fett's vocoder is harsh. She can't imagine he likes this.

"You--" he cuts himself off, takes a breath audible even past the helmet, and tries again. "There is no way you are Tarre Vizsla."

"No, I'm afraid not."

"So you must be Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The man smiles and tucks his hands into his sleeves, the swinging of the fabric allowing them the glimpse of vambraces beneath. He ducks his head in a shallow nod. "I am indeed."

Satine feels how empty of blood her own face is. She can't imagine Fett is doing much better.

"This is the Kar'ta-yaim be talyc rang," Fett mutters, horrified in a way that Satine feels her own self echoing. "You..."

"Well, we certainly never called it that," Kenobi says, head tilting faintly. "But I imagine that after the siege... Yes, Temple of Bloodied Ash would certainly reflect our final days."

It was one of the few stories that didn't pit Jedi and Mandalorians against each other, in the histories.

It had been the first attempt to coexist, the warriors of the saber and the warriors of iron. None managed to wed the two philosophies the way Kenobi had, but that hadn't mattered. They'd lived together, in peace. The reports had been clear enough, that there hadn't been weapons storage. There hadn't even been real defensive measures, barring the force fields. The Jedi had refused to let war reach this building, even whilst the Sith still raged across the galaxy. The other temples could handle the atrocities afar. The children, the elderly, the infirm, they were all to find a home here. The only weaponry were the sabers and whatever metals the Mando'ade carried in their armor.

Just a place of peace, a home to research, to children, to hospitals, all slaughtered to the last man, and set ablaze after. Nobody had ever tried such an attempt at peace between Mandalore and Jedi since. The location has been lost for longer than anyone remembers, but...

"Why are we here?" Satine asks.

"I wonder," Kenobi says, seeming far too pleased for the revelations of the last minute. He strokes at his beard, and then turns and sweeps an arm across the air. As he does, a whirring noise surrounds them, stuttered and heavy, but growing in power. Bit by bit, the sections of the wall that he'd gestured at begin to glow.

There are lights set into the wall like circuitry, warm and bright. The generators, which much be centuries old, at the least, continue to run.

"They draw energy from the river in the mountain," Kenobi says, before either of them thinks to ask. "Come along, my dears."

Satine hesitates. So does Fett.

Kenobi turns, presumably noting that their footsteps aren't following him. He smiles, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Satine can't remember how old he supposedly was, at his death. His eyes are much older, but...

"I assure you, it's perfectly safe," he tells them. "The building won't hurt you."

"The building?" Fett asks, sounding perhaps a little more dubious than the situation warranted. They were already talking to a figure of legend.

"Yes, the building," Kenobi repeats, indulgent in a way that Satine would have found irritating if aimed at her, but rather approved of like this. "The walls are already straightening out, I feel. And the droids are going to be clearing out the debris soon enough. The rust will be a little difficult to manage, of course, but..."

"What do you mean the walls are going to straighten out?" Satine asks. "And how... this place has been dead for centuries, hasn't it? How did you wake it?"

"Duchess Kryze, I didn't wake the Temple," Kenobi tells her. She doesn't know how he got her name. "You did."

She doesn't know what to say in response. She stays quiet, and waits for him to elaborate.

"Is it because she woke you up?" Fett asks, clearly unwilling to play a waiting game. "You're a... guardian? The keyholder to the power?"

"Mand'alor," Kenobi says, with a smile playing on his lips behind the carefully-groomed beard, "I am the Temple."

What.

He smiles and starts walking backwards, gliding in a way that makes it clear he doesn't need to step, really, because his feet don't stay planted where he puts them. They have to follow, now, or risk losing him. "My consciousness, my very self, is woven into every bit of this building. I have no flesh, not anymore, but while my sense of self stays coherent in the Force... the Temple is my body."

"How?" Satine demands, hurrying to keep up. She tries to ignore the way the flagstones shift and settle ahead of her, still and level by the time she steps forward. She tries to ignore the grinding of metal, as it's pulled into the walls like it's soup instead of stone. She tries to ignore the creaking of the foundation about them, and stays focused on the pleasant smile of one of the only two Mandalorian Jedi in history that maintained the balance.

"Do your history books carry the name of my apprentice?" Kenobi asks.

"Skywalker," Fett says immediately. "And... Tano, I think, before she changed it. She escaped, didn't she?"

"Yes, she was away at the time," Kenobi says, voice distant for but a moment. Somewhere far off among the tunnels, there is a mighty crash. "I'd fought until I couldn't any more. My armor, what I had of it, protected me from the flames. I'd worn a helmet during the siege, and it filtered the smoke, even as I lay dying from other wounds... between that and the Force, I lasted long enough that Anakin found me. The others had all died of smoke inhalation, if they hadn't succumbed to their injuries or the flames themselves by that point."

"The fire didn't reach you?" Fett questions.

"Mm, no, the alcove I was in was all stone, and there wasn't anything flammable enough nearby to reach," Kenobi says, sounding distant again. "In any case, Anakin found me. He was... distraught. Desperate. Not entirely sane, I think, but with what he walked into, I can't find it in myself to fault him."

"Master Kenobi," Satine finds herself saying. "What did he do?"

Kenobi's smile is sad. She'd call it resigned, really. He's lived--sort of--with this situation for centuries now. It makes sense. "He took my mind, my soul in the Force, and 'saved' it in a way that would leave me tied to the world past my death. It was ingenious, but... I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I don't think Anakin realized what he was doing until long after he'd already succeeded at the impossible."

"He cursed you," Fett declares.

Kenobi shrugs. "I think he expected the temple to be cleaned and re-inhabited again soon enough. It wasn't, as you can see. The generators have been gathering power for centuries, but the fire destroyed most of them, and we didn't have anything in reserve with how much we poured into the shields during the battle. I couldn't fix the ruins, and with the horrors that had occurred, nobody was coming back. Anakin said he would, he promised, but... he disappeared. He visited, and he spoke with me, but a few years in he was simply... lost. I had a connection to his ship's signal, and it winked out in the blink of an eye, and never came back."

Oh. Terrifying.

"For all that I am the Temple, now, there are still secrets here that I don't yet understand," Kenobi tells them. "Your arrival, for one thing. The sediment carried up the mountain has slowly buried the temple over the centuries. There isn't a way in, save for two tunnels leading to the river, both of which I know are untouched."

"We just woke up here," Satine admits.

"Yes," Kenobi says. "You did. And part of me knows why."

"...part?" Fett asks.

It's a fair question to ask of a man who happens to have a brain that is also an entire building, somehow.

"Areas are cut off from my awareness," Kenobi admits freely. "Cave-ins and the like, mostly. There are one or two that I think I cut deliberately, due to what lay within."

Also terrifying, thank you.

"But I do believe I know what happened," he says, with that same damnably soft smile. "You two are the leaders of your people, yes? Tradition on one side, and peace on the other."

Satine shares a glance with Fett, and then turns to Kenobi and nods.

"Then I do believe it's simply the right time," he tells them. "You'll need to work together."

"I don't think so," Satine immediately denies.

"The Force works in mysterious ways," Kenobi tells her. "And if it brought you here--and you couldn't have arrived otherwise, I promise you that--then it was for a reason. Two leaders, the same people, with ideologies that I do believe are possible to bring together into, if not mixing, then at least coexistence."

"Impossible," Fett says. "The New Mandalorians are cowards, Kenobi. To share a culture with them--"

"Is as unlikely as Jedi and the old Mandalorians?" Kenobi asks, smiling so very politely that Satine wonders at how they aren't frozen stiff at the sight of it.

The sigil of the Order gleams mockingly from his pauldron.

Kenobi huffs out a breath, just a shadow of a laugh the slightest duck of his head, and then he turns and waves open a door.

Beyond him, sitting clean and pretty and entirely free of dust on its ancient stand, rests the Darksaber.

Satine stares.

She's sure Fett does, too.

"That can't be real," she says, her mouth moving before she can control it. "The Darksaber is lost, but it's popped up in history too recently to have been here since the fires."

"I saw it in Tor Vizsla's hands less than a years ago," Fett confirms. The vocoder cuts emotion from his voice, but not enough. "This place has been locked tight for centuries. The saber can't be here."

"The same could be said of the two of you," Kenobi points out.

It's true.

Satine steps forward, when it becomes clear that Fett won't. She picks up the weapon, holds it like the antique it is, square and unwieldy, but so very, very old that she cannot deny its importance. Weapon or not, it is her people's history.

She lights it.

The blade burns black.

"Turn it off," Fett rasps, and she does.

Satine looks back at him, and then to Kenobi. She turns fully, and steps forward, and holds it out to Fett.

He looks at her, uncomprehending.

"If you'd like to check for yourself," she says, and her voice is too quiet, but she can't help it. Something is happening, something heavy and broken, and she can't ignore the pressure of the future in this moment.

Fett takes the saber. He looks at it in his hands, and she thinks he is shaking.

"Your people need you, Mand'alor," Kenobi says, and there is no room for question. "They also need the Duchess."

"Why you?" Fett asks, voice strained and shattered in a way Satine can't even begin to pick apart.

"It was either me or Tarre, really," Kenobi says, with an idle shrug unfitting of the situation. "And I'm a little more... accessible, shall we say, to those who aren't sensitive to the Force."

Kenobi steps forward and rests an immaterial hand on Fett's shoulder.

"I already failed my people once," Fett says, barely audible.

"And now you shall save them," Kenobi says. His voice is firm. It is as if there is no question, to him, about whether or not Fett will succeed. "You won't be alone, either."

Satine shifts her weight, refusing to meet Kenobi's eyes. Her hands fist in her dress, and her mind races.

"What do you need of me?" Fett manages.

"...Mand'alor?"

"What do you need of me, Master Kenobi?"

Satine looks up.

Fett... Fett removes his helmet, and looks at Kenobi with an expression that is more desperation than deference.

"To cooperate with those who would follow a different creed," Kenobi says, so low it's practically a murmur. His hand, still intangible, reaches out to cup Fett's jaw. Fett leans into it. "To protect those who cannot do so for themselves. Our people are warriors, Mand'alor, but to refuse violence for violence's sake, after the wars that have killed our home and rendered it little more than glass, that is its own bravery."

"Master--"

"Listen to me," Kenobi says, and Fett falls silent. "You will need to protect them. The Duchess may have the funds and the support to bring forth education, agriculture, childcare, and so on, but there are many who would take advantage of that peace. She provides the home for tradespeople, but you are the shield that keeps them safe."

It could be a balance, Satine tries to tell herself. Maybe.

Kenobi seems so certain of it, and Satine may hate violence, but she is far from unaware of the pirates and warlords that nip at their borders.

"The foundlings need homes," Kenobi continues. "The stories need to be told. The culture is fading, Mand'alor. Bring it back."

His eyes flick to Satine, and she looks away.

(Her pressure was only ever on violence. Her advisors had pressed at the erasure of the rest, but if it meant children grew up without the worry of their parents dying in pointless battle, then wasn't it worth bending?)

(Couldn't she look the other way as they tightened restrictions on even symbolic vambraces, if it meant few too-small bodies in the streets?)

(Her planet was a wasteland. What did culture mean in the face of so many dead?)

(She knows Fett doesn't see it that way, but she is the only governing New Mandalorian with any blood on their hands. She knows the weight of violence, of lives taken by her actions.)

(She knows it, and she rejects it knowingly.)

Fett breathes harshly, and Satine closes her eyes.

"I agree to try," she says. "If we can get out of these ruins and back to our people... I will try. I cannot speak for my people on this, but to instate the old Mandalorians as a planetary guard... it may be doable."

"Little steps, my dear," Kenobi says. He looks down at Fett, who's... not well, it seems. "The Mand'alor needs some help, I think. I'm no trained mind healer, but I imagine I can help. More than most, maybe. There are few who know what it is to be a sole survivor."

He smirks, just a little, at the joke that he is not, in fact, a man who survived.

It's not very funny.

"I'll stay," Fett says. "I'll... I'll learn. Master Kenobi, you... Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me."

"As a student?" Kenobi asks, catching on to just the same thing as Satine has. "Not in the Force, surely, but... you truly wish to stay?"

"There are none left alive that I would trust to show me the way," Fett says. Beseeching, he reaches for Kenobi, and his hands pass through. There's a pain in him that Satine can't quite comprehend, and Fett falls to his knees. "Please."

"You need only ask," Kenobi says. "The Duchess will look after our people until the King takes his throne, and then you will rule together."

They'll have to, Satine tells herself, and steps forward. She puts a hand on Fett's shoulder, and pulls him to his feet.

"Where do we begin?" she asks.

[melancholicmoonlight]

Muse list:

Appearance descriptions

~

Killian Hayes: oc tag

Ace butch lesbian. trans woman. She/her. 38 y/o. Human. American, southern.

A once normal person with a very long history of loss, Killian decided to give up on life. But one day she came face-to-face with an angel who promised that she’d take her pain away. Unfortunately for her, it didn’t work out.

Annoying introverted asshole. She likes dogs and cats. Her favorite bands are Opeth and Mastodon. She loves paella, her truck, and long walks on the beach.

Lives in a cabin in the woods and has chickens. Works as a pediatric nurse at the local clinic.

“Her dialogue looks like this”.

Status: Available

~

Sirius Belrose: playlist || oc tag

Lesbian. She/her or they/them. Trans woman. 29 y/o. Angel. French.

Very cautious of strangers and any kindness shown from them, but is still willing to help if they ask. Shy. She loves people(that she knows) and craves comfort. Loves animals. Is a sweetie

She has some trauma from having her magic and wings stripped away when she was younger, but she can still do some very very simple spells. They use a cane when they’re having bad pain days.

Lives in a cute little house in town and works as a makeup artist. Deirdre’s friend.

"Their dialogue looks like this".

Status: Available

~

Deirdre: playlist || oc tag

Queer, it/her. 26 y/o(?). Unknown entity in a people suit (“demon”). Irish…?

Calm, cool, and collected, almost eerily so, but there’s still a hint of anger that sometimes threatens to bubble to the surface. Shambles from place to place, there’s something uncanny about how it looks, but nobody seems to be able to place what exactly.

She’s been here for centuries, and tends to be very guarded about herself. She sometimes just appears places.

It longs to be human and loved, but it would never admit this to anyone.

In an industrial/goth/grunge band because it gives her something to do, she plays guitar and sings. Usually preforms at nightclubs/goth clubs/bars.

Lives in a shitty little apartment in town. Sirius’ friend.

“Its dialogue looks like this”

Status: Available

~

Cassidy Martin: oc tag

Bi, trans man, he/him. 46 y/o. Werewolf(born into it). American, Southern.

A confident and easygoing man, Cas is eager to make friends, or at the very least acquaintances, with most people he meets. He tends to be pretty level-headed and knows that things need to be thought through before acting on it, if possible.

Despite being very sociable, he does enjoy being alone, and sometimes gets drained after spending time with others. He likes fishing, drawing, and exploring wooded areas and abandoned places.

His sense of smell is worse than the average (human)person’s. Unlike Jamie, he is not typically violent when turned, and tends to just sleep or roam around.

Cassidy lives in a small house in town and works as a mechanic at a local auto shop. Jamie’s boyfriend.

“His dialogue looks like this.”

Status: Unavailable

~

Jameson “Jamie” Westing: playlist || oc tag

Gay, transman, he/him. 44 y/o. Werewolf(turned @ ~25). British.

A deeply traumatized and paranoid man with a heart of gold.

He is highly anxious at times and tends to worry what others think of him, but he is generally kind to most people. He can be very stubborn and reckless sometimes, which might lead to trouble depending on if he’s persuaded to not do whatever incredibly stupid thing he’s thinking of doing.

He enjoys gardening and writing, and just chilling out at home or outside alone, and he prefers being left out of any crazy situations.

It is highly recommended to avoid being near him on full moons.

Works at a small antique store, and at a flower shop. Cas’ boyfriend. He is currently living with his friend, @/the-drunken-undead's Reaper.

Jamie is mute(aphonic), and will use either sign, text-to-speech, or write. "His dialogue looks like this".

Status: Unavailable

[nbrook29]

101, 104 and 110 for the dialogue prompts 🖤

Hello!

101. “I’m ok, thank you. Just please, stop talking to me.”

104. “You weren’t supposed to laugh! I’m so embarrassed!”

The 110 one is not included here, but I also got it from someone else so it's gonna be filled later :)

* * *

Robbe hears the doorbell coming from downstairs, but he stays put, knowing his mom is in the kitchen so she’ll open the door while he adds two last sentences to his final history essay. He’s clicking ‘save’ when there’s a knock on his door, and without waiting for a response, Sander’s smiling face pops from behind it.

“I didn’t say you could come in,” Robbe grins at him cheekily, standing up from his swivel chair for the first time in hours. He immediately pulls Sander into his bedroom, looping his arms around his neck as the boy kicks the door closed behind him, licking into Robbe’s mouth in no time.

He feels a light slap on his butt as a response to his words, and then Sander disentangles himself from him to flop dramatically on the bed, a groan leaving his mouth.

“I’ve just participated in the dullest lecture known to humanity,” he complains, pouting at Robbe. “I need you to entertain me or I’mma die of boredom tonight.”

Sander’s pleading eyes make him snort, but he grabs his laptop and joins him on his bed, rearranging the pillows to make it more comfortable for them to sit straight.

“Okay, drama queen, what do you wanna watch?”

“I get to choose tonight?” Sander’s face lights up with excitement and it’s adorable how little it takes to make him look like that. When Robbe nods, amused, he gets a kiss on his shoulder as a thank you before Sander turns his attention to the screen where Robbe started the endless scrolling on Netflix.

He’s a picky viewer so eventually Robbe leaves him with his computer and goes to the kitchen to make them popcorn and grab some chips. It’s where he’s confronted by his mom who catches him midwalk back to the bedroom to gently remind him that she’s staying home tonight and not going out and that please take that into account, honey. And then she shoots him a wink and now it’s Robbe who’s going to die.

Of shame.

Beet red and mortified, Robbe enters his room and at Sander’s questioning look he tells him his mom basically requested them to keep quiet this time. Unsurprisingly, Sander is unaffected, grinning at Robbe like it’s funny.

“It’s all your fault, by the way,” Robbe accuses him, thinking back to last Friday night.

“You’re right, I’m so sorry I’m so good in bed you can’t contain the noise you ma-”

He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence, cut off by the popcorn Robbe throws at him.

“Who’s being a drama queen now?!”

“My mom heard us, Sander, do you understand how embarrassing that is?!”

Sander rolls his eyes and pulls at his sleeve to make him sit back on the bed, careful not to spill the bowl full of popcorn.

Once he has him where he wants him, sulky eyes on him, he frames his face with his hands and says placatingly, “This isn’t a big deal, Robbe.”

Robbe looks very unconvinced so Sander leans in to catch his frowning lips in a kiss to ease his worries.

Then he claps his hands, nodding at the screen. “Look, I chose a movie for us?”

Robbe turns around reluctantly to check it out and cocks his brow when he sees the newest horror that everybody’s been talking about.

“You really want to watch this?”

“You don’t?”

“No, I do, I love horror movies, but knowing you I thought you’re gonna choose some psychological drama.”

Sander shrugs. “I wanna see what the hype is all about.”

It’s a surprising turn of events, but Robbe is not going to question it any longer because he really wants to see that movie. They turn the lights off and get comfortable on the bed, sitting upright for the time being to avoid choking on the popcorn. But Robbe is not capable of having Sander in his bed right next to him and not having any type of body contact so he innocently swings his leg on his lap, scooching a little closer, a small smile blooming on his face when Sander doesn’t even question it, just starts drawing random patterns on his sweatpants-clad thigh.

An hour into the movie and Robbe is having so much fun because it’s just the right amount of scary combined with some weird psycho shit and frankly, that’s his all time favorite combination. He’s been feeding Sander chips for the last ten minutes, his arm absent-mindedly traveling between the bowl and his boyfriend’s mouth as he himself has been completely engrossed into the movie, eyes wide and jaw dropped, not paying much attention to his surroundings.

It’s why he doesn’t notice the slow but steady attempts of Sander’s to merge his body into Robbe’s. It’s only when he turns to him to comment on the latest jump scare he realizes half of Sander’s face is hidden in Robbe’s left sleeve, eyes wide and scared as they peek reluctantly at the screen.

“Sander?”

“Yeah?” he squeaks out.

“Are you scared?”

“No.”

That earns him a doubtful look, and Sander had to realize he’s not very convincing at the moment because his shoulders drop, the defensive look on his face replaced with resignation.

“I have a confession to make,” he takes a deep breath as if he was about to drop a bomb on Robbe. “Horror movies terrify me.”

Robbe blinks at him in confusion. “But you were the one who chose this one for us to watch.”

“I thought I got over it. I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

It’s not that funny. Really, it isn’t. But there’s something about the face Sander is making that pulls an involuntary giggle out of him.

His boyfriend’s not very happy about that.

“Shut up, you weren’t supposed to laugh!” he whines at him, accusation in his voice, and his cheeks couldn’t be redder if they tried, Robbe notices as Sander hides them in his hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“I’m sorry!” he pauses the movie and turns fully to him. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear. It’s actually kinda adorable,” Robbe adds in a soothing tone, trying to remedy the situation, but Sander’s not very happy about that particular comparison.

“Great, now I’m adorable, that’s so much better,” he mutters grumpily, and then he ostensibly leans away from the kiss Robbe’s about to place on his cheek in order to pacify him.

“Seriously?”

His question is met with silence as Sander keeps being stubborn, still offended.

“Play the stupid movie.”

“Are you su-”

“Yes!”

Robbe has to bite his lip to keep from laughing again, knowing it wouldn’t be well received. He’s not exactly worried about Sander being mad at him right now because he’s well aware of having a couple of tricks up his sleeve to smooth his ruffled feathers. For now, he resorts to pressing “play” and trying not to coo at Sander’s pouty face.

The movie only gets scarier and more twisted since then onwards. For Robbe, it’s top entertainment, but when he glances surreptitiously at Sander’s face it’s ghost-white, and something tells him it’s not only because of the light from the screen. And it’s not like Robbe actually enjoys seeing his boyfriend suffer.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, hand reaching to rub his thigh in what he hopes is a comforting touch.

“Yes, I’m okay, thank you. Just please, stop talking to me.”

Okay, still mad then.

Robbe keeps his hand where he put it and counts it as a win when Sander doesn’t swat it away.

They get to hour and 40 minutes, an hour of the movie still ahead of them when Sander reaches his breaking point.

“Fuck, I don’t care anymore, call me a wuss or whatever, but please turn it off, I’m done,” he groans, a pained expression on his face as he brings his legs in and hugs his knees, looking like a little boy and breaking Robbe’s heart a little.

He shuts the computer right away, his bedroom swamped in darkness as a result, only the moonlight creeping in through the big window making it possible for him to see Sander’s pale face. He gathers him into his arms, grateful he’s not putting up a fight and instead eagerly letting Robbe hold him.

“Do you honestly think I’m gonna call you a wuss? Especially in not, like, a teasing way?”

The shrug he gets as a response is miniscule, but it’s there.

He sighs, nosing along Sander’s hairline and pressing a kiss to his forehead which makes Sander cuddle even more into him. Robbe takes that as a sign of forgiveness for his previous unfortunate laughter.

"I kinda know you wouldn't, but... I want you to think I'm, you know, cool and stuff," comes a small voice from under Robbe's jaw.

Awwww.

"But I will always think you're cool and stuff."

"Yeah?" Sander blinks at him with his insecure eyes.

"Yeah."

He places his head back in the nook of Robbe's neck, nuzzling in like a cat.

"Okay."

"Okay."

They're silent for a few seconds before Robbe speaks again.

"Can I kiss you now?"

"Yes, I'll allow it."

Robbe snorts, fingers tangling in the brown strands as he angles Sander's head for a proper kiss and once he's done with him, his cheeks look much more human-like, blood flowing back to his face.

"Wanna watch stupid TikTok videos for a change?"

Sander nods against his chest, a smile on his lips now.

His arm tightens around Robbe's waist as he says, "I hope you're aware I'm sleeping here tonight cause there's no way in hell I'm gonna be alone in bed after this shit."

[shoichee]

Hey! I read your Kise imagine recently and I adore it, it's rare to see someone write about manga!kise and I really loved it. Furthermore your writing is so so good to read 🥰 I wanted to ask you Kise x reader prompt 1! I would really like to read about him in such a situation ☺ Thank you Iain advance 😘

WAHHH TYSM ANON <33 IM SO HAPPY HEHE, and phew yall thought asshole kise was something but... have yall heard of TEIKO-era asshole kise??! NO?? dw, bc he’s debuting here // i wanted to really showcase his dual sides through more of dialogue (so we won’t really see what’s in Kise’s mind for this), so here it is hope you enjoy this anon! 

Kise x Reader

Prompt: “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

Word Count: 2120

prompt list here

»»—————　☼　—————««

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it, Kise.”

“Huh?” he mocks with a condescending tone. “I didn’t peg you as someone who’d pull shit out of their ass like my last ‘ex-girlfriend.’ Just because I let you hang around me doesn’t mean you can parade around campus with an inflated ego.”

Your hands shake furiously at your sides, trying not to punch the basketball player square in the face.

“Me? With an ego? Look who’s damn talking!” you seethe. “I’m tired of the fact that we keep playing this stupid flirting game for months, only for it to go absolutely nowhere!”

“Have you ever stopped to use your brain and think about how flirting inherently is done in good casual fun?” Kise explains slowly, implying that you were the immature one in the situation. “Meanwhile, you have the audacity to get mad at me when you’re the one who’s using me for your own selfish gain!” Kise sends a heated glare but his eyes were tinged with betrayal.

“What the hell are you even talking about? Are you out of your mind?”

“Fuck this,” he scoffs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m leaving, I’m not dealing with this shit anymore. If you want attention, I’m not gonna entertain you anymore.”

“No, you will not leave!” you yell, trying to stop Kise in his tracks. He merely ignores you as he holds up a hand to do a wave with his back to you. “You’re going to explain what the hell you were talking about!”

You sprinted and held onto his sleeve to tug him back to face you, only to be met by the most bone-chilling gaze from him. You would’ve absolutely cowered in his presence if it wasn’t for the fact that you were irrationally angry from the false accusations Kise threw at you prior. You can definitely tell that Kise was biting his inner cheek to keep himself reasonably calm.

“Ryōta,” you say.

“Don’t call me by my first name anymore,” he says flatly.

“Where did you get the idea that I was using you?”

“Hah! Why? Does it matter? Are you gonna go to them and try to threaten them after? It’s so clear from the way you’re talking right now that you only see me as a prize to show off.” You inhale a huge breath to stop yourself from saying something you’ll regret.

“I never saw you as some object, Ryōta,” you mildly scoff. “Let me make myself clear. All I wanted was a clear answer from you every time I asked you if you wanted something serious, but every single damn time, you changed the subject or never answered the question!”

“It’s all done in good fun. Does it really need to be serious?”

“But I want something serious with you!”

Kise merely turns away in silence, but you can see his body slightly tremble.

“... Ryōta?”

“Don’t lie to me like that…” he says, slightly sucking a breath. “... Look, if you really wanna use me to boost your popularity, just… just come clean, okay? I’ll go along with it if you tell me now. After all, we’ve been… good friends.”

“Lie? Why would I lie? I never thought once of using you or having any motives other than to get to know you personally as a friend, Ryōta,” you say, looking down on the grip you had on his sleeve still.

“What reason is there to know someone like this other than to activate a ticking time bomb while playing a game to pass that time? Isn’t that how it’s always been? Isn’t that what we are right now?”

Your senses tell you that something deeper beyond this surface argument has been troubling him. You slowly let go of his sleeve, before turning away with a sigh, leaving Kise absolutely confused.

“I think we both need to cool our heads,” you sigh. “We’ve both said too much, and… just… forget what I said, okay? And I’ll forget about what you told me.” Kise’s eyes widen at your statement.

“(y/n)-cchi…?”

“We can still do light-hearted banter like we always do the next time we see each other, okay Kise?” Your fists on your sides tremble before you hold up your head to give him a cheerful smile that’s eerily all too familiar to his own. You turn to walk away, but his heart squeezes painfully at the sight of your back to him like this. You’re so far from him. So far.

“Hold it, now…” he says, slightly sprinting to catch up to you. He grabs your hand, still balled tightly by your side. “You’re cruel, you know that? Demanding me not to leave but then leaving the conversation on your own accord? You’re a hypocrite.” He spins you around to see your eyes barely struggling to hold back fresh tears. Little did he know that your countenance was a mirror to his own.

“... Our heads aren’t in the right place, Kise. You should probably let go.”

“I probably should, huh…” he says, but still giving no sign that he was actually going through with it.

“Knowing you, you’d really hold my fist until someone has to actually separate you from me.”

“And knowing you, you’d probably punch me before anyone else had the chance to do so.”

“You know me so well, hm?” you muse, a tiny curl of your lip a different world than the one you gave moments before.

“... No,” he says with a slight frown. “I don’t think I know you well enough.”

“I don’t know you enough either, Kise.”

Silence falls between the two of you, frail as thin ice, before you eventually break it.

“... You’re right, this whole friendship we have right now… it’s a time bomb. It’s bound to fail and fall apart.”

“W-Wait,” Kise slightly says in shock. “That was… I didn’t mean it like—”

“No healthy relationship of any kind would last if we keep dancing around each other like this. I wanna be honest with you for once… I… don’t wanna do this banter anymore. I don’t wanna do these flirting games. I’m kinda tired of it. Especially when you always keep me at a distance.”

“Pfft, (y/n)-cchi,” he snorts loudly, flashing his sunny smile. “I’m practically so close to you holding your hand!”

“You know exactly what I mean,” you sigh, and you avert your gaze away. “You feel so far. I just… you feel so out of reach even when I’m in the same room as you… even as of now. I just want to know where we’ll end up.”

You firmly shake his grip off you, watching his hand falling back to his side as he does nothing but stare at you. You don’t know if he’s angry, offended, or shocked, but whatever his expression was, you couldn’t tell, not when you still stared at the concrete to the side rather than at him.

“Of course I wanna be friends with you,” you continue. “But can you blame me for believing that there’s something more between us when we do romantic gestures and flirting for months on end? If we’re just going to be friends, that’s fine, but I’d prefer if you’d also stop addressing me with -cchi, just to draw a clear boundary between us.” You finally look up to see Kise, but to your own shock, he looks quite bitter.

“You say that you’re confused about what we are, but then you go prattle to everyone else that you’re my significant other when we haven’t even talked a single thing about being a serious thing. You’re so fucking confusing.”

“I… did no such thing?” Your eyes, still puffy from the tear ducts, shine in genuine bewilderment.

“You… didn’t?”

“Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“I… um… oh…” All he could do was to stand there completely stupefied, mouth gaping as multiple realizations suddenly hit him like bricks. He rubs his neck as he shamefully looks away.

“So tell me,” you slowly say, giving him a more bone-chilling gaze than the one he gave you. “What exactly have you been hearing in the hallways?” You both stand there in silence again as Kise struggles to think of a way to explain it without sounding completely dumb.

“Okay, look… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have listened to the rumors so easily, especially since I despise them too, but… they were about you, and I just couldn’t help myself…” he mumbles. “I don’t know, I… the thought of you getting close to me to use me really, really hurts.”

“And you thought just cutting me off on the spot was the most reasonable decision you can think of?”

“H-Hey…! Don’t put it like that! I thought I knew you well, but when I heard what people gossiped, my mind just went somewhere, and I thought maybe I misread you at some point. If you really did have ulterior motives, cutting you off wouldn’t be as easy as that other girl. Because I… w-wait! Where are you going?!”

“Home, Kise,” you flatly say. “It’s after school after all.”

“At least hear what I have to say!” He tries to catch up with you, but you only speed walk to outpace him. “Let me explain myself!”

“Hypocrite~” you say, using Kise’s mocking voice. “I don’t recall you letting me explain myself in the beginning.”

“(y/n)-cchi, I’m sorry! I’ll pay for all the outings we’ll do this week! And um… I’ll always talk to you if something’s bothering me—don’t ignore me!”

“Didn’t I tell you not to use -cchi?” you sigh, stopping abruptly, causing Kise to accidentally bump against you. “I’ll forgive you, but we’re still only friends. I guess I’ll apologize for assuming things on my end, too.” Kise drops his head on your shoulder from behind, and you only roll your eyes in amusement at the familiar contact. “Oh dear, Kise. I didn’t think you were the type to be so clingy after a fight.”

“Okay, I’ll ‘fess up,” he says, voice muffled by your uniform blazer. “Even though we’ve always gotten along so well, there’s always been a part of me who’s been on the lookout for any possible signs that you only saw me for my reputation. While I enjoyed having you around, I had always been ready to cut you off if I saw anything suspicious, but… lately the thought of letting you go ached so much… and then I heard what the other students were talking about… how you were acting the entire time… how you somehow screwed over other people before… couldn’t really think properly after that.”

“Boo hoo,” you huff. “Do you want a kiss to make you feel better?”

“... I actually do.”

“I think our heads haven’t completely cooled down. I’m going ahead.” You were about to walk away, even though you very much enjoyed his head on your shoulder, but his arms wrap around you to stop moving any further from his side.

“You said that you wrongly assumed what we were…” he whispers. “But you’re actually right. We’ve been more than friends for a while without me really acknowledging it,” he chuckles at your groan, “I guess you really do know me well… I’m really attached to you… but it’s not fair that you’re so collected even when I’m hugging you like this.”

“Kise, you’re an idiot, do you know that?” you snort. “How are you hugging me but not noticing how fast my heart is beating?”

“H-Hey! Can you call me by my first name again? I said it without really thinking, okay? It hurts me every time you do that.” He gives the most comical pout, but you only punch the top of his head on your shoulder before walking ahead.

“I’m still mad at you. I’m going home.”

“(y/n)-cchi, w-wait! Let me walk you home, then!”

“Don’t call me that either. I’m still mad at you.”

“But aren’t we dating now? I can call you that if we’re a thing.”

“But I’m still mad. You still said all those horrible things, and that stung. You think you’re the only one hurting right now?”

“I’m really, really sorry! I’ll make it up to you, and I won’t say anything like that again, and…”

“You’re not being really convincing.”

“I know I was being immature and the one with the inflated ego, and I said things that aren’t remotely true—”

You sigh before you turn back to a panicking Kise behind you.

“Then you better make it up to me by cuddling me and telling me some sweet nothings, because I can really use that right now, Ryōta.”

[elareine]

JayTim + 42 from the Dialogue Prompts + SPACE AU, pretty please?

I… hope this counts? Technically, it’s not IN space. Though Tim would like to be. 

“You’re mad, Tim,” they said. “Stop trying to speak to aliens,” they said. “You’re wasting your life.” 

Hah. 

Tim has a… set-up. 

What’s the point, he figures, in sending waves out to space where they might be heard in a hundred years, when you could just try to contact the aliens already on Earth? After all, if intelligent life is out there and capable of interstellar travel, and if humans haven’t noticed them yet, then said life must be hiding itself. 

It stands to reason that these aliens must then be communicating among themselves in a form that’s inaccessible to humans. So Tim sat down and build every stupid crazy thing he could think off—unusual wave frequencies, smell transmitters (bad idea), hormone secretors… anything. There are forty devices stashed in his room, and he’s not crazy. 

Because one day, space talks back. 

“Koriand’r, what’s the name again for the thing—the strip around our waists that helps people not be naked? And why do I need it?” 

Tim whirls around. It’s one of his Hail Mary machine—a radio frequency so fucking impractical, no one would ever use it. 

Apart from an alien, apparently. Cause that question cannot have come from a human. Right? 

“I’m not Kori-whatstheirname,” Tim says, trying to sound chill. “But it’s called a belt. We need it because our clothing is factory-made and not tailored to fit; and also because it’s not acceptable to be naked anywhere but some beaches in Germany.”

A long pause, then the voice replies: “You’re human.” 

“Yes. Please don’t hang up. My name’s Tim Drake. Are you an alien?” 

“Uh.” There’s another pause. “I… guess? I’m not from Earth.” 

“Oh, awesome!” Tim is out of his seat and leaning forward, he’s that excited. “Wait, you speak English?” 

“I have a—a device that can mimic your languages.” 

Tim nods. “So like what Google Translate wants to be in another five years.” 

“…I suppose.” A pause. “Actually… can you tell me—who or what is a ‘google,’ exactly? I figured out it’s one of your gods, but what do they do, exactly?” 

“Oh boy, you just opened a whole new avenue of philosophy. I guess it could count as a god? Not in the religious sense, though.” 

“I’m not a boy,” he’s immediately corrected. “I’m a Hzewf.” 

“Okay. Okay.” Tim bounces back on his heels. “How about this? I explain Google to you—I’ll even throw in social media, if you want, but please don’t ask about Reddit, nothing can explain Reddit—and you tell me about the Hsev.” 

“Hzewf. Okay.” 

They talk. When the alien has to leave, Tim’s reluctant to agree—but the next day, the line crackles to life again. 

“You’re a good source,” the alien says. “We… can keep talking. If you don’t mind.” 

The alien’s name is something like j—more guttural sounding than Tim is used to, and with a long pause after—ay—or rather a pause i/j. Tim looks up various phonetic alphabets and dubs him J-a’i. 

The Hzewf have a different variety of gender expression, so the two debate pronouns, and J-a’i decides that ‘he’ will do just fine. He’s addressed as that on a daily basis, anyway, and has never minded. He draws the line at being called a man, though. 

What he is, though, is a total anthropology nerd. He wants to know everything about humans—that’s why he’s here, after all. Koriand’r, it turns out, is another alien from another planet he just met by accident. Apparently, she’s settled down and found love, so J-a’i tries not to bother her too much. The belt thing was a total emergency question. 

And now, he has Tim. 

It’s fun. Tim likes having a secret, a good one, for once. Every night, they talk. No matter how shitty his day is—and most of them are—at the end of it, he can speak with J-a’i and feel like somewhere out there, someone understands. 

And then, one day, there’s a knock on the door. Tim briefly entertains fantasies about the men in black before checking the surveillance camera and seeing an alien instead. 

Oh well. Alright then. 

He opens the door and ushers the visitor in. “J-a’i, I presume?” 

The other being looks relieved when he hears his voice. “Tim.” 

“The very one.” 

Okay. Tim kinda thought J-a’i would be smaller. Tim’s used to short jokes, but having to crane his head back like this feels ridiculous. 

“I need to hide,” J-a’i says, looking very serious. Tim would like to return the expression in kind—this is probably a very stressful and dangerous situation for an alien in hiding, and he should give it the proper gravitas—but he’s so happy. 

“So you came here?” 

“My masking device broke,” J-a’i explains. Ah. That’s why he’s so… uh… colorful. Tim’s really digging the red stripes, though. “I… I had nowhere else to go.” 

“Come with me.” Tim leads them to a cupboard, and then opens the secret door leading down. “You never know when you need a bunker.” 

“You—“ 

“Well, do you need to use it or or don’t you?” 

“I have finally found a being whose paranoia matches my own,” J-a’i says. He does get into the bunker, though. 

“So what now?” Tim asks when they’ve settled down. 

J-a’i shrugs. “I’ll probably have to leave.” 

“Go to another country?” Tim asks, already mentally mapping out his visa applications. 

“Another planet. Home, I think, at least for a while.” 

Oh. Right. What do Hzewf visa applications look like? “So we need to get to your ship.” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay. You left it in Lake Michigan, right? That’s about twelve hours by car. Oh, but,” Tim looks at J-a’i and his very much not human appearance, “should probably only travel in the dark. Luckily, there’s a lot of that in winter. We’ll give your pursuers a few hours, and then I’ll go pack. If the coast is clear, we can leave tomorrow night. What’s the weather like on your planet? Should I bring shorts?”  

Instead of an answer, though, he gets a surprised stare. “You’ll come with me?” 

“Well, duh.” Tim snorts. 

…wait. Uh. Maybe this is too much? J-a’i is self-admittedly desperate to show up here. Just because he didn’t have an alternative, doesn’t mean he wants Tim to invite himself along. None of this stuff is as exciting for him as it is for Tim, and with the bad experience the other creature has recently made with humans—

There’s an expression happening on J-a’i’s face that stops his panic attack in its tracks. Hope. Hope that’s painful because you’re sure that whatever it is you’re being offered will get snatched away from you. 

Tim recognizes the emotion for what it is, because he knows it so well. 

“Are you sure?” J-a’i asks. “We’d be going to space—“

“J-a’i,” Tim interrupts, “I’ve been waiting to hear these words all my life. Literally. All that’s missing is a kiss and we’d be in the final scene of the Hollywood movie of my dreams.” 

“Kissing is that thing you humans do, right? To express affection and/or lust?” 

“Yes.” And because Tim’s a fucking sap who has spent too many hours listening to the voice on the other end of a radio: “When we love each other, too.” 

J’a-i considers that. “Well. I… wouldn’t be opposed, either. Though I don’t understand how it relates to space travel.” 

Tim nudges his shoulder and grins. “Hey, we can work up to that. Tell me some more about your spaceship?” 

J’a-i’s whole face lights up when he talks about his ship. Tim’s heard it in his voice before, but it’s pretty awesome to see it in person. Also? He’s sitting next to an alien, talking about spaceships.

Hell yeah. Space, here Tim comes. 

(I’m taking prompts until the end of the year.) 

[writingtipswithlee]

things for characters to do while talking

so uh i am struggling at the moment to make my dialogue and thinking less static, but i had a little think and came up with some little things you can do to add some spice to those static blocks of writing we all inevitably find ourselves with!!

1) admire the person they're talking about. doesn't have to be romantically, it can be something like 'as she talked, they watched her eyes, animated and sparkling in the sunlight. They'd never seen eyes quite like those, the colour you get when you mix spring and the coldest layers of snow together, the type of piercing blue that often made people weak in the knees. Tearing their attention away, they replied...'

2) do a mundane activity. i could make a whole other list about these. things like grocery shopping, sharpening a knife, rearranging books or clothes, cleaning something... because chances are your character is going to need to slam a book shut or drop a can of beans at some point in the dialogue :)

3) reminisce. does something about the speaker make them connect with their past? bring back a long forgotten memory? this is great for bringing in sensory things- 'something he said brought a flicker to my mind. it smelt of acrid smoke and fear, and i could almost hear the screams-'

4) plotting and planning. a little word triggers a whole new thought for your character, and they go aha! a new scheme to make {plot thing} happen! so handy when you need your character to have a stupid and/or genius idea.

5) do something new. i love this one because it can be so so so descriptively rich and animated, with sparse(r) dialogue and more imagery, bringing in every sense and engaging the reader with the story. 'I zoned out whatever they were saying, marvelling at the scene around me... somehow it felt like happiness, like a promise that everything would be okay, like the smell of baking bread would fold me into a warm hug and never let anything hurt me.'

6) imagine. let your character's mind wander, thinking about something relevant plot-wise, maybe, i don't know, killing dragons with a spoon or riding the moon on an epic journey.

7) this one could fit in with the 'mundane things,' but interacting with animals is super fun to write. Is your character allergic? do they sneeze/cough/scratch their arm after every line of dialogue? are they constantly distracted by the thought that the animals could be perceptive enough to think about them? so so so many options

8) DANCING. this could also go under mundane things but AAAAAAA CHARACTERS DANCING WHILE TALKING TO EACH OTHER is one of my FAVOURITE THINGS. I wrote like 4 paragraphs and its just two characters dancing and talking and it makes me feel so so so so so happy.

9) trying to fulfill some creative process. tap into the way you feel when someone tries to interupt you while you're reading/writing/drawing. so annoying. how would your character react? this is a fun one for giving insight into character and thinking about the way they'd handle dif situations.

10) little things. kicking at stones/dirt, picking at their fingernails, brushing their fingers through their [description here] hair, flicking a bug off their hand, wiping dirt from their face. teeny tiny things make your characters realistic.

I hope this helps! feel free to reblog and add more :)

[botwstoriesandsuch]

[Image ID: A screenshot of an anon asking saying “I just wanna say that your tags whenever you rb art and fics are so cute 🥺 you reblogged something of mine the other day and the tags were just so nice and innocent??? It’s like watching a little kid at an aquarium 😝so as an artist I thank you, hope you don’t take it as cringy” End ID]

- - - - - 

Cringey?? nonononono I may be a young kid watching the pretty fish swim aimlessly in the aquarium but I will

recklessly enjoy other people’s content don’t test me

I try to keep it in the tags cause I don’t wanna take away from the op’s original work, plus it makes it easier for other people to rb it from me, but I will amp up the love and appreciation when the situation calls for it. You could straight up come into my inbox or messages and just ask me to give you a reblog and I will do it, I do not care I love you, content creators.

Cringe Culture is dead it’s time to gush plus if I do this often enough people might do it more for me so it’s a win win hehe

Legit, I got a super sweet comment on one of my fics quoting something I wrote and it made me so happy so I was like “huh, guess I’ll do that more often then” and now I’m doing that, that’s how impressionable I am asdfghjk

Also hello?? specifically *my* tags helped you out?? I am a nobody, CLEARLY not enough people are doing this smh, allow me to teach the masses for a sec here

How To Make A Content Creator Happy: the world’s simplest guide to spreading serotonin through a keyboard

Step fucking one) You reblog it. I mean, that’s a given. You’ve all seen those “reblogs help creators out and likes do nothing” posts so I won’t rant too much. Likes are good, but reblogs are like handing someone a stack of a hundred dollars and all it takes is one click! 

(PRO TIP: Hold down the button and swipe for mobile, and hold the left alt button and click once for computer [though it will only rb to your main blog. if you want it for a side-blog then you’re stuck with two clicks but HEY two clicks to help out a creator you like is nothing!])

You share it! Just share stuff. Share the ao3 like, please do it. Don’t repost, don’t just mention it, give the links especially when you’re just in conversation or talking about it around plz I swear it does wonders

Ok moving on to the super simple stuff for commenting and putting stuff in the tags because I guarantee that the op will read them

write A N Y T H I N G and I literally mean anything just fucking:

!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sdjflksdjfkjh

?!?!?!?!!?

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghghhhhhhhhh

:OOOOOOOOO

prettyyy

<33333333333333333

just fucking go ham, go nuts, it doesn’t need to be coherent it just needs to EXIST the very existence of someone enjoying someone’s content gives so much serotonin so stop being silent cowards and give us a smiley face from time to time

uh what else what else....hmm [golden rule is treat others the way you want to be treated, so if you’re a creator yourself, just give whatever you would want seen in the comments of your stuff! I mean that’s how I came up with all this...]

Point out the details! I mentioned earlier about quoting stuff from fics (that stuff is just 👌👌👌 so delicious) but I’m pretty sure (I’m not an artist myself don’t quote me) that the exact same effect is present when you talk about details in art or something. So talk about that pretty snowflake in the background! Or that piece of dialogue that made you laugh. Just a simple nod to the details is a big difference between saying “I like this” versus “I like this thing that you took the time to make the effort you put into the details did not go unnoticed”

just ALL the feedback please and thank you

this might vary from person to person, though personally I love when people are like “The way you write imagery is so good please do more!!” so just give a little nod to someone like “The way you draw this character is amazing please do more” or something like that

I wouldn’t go as far as to give criticism (although personally I’m the type of person that loves the occasionally critique for future reference, cause it means that you care as much as I do about the quality of my work) 

But along the same lines as the details thing, a nice nod to a creator about what they’re doing right is sooooo good! makes the butterflies flutter

                ~~~~~~Did that post give you emotions?~~~~~~

   G   O   O   D

 ~~FUCKING TELL US~~

THE ACT OF SOMEONE WRITING A SET OF LETTERS, OR SOMEONE SKETCHING A BLOB MADE ANOTHER DISTANT HUMAN BEING DEVELOP CHEMICALS IN THEIR BRAIN?? SURE WOULD LOVE TO KNOW THAT BECAUSE WOW THAT’S AMAZING!?!??

just go “I’m so happy” or “I’m so sad” just “TT__TT” just fucking “:OO” or just “I hate this” [HUMOURISTICALLY] and “I can’t believe you’ve done” just give it yes tell us the emotion that you have felt we love it

I don’t think enough people understand how amazing that is???? You were once in a normal, neutral state, and then a piece of content that I created just made you smile or laugh or cry like WHAT that’s amazing omg

Ok so that’s pretty much the simple stuff right, that’s your elementary classwork right there

Just give something, literally anything and just go “I love this so much!!!!!” bam done, you just murdered the op with your love, great job

So yeah, that’s that. Pretty simple stuff, no?

...but you wanna graduate to master class?

You wanna fucking go ape shit

you wanna just

g o    t o    town?

I said this was gonna be a simple guide so don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell you that you have to write a full length essay on every post that you come across

[BUT IF YOU WANT TO DON’T LET ME STOP YOU THAT WOULD ACTUALLY BE AMAZING?? HELL WRITING OUT A PARAGRAPH OF A COMMENT IS ALREADY JUST *CHEFS KISS* MASTERCLASS OF MURDERING THE OP WITH LOVE JUST ANALYZING THE SHIT OUT OF THE COLORS AND SHADING AND FRAMING OR JUST POINTING OUT THE THEMES AND SUBTEXT AND CHARACTERIZATION --part of the reason I love betaing stuff so much because I can analyze shit and shower it with premature love while also helping fics to be even better than they were originally ugh so cleansing for my literature heart-- SO YEAH GIVE CREATORS A PARAGRAPH, DARE I DREAM OF PARAGRAPHS, BECAUSE WOW YES PLEASE YES]

...ahem anyway

the way to graduate from good to great as a receiver of content is

to do all this

any of this

any of this simple stupid amazing shit

and just

put it in an ask or message

that’s literally it

Let me tell you why that’s so amazing, it pumps up the already amazing dopamine dosage of these actions alone, and multiplies it by a hundred, let me tell you why

Let’s say you read a drabble. You loved it, you reblogged it, you gave it hearts and emojis and ranted for a few tags about how it made you drop your muffin on the ground. Fantastic work, you just made the op pass out.

Then you go about your day and that’s the end of that.

BUT

if you do all that

and then put it in an ASK

dare you even a direct message?? (probably not most of us on here are cowards I get that)

but an ASK, anon or otherwise?

The message you just sent to the op was “I interacted with the post you made, and I loved it so much that I went the extra mile of going to your blog to make extra extra sure you understand how much I liked your thing”

There’s a wordless wall with every post! You like and reblog the thing and move on with your day. 

But the fact that YOU sent a HEART a SINGLE sentence about how you liked a thing? the fact that you BREACHED that wall and just fucking keyboard smashed in the inbox? the fact that you did that is the most amazing thing in the world

you just ambush the op with good vibes. we were expecting the bare minimum in the comments and tags, but the fact you when out of your way to make it a message or ask???? superb, outstanding, the sheer SHOCK of it will shift tectonic plates

you’re my fucking hero if you do this. you’re a godsend. I would kill for you,👏people👏would👏kill👏for👏you.

AT LEAST THEY WOULD KILL FOR YOU IF THIS ACTION DIDN’T ALREADY MURDER THEM

BE A MURDERER, NAY, A SERIAL KILLER. MURDER CONTENT CREATORS WITH LOVE

BE RECKLESSLY KIND AND LOVING YOU PIECE OF SHIT, ITS IMPOSSIBLE TO BE CRINGY TO STARVING AND DYING WRITERS AND ARTISTS WE WILL TAKE IT ALL GOD DAMMIT

YOU ARE A CHILD STARING UP AT AN AQUARIUM IN WONDER.

MAKE YOUR HAPPINESS STIR THE TIDES, LET YOUR PRESCENCE BE KNOWN PAST THE REFLECTION OF THE GLASS.

THE FISH ARE LOOKING FOR YOUR SMILE. 

[egcdeath]

secret santa

pairing: ransom drysdale x f!reader

a/n: this is so self indulgent. SO SELF INDULGENT. more self indulgent than anyone will ever be able to comprehend. before u all read this, i want u to know it was originally supposed to be about training ransom at a job, but then i realized that i nothing about 1. working at a coffee shop and 2. training an employee. also, i am the worst at writing dialogue. so i didn’t write a lot of dialogue LMAO enjoy :)

also, half of this was written at 1 am. just a warning

warnings: coffee shop au, enemies (kinda) to lovers, a lil fluff, not really angst but bitter feelings, kinda slow burn and then all the sudden a fast burn i’m sorry 😭

word count: 2.6k

You woke up to the sound of your alarm rumbling your bedside table sometime around the asscrack of dawn, and rubbed your eyes with a groan. Sometimes, you really couldn’t stand your job, but bills didn’t really pay themselves, did they? You rolled out of bed, and began your dreaded morning routine before heading out to start your opening shift at your local café.

Somewhere between warming up the espresso machine and taking out last night’s trash (which you shouldn’t have had to do in the first place), an older, yet expensive looking car pulled up to the front of the parking lot. You were a bit confused, as you’d never seen this vehicle, and it was quite clear that you weren’t exactly open yet. You watched as a tall man hopped out of the car, wearing a large peacoat and very unnecessary sunglasses. He approached the door, gave it a knock, then waited for you to come open it for him. Reluctantly, you made your way over, and in order to keep yourself safe, began to speak through the glass.

“Can I help you?” You asked in an annoyed tone, then gestured towards the piece of paper that labeled your hours on the door. There was no reason for any customer to be here this early. You looked up at the mystery man and made a rather intense eye contact with him. If this was any indicator of your crowd today, work was going to be far from pleasant.

“Yeah, I was told that I’m starting today?” He had a wicked smirk on his face, like he knew he was getting under your skin already. You hated people like him, and couldn’t believe that he could possibly be your coworker. On the bright side, he probably wouldn’t last long in the first place.

“Well, are you sure you’re here on time? I can’t see any situation where Melissa would schedule to open for your very first shift.” You commented with a furrowed brow.

“Eh, I kinda just figured I’d come in whenever. The girl in my bed was an early riser, so I thought to myself ‘Why not just come in now?’” He said casually.

“Your name?” You inquired, trying to keep your annoyance to yourself, and put on a customer service smile.

“Hugh, or Ransom,” he responded. You turned around, allowed yourself a huff and eye roll, then walked through the kitchen, and into the break room to check if he truly was a new employee, or just some random creep. Sure enough, a bright pink post-it note in very neat handwriting confirmed this man’s existence. You made your way back to the door, unlocked it, and let him in.

“Since you’re here, you should… set down the chairs,” you told him, less than entertained by his presence. You could just tell he was bad news. This Ransom guy was like the textbook definition of a red flag. He talked your ear off while you tried to get through your opening routine, some casual remarks about his last hookup, complaints about how he only got this job because his mother was a regular and good friends with your manager, and how he was threatened to get cut out of his grandfather’s will if he didn’t get employed soon, and what better way to spite your family than to mess up their daily coffees.

Eventually, a few more of your coworkers, along with your manager, Melissa, made it to the café before the morning rush began. You were sitting down at your typical barstool spot, and sipping an iced Americano when Melissa broke the news to you that you would be training the new employee. Upon hearing the news, you audibly groaned, and rubbed your forehead. There was no way that you could handle this man.

-------

During his first week, Ransom not only managed to offer (and successfully give) six customers his phone number, break two mugs, mess up more orders than even Euclid could comprehend, and spill straws a multitude of times all over the floor, but he began to flirt with you relentlessly. You had no idea why you’d become his new target of choice, when it was clear that he could have literally anyone he wanted. Maybe he liked that you were playing hard to get.

If you were being honest, you had to accept that he was handsome. And rich. And the definition of a fuckboy. And since you were being frank with yourself, you had to acknowledge that you were attracted to that ‘toxic and will treat you like shit’ kind of guy. You had a roster of ex boyfriends to prove that for you.

---

It was a pretty slow Tuesday afternoon, which meant you were sitting on your phone until a customer placed an order. Eventually, the little bell above the door chimed, and an older man came through, ordering a dark and bitter drink, then standing by the counter to wait. You began to restock lids while Ransom took care of making the drink, and once it was ready, you passed it over to the man. The man in question took a rather large sip, then promptly spat it out.

“What the fuck is this!” He roared, barely giving you time to react before he proceeded to toss the drink at you, spilling most of the hot content on your apron.

You gasped, gawking down at your scorched and ruined clothing, then up at the customer, who’d turned around with a huff and left, leaving a stream of strong language on his way out. You bit back tears at the whole fiasco, and cringed as both the steamy drink, and your salty tears stung different parts of your body. You turned to look at the barista, who had passed you along the drink, and were met with no other than the white devil himself. It seemed that all the blood had drained from his already otherwise pale face.

“Oh my god, this is all my fault,” he began remorsefully. “Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, running a hand through your hair, and shoving Ransom angrily while you more or less stomped into the staff bathroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and frowned before bringing up your bundled apron to your face and screaming into it. Stupid fucking customers. Stupid fucking job. Stupid fucking Ransom. It’s like he came to your job just to make it hell. You were tired of cleaning up all these messes for him, and honestly, you wish he’d just quit already. The longer you worked with him, the more tempted you were to pour sugar in his gas tank, then take a club and break all the windows in the Beemer.

------

For the next month, your brain was completely elsewhere at work. Your brain was constantly going back and forth with you between finding Ransom hot and horrendous. While the pair of you finished up closing one night, you heard your coworker begin to speak to you as you placed your hand on the keys in your pocket.

“I know you hate me, Y/N. I get it. What that guy did to you was awful, and yes it was my fault, but what else have I done to hurt you?” He asked, seemingly out of the blue. You weren’t even sure how to respond. Ignoring the man and demonizing him in your head had become almost a second nature. “I mean, I think we could’ve been good friends. Even though you seem to think I’m devil incarnate, I think you’re a pretty cool chick-“ he continued before being cut off by you.

“Why do you even care?” you burst out, “Ransom, you just don’t get it do you? You’re just.. a douchebag. I get it, you have your moments where you’re candid and open with people, but half of the time you’re talking, you’re objectifying someone. Or bragging about something you own. Don’t get me wrong, I could get past what you did to me on accident, but you seriously have to work on yourself,” the words just seemed to pour out without your control. “Goodnight, Ransom,” you said simply before leaving the café for the night.

——

Since that day, the tension between you and Ransom had evidently become more thick. Since he was finally finished training with you, you made sure to only speak to him if you absolutely needed to, and even then, you only communicated with him in brief and straightforward answers. Sure, it seemed like a small thing to be upset about, and sure, he’d apologized, but something told you that any excuse to stay away from Ransom was a good excuse.

Though he appeared to be an immoral and selfish man, he seemed genuinely sorry for all that he’d put you through. Occasionally, you’d be sitting in the break room and look up from your phone to see him watching you. When you’d make eye contact, he would look like he wanted to say something to you, but your petty ass would leave, or look back at your phone. He was bad news anyway.

Your boss quickly caught onto what was going on between the two of you, and usually, Melissa didn’t like to participate in petty drama, but your new sour mood was such a stark contrast from before, and it seemed to shift the whole mood of the café.

That afternoon, Melissa called for a team meeting a bit before closing, and suggested a family dinner along with a Secret Santa. She’d said something along the lines of ‘It’s been way too long since we’ve done a team bonding activity, and a gift exchange is perfectly fitting for the Holiday season.’ This did make you perk up, as Melissa had a great taste in restaurants, and you were always down for a good gift exchange.

Melissa then told everyone to write their names down, then put them in a decorative Santa hat. You and your coworkers obliged, then began to pass around the hat once again in order to draw a name. You really hoped to get Xavier. You had the perfect idea of something he’d love. As you drew a piece of paper from the hat, you imagined the matching pair of fluffy socks for a human and dog that you’d passed by during your last trip to Target. You began to unfold it, thinking of what color he might like the most, when you looked down and saw ‘Ransom’ drawn out in chicken scratch.

You tried your best to mask your annoyance at who you received, but on the inside, you were seething. You mentally cursed the universe out while you pulled on your coat, and grimaced to yourself once you got out to your car. How were you supposed to get this asshole a gift?

—-

The week leading up to the exchange went fairly well for you, although it was getting a bit exhausting to be so mad at Ransom all the time. You tried to be less harsh with him, considering you needed to learn more about him in order to get him a somewhat decent gift for your exchange.

He’d seem to have taken your conversation with him to heart, and began to talk less and less about other girls when he was working with you. He didn’t comment on how well your jeans fit you, and you noticed that he’d often overextend himself in order to help you with (pretty basic) daily aspects of the job. Ransom would ask you questions about yourself, and your family, and speak less about himself. If you were honest with yourself, he was becoming a better man. And the best part was, he seemed to be doing it just for you. The thought of which brought heat to your face.

—

On the night of the exchange, you threw on a hideous and scratchy Christmas sweater before picking up your neatly wrapped gift for Ransom. You truly hoped that he’d like it, even though it certainly wasn’t the most expensive item. You bid farewell to your cat, then went on your way to the restaurant. You had to admit, you were a bit late. So it should’ve been no surprise when you arrived, and found that the only seat left at the table was next to Ransom. You gave him a cordial smile before sitting down and ordering yourself a glass of Merlot.

Something about being so close to him was kind of riling you up. The strong timbre sent coming off of him was making your whole body feel slightly warmer than normal, and you tried to ignore this strange sensation while you talked and joked with your coworkers. At one point, Ransom leaned in nice and close to you, and began to speak to you.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as hideous as Karmen’s sweatshirt,” he whispered right into the shell of your ear. Maybe it was the wine talking, but that simple action sent a whole chill through your body, and made you flush even harder than you’d flushed before. You let out a little giggle and nodded in agreement, looking across the table at her very ugly sweater.

“To be fair, the whole point of this was to wear something really ugly,” you turned your head back to where it was before, only to find that Ransom had somehow moved even closer to you.

“I just don’t know where you find something like that,” he commented, gazing much too deep into your eyes. You swore you felt the room shift after he began looking at you like that. There was about a 20% chance that you’d be able to keep your panties on after this kind of exchange. Luckily for you, a waitress broke the tension for you, setting down a few plates for everyone, then bidding them farewell. Damn.

The food was amazing, and didn’t last very long, meaning that it was time to pass gifts around sooner than later. You watched as Amy received a gift card from Sophie, Emily opened a plethora of chocolates gifted to her by Melissa, and Xander whiffed a candle given to him by Kennedy, then, it was your turn. You glanced around the table before you felt the arm next to you reach down, then hand you an oversized gift bag.

“I hope you like it,” Ransom said with a shy smile. You casually felt your cheeks on your way to pull out the very large item. You found it was a very large, and soft, hand knit blanket. It looked like it could’ve cost a small fortune, and you immediately found yourself embarrassed.

“Oh wow. This is perfect! Thank you so much,” you grinned over at your coworker, who seemed to be blushing himself. “Well, I guess I should probably give you this then,” you chuckled awkwardly before passing him your wrapped package. He tore it open barbarically, then began to laugh. Of all the gifts in the world, you two had gotten each other somewhat similar items. Sure, it wasn’t hand knit with the love of some grandma who ran a small business on Etsy, but it was the thought that counts.

“I love it, Y/N,” he exclaimed, looking deep into your eyes once again. He ran his fingers through the soft fabric, then set a hand on your arm. In that moment, it felt like time stopped. It was just you two, sitting in a quiet room, enjoying the presence of each other. You don’t even know what had gotten into you, but before you knew it, you felt a nose pressed up against yours, and a billion butterflies erupt out of your stomach. You heard a few grimaces from your coworkers at the sappy, Hallmark-like moment but what could you say.

Maybe Ransom was not that bad after all.

[crossdressingdeath]

Whenever I hear someone talking about how JC ‘sacrificed himself’ or ‘gave up his core’ for WWX (I’m paraphrasing a bit but that tends to be the gist of the argument) I always find myself disagreeing because rather than the act of bravery and selflessness that they try to portray it as it always strikes me as a split-second impulsive decision that should have been considered and discarded.

At the end of chapter 110 we find out that JC allowed himself to be caught by the Wens so that WWX would be free. Therefore this is the decision that leads to consequences including the golden core transfer, which lead to the necessity of WWX inventing demonic cultivation and his later inability to return to orthodox cultivation, which was a contributing factor to WWX being reviled by the sects and eventually killed. It’s obviously an important event and a point at which the entire story turns. In a way, this decision puts in motion the chain of events that gives the book its name. And in my opinion, outside of the context of a narrative where this had to happen for the sake of that narrative, it didn’t need to happen.

JC’s internal dialogue at the end of chapter 110 tells us that he spotted a group of Wen cultivators that would soon come across WWX, with the assumption that he would be captured, and so JC chooses to use himself as a distraction. It’s unlikely that he was trying to get caught, or if he just intended to cause a commotion and then disappear, but he was caught, so whatever he may have intended doesn’t really matter. The reason I see this as an impulsive and ultimately unnecessary decision is because of the circumstances surrounding it: WWX is shown in every adaptation to have used a hat as a disguise, furthermore he doesn’t wear any sect colours and he doesn’t have his sword at this point so there’s no reason for anyone to assume he’s a cultivator (and there’s no evidence that cultivators can sense the presence of other cultivators, otherwise XXC would have found XY without needing to hear him and wouldn’t have to be told that this ‘nameless guest’ has some cultivation experience). Even if they do recognise him as a cultivator, out of the two of them WWX is the one who would probably be able to convincingly lie that he’s a solitary rogue cultivator buying food for the road. More than WWX being unrecognised as WWX in the street though, JC’s capture is likely to put WWX in more danger rather than less: the Wens know that JC and WWX escaped Lotus Pier together and that it’s likely they’ve stayed together, finding one of them in this town increases the odds that the other one is here as well and they might increase their efforts rather than focus all of them on JC. Also, it seems that JC didn’t consider that the ‘brother’ who’s been told by both of JC’s parents to protect JC/die for JC would come after him, therefore just setting back any progress or distance they managed in order for WWX to come back for JC and then have to make another escape but this time with fewer distractions they could potentially rely on. These are conclusions JC should have been able to make with a moment of thinking through the consequences of his decision.

This is actually a case where JC’s actions are worse in CQL. In that there’s a scene where WWX tells JC to take care of JYL because she has a fever before he leaves to buy supplies. So there JC not only makes the decision to leave his sick sister alone, he also essentially forces WWX to choose between them. He knows WWX loves JYL, but he also knows that WWX just swore to protect JC with his life. WWX can either stay with JYL and help her escape or he can go to Lotus Pier to rescue JC from the results of his own stupid decisions. He doesn’t even really have any good options — I don’t remember JC ever thanking WWX for the extremely dangerous rescue mission, but you can bet that if WWX had decided to prioritise getting a feverish JYL to somewhere he knew she’d be safe by the time he managed to rescue JC he’d be berated for not dropping anything else for JC, if he was still alive at that point after refusing to eat or drink due to believing himself worthless without a golden core.

To be fair if memory serves the Wens were suspicious of WWX, but yeah. I think it’s pretty clear that JC didn’t intend to get captured and have his core removed; in fact based on his reaction he didn’t even consider it as a possibility. The core thing, at least. It’s not a sacrifice if the person making it didn’t know what the consequences would probably be! It’s like how running blindly into danger isn’t really courage, because to be truly brave you have to consider the risks of what you’re doing. If you don’t consider the danger, you aren’t overcoming your fear of it. JC jumped in to draw the Wens off on impulse; that’s not a sacrifice. Also, it was stupid. As you say, JC charging in like that was likely to draw more attention down on WWX, especially once he was recognised; it’s no secret that JC and WWX are together pretty much all the time, so once the Wens recognised JC they’d realise that odds were that the guy they were approaching was WWX. And yeah, it should’ve been pretty obvious to JC that WWX would come after him, leaving both of them in danger. In fact if memory serves JC never shows any surprise at WWX getting him out, so it’s quite possible he did realise WWX would show up. And like. he could’ve... knocked something over? Shouted? Run over to WWX to warn him? He basically just runs out waving his arms and shouting “Hey, big name target right here!” It’s so stupid. Please... subtlety...

And yeah, in CQL JC fully leaves his sick sister alone and then creates a situation where WWX can either protect her or go after JC? And he would for sure have been pissy about WWX choosing JYL, even after JC chose to protect WWX. Even when JC is trying to help someone else he still causes them no end of trouble...

[httpbread]

Hey there again!! I was wondering if I could request another dialogue prompt scenario with Hanako x Fem!Reader again with #33 "I only ever thought there were two kinds of love: The kind you would kill for, and the kind you would die for... but for you, my darling, you are the kind of love I would live for" and #34 "I want you. All of you, and not just half-heartedly, wholly. And maybe that's selfish, but I don't care." It can be past Hanako or present, your choice! Thank you again!! 👻👻👻

Pairing: Hanako x reader

Words: 7048 (mistakes have been made)

T/W: death mention, injury mention,a bit angsty but with a happy ending

On god I’ve written more than 10k for this bad boy with the amount that i have  edited and cut and rewritten but i have finally finished it. sorry it took so long!!

-

“Kisses can’t fix everything you know."

This was exactly why she found herself sitting on the floor of the third-floor girl’s bathroom, the door locked and a first aid kit spread out before her.

"Amane-"

"Please."

The alcohol-soaked cotton ball falters in her fingers at the desperation in his soft voice.

"Can’t we just talk about something else?"

She peers up at him under her lashes briefly. Lucky or unlucky, the boy refused to return the gesture, staring stubbornly off, a crinkle in his brow and a weight in his lips.

(Y/n) looks back down at her work, but not without muttering, "Only when you stop bringing me all these cuts and bruises..."

She knows he’s going to huff and puff, so she interrupts before he can, hoping a change of topic might put him in a better mood, "Because of you, I talked to someone about medical school today."

Amane utters immediately, "Huh?"

"Tsuchigomori-san thinks I should look into becoming a doctor," she keeps her gaze fixed on the cut she was treating, delicately dabbing it clean with the cotton ball, "I’m inclined to believe him."

Her friend is quiet and so is she, working methodically as ever.

"You’re good at what you do..." he mumbles, scarcely loud enough for her to hear over the unending silence of the afternoon bathroom.

"I know," she responds, adding pointedly, "You give me plenty of practice."

Glancing up, she catches his sour look with her small, sly smile. Sour, sour, sour those eyes were. Like two little lemons glaring back at her. Not intimidating in the slightest.

"That’s low," he enlightens her, making her snort under her breath.

Was it really considered a low blow to point out the truth staring them both in the face?

She lets out a long breath, the air slipping slowly from her lips as she returns her focus to the task at her hands.

"It’s only because of you," she reaches over for the antibiotic ointment, muttering, "If it were anyone else, I never would’ve taken any interest in first aid."

Squeezing the small tube so it oozes the gel onto her finger, she then brings it to the back of his hand, ever so gently smearing it onto the cut, "I would’ve never even thought twice about what I was doing."

She never would’ve been so careful.

After all, she’d grown up always having to be cutthroat and serious to get things done. She never had time to just slow down and look at things. There were a million things she had to strikeout. She was meant to act better than a machine, quick, efficient, and perfect.

And yet...

Even if it didn’t come naturally to (Y/n), Amane showed her that there was a need in the world for that kind of softness she all too often crushed and buried away.

Unknowingly, he had taught her many things over the course of their sometimes rocky friendship, but most of all... He taught her that she couldn't get through all her life constantly acting sharp and rigid.

Her wandering thoughts fizzle with the feeling of his eyes trained on her.

"Because we’re friends...?"

For a moment, she forgets herself. She’d gotten lost in her thoughts.

The words left a bittersweet taste in her mouth regardless... Soft on him because they were friends... How peachy.

She avoids his gaze, retrieving a bandaid for the last of his injuries, "Because I care about you, Amane. I don’t want to hurt you, so it’s made me slow down and think more."

While her words were no lie, they were nowhere near the whole truth, either.

However...

A subtle curve tugs at her lips.

"And..."

She can’t help but tease him.

"I realized that every time I help some hurt stranger... that they’re just like you."

He scoffs lightly, those narrowed amber eyes snapping up to meet hers, "In what way? You’re saying every stranger and I are the same to you?"

She shakes her head with a small laugh at his flare of thinly veiled jealousy. Geez. Someone was feeling a little defensive today.

"No. They just remind me of you," she admits, gazing down at his hand for a moment, her own absently stilled, "and then I know that someone out there is probably worried sick about their idiot."

She knew she was always worried about him, at least.

"Oh..."

She brushes over this matter with a new one.

"I’ll be in school for a really long time," she comments, busying herself with unwrapping the bandaid crinkling noisily between her fingers.

"And...?" He trails off, waiting.

"No. That’s all," she carefully slides the bandage out and places it over the cut on his hand, ever so lightly smoothing it out, "I just wanted to hear your thoughts on it."

Despite whatever thoughts and situations faced them, they were childhood friends after all. It made sense that she would care about his opinion... but maybe not as much as she ultimately did.

"Well, I think..." he’s quiet for a moment, searching for words, "I think you’d make a great doctor."

This makes the smile on her lips grow as she looks up at him, watching him gaze down at their hands, a thoughtful look marking his handsome features.

"You’re already good at scolding."

This makes her pause.

‘Bastard.’ She wants to huff at him.

And yet, instead, she pulls his hand up, (e/c) eyes flicking up to meet his quickly narrowing golden ones. She pays no mind to the suspecting look on his face and places an ever so soft kiss the bandaid she had just applied.

(Y/n) watches in silent delight as that familiar rose color blossoms across his pale cheeks.

She slowly sets his hand back down, though not releasing it from hers, muttering finally, "I suppose so."

She then gives his hand a squeeze, smirking a little, "Maybe I’ll even learn how to get my scolding through especially thick skulls like yours."

She couldn’t just let him slander her like that and get off completely scot-free.

"Okay, now you’re just being mean," he decides, stealing his hand away from her to cross his arms over his chest. Which, he was right, but only a little.

She only continues to smirk at him, undeterred.

"Says you," she notes, amusement lingering in her lowered tone, "You want away from me so bad you’re skipping planets."

"The moon is not a planet," he utters, scandalized by her words, his eyes sparkling a little with the way they widen incredulously, only allowing more light in their golden-colored depths.

She waves her hand dismissively, biting back her teasing smile, "Ah, right, right. Dwarf planet, yeah?"

(Y/n) turns her head away, adding the sprinkles to the top of her deceit before he can hastily protest, "Well, I guess since you’re kicking me to the curb, maybe I should find some rich husband to keep me company during my studies. Someone new I can take care of."

"Absolutely not!" Amane declares.

He was right, of course, but she was more than happy to let him think so highly of her. Her sharp tongue would never allow such a thing.

"Why not? Can’t you see it now?" She tilts her head at him, bringing a pointer finger to each corner of her lips and drawing them up in an award-winning smile, "Me, a trophy wife, a trophy husband, both fabulously rich. Three dogs. Maybe a kid."

He wears a look on his face that’s quite the opposite of hers, "Of course I can."

The sudden admission makes her falter in surprise.

"I just don’t want to," his eyes avoided hers.

She slowly lowers her hands, before setting them back in her lap.

"Then you need to get your eyes checked," she retorts bluntly, "The day I find someone who can tolerate me is the day hell freezes over."

Her eyes calmly find the amber ones now trying to burn holes in her.

"You, on the other hand..."

She can’t help her adoring smile.

"You’re going places, Amane."

She laughs a little to hide the slight embarrassment gripping her, eyes drawing to the window, "I mean, more than just the moon. I could see you going anywhere you put your mind to..."

The sun looks like it’s beginning to set, casting brilliant shades of oranges and yellows through the window to make the bathroom.

Yet, the sunset puts no hurry in her unmoving feet. She was sure Amane would walk her home, dark or not. He may be stubborn, and they did argue a lot, but he was loyal.

"Not without you."

She blinks.

"I’m not going anywhere without you, (Y/n)."

She turns to look at him, feeling almost incredulous.

"That’s a funny thing to say," she utters, cupping her cheek, trying to play it off to soothe her beating heart, "I know we’ve been friends for a long time, Amane, but..."

Her face softens with a teasing little smile at him, "Aren’t you tired of me yet?"

However, he doesn’t smile back, almost glaring at her like she’s said something stupid- sort of like when she muddled facts about the moon, except missing that shock factor, now replaced with something more firm.

"No."

He looks down at his hands as she blinks twice.

"I want you."

Her lungs abruptly come to a silent halt.

"All of you, (Y/n)."

Especially when he’s suddenly moving closer, taking her face in his kind hands, "Not just half-heartedly, but wholly."

For once, no protests come tumbling past her lips. She couldn’t even think of any. She almost wasn’t sure she had any.

He swallows, giving away his nerves, but doing nothing to stop those big beautiful eyes from burning bright.

"And maybe- maybe that’s selfish, but I don’t care."

She forces her lungs to work again, almost robotically evicting the breath from her chest.

But she can’t look away from him.

Or keep the big smile from curving at her lips as she leans forward, ignoring her nervous heart as she places her hands on either side of his face.

"(Y/n)...?" He whispers, voice quiet but his pitch is higher than usual, giving away his fear if she didn’t see the obvious terror glittering in his eyes.

"Oh, Amane..." she closes her eyes, leaning her forehead against his, "You’re an idiot."

The slight hitch of his breath makes her audibly clue him in.

"I’m already yours," she won’t bite her tongue now. He opened up to her, and she’d be damned if she didn’t meet him halfway- if not further. "I’ve been yours for a long time now."

She pulls away- but only a little. Just so she can look at him again.

He still hasn’t seemed to have closed those eyes of his, trained on her unwaveringly, surprise dancing in their shimmering depths.

They meet hers, and her heart feels full.

"I’m not sure if I should be hurt that you just called me an idiot when I’m vulnerable..." he elucidates, making her grin further, "Or just be happy that you feel the same."

"Well, I’d say..." she slides her arms past his neck, coiling around him and drawing him in close like the snake she is, "Take what you can get."

He responds by pulling her just as near with a light tug on her uniform, tilting his head a little to seal their words with a warm kiss- and (Y/n) couldn't be happier to follow.

Neither of them could have ever guessed what had lied in store for them, however.

They were both so bright and ready to take on the world by each other’s side, with hands held and fingers intertwined.

Neither of them ever thought that the future would be three graves sitting in a neat little row next to each other, not even two weeks later.

Everything had slipped between their fingers in an instant. They were a snap- two fingers slipping past each other, perfect at first until the friction caught up to them. With just a single little bang, they were far apart once again, as though they had never met in the first place.

No fairytale wedding on the moon. No handing out lollipops to patients. No graduating. No nothing.

Every inkling of a dream they had built came crashing down abruptly, leaving nothing but carnage and broken hearts.

—-

(Y/n) tugged at the bandage.

"Oi!"

"Oi!" She mocks in a higher pitch.

The blond mean mugs her.

She spits his look right back at him.

"Baby," she comments tartly, looking back down at her work, "If you want to start making complaints, stop getting hurt, why don’t you?"

Just about every day this kid kept coming back to her!

Sure, she knew he was an exorcist and all that and a cherry on top, but she also knew one boy wasn’t getting into all of this trouble by himself.

Almost made her want to march right up to that bathroom and give that mystery a piece of her mind.

Mystery number seven...

That damned boy.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!"

"My bad," she quickly removes her hands.

Yeah. Okay. That time was actually her bad. That bandage was looking a teensy bit tight.

"Distracted, doc?"

Doc.

"No."

She looks down at his wrist, gently loosening the bandage on it.

(Y/n) (L/n) was not a doctor, nor would she ever become one.

However, the school had a funny way of taunting her, withholding her as the rumored mystery number eight- the medical mystery, it so happened.

Mostly, her job consisted of patrolling around and taking care of the living idiots. Fixing them up, popping a sucker in their mouth to shut them up, before she was on her way again.

The rest of her official job as a mystery consisted of gathering... specific- er, well, exotic goods, like mermaid scales for example, and things of that nature.

It wasn’t much, but it tended to keep her busy.

Well, that was a lie. Her job was all she had. Not to mention it wasn’t an easy one either. Sticking with the previous example, Mermaids weren’t exactly jumping all over the idea of showering her with their lovely little scales. Despite being a healer, her line of work got her into more fights than not.

"So... do I still get a sucker...?"

She blinks, looking up at the blond, realizing she was zoning out again.

"Hah?"

He smiles at her, nonetheless, a smile much like the sun, in the way that it makes her squint and look away.

"Yeah, whatever," she huffs, reaching into her apron.

She retrieves a handful.

"What flavor?" She shoves it at him, not at all intending to help him choose or find said flavor.

Okay, so maybe the candy wasn’t a required part of her job, but hey, a little bribery never hurt.

She’d much rather be rumored as the helpful little medic with the candy than the crazed doctor butcherer or something.

"Wh- Oi! Only one!" She slaps his hand away, glaring venomously as he laughs.

"Please, (L/n)-san!" He beams at her, bright as ever, not exactly begging, "The mokke are hungry too."

She looks down, not at all surprised at the gathering of pink bunny-like creatures at her feet.

"Right, right. Sorry."

She then promptly offers them the biggest smile she can muster, hoping to display just how sorrowful she was for them.

"Maybe I should start practicing my veterinary skills too!"

And just like that, they’re running for the hills, no more pink creatures crowding her, not even within her sights. It’s almost impressive.

She drops the smile along with the rest of the lollipops back into her frilly ivory apron in exchange for her usual deadpan expression, "Thought so."

But she notices there’s one particular annoyance left standing.

"What do you want, boy?" She drops a hand on her hip and her head to the side, (e/c) eyes narrowing "Got some internal bleeding or something I’m not seeing?"

He gives his head a shake, sending his spiky blonde locks bouncing.

"No. I was just thinking."

She comments immediately, "Well, I’m not into studying therapy either. Move along."

However, he only chuckles at this, amused as though she didn’t completely mean it.

"Aren’t doctors supposed to be nice?"

She looks up at the boy, and contrary to him, she is further unamused.

He only continues to smile at her, undeterred as ever, blue eyes bright with life.

"Maybe," she offers him a shrug, "I’m not a doctor."

(Y/n) decides she likes the way his whole face scrunches up when she pokes his nose, like she pressed some kind of button, "The only thing I am, is dead."

"Well, I think you’re very kind," he says, arguing his own point.

She flashes him a funny look. He was the one who implied she wasn’t nice. She just confirmed that theory. She agreed with him! So, why the hell did he feel the need to continue arguing with her? ... himself? She wasn’t even sure. What a weirdo this one was.

"You just show you’re kind in the way that you’re really mean and you nag a lot."

For a moment, the words make her falter.

For a moment, all she can see is loving amber eyes framed by long dark lashes and darker choppy locks.

For a moment.... they sound so much like something he would say to her...

"It just means you care! And you have a big repressed heart under all those sour looks!"

There’s a finger in her face, snapping her from those melancholy memories. She promptly brushes it away to reveal the scowl marking her lips.

"Yeah? Then explain why I don’t care, then."

But he’s on his feet now, waving away this idea as he grabs his bag, "You do. That’s why you help me all the time!"

No.

That was mostly so Teru didn’t exorcise that idiot no. 7. If he saw all the cuts and bruises Kou got from working under him...

Well, not that she cared about that idiot either.

As far as she was concerned, all these boys were idiots- and she was just going to calmly stay in her lane, away from them all!

That number seven boy was nothing to her except a poor excuse for a boss and distant memories.

The other blond was just a slightly taller menace.

And this smiling idiot was nothing but that. An idiot.

...

......

And… maybe just a little bit of a friend as well...

She waves to him.

"Don’t come back," she says to him.

Yet, he responds cheerfully, waving excitedly, "I’ll see you tomorrow, (L/n)-san!"

-

Tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes.

Week in. Week out.

It was all the same to her.

She did her job. She helped students. She got what she needed. She finished her work.

She kept herself busy and never glanced his way.

That was how it was.

That’s how it was supposed to be.

That’s how it always was.

"Long time no see, (N/n)-chan!"

But that familiar voice shattered any vague sense of order she had gathered over the fifty years since she had last heard it.

There’s a black patch on his cheek now, but changing the cover of a book didn’t change its wicked contents.

Nor did it remove the pages stained with her blood.

"You look well," he tells her, voice high with a giggle, "How old are you now? Sixty? Seventy?"

(Y/n) flinches as his lithe fingers brush her cheeks with unseen stains coating them, but she can’t move away. Her feet have sunken into the concrete below, holding her in place as her chest seizes, ever nerve lighting on fire with the need to disappear.

"You really don’t look it!" He tells her, and she can only watch as his lips pull up to reveal his sharp fangs, "Nope, nope! You don’t look a day past your last living one."

Her lips part almost desperately, but there’s a weight on her tongue and a knot in her throat that squanders any attempt for the words she already lacks.

"Or- well, your second to last day."

His fingers brush past her face to trace through her (h/l) (h/c) locks, a thoughtful hum trickling into her ears "You weren’t much to look at in your last moments, were you?"

As he pulls back his hand, her knees wobble, threatening to slip out from under her.

"Or should I say there wasn’t much left of you to look at?"

"T-Tsukasa-" It’s only one word but it leaves her nearly gasping, the weight on her chest more than paralyzing.

"Hmm~?"

She meets his eyes and finds her scarcely gathered will crumbling instantly.

Those big honey-hued eyes that could so quickly go from looking like someone she loved so dearly to narrowing, squinting as though he needed glasses, reminding her they belonged to something, someone different that was much more sinister.

"(N/n)-chan..." He says suddenly.

His voice is no longer light and airy.

It’s cold, detached, and the exact sound of all her hopes of coming out of this unscathed shattering at once.

"You know why I’m here, don’t you?"

-

"(L/n)-san!"

Kou wears a big smile as he marches into the elusive number eight’s boundary.

He was going to show her today!

Because today, Kou did not have a single bruise on him!

The second he finished up with Hanako and found his feet pulling him instinctively back to the apparition’s boundary, the realization hit him like a train.

Knowing he was perfectly fine, for once, he found himself practically racing to get to her boundary, ready to rub it in her pretty face that he could take care of himself! She’d know now that he was cool and didn’t always need her to baby him.

"(L/n)-san, you’ll never guess!" He throws back another patient’s curtain.

Only to once again reveal nothing but an empty hospital bed.

However, with half of the nurse’s office still unexplored, there was still plenty of possibility for the apparition to appear.

That’s what he told himself.

But deep down, a strange feeling was cuddling in his stomach.

(L/n) was always in her boundary right now.

She’d never admit it, but he knew it was so she could be here to patch him up after his duties with Hanako.

And sure, they didn’t always stay in the office when she fixed him back up, but they always met here.

So, throwing back the last curtain...

"(L/n)-san?"

His brows are knitted together as he asks the air around him.

Where the hell was she?

-

"I’m telling you! She’s missing! Vanished! Disappeared! Gone!"

Hanako draws a card from the deck sitting between him and the mokke in the third-floor bathroom’s window sill.

He places it down with the collection of cards littered in the space before him.

"Your move," he comments quietly.

"Hanako!"

He swallows.

Hanako should have known better.

He should have kept the boy away from her just as he kept himself away from her.

When Kou had first come to him about the pretty spirit he had stumbled upon- he had almost hit the nail right on the head, killing what could come from such an introduction instantly.

But he didn’t.

Because deep down, Hanako couldn’t keep away from her.

He needed some kind of tie- some measly form of connection to her- he longed for it, ached for it, craved it...

Until it came to him in the form of Kou, and his friendship with the medical mystery.

Kou was an open book. Especially when it came to (Y/n). One little question and he was rambling about the spirit. How she seemed, what she had scolded him about that day, how mean she was, how kind she was, how beautiful she was.

Jealousy would stick to his lungs like tar, making him feel sicker with longing than any cigarette would. The boy would talk about her like she put the stars in the sky- and would wonder to him just how she did it, a question he had been asking himself for over fifty years.

But on the other hand, hearing about her was refreshing. It was like a drop of water a second away from dying in a desert. He couldn't ever get enough of her. She was an addiction he could never quite get his fix of but sure as hell couldn’t get rid of either.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He was.

"I told you! She’s gone, Hanako!"

She was. She had been gone for fifty damned years.

Fifty years and he still didn’t have a single solid idea of what to do about it now.

"What if she’s in danger, or she needs help, or-"

"She’s dead."

The words leave a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. He’s not talking to the boy.

But he responds, none the wiser.

"And?"

His eyes flicker over to the blond.

Kou stands tall as ever, his fists curled tightly at his sides, a burning emotion in his icy eyes that he didn’t even want to unpack.

"Dead or not, she could still need help."

He couldn’t even help her the first time she needed it.

What was he supposed to do now?

"Please, Hanako," Kou pleads, voice low with despair, "If something happened to her I would never forgive myself."

Hanako sighs at this.

Something had already happened to her once and Hanako still hadn’t forgiven himself.

He pushes to his feet.

"Only a quick look."

-

(Y/n) choked on her own breath, shoes slamming hard against the linoleum floor she’d known her whole life. The hall she’d walk to her classes in, linger in with old friends before everything hit the fan. The halls that once only held the danger of being late due to bustling crowds.

Burning liquid seeped between her trembling fingers as she pressed them firmer over her wound, a sharp gasp pushing past her already parted lips.

She just had to make it to the nurse’s office, her boundary.

Tsukasa couldn’t kill her there. Not as easily anyways.

The staircase was within sight.

She struggled to wedge a glance over her shoulder, fingers slipping from her wound slightly, making her grip her shoulder tighter.

Tsukasa only gazed after her blankly, dull eyes looking black, narrowed as he advanced, efficient and deadly in the way that he moved along after her.

A cry caught in her throat as she whipped her head back around.

The staircase! That was-

Oh god.

A dirty shoelace caught under a frantic foot.

The staircase greeted her greedily, peppering her face with kisses as it yanked her into its arms despite her protesting choked scream, wet hand slipping right off her injury as she desperately searched for something to hold, something to grab, something to save her as she came tumbling down.

But nothing could save her.

Nothing could ever save (Y/n).

She slammed roughly against where the stairs met the wall and turned, thrusting her hands out instinctively to claw at the wall in hopes of stopping only to accidentally shove herself down the rest of the depths.

Her butt met the stairs first this time when she hit, and she could only watch in blurry horror when suddenly her feet were soaring over her head- the next moment managing to slam her face against the floor again.

Fate was cruel.

Her head was spinning as she fought the earthquakes consuming her, forcing herself up on her hands and knees to stare down at a bloody floor. She needed to get a grip and she needed to get one fast.

Yet- her movements were painfully slow as she sat up and back on her knees, blinking the clouds from her eyes as she tried to look up, past the ringing in her ears.

Tsukasa descended the stairs in a much calmer fashion, grinning as he hopped down the last two- or four if her vision was anything to go by.

However, in truth, there was nothing to be done.

Her pounding head had been clogged with honey. Her limbs felt tingly from blood loss and the revenants of adrenaline. She was struggling just to blink in place.

Tsukasa smiled at her almost sweetly.

"Are you done?"

But they both knew the answer to that.

This story unraveling between them has already been written before.

She lifted her hands up to the crouched boy.

His smile curled into a grin as he grew ever closer to devour her as a whole.

But (Y/n)’s hands stopped at his chest and so did he.

She pressed. Pushing him.

Away. Away. Away.

It’s all her foggy brain could come up with in that moment.

His chest vibrates under her blood stained fingertips with a warm laugh.

It’s burning.

Scalding. Scalding. Scalding.

"Oh, (N/n)-chan... is that it?"

A labored breath falls past her lips.

"Is that all you’ve got?"

She squints up at him under the harsh lights above, fighting to give him the nasty look she so longed to give him- along with a piece of her mind.

She forces her lips apart, taking in a shaky breath.

"(L/n)-san!"

Tsukasa hums, mirroring her surprise at the sudden interruption.

"Now you’ve done it," he tells her with a bored sigh, "You’ve gotten us both caught."

If he didn’t want to get caught, then maybe he shouldn’t always be trying to kill her.

That’s what she wants to snap at him.

But her face twists, body erupting into flame thinly veiled by the adrenaline rushing back into her veins as the cruel boy drags her up onto her unable feet.

"What did you do to her?!"

Adrenaline or not- she feels like screaming out as he pulls her bad arm around his shoulders, draping her like some kind of shawl, his other arm coiled around her waist with a vice-like grip.

"Oh, nothing much really!" His singsong voice makes her head ache, "Nothing compared to what I want to."

"Can’t you at least lie?" She hisses through her clenched teeth, wincing too hard to even look at him as she desperately tries to will the pain away.

"Lying is bad, (N/n)-chan!" He huffs and she doesn’t even need to lift her head to see his sour pout.

"So is being mean to girls."

Tsukasa and herself have very different reactions to this voice.

"AMANE!"

She blinks her eyes harshly, not able to catch herself from looking up for him.

The blur dissolves from her gaze, leaving her with the sight of an all too familiar boy.

Amane stands in the wake, cape flowing out behind him. Those short choppy black locks tucked under his cap, amber eyes almost glowing as they peer under the brim. They’re almost narrowed as sharp as the kitchen knife clutched in his hand, knuckles tinted white with effort.

She realizes then that she hasn’t caught such a glimpse of him in a while now.

Of course, the way their shattered connection- or lack of to be more precise- that wasn’t an odd occurrence at all. It was expected.

But she remained like a broken record player, the stylus still catching at the old cracks in her heart.

Even more knowing that this situation was almost all too familiar.

"Aren’t you the one who was always saying (N/n)-chan was special?" She flinches in surprise, snapped right out of her thoughts as a hand grips her face, fingers digging into the soft squish of her cheeks, turning her head. She blinks rapidly, meeting those inquisitive golden eyes. "So- she’s not just any girl."

A scowl makes its way to her lips as she tries to tug her face away from his unbudging hand.

"Let her go, Tsukasa. This isn’t about her and you know it."

Tsukasa looks away from her at this, releasing her head, "Oh, Amane. That’s rich."

His arm around her waist squeezes warningly, "(N/n)-chan and I are friends too, y’know! You should learn to share!"

What a damned hypocrite.

"Friends don’t hurt each other!"

She almost wishes her fun road trip down the stairs had fully knocked her out.

Swaying useless on her feet, pounding head victim to the yelling around her- it was almost more hellish than the stab wound in her shoulder and that was saying something.

"Don’t you listen, boy?" Tsukasa sighs as she lifts her hand, trying to be subtle.

Her shitty plan was to try and push him away again.

But he only snatched it up, before it could even reach him halfway, giving it a squeeze.

"(N/n)-chan and I share a special bond!"

Yeah, it’s called ‘death’- which is what all murderers and their victims shared.

She tries to wiggle her fingers free from him but he turns to her with an unsettling grin, "Isn’t that right?"

She does reply.

"Get off me." 

It’s just not the one he’s looking for.

Tsukasa sighs, shaking his head with a pout.

She didn’t actually expect her request to work though.

But her head slamming back against the ground again is a sure-fire sign that he had let her go.

"Whoopsie daisy," he chirps as her vision swims.

She can vaguely make out his figure, towering over her.

But those eyes glaring down at her are unmistakable.

For a moment, staring up at him like this, panic stirs in her heart.

The sight was a carbon copy of the one as she was met with as she took her last breath fifty years ago.

The only difference this time was that she was already dead before her heavy lids sank shut.

-

It’s almost homely what greets her as she creeps away from oblivion.

Though, not what most would consider homely.

After all, the stinging smell of antiseptic and the blinding lights unavoidable even behind closed eyes were as impersonal as impersonal things could get.

But they were something (Y/n) knew well.

So, she wasn’t at all surprised when she finally willed herself to crack open her eyelids only to find a shitty poster staring back at her.

It was the kitten one.

‘Don’t forget to wash your paws!’.

(Y/n) is glaring at it miserably when she hears it.

"You’re awake."

"No shit," she croaks, but people always said she was ambitious- which is why she closes her eyes in hopes of falling back unconscious.

Anything to escape the shitshow she had escaped the first time by doing so.

Speaking of which...

"What happened?"

She almost doesn’t want to know.

He answers.

"That should be the least of your worries right now."

It’s not the answer she wants.

Her eye twitches, but she fights to keep them closed, still hanging onto the idea of sleep.

"You do realize when you tell someone not to worry they do exactly that?"

"I didn’t tell you not to worry. I just said that shouldn’t be your biggest worry."

She doesn’t respond.

He jabs.

"I don’t think you’ve ever stopped worrying for a second of your life."

She opens her eyes at this.

But not very much due to her glare which she turns her head to the side to give him.

Amane sits at her bedside, a chair dragged up next to her. He’s got his arms crossed resting on the mattress, his head nestled atop them.

Those eyes catch her own.

She looks away, a tired sigh slipping from her lips.

She looks for something to fill the silence.

Anything, really.

She just doesn’t want to be left alone with him. Left alone with her thoughts.

Left alone with thoughts of him.

"Who did this chop job?"

She finds conversation in the bandages wrapped around her arm/shoulder where Tsukasa had stabbed her. She sure they had never even so much as watched one of those stupid hot doctor shows before playing doctor on her.

"Me."

She looks up at him again, surprise pricking her.

She blinks at him as he holds her gaze again.

"You used to patch me up all the time... I must have picked up a thing or two."

"No, you didn’t," she squints at him, a scowl pulling at her lips, "This is the worst dressing I’ve ever seen- and I’m self-taught."

Her words linger in the air but are smothered by the silence after them.

They only gaze at each other for the longest time.

Before she watches the corners of Amane’s lips uncontrollably tug upward.

He quickly looks away.

"Really? I saved you and that’s the first thing you tell me?"

"Do better then," she turns away too, sticking her nose up as she utters, "Maybe open your ears and listen for once and I wouldn’t always have to scold you."

But she’s stunned, staring off as his soft chuckle sneaks into her ears.

When was the last time she had heard him laugh...?

She’s still as her hand is lifted.

Squeezed lightly.

"How do you feel? Can I get you anything?"

She can’t help but turn back to him.

She must look as sad as she feels because his face falls.

(Y/n) swallows, speaking up before he can.

"No. I’m fine."

But he still holds her hand in his.

Watching her.

Waiting.

But for what?

She was waiting too. Gazing right back. But she didn’t know either.

"I’m sorry."

She did know this wasn’t what she wanted, however.

He wears a deep frown, a vulnerable sparkle in his honey shaded depths as he looks down, holding her hand tighter.

"I knew he was back," he’s almost mumbling. If they were even an inch further apart she was sure she wouldn’t be able to hear him. "I just... I didn’t think he would find you so soon."

Her heart weighs.

She sighs, squeezing his hand.

"Amane, I’ve told you already."

She gazes down at their hands, telling him again.

"It’s not your fault. It’s not your job to protect me."

He never stays quiet after these words.

"It is. You should never have gotten hurt in the first place. I should’ve-"

She interrupts tiredly, "-Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. It’s been fifty years."

"You might be able to change the future- but the past is the past," (Y/n) reaches out with her other hand, gently hooking her fingers under his chin to get him to look up at her, "Amane."

He reluctantly shifts his eyes up to find her (e/c) ones gazing deeply.

"There’s nothing to be done. Let it go."

She watches his brows pull together.

"I don’t want to let it go," he says firmly, lacing his fingers with hers, "I don’t want to let you go."

She lets out a quiet breath, "I’m already gone."

He winces.

She’s unhesitating as she tells him, "But you weren’t supposed to be. You were supposed to live."

This was the part where he snapped at her. This was the part where they usually began to fight.

This was the part where they fought, got mad at each other, and then proceeded to avoid each other for the next ten years.

"Back then..."

His voice is low, tentative.

"I only ever thought there were two kinds of love."

She looks down, watching as his thumb runs along hers, listening to his careful words.

"The kind you would kill for," she immediately jerks her eyes back up to meet his, but he avoids her eyes, still looking down, "and the kind you would die for."

Well...

She guesses that was understandable to think given the rocky road of what their relationship had been.

"But I realize now... for you..."

He finally looks up at her, eyes gentle as they greet hers.

"You are the kind of love I would live for."

His words stun her.

So much that she’s genuinely speechless for the first time in a long, long while.

Amane seems to grow a little nervous with her silence, now looking down again, toying with her hand limp in his.

"Well..." she finally finds her voice.

And a scolding as she reaches forward to knock her fist atop his hat.

"It’s a little too late for that!" She tells him sternly, almost exasperatedly, "Fifty years? Couldn’t you have thought of that before you died?"

"Wh- Hey! Don’t be mean!" He glowers, trying to brush her whacking hands away.

But she leans forward just as quickly, yanking him ruthlessly into a hug.

"You idiot!" She huffs at him, despite the way she squeezes him tight.

It’s like a breath of fresh air- acting on age-old cravings like this.

Sometimes when you wanted something and found yourself longing for it- it sounded way better than what it actually was.

But this was exactly as she remembered it.

A big smile breaks out onto her lips, which she’s able to bury in the crook of his neck again, just like she once had. She melts like putty as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close.

"I know," he grumbles sourly, admitting defeat, "I’m sorry."

"You better be," she says, uncaring that her words are muffled.

"If I say I’m stupid will you forgive me...?"

She pulls away from him after carefully masking her smile.

He blinks at her stony expression, worries instantly finding him.

She can’t help but give into temptation.

"You know, I’m pretty sure I read in one of my biology textbooks that kisses make everything better."

His anxieties melt right off his face- leaving him almost offended for a moment that she was teasing him now of all times.

But he smiles, running his hand up along her back to cradle the back of her neck.

"Oh?" He pulls her in close, and she can feel his breath tickle her upturning lips, "Well- I may suck at bandages, but I’m actually pretty great at kissing."

"Yeah?" Her eyes flicker up to meet his under her lashes.

He responds by closing the minuscule gap between them, his movements almost too sweet as she melts into them.

He was right. He was pretty great at kissing.

[loopy777]

Non-Review: Free Comic Book Day 2021 - The Legend of Korra (Also Featuring Avatar: The Last Airbender)

With all the hype around 'Suki Alone,' it looks to me like most of the fandom missed that an additional Avatar comic with a story from each cartoon's era was just released for Free Comic Book Day. You can read them for yourself on either Dark Horse Digital or Comixology where it's mislabeled as being for ages 17+ (free accounts are required for both), but I'm sure one of the reasons you all love me is because of my willingness to jump in between you and these comics like the deadly bullets they can be. Well, I'm happy to die (metaphorically) for the sake of (a little anonymous internet) love, so I'm doing a full snarky review for each ten-page story. Also, I'm bored, and it's more fun to make fun of mediocre stuff than to praise stuff I like.

It's time for me to review "Free Comic Book Day 2021 - The Legend of Korra (Also Featuring Avatar: The Last Airbender)" or more specifically "The Legend of Korra: Clearing the Air" and "Avatar: The Last Airbender: Matcha Makers."

CLEARING THE AIR

The cover makes this look like a story about Jinora and Ikki having a sibling conflict. That's a lie. The Air Sisters arguing is merely the inciting incident for Tenzin telling a story of his youth. I should note that, as inconsequential as the Air Sisters stuff is, it's actually written very well because it posits Ikki as a victim of circumstance and Jinora as a bully who terrorizes her little sister with threats of getting thrown in jail by Metalbenders for an accident, cementing the characterization from the cartoon. This is not sarcasm. I really do think Jinora is presented by LoK as a Holier Than Thou little snot who just so happened to be naturally gifted with magic spirit-powers, but for some reason the rest of the fandom doesn't agree with me.

Anyway, Tenzin comes in to find the arguing (and Meelo just running amok for the fun of it and so far these characterizations are perfect), and rather than telling Jinora to shut her stupid face, he delivers a tale of his youth about conflict resolution.

So the meat of the story is how, when Tenzin was "a few years older" than Jinora, a pair of vandals got onto Air Temple Island and burned some graffiti into the spinning-panel things that Korra will destroy out of frustration during her Airbending training. Literally, the vandals are depicted as scorching the wood with enough smoke to be seen across a plaza. Tenzin goes after the vandals and they flee across the bay back to Republic City proper (one of the vandals is a Waterbender with a surf-plank). Tenzin pursues, catches them, and attacks them hard enough to smash some dockside crates. They are all then arrested by Metalbenders and dragged before Chief Toph. She's going to let Tenzin go (yay Toph!) and throw the vandals in jail (YAY TOPH!) and makes this face, and this entire comic is worth it:

However, Aang arrives and instead arranges to forgo the jail-time in favor of an Air Nomad Conflict Resolution Ceremony. This is nice and in-character, but I'm totally with Tenzin that these vandals should have been thrown in jail. They literally burned insulting graffiti into antiques from a genocided culture. But instead, Aang demonstrates conflict resolution by having Tenzin explain why he's hurt and what needs to be done to redress the wrong. And so the vandals help Tenzin scrub the graffiti off the panels with water and rags and mops- how, I don't know, since they were literally burned.

They also do a ceremony thing where they each take turns bending their element into a central space between them to 'clear the air' (GET IT GET IT HA HA IT'S ALMOST LIKE A PUN BUT NOT), so it's a good thing they were all Benders because this is kinda racist. This fixes all the problems and everyone is friends. Yay!

In the present, though, things are not so nice, because Tenzin's kids are still screaming at and provoking each other. Korra comes in with Asami at the end to ask what's going on, and Asami says nothing, so I still think everyone is characterized with perfect consistency with the cartoon.

I made this sound silly, but (aside from the spinny-panels getting cleaned with a little water and elbow-grease, which doesn't matter because Korra will eventually blow them all up anyway), I actually like this one. It has Tenzin demonstrate how much he's always had to work to be the Perfect Air Monk that everyone expects him to be, and Aang acknowledges how this is unfair but that Tenzin will never let him down no matter what. It also has Katara come in at the end (for just one line, boo!) to acknowledge that this was an especially easy little conflict for Tenzin to practice on and he'll eventually face worse. I found it a nice adult moment in a story that's otherwise clearly aimed at 8-year-olds.

The art is good. It's simpler than the LoK cartoon, with flat colors, but it captures the story and has enough liveliness for everyone's character to come across in their look and body-language. The brief action-sequence where Tenzin attacks the vandals is well done, moving quickly but showing the full flow of the fight and every move Tenzin makes.

MATCHA MAKERS

Apparently, "Matcha is finely ground powder of specially grown and processed green tea leaves, traditionally consumed in East Asia" according to Wikipedia. I had to look that up. I'm curious how many people understood the full reference in the title, especially since these comics are aimed at kids too young to be allowed on the internet.

This is a very simple story about Iroh in his tea-shop in Ba Sing Se. He has an assistant/waitress named Feng, a new character who wears glasses, ruining the hopes and dreams of all the fanfic-writers who were so sure he'd rescue Jin from the Lower Ring. A frequent patron of the tea shop is an elegant, older lady (very clearly Upper Ring material) named Li-Mei, who cannot go a single panel without giving Iroh a HEY BIG BOY look. She is very clearly smitten. Also, I feel the need to clarify that she knows his name is Iroh, so apparently Ba Sing Se is okay with the Dragon of the West serving tea to their wealthy. I don't say that as a criticism, I'm just noting it.

That night, Iroh meets up with his friends- the Pokemon-style spirits that we saw in Legend of Korra. (I don't know if they're the actual spirits from LoK, or just new spirits in the same style. This is because I would sooner grind matcha into my eyes than rewatch Book Spirits.) He serves them his special blend of tea and talks about how he's totally into Li-Mei but isn't going to pursue it because he's feeling old and doesn't want to take a risk. At this point, I could stop describing the plot because between the title and what I've said so far, I'm sure you could figure out every single plot beat that will follow.

The next day, the spirits trip Feng so that she drops Li-Mei's tea and Iroh needs to bring a replacement, and they've drawn hearts on top of the replacement tea with foam or sugar or milk or whatever. I don't know because I've never bought tea in a place that will even put the bag in the hot water for me. Iroh gets out of the situation without starting any love-affairs and runs into the back to tell the spirits to knock it off, dudes, they're totally embarrassing him! The spirits respond by giving him a flyer for a romantic restaurant. I don't know how they got it, so I can only assume that some Upper Ringer had their mail diverted.

Iroh refuses, so when Li-Mei orders more tea and he brings it to her, the spirits hover just out of her sight and threaten to smash the furniture. I am not making that up. They literally threaten to smash Iroh's furniture unless he asks the lady out. He submits to their tyrannical threats, Li-Mei happily accepts the date, he happily accepts her acceptance, and the story comes to a close. Iroh thanks his spirits friends for opening him up to new experience, but hopes that next time (so I guess Iroh is signing up for Tinder after this?) they won't threaten his shop.

At best, I can describe this story as 'harmless.' But it's been a long week and I just got a bunch more extra work at my day job that I really don't want to do, so I'm going to go ahead and call this story 'dumb.' It's rote, leans towards humor without actually being funny at all, and turns the spirits of the setting into Pokemon. And not even the cool dragon kind.

The art is strangely stiff. The coloring is soft and nice, but the drawings seems more 'assembled' than actually drawn. I swear there are even a few panels that reminded me of 'How I Became Yours' with janky poses, horrifying expressions, and just enough resemblance to the original cartoon to make me think a screenshot was partially traced and then ruined. (I'm not accusing the artist of tracing, BTW. I wouldn't even condemn the artist for tracing if they did. I'm just describing that HIBY feeling I got.) It was so stiff that rather than hear Iroh's dialogue in Mako's rich tones, I instead imagined Greg Baldwin doing a stiff Mako-impression with no naturalism to the delivery.

This story is definitely worthy of its "Also Featuring" billing. I'd rate it below Gene Yang's Mai and Suki FCBD short stories, but above everything else he wrote for Avatar.

So there you go. Overall, this is very middle-of-the-pack for Avatar FCBD stuff. It's very much of the nature of the 'Team Avatar Tales' stuff, and I wouldn't be surprised if the Iroh story was a leftover from that project. On Free Comic Book Day, you often get what you pay for.